The Departed Are Like This

"Master, I don't like picking apart words."

Ye Zhuo sat cross-legged in the corridor.

"Perhaps that is simply what we are."

The Master looked at Ye Zhuo, then glanced at the sky. Above the seven-colored auspicious clouds, celestial music drifted faintly.

Even though the Master respected ghosts and gods while keeping his distance, he could tell that this visitor was no ordinary person.

"What brings you to the mortal world?"

The Master was old, yet swords, blades, and bows still hung upon the walls of the house behind him.

"Nothing much. I happened to come here, so I came to see you."

Ye Zhuo drank tea. He rarely drank tea; most of the time, he drank wine to his heart's content.

"The world is vast. Master, do you have somewhere to go?"

"I am merely returning home."

The Master looked at Ye Zhuo as though he wished to etch every so-called god and demon into his heart.

"I heard that you have experienced this world, heaven and earth, all things, rites and laws, humanity—everything."

The Master asked curiously. At that moment, he resembled his younger self, never ashamed to ask questions.

"Perhaps. That was in the past. I do not know now."

Ye Zhuo spoke truthfully.

"The past should have happened long ago."

The Master raised a cup of tea.

Ye Zhuo had grown this tea in the Celestial Palace. It came from the Tang Dynasty, and the Master had never tasted it before.

"It is somewhat bitter, but the aftertaste is faintly fragrant."

The Master said quietly.

"Your past is my future. Humans and gods are different."

Ye Zhuo was likewise speaking the truth.

"The departed are like this, never ceasing day or night."

The Master sighed. Those words carried many layers of meaning.

They were unlike when he