Chapter 104: The Master's Scribe

A wind lantern wanders on the summit of death and life, searching for the half-hearted soul that has returned.

After the spirit-led lamp was lit, Mo Ran was no longer visible to the living, and he seemed to have become half a ghost.

red lotus water pavilion, Frost Palace, Sansei Terrace

I have looked everywhere, but he is nowhere to be seen.

Mo Ran wondered if it was possible that his father had been so tired in life that he would never want to see him again after his death

The thought sent him into an icy hole, and as the hem of his coat swept through the grass, he spied a man standing at the head of Naihe Bridge, cold and forlorn, his palms sweating, his heart beating like a drum, and he rushed towards him.

"Master."

The one who turned back was a spirit he didn't know, probably one of the disciples who had died in the rift, half of his face was covered in blood and he looked at Mo Ran in a dazed and confused way.

"Sorry for the mistaken identity." Mo Ran mumbled, and hurried past him. The spirit, lost in thought, watched rigidly as Mo Ran passed him by without making a move, his corporeal white body frozen in place, like a silkworm left behind in the world.

Mo Ran can't help but feel tighter.

If the Master's human soul were to become a walking corpse like him, what would happen if he found him, could he keep him until dawn?

The jingoistic horses in his heart tread hastily past, and his steps grow faster and faster.

When I raised my eyes, I realized that I had walked up to the entrance of Mengpo Court at some point.

Mo Ran thought to himself, "My master is not obsessed with food, so I don't think he would make a special trip to this kitchen after he returns to his soul.

He was about to turn around and leave when he heard a soft sigh inside Mengpo Court.

The sound was thin, but it was like a thunderclap inside Mo Ran's skull.

He almost stumbled through the door and trembled as he lifted the lamp in his hand. The light of the lamp was as warm as the rising sun, but it was faint, illuminating the silhouette of a man in white.

The joints are dead white and the nails are almost missing the palms.

Mo Ran murmuring, "Master"

Chu Wanning, half a spirit, stands alone in the large kitchen. The figure is faded, like the ink marks of age, but it is his form.

He was dressed in the foggy white garment he had died in, the corners of which were stained with large clouds of blood, so that his skin was described as extremely pale and smoky, as if his soul would dissipate in a single gust of wind that swept the earth.

Mo Ran holds the lamp and looks at the mirror in front of her.

Trying to go faster, afraid that if he was late, he would be gone.

I want to go slower, but I am afraid that if I hurry, my dream will be shattered.

He could not help but feel a slight reddening of his eyes as his thoughts mingled, and how much guilt rushed to his heart; he only felt that he owed it to him to stand near him, at the end of the day.

The lantern swings gently.

When I got closer, I saw him busy, seemingly a little anxious and so clumsy.

What Chu Wanning is doing

He came behind him, intending to help the poor dead soul, but when he saw the scene before him, he was struck by lightning, and when the great shock had dissipated, a sharp pain opened his bloody mouth and bit him hard on the neck.

Mo Ran leapt back two steps and shook his head slowly, but couldn't say a word.

At this moment, it wouldn't hurt more if I took an awl and stuck it into my chest, pulling my heart out raw, along with the broken flesh of my veins.

He saw that Chu Wanning's hands, the same hands that had dragged him over 3,000 steps before he died, the hands that had long since been skinned and bloodied, were slowly rubbing against the desk.

On the case, there is flour, seasoning and stuffed meat.

The water was boiling in a nearby pot, and Chu Wanning, the fool, did not know to turn down the heat, and the mist of the water blurred everything around him.

Or perhaps it was not the steam that blurred the eyes of the beholder, but Mo Ran's own eyes that were moistened.

The human soul of Chu Wanning is slowly squeezing the skin of his cupped hands, which are so dexterous that the weapons of God move under his long fingers and the boundaries of the world rise from between his palms.

But now those hands are tattered and shaking slightly as they carefully wrap one rolled copious hand after another.

""

Mo Ran jerked his arms up and fought to wipe his reddened eyes, but still couldn't say a word.

Chu Wanning turned his back on him and seemed to finally remember that the water in the pot had been boiling for too long and was afraid that if he left it alone, it would dry up, so he sought it out again.

He fondled it.

Yes, he fondled.

Mo Ran finally snapped out of the pain that could have drowned him, and he marched quickly around to his Master's side.

He saw it clearly.

When the three souls are separated, each will be missing something. Either memory, or sanity, or flesh and blood and bones.

And this wisp of a human soul returning from the underworld, what is lost is part of its perception.

Chu Wanning, who has returned from hell, has blurred eyes and his hearing seems to be less than perfect, so he can't even tell where he has dropped something. But even so, he still tried so hard to make this ordinary, uncommon bowl of dumplings. It was as if it was his favourite thing to do in life, and he could get a moment of tenderness out of this blur of vapour.

Mo Ran looked on and felt his heart ache, he felt the sky spinning, he could not think for a moment, he just stood still and watched everything in front of him.

"Clang."

The spirit, whose eyes were already nearly dim, inadvertently knocked down the salt shaker at Mengpo Court because he could not see clearly.

Chu Wanning seems startled and withdraws his hand in silence, his bloodstained face showing such a troubled look.

"What are you taking?"

A raspy voice sounded at his side, almost choked with guilt, guilt to the core and liver.

"I'll help you, OK?"

