I randomly picked a direction and walked slowly along streets that are both familiar and unfamiliar. I've lived in this city for over a year, but it's only today that I'm truly taking a close look at its face.
Wangchuan[1] City, with "wang" from "yí wàng" and "chuan" from "hé chuān."
The lights on the streets are exceptionally splendid tonight, bright lights and vibrant colors everywhere, unlike any other day. At many street corners along the way, large banners are hung, all with the same content - Lantern Festival Night: Let's celebrate together!
It's the Lantern Festival again this year. I must have chosen a bustling direction, as more and more children holding various lanterns playfully run ahead, couples stroll hand in hand, each pair with smiles on their faces.
I can't quite understand myself. I'm not angry, but my smile is gone; I'm not sad, but I'm avoiding people like the plague; I'm not tired, but my steps feel heavy as if laden with lead.
The noise in the crowd is getting louder and louder, and fireworks are bursting continuously in the night sky, each flash illuminating countless happy and excited faces. Unconsciously, I've walked to the largest and most prosperous pedestrian street in the downtown area. This year's Lantern Festival, filled with activity, is in progress on this newly decorated street. People in festive attire jostle each other, both sides of the street are packed with stalls selling all kinds of snacks and interesting things, makeshift stages are filled with performers, and along the way, there are also various lantern riddles hanging on ropes, surrounded by crowds guessing the answers. Everyone is joyfully expressing their enthusiasm for this ancient festival. It's a sin to not be happy at such a time.
I chose a place closest to the sea of people and sat down on the edge of the street opposite the pedestrian street, where I could still see the lively scene across, without feeling too miserable. Everything is in motion, but I am still.
Suddenly, a mischievous rabbit lantern "hopped" in front of me, crafted with exquisite detail. Its white, thin paper was stretched round and full by fine wicker strips, with a candle burning brightly inside its belly. The bright red rabbit eyes blinked with the flickering candlelight, delightfully amusing to watch.
All the lanterns in the streets are using light bulbs, but this one is lit by a candle. It successfully broke my stillness.
"It would be so much better to use a light bulb. They last longer and are safer. Modern people all use them." I poked the rabbit's head and remarked to the person behind me.
"Candles are more suitable for an old man like me." Zimiao smiled as he walked out of the shadows behind me, holding his rabbit lantern and sitting beside me. "Light bulbs are too rigid, not as lively as candles."
"Candles burn out." I watched the flickering candlelight, "It's sad."
"It's precisely because they burn out that they're more worthy of cherishing." He held the lantern closer, his bright and beautiful face seeming to become another light. I knew it from the moment he came up behind me. His presence always catches me off guard, yet it feels entirely natural, never causing any unease.
"Do you know what a light bulb is?" I suddenly laughed, changing the subject.
"Although I've missed thousands of years, it doesn't prevent me from reacquainting myself with this new world." He poked my head, "Don't underestimate the understanding and adaptability of immortals, especially don't discriminate against an old immortal who has traveled through time."
Another large firework burst above us, laughter and cheers from the crowd blending into the dazzling sky. With such a night and atmosphere, everything is harmonious, including the impossible-to-get-rid of subtle barrier between me and him since we met again.
"Shaluo." He called my name softly, "Do you know why I said you've grown up?"
"I have wrinkles on my face?" I pulled at the corners of my eyes deliberately and exaggeratedly.
"When you grow up, you don't write your emotions on your face." He looked at me carefully, the candlelight setting off his smile perfectly, "You see, the old you used to smile when happy, and cry when unhappy."
"Is that so?" I was blank for a moment, "Then tell me, am I happy or unhappy now?"
"Either way, I'm very pleased with the way you handle problems now." He turned his head, fiddling with the rabbit ears, "If you want to talk, I'll listen. If you don't, we'll watch the fireworks. If you're in the mood, I can even teach you how to make rabbit lanterns."
He's still the same, always able to gently remove your entanglements and restlessness with the most serene demeanor. His presence is like timely flowing water, soaking the dry cracks and extinguishing unwanted flames. You can't resist him in any way, only gladly accept. That's Zimiao for you.
