The southern skies grew hot early. Bian Yonglan and the monk journeyed southeast, their eyes seeing the spring scenery everywhere getting richer day by day

　He no longer asked why the monk followed him, nor did the monk inquire of his destination. Bound by a bond spanning the seasons, they seemed to share an unspoken understanding—both wishing to prolong this fleeting connection.

　“Dashi,” he said, “I told you I remember nothing of my past life. You don’t seem surprised?”

　In the blink of an eye, the Dragon Boat Festival had arrived. Households hung mug wort and Zhong Kui talismans[1], praying for blessings and warding off evil. Seated in a riverside restaurant, Bian Yonglan peeled open a zongzi and took a bite before posing the question to the monk. He didn’t look up, merely folding the dumpling leaves neatly and setting them aside on the table.

　“…………”

　The monk offered no reply. Noticing glutinous rice clinging to Bian Yonglan’s fingers, he drew a plain handkerchief from his robe, dampened it with leftover tea, and without shying from the onlookers’ gaze, took the young man’s hand to wipe it clean in silence.

　“…………” Bian Yonglan smiled faintly, offering no resistance. He lowered his eyes, his gaze tracing each bead on his Buddhist prayer beads, and remained silent.

　Dragon boats entered the water with resounding chants as people crowded the banks of the Yangtze River to watch the excitement.

　Bian Yonglan drew the monk into the crowd. Amidst the jostling shoulders, he slipped behind him, tilted his head slightly, and rested his chin lightly upon the monk’s shoulder. In broad daylight, he murmured into his ear: “Dashi, you who have renounced the world, but do you also harbour ghosts in your heart?” With that, Bian Yonglan turned to withdraw, only to find his wrist seized.

　The monk did not turn to look at him, merely reaching back to grab his wrist and draw him closer. Tilting his head slightly, he murmured, “No ghosts. But there is one man.”

　“Abstain from killing, stealing, adultery, and false speech,” Bian Yonglan murmured softly, his voice mingling with the wails, drumbeats, and clamour until it was barely audible. “Dashi, might you not think about this more?”

　“I have thought about it…” His fingertips slowly traced the Buddhist beads on his wrist, then slid downward to grasp the other’s hand. Amidst the bustling crowd, two hands, ten fingers silently entwined. “…this humble monk has broken his vows for you.”

　Across the hundred-li expanse of the river, over a dozen dragon boats jostled for position. Spectators on the banks raced alongside the vessels as they clapped and cheered, their clamour leaving the pair behind.

　Bian Yonglan released the monk’s hand, offering a faint smile. “Come. I’ll take you somewhere.”

　Vast mountains stretched into the distance, a long river winding its course. Standing atop a sheer cliff in the mountains, the entire landscape of Hailing County lay spread before them.

　Bian Yonglan stepped forward, his blade unsheathed, pointing at the mountains and rivers before them. He asked the monk, “Dashi, won’t you ask me if I’m familiar with this scenery?”

　“…………”

　The monk remained silent. Before him stood a figure with back turned, sword held horizontally, sleeves billowing in the wind. That silhouette seemed suspended amidst the boundless heavens and earth, radiating an air of carefree and unrestrained freedom, as if ready to ride the wind back home.

　Bian Yonglan heard no reply from the monk, yet did not turn back. He gazed only at the sight of the setting sun over the river before him, then spoke again: “Why not this time, you tell me first. What do you see?”

　“There are mountains. There are rivers,” the monk raised his hands, palms pressed together in a gesture of reverence. Within that single gesture the illusion dissolved and revealed his true form. “And you.”

　“Neither remembering nor forgetting…” The figure by the cliff’s edge finally turned. Not surprised by the sudden change before him, he merely nodded slightly, a faint smile touching his lips as he spoke the name of an old friend. “Tanshan. Long time no see.”

　“…………”

　Tanshan offered the Buddhist gesture of respect, palms pressed together. A true Buddha’s salute was not something mortals could receive, yet this man received it with perfect ease.

　“No need for formalities. All is karmic, cause and effect; no need to thank.”

　Though no longer a lord of the human world, his words and laughter carried a natural demeanour. The innate splendour of a realm born of heaven and earth—past events, reincarnation for thousands of years, and finally, what remained in the world was but a single tear of Buddha.

　When that tear fell, mountains and rivers wept in sorrow.

　Yet mountains and rivers possess neither spirit nor wisdom, how could they make the sounds of mourning?

　When the True Buddha sealed away a man’s memories, extracting a strand of primordial qi from another realm from his soul, it was meant to sever his ties to both worlds. Yet even the True Buddha could not have foreseen that in the instant his Buddha-form shattered, in the fleeting moment before his divine consciousness extinguished, that strand of spirit returning to its source would suddenly roar!

　With the man’s memory gone, that thread of spirit which was devoid of mind or wisdom should have remembered nothing at all.

　Yet that piercing roar spread like ink in water, staining an entire realm with sorrow.

　Since ancient times and across all heavens and worlds, beings who attained enlightenment could become immortals.

　But throughout thousands of years and realms, there has never been a saying that the heaven and earth itself can attain enlightenment and become immortal—the Heavenly Way forbade it.

　Were heaven and earth to attain immortality, uniting with the Way of Compassion—if even but a minor aspect of the Heavenly Way—how could Heaven allow it?

　Yet in that very instant, for the first time in thousands of years and thousands of worlds, a realm of heaven and earth broke free from the shackles of the law of Heaven with a single howl that echoed across the sky.

