As You Wish, Don't Overthink, Forever Forget

"Sentimental since ancient times, one grieves at parting."

For a world where transportation and communication belong to ancient civilizations, parting has always been the most melancholy of affairs. When ordinary people part, they may never see each other again; hence the saying that a letter from home is worth ten thousand pieces of gold, and countless poems passed down through the ages were born from the sorrow of farewells.

Although there are people in this world who can fly, Xue Mu now knows that very few possess this ability, and even that small fraction of people must expend immense energy, making it impossible to sustain for long. Thus, when they first met, they arrived by carriage.

Overall, this is still a world of ancient transportation. Yue Xiaochan's claim that they would not meet again for two or three years was certainly no empty promise.

In such a world, there are short pavilions every five miles and long pavilions every ten. People see each other off from one pavilion to the next, simply out of a desire to delay the parting. They entered the city through the North Gate, but this time, they were leaving through the South Gate. Five miles beyond the South Gate lies the river, and by the river stands a pavilion.

Xue Mu still did not let go of her hand, leading Yue Xiaochan as they walked slowly. Both of them walked very, very slowly, turning the five-mile short pavilion into the experience of a long one.

Neither of them spoke. Countless poems of parting echoed in Xue Mu's heart, churning and tangling, but he cursed his own shallow learning, unable to turn them into words.

Not until they saw the murmuring river did Yue Xiaochan smile faintly: "The South Gate is no good."

The South Gate was indeed no good; the distance was too short, a mere five miles to a farewell. If it had been the North Gate, perhaps he could have seen her all the way back to Ling Province...

By the pavilion, green willows swayed with thousands of silken strands. Yue Xiaochan leaned against a willow tree, her slender fingers idly plucking at the branches, her beautiful eyes looking at him earnestly: "Have you thought of the story?"

Xue Mu nodded: "I have."

Yue Xiaochan smiled happily. With a flick of her slender hand, she produced brush, ink, paper, and an inkstone from nowhere. She tossed them onto the stone table in the pavilion, and the ink stick landed precisely into the stone, instantly dissolving into liquid.

"It's not that I don't want to grind the ink for you slowly like Meng Lan, adding fragrance to your sleeves," Yue Xiaochan said softly as she took down her jade flute. "I have something else to give you. Let us begin together."

Xue Mu nodded and stepped forward to take up the brush.

His heart was in utter chaos; he truly could not play at originality anymore. However, there was one story that half-matched Yue Xiaochan's requirements, and with a bit of a makeover, it could be used.

The story told of a Mr. Xue who came from a foreign land and boarded with a widowed landlady, only to fall in love with the landlady's thirteen-year-old daughter, Chan'er. Alas, Chan'er was too young, and the times would not permit it. To get closer to the young girl, Mr. Xue married the landlady.

That's right, it was an adaptation of the famous Lolita, which would now be called Lolita Chan.

Yue Xiaochan tilted her head as she watched, letting out a "ha" of laughter: "If Master sees this story, you can forget about ever having her in this lifetime."

Xue Mu sighed: "Custom-made literature..."

Yue Xiaochan nodded: "True enough. It's fake, but it's what I wanted to see."

The story was long, and Xue Mu wrote very slowly. Yue Xiaochan did not continue reading; she leaned against the willow tree and raised the jade flute to her lips.

A thread of haunting flute music lingered by the river. The river surged, its roar thunderous, yet it could never drown out this single thread of melody. It drifted and echoed clearly, the river's roar sounding as if it were merely accompanying her, like a symphony hall.

The tune of the flute was one Xue Mu had never heard before, but he could guarantee it was the most beautiful music he had ever heard in his life. It was like weeping and complaining, like longing and yearning; a thread of melancholy wound around his heart, burrowing into his ears and deep into his soul. A sense of sorrow grew silently within him, just like the time Yin Ye had entered his heart—helpless, desolate, and poignant.

There was no charm technique at work, just pure music entering the heart and stirring up sorrow; it was something no tool or technique could resist.

"You want to listen to this? This girl is the number one expert in the world, yet you go begging to listen to a courtesan sing? Your brain must be overgrown with weeds." Yue Xiaochan's teasing words from back then still echoed in his ears. Xue Mu felt that his brain really was overgrown with weeds. He had only looked at her beauty, her charm, and her coquettishness, never paying attention to what else she could do, what she loved, or what she hated.

Then, he resolutely cut the distance. She wanted to leave, and he wanted her to leave.

Looking at the fake story he had written—a plagiarized, custom-made piece, devoid of sincerity, ugly and unspeakable—Xue Mu finally could not write anymore. In a fit of anger, he threw the brush, snapping it in two.

Yue Xiaochan tilted her head to watch him throw the brush in anger, appearing slightly surprised, but a smile quickly flashed across her face.

