As You Wish, Let Us Not Dwell on This, but Forget Each Other Forever

Love has always brought sorrow at parting.

In a world where transportation and communication belonged to ancient times, parting was always the most melancholy of things. When ordinary people parted, they might never meet again, hence the saying that a letter from home was worth ten thousand pieces of gold. Countless poems that had endured through the ages had also been born of the sorrow of farewells.

Though people in this world could fly, Xue Mu now knew that very few could. And even those few who could fly had to expend tremendous energy; they could not keep it up for long. That was why, when he first met them, they had arrived by carriage.

All in all, this was still a world with ancient modes of travel. When Yue Xiaochan left, saying they would meet again in two or three years was no exaggeration.

In a world like this, there was a short pavilion every five li and a long pavilion every ten. People saw their loved ones off from one pavilion to the next, cherishing the parting and nothing more. They had entered the city through its north gate, but this time they were leaving through the south. Five li beyond the south gate flowed the river, and there was a pavilion by its bank.

Xue Mu still had not let go of her hand. He walked slowly beside Yue Xiaochan, and they both walked very, very slowly. They made a short pavilion five li away feel like a long one.

Neither of them spoke. Countless farewell poems echoed through Xue Mu's mind, turning over and over until they tangled into a mess. At that moment, he hated how little he had learned, powerless to put his feelings into words.

Only when they saw the river flowing gently did Yue Xiaochan smile faintly. "The south gate is no good."

Of course the south gate was no good. The distance was too short; just five li, and they were already parting. If they had taken the north gate, perhaps he could have escorted her all the way back to Ling Province...

By the pavilion, willows stood lush and green, their countless slender branches hanging down. Yue Xiaochan leaned against one of them, idly playing with its twigs. Her beautiful eyes studied him intently. "Have you thought of a story?"

Xue Mu nodded. "I have."

Yue Xiaochan smiled happily. With a turn of her slender hand, she produced brush, ink, paper, and inkstone from nowhere, then tossed them over. The paper and brush landed on the stone table in the pavilion, the ink stick struck the inkstone precisely, and in an instant the ink melted into liquid.

"It's not that I don't want to grind the ink for you slowly, like Meng Lan, with red sleeves adding fragrance." Yue Xiaochan slowly removed her jade flute and said softly, "I have something else to give you. Let's begin together."

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

His mind was in such turmoil that he truly couldn't come up with an original story. But he did know one whose outline fit Yue Xiaochan's request; he could alter it beyond recognition and use it.

The story was about a Mr. Xue who had come from a foreign land and lodged in the home of a landlady. He fell in love with Chan'er, the landlady's thirteen-year-old daughter, who was a widow's only child. Unfortunately, Chan'er was too young, and society would never accept them. To get close to the girl, Mr. Xue married the landlady.

That was right. It was adapted from the famous Lolita, which would now be called Lolita Chan'er.

Yue Xiaochan tilted her head to read it, then laughed aloud. "If your master saw this story, you'd never have a chance with her for the rest of your life."

Xue Mu sighed. "A custom commission..."

Yue Xiaochan nodded. "That's true. It's fake, but I just want to read it."

The story was long, and Xue Mu wrote very slowly. Yue Xiaochan didn't keep reading. She leaned against the willow and raised her jade flute to her lips.

A faint, haunting flute melody lingered by the river. The water rushed on, its waves roaring, yet they could never drown out the flute. Its notes drifted on and on, clear and resonant. The river's roar instead seemed to accompany her, like an orchestra in a great concert hall.

Xue Mu had never heard this melody before, but he dared say it was the most beautiful flute music he had ever heard. It was like a sobbing plea, like a tale of longing and resentment. A thread of melancholy curled around him, slipped into his ears, and burrowed into his heart. Sorrow quietly took root within him, just as Yin Ye's presence had once entered his heart—aching, helpless, desolate, and wistful.

There was no Charm Technique assaulting him. The music simply reached his heart and stirred his grief. No prop or technique could defend against it.

"When you want to hear this sort of thing, your young lady here is one of the finest experts under heaven, yet you keep rushing off to listen to musicians sing. You really have weeds growing in your head." Yue Xiaochan's teasing words from back then still rang in his ears. Xue Mu realized that he really had been an idiot, looking only at her appearance, seeing only her charm and coquettishness, and never paying attention to what else she could do, what she loved, or what she hated.

Then he had resolutely put distance between them. She wanted to leave, and he wanted her to leave, too.

He looked at the false story he had written: a plagiarized work, a custom commission, without a shred of sincerity, ugly beyond words. At last, Xue Mu could not write another word. In a fit of anger, he flung the brush aside, snapping it in two.

Yue Xiaochan tilted her head as she watched him angrily throw the brush. She seemed a little surprised, but a smile soon flickered across her face.