　Through ten thousand years of mortal existence, it had cultivated three hun, shaped seven po, mastered seven emotions, and understood six desires. This true spirit, having traversed the human world, returned to its primordial heaven and earth. Its return gave this realm a singular karmic effect, like the first cry of a newborn infant. From that moment, the heavens and earth possessed sentience; with sentience came enlightenment, and enlightenment was the path to immortality!

　The heavens and earth attained immortality, and though divine being was absent, the heavens and earth, imbued with divine power, still shielded the soul of a true Buddha with the might of their realm, aiding him in remoulding his golden body.

　A single human year equalled a hundred years in another realm. The true Buddha, having spent one hundred years remoulding his golden body and returned to the mortal world, to accompany one person through the four seasons.

　The seal had long been broken. Neither fully remembering nor forgetting, it was love that freed him from shackles, yet love that imprisoned him anew—even if one doesn’t remember anything, one still remembers love.

　Even though everything else was forgotten, the pain can’t be forgotten.

　This bitter obsession which was beyond the Buddha’s salvation could only be traversed by the mortals themselves.

　The Buddha, in his divine form, accompanies humanity through the four seasons of time, silently awaiting their realisation of the supreme path beyond attachment—to love deeply without being limited by emotions. Should one inquire when this relentless suffering and obsession will be resolved, the answer lies only in the world’s four seasons, nourishing all things silently.[2]

　Suddenly, a seven-coloured radiance erupted across the sky—not like a rainbow, but like a surging river, rolling and sweeping across a thousand li. At the very instant this phenomenon occurred, the two fragmented seals merged into one, transforming into a radiant glow that vanished into the body of the divine deity.

　This world was inherently him, and he was inherently this world.

　The true qi of this realm and the mortal’s three hun and seven po were born from the same root. Half attained immortality through emotions, half attained immortality through detachment. Thus, he finally severed the last shackle left by the Heavenly Way. In the form of this world itself, he ascended to the divine seat that was his rightful place.

　The divine deity returned to his place, waving his hand to gather the vast expanse of radiance.

　Neither of them were human now, and naturally, his first words were not those of a human either. “Look,” he gestured towards the true Buddha before him, “this is what it means for some to ascend through cultivation.” Then he pointed at himself. “Some ascend through good luck. There’s no need to envy them too much.”

　“…………”

　Tanshan remained speechless, unable to utter a word before laughter escaped him.

　“If you were afraid I would blame you, you should have reverted to this face long ago,” the deity, who seldom spoke plainly, observed that smile that was more beautiful than the clouds in the sky, his reason clouded by desire. “But after all, gazing upon this face, I cannot muster any anger.”

　“Yonglan…”

　Tanshan drew him into an embrace, lightly kissing his brow and eyes as he murmured, “I am naturally aware… my Lanlan, you never truly blamed me at all.”

　A century of cultivation saw his divine spirit drift through foreign realms, nourished by spiritual qi to reshape his golden form.

　For nearly a hundred years, wherever he passed, flowers bloomed for him; wherever he walked, trees swayed in reverence.

　Wherever he crossed water, clear springs welled forth; wherever he encountered rare birds and beasts, their songs and roars lingered, bidding him farewell with lingering affection.

　Even if nothing passes by, by merely lingering a moment longer, colourful clouds will gather in the sky.

　That is the sentiment that the whole world tells him, pure and true, so there is no regret or resentment.

　He was originally a golden immortal beyond the heavens, the most holy and benevolent; He was originally the true spirit of heaven and earth, utterly pure and true.

　Through ten thousand years in the mortal world, one upheld goodness, the other upheld truth, and so both ascended to the ranks of immortals. With a single step side by side, they shattered the void and departed, henceforth traversing all heavens and worlds at will, shining as brightly as the sun and moon, sharing the universe’s eternal life.

　The colourful clouds sweeping across thousands of li, such a big upheaval, could not be hidden from the eyes of ordinary people.

　Later, at the site of this celestial phenomenon, a governor opened the mountain to cultivate Daoism—coincidentally, none other than that same governor of Hailing. This governor named a high overhanging cliff within the mountains ‘Ascension Cliff’.[3] It was said he had received a divine dream one night, in which the marquis declared his earthly ties severed, having ascended to immortality, and asked the governor to no longer worry about him.

　The imperial court murmured discontent: once, twice—how could every stroke of good fortune fall to his son? To fabricate even ascension to immortality was truly… truly… Yet without the Emperor’s word, none dared speak further.

　When the cliffside wooden walkway was first completed, a stone stele was erected upon the precipice. Upon beholding the words ‘Ascension Cliff’ inscribed there, no one dared utter another word. None in court questioned the identity of the ‘Wenqing-xiansheng’ who signed the inscription, because all recognised the handwriting.

　Common folk, too, spoke with absolute certainty, claiming to have witnessed immortals ascending into the heavens—two of them, no less. Mortals, naturally, spun tales as they pleased, spinning tales entirely according to their own thoughts. And so it was passed on from person to person, and the legend evolved into one of mortal lovers who were bound by profound earthly love that moved the Heavens, ascending together as immortals.

　Therefore, in the hundred years following, more people came seeking marriages predestined by fate at this Ascension Cliff rather than divine enlightenment—but that is another tale.[4]

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Author’s Note: Supreme detachment from emotion is not the same as being without feeling. As mentioned in the afterword, this chapter is not the final one; there remains an epilogue.

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[1] Vanquisher of ghosts and evil beings https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zhong_Kui

[2] Four seasons here an idiom for a world in a constant state of spring/new.

[3] 登仙崖 Dengxian Ya

[4] The ‘marriages predestined by fate’ here is the same characters for ‘marriage predestined by fate’ which is Bian Yonglan’s sword technique 斩姻缘