The jade flute lightly touched her crimson lips, her slender fingers dancing over the holes. The music continued, drifting and soaring, then growing louder and louder until the mountains echoed with it, long and unending. The boundless melancholy drew out a harmony from heaven and earth, burying the sound of the rushing river entirely.

Amidst the sky-filling flute music, Yue Xiaochan turned into a phantom, sweeping past Xue Mu, tucking the half-finished Lolita Chan into her robes, and turning to drift into the river. Barefoot, she stepped on the waves and traveled far away. The river breeze carried her singing:

"Lock the hearts together, borrowing a dream of spring. A pair beneath the willows, seeing each other off from the short pavilion to the long."

"From now on, the moon and wind belong to different lands. As you wish, do not pine, let us forget each other long."

Without flowery prose or pretentious embellishment, the simple song exhausted all melancholy. Xue Mu gazed into the distance. That slender figure stepped on the waves and departed, her traces soon lost, never to be seen again. Only the river flowed on, silently toward the east.

He clutched his chest involuntarily, feeling as if something were tearing apart, his breathing becoming labored.

A fragrant breeze brushed past, and a jade finger tapped his forehead. Xue Mu took a deep breath, and the stifling feeling slowly vanished, his breathing gradually returning to normal. He leaned against the railing, panting heavily, drenched in sweat as if he had just been pulled from the water.

Xue Qingqi stood quietly beside him, looking into his eyes earnestly: "Chan'er didn't use any technique; it was just a natural outpouring, yet your blood and energy were thrown into chaos. I know you have the ability to break illusions and clear your heart, but her sorrow was entirely genuine. Since your heart holds affection, how can you resist?"

Xue Mu panted: "I..."

Xue Qingqi extended her index finger and pressed it against his lips: "Come back with me to practice. You are too weak."

Mu Jianli walked along the main road of the Capital City.

Her destination was a large mansion. As she reached the gate, both guards showed clear expressions of admiration: "So it is Miss Mu who has arrived. Please, come in quickly."

Mu Jianli nodded slightly to them and walked in slowly.

Many people had already arrived in the courtyard, wearing the attire of various sects. In the center, several stretchers were laid out, covered with white cloths.

Someone shouted: "The demoness of the Star Moon Sect is lawless, openly murdering the disciples of our Eight Sects! Even Uncle Dongfeng died in the demoness's shameless sneak attack. We must settle this score!"

Another said with a sinister tone: "This is the Capital. The imperial laws do not protect those who break into homes to commit murder; dying is just dying."

Someone else raged: "Are you of the Seven Profound Valley trying to stay out of this? Don't forget that your Seven Profound Colorful Garments were also worn by their prostitutes for fun!"

That person replied: "The Star Moon Sect no longer uses those garments. I heard that the people of the Joyous Union Sect have started using them. Do you think it's more important to stop the evil deeds of the Joyous Union Sect, or to fight a bloody battle with Xue Qingqi?"

Amidst this noisy clamor, Mu Jianli stepped into the courtyard.

With her appearance, the noisy environment quieted down significantly. The emotions in everyone's eyes as they looked at Mu Jianli were complex; some were filled with admiration, some with jealousy, some with respect, and so on.

Mu Jianli stood by the white cloth in silence for a long moment before bowing to the seniors in the seats of honor. "Jianli pays her respects to Valley Master Mo, Master Yuan Zhong, Uncle-Master Miao..."

The one in the primary seat was none other than Mo Xuexin, Valley Master of the Seven Profound Valley, one of the eight great sects of the righteous path, and a young woman of graceful bearing.

In the secondary seat sat Master Yuan Zhong of the No-Blame Temple, another of the eight great righteous sects, known by the title "Thousand-Hand Manjushri."

It was clear that to contend with Xue Qingqiu, figures of this caliber were required. Should they truly choose to lock horns with the Star Moon Sect, a clash between such individuals would be the harbinger of a full-scale war between the righteous and demonic paths.

Mu Jianli's expression remained unchanged, yet the sensation of brushing past Yue Xiaochan moments ago flickered through her mind.

The Young Sect Master of the Star Moon Sect was a talent of peerless brilliance; to reach the Hua Yun Realm at thirteen should have been an event that shook the world. It was one thing for the righteous elites here to be oblivious, but they were also failing to cultivate themselves, instead bickering incessantly, consumed by private desires and ulterior motives.

It was said that Yin Ye's cultivation technique was unique, allowing her to rival the Void-Piercing Realm despite her unclear cultivation level. If one day Yue Xiaochan were to also break through the limits of the Heavenly Human Realm, with three Void-Piercing experts in the Star Moon Sect, what would become of the world?

The decline of the Dao and the rise of the demonic could not be more evident than this.