Chu Wanning was slightly surprised, but perhaps because his soul was incomplete, his mind was not too disturbed and he soon regained his composure.

Mo Ran, on the other hand, is struggling, almost pleading, with every word she utters.

"Master, let me help you, OK?"

The water is boiling in the pot, the kitchen is warm and lively with dead things, but the living are forlorn and silent.

After a long time, the familiar voice of Chu Wanning is finally heard, low and steady, like the sound of a broken kunzan.

"You're here."

"Yes."

"It's good that it's here, so wait by for a while. When the copra is ready, bring it to Mo Ran."

""

Mo Ran was stunned and did not understand what Chu Wanning was talking about.

But Chu Wanning fondled a snowy, jade-filled dragon hand into the pot, his face softening in the steam. Then he said, "He must have hated me after I punished him so severely yesterday. I heard from Xue Meng that he has been refusing to eat, so when you send it to him, don't say that I made it. If he knows, I'm afraid he won't want to eat."

Mo Ran's mind was in turmoil, as if some hidden secret that had been dormant for half a lifetime was about to stir and break out of the ground.

"Master."

Chu Wanning laughed bitterly, "I'm afraid I've been a bit too hard on him. But he's always going to do whatever he wants to do. I don't want to talk about it, but find me a bowl, something thick and strong. It's cold outside, so don't get cold when you bring it over."

Ground will be broken, ground will be broken.

As if hearing a slight shattering sound in his mind, a memory finally pecked its way through the shell with its sharp teeth and claws and came screaming at Mo Ran like a ghost.

All of a sudden, the sky was dark.

Scribe.

Shi Mei.

Master.

It was the first time he had ever eaten Shi Mei's cod roast, the day he was chastised by Chu Wanning for accidentally breaking a famous flower planted by Madam Wang, and when Tin Man beat him to a pulp, he was as good as dead.

He was lying in bed, refusing to get up, thinking that he had plucked the flowers to give to his master, and yet he had been whipped unmercifully. He felt that he had been blind to see Chu Wanning, that he had been blinded by lard to find Chu Wanning gentle and caring.

That was the day Shi Mei came into his room with a bowl of steaming red oil cod roe, her soft voice, warm tone of voice, and the hot dragon cod roe that warmed his heart and lungs, turning all his disappointment in his master into good feelings for Shi Mei.

But who knows

But who knows

The soul of the deceased stood beside him, and every soul of the dead returns differently. Some, like Luo Xianxian, return to see the stories they did not know after death, while others, like the man by the Naihe Bridge, return unattached to the place where they lived before.

Chu Wanning, a human soul, has lost his eyesight and cannot distinguish the voices of those around him, and he does not even know the day or the hour.

He returned to the mortal world about the time he was born because he felt sorry for a thing he had done badly and wrongly.

Trying to make amends.

So Chu Wanning finally made a decision that is no longer the same as the one he made during his lifetime.

The cod roe is served out in a bowl. Shredded green onion, creamy soup and red oil topping.

He hands the bowl to " Shi Mei " but suddenly stops at the end.

"I treated him, after all, a little too unkindly." Chu Wanning murmured.

A few moments of silence.

"Just. I don't want you to go and see him off. I'll go and see him myself and apologize."

Mo Ran watched in awe, her face already as pale as her soul.

I thought that my master was too cold, as cold as iron, which made my heart freeze into ice. But who would have thought that he would be kind to him?

The regret he could not let go of in the earthly world was, after all, himself.

With him again, apologies.

The ice melted and became water, an ocean.

Mo Ran slowly raised her hand and buried her face in her palm.

The shoulders tremble slightly.

A heart as hard as iron A heart as hard as iron

Not really

Mo Ran's throat choked and he sobbed again. He knelt down, he knelt in front of the spirit that could not see him, the lamp resting at his feet, he broke off, he was so hoarse that he wanted to cry for blood, he could not hold back his howl.

He knelt down in front of Chu Wanning.

Not really

He leans down into the dust as he catches the bloodstained hem of Chu Wanning's coat.

You are not as cold as iron, and I am not as stubborn as a stone. It's just that I made a mistake in the past and misjudged you a lot.

"Master, Master," he mourned, curling up, "it is I who have wronged you. Please, please, please come back with me."

"Master beg you to come back with me, I was wrong, it's my fault. I don't blame you, I don't hate you, it's my fault for always making you angry, you will never hit me or scold me again, I will never hit you back, Master, as long as you come back, I will do everything you say to respect you, love you and treat you well"

But Chu Wanning's hemline is so indistinct that it looks like it could crumble in your hand at any moment.

Mo Ran can't wait to cut her own chest open and give him her heart, if only she could hear his heartbeat again. I wish I could drain my blood and run it into his veins, if only I could see the colour in his face again.

He hated not being able to do everything he could to make up for the wrong he had done.

"Master." He finally sobbed.

"Let's start all over again, shall we?"

In front of Tongtian Tower, under the begonia tree.

Gentle as a white cat, the patriarch raised his head, his phoenix eyes slightly widened, the cicadas on the branches chirped three or two times, and the young man before him was smiling.

" Your Mightiness Your Mightiness, I've been looking at you for a long time. You've ignored me."

Twenty years and two lifetimes in the blink of an eye.

It's all gone.

The end is brazen and the wolf is ambitious, but also the words

Master, let's start all over again.

Good or bad.

Please, just pay attention to me, okay?