The jade flute touched her crimson lips. Her slender fingers glided over its holes, and the melody continued, drifting far and wide. Then it grew louder and louder, echoing through the mountains and ringing on without end. Her boundless sorrow drew a chorus from heaven and earth, burying the rushing river's roar completely.

Amid the flute music that filled the sky, Yue Xiaochan became a phantom, darted past Xue Mu, gathered up half of Lolita Chan'er, then turned and drifted gracefully into the river. Barefoot, she walked across the waves and traveled into the distance. Her song floated back on the river wind:

"Bound by one heart, we borrowed a spring dream for a while. Two beneath the willow, we made a short pavilion stretch for miles."

"From this day on, moonlit skies and gentle breezes lie on either side. As you wish, let us not dwell on this, but forget each other forever."

There were no ornate verses, no artificial flourishes. Her plain, simple song laid bare every ounce of sorrow. Xue Mu gazed into the distance as her slender figure walked over the waves and soon vanished without a trace. Only the river flowed eastward, silent and unending.

Without realizing it, he clutched his chest, feeling as though something inside was about to crack. Even breathing had become difficult.

A fragrant breeze brushed past, and a jade finger touched his forehead. Xue Mu drew a deep breath. The stuffiness slowly faded, and his breathing gradually returned to normal. He leaned against the railing, panting hard, drenched in sweat as though he had just been hauled from the water.

Xue Qingqiu stood quietly beside him, studying his eyes. "Chan'er didn't use a technique. Her feelings simply poured out, and your qi and blood were thrown into disarray. I know you can see through delusions and clear your mind, but her sorrow was utterly genuine. When your heart is already moved, how can you resist?"

Xue Mu panted. "I..."

Xue Qingqiu raised her index finger and held it to his lips. "Come back with me and train. You're too weak."

Mu Jianli walked along the broad streets of the capital.

Her destination was a large mansion. When she reached its entrance, the two guards wore clear expressions of admiration. "So Miss Mu has arrived. Please, come right in."

Mu Jianli gave them a slight nod and walked in at an unhurried pace.

Quite a few people had already gathered in the courtyard, wearing the distinctive robes of various sects. Several stretchers sat in the middle, covered with white cloth.

Someone shouted, "That demoness from the Star Moon Sect has run amok, openly killing disciples from our Eight Great Sects. Even Uncle Dongfeng died from her shameless sneak attack. We'll make her pay for this!"

Someone else sneered, "This is the Capital City. The laws of the Imperial Court don't protect people who break into homes and kill. They got what was coming to them."

Another person snapped, "So the Seven Profound Valley wants to stay out of this? Don't forget, your Seven Profound Colorful Garments have been worn and played with by their courtesans, too!"

The other person retorted, "The Star Moon Sect doesn't use those garments anymore. I've heard the people of the Joyous Union Sect have started using them instead. Do you think stopping the Joyous Union Sect's demonic deeds is more important, or is it more urgent to fight Xue Qingqiu?"

Amid the clamor, Mu Jianli entered the courtyard.

As soon as Mu Jianli appeared, the noise died down considerably. Everyone looked at her with complicated expressions: some with admiration, others with jealousy, and still others with respect. There was no single reaction.

Mu Jianli stood beside the white-covered stretchers in silence for a moment, then bowed to the elders seated in the place of honor. "Jianli pays her respects to Valley Master Mo, Master Yuan Zhong, Uncle Miao..."

In the seat of honor was Mo Xuexin, Valley Master of the Seven Profound Valley, one of the Eight Great Sects of the Righteous Path. She was also a graceful, beautiful young matron.

Beside her sat Master Yuan Zhong of No-Blame Temple, one of the Eight Great Sects of the Righteous Path, known as "Manjushri of a Thousand Hands."

Clearly, to stand against Xue Qingqiu, figures of this stature had to appear. If they truly chose to clash with the Star Moon Sect, a confrontation between such people would signal the beginning of a war between the righteous and demonic paths.

Mu Jianli's expression did not change, but she recalled the feeling of brushing shoulders with Yue Xiaochan moments earlier.

The Star Moon Sect's young master had been peerless in talent, reaching the Hua Yun Realm at thirteen. It should have been a world-shaking event. The righteous young elites gathered here knew nothing of it; that would have been understandable. But they did not even cultivate diligently themselves. They clamored endlessly, consumed by selfish desires, each pursuing their own interests.

They said Yin Ye's techniques were unusual, and that though his realm was unknown, he could rival someone in the Void-Piercing Realm. If one day Yue Xiaochan also broke through the limits of the Heavenly Human Realm, the Star Moon Sect would have three Void-Piercing Realm experts. What would become of the world then?

The righteous waned while the demonic flourished. Nothing could be more evident.