I stared at him in a daze, the parting by death that year suddenly becoming a dream. In reality, nothing had happened—there was no punishing drought, nor were his body and spirit completely destroyed. Look, he's sitting right beside me now, as the fireworks of the Lantern Festival burst above us. If everything that happened is really just a dream, then, what are Ao Chi and I? Another dream that I haven't woken up from yet?
"I married Ao Chi." I looked at the sky and said something meaningless.
"I didn't misjudge him." He continued to fiddle with the slightly crooked rabbit ears, "He must have told you that I entrusted you to him when you fainted in the woods."
"After that, we've always been together." I kept on with the nonsense. Why aren't the fireworks bursting yet, the night sky is too monotonous.
"I know." He smiled at me, "You forgot that on the way here, he jabbered on and on to me until dawn about your happy life together. Your 'Unceasing,' your quarrels, reconciliations, and sharing life and death."
Yes, when Ao Chi returned from Duan Lake, he "compensated" Zimiao for all the time he had missed in a lofty tone. There was only one focus—all these years, it was him, Ao Chi, who had been with me, and now, he is my husband, and I am his wife.
"What the girl in red said is true." The fireworks finally started again, dazzling in my eyes, yet cold.
"You don't even need his explanation?" Zimiao didn't look at me, admiring the continuous beauty in the sky.
"Ao Chi's temper is impulsive and violent, and he can't tolerate being wronged the most." I lowered my eyes, holding the rabbit lantern on my lap. "If it weren't true, he would deny it on the spot, and might have killed the person who framed him. His biggest virtue is that he is willing to take action then live with the consequences. He says lying is boring and too much of a bother, so he does whatever he wants. Even if he's wrong, admitting it won't hurt him." I paused and looked at Zimiao, "For all these years, except for the twenty years he was away from me, he has never lied to me."
"Don't be biased[2], even if it's against yourself." He patted me on the shoulder, "We'd better go back."
"After this festival is over." I really like this rabbit lantern; holding it makes my arms feel warm.
"Hehe, I'm thinking, if it were the old you who encountered the scene just now, how would you have reacted?" He cocked his head, looking me up and down, "I'm afraid you would have been like a tigress[3] coming down the mountain, throwing a tantrum[4]."
"Nonsense! Even the old me wasn't that tough[5]! The only one I've ever been fierce to is that old man Jiu Jue." I glared at him.
"Right, right. Whenever he came to play chess with me, he would tease you, and you couldn't stand him the most." He nodded repeatedly, laughing.
We both fell into the same beautiful memories by chance. It's also one of the few things we share together.
"Do you want to see your old friend? I can find him for you." I asked him. I haven't informed anyone, including Jiu Jue, about my return to Unceasing.
"No need," he waved his hand with a smile, "You can't be sober after seeing that drunkard." Indeed, knowing Jiu Jue's style, his way of expressing shock and joy would undoubtedly involve drinking, and he might end up drinking until he passes out. With him having just arrived in a new place and strange incidents occurring frequently, it's indeed not the right time to visit friends.
Always considering every situation carefully, seldom letting emotions dictate actions—this is what I admire about Zimiao, and it is also what I used to hate the most about him.
"Why haven't you shown any intention of going back?" I suddenly asked him. "Is it really just going with the flow?"
"When it's time to go back, I'll naturally go back. What people like most to use to make things difficult for themselves are the two words 'to worry,'" he chuckled.
Talking to him always gives me the inexplicable feeling of looking at flowers in the fog, looking at the moon in water[6]—it's clearly in front of me, yet I can't touch or grasp it.
"If you go back..." I hesitated for a moment, "what will you do?"
That unfiltered mouth of Ao Chi's spilled everything, including how he transformed into nourishing rain to end the severe drought in the human world, and even revealed the past events involving his daughter, Zhuge Jingjun, and Zhuge Jun. He didn't care at all about Zimiao's psychological endurance, only seeking his own catharsis.
Fortunately, the target of his "revelations" was Zimiao. These important matters concerning his own life and daughter didn't seem to disturb Zimiao's emotions. Throughout the process of listening, he was very attentive, occasionally frowning, occasionally smiling, without any intense reactions.
Zimiao is indeed still the same person in my memory, and hasn't changed at all.
"The course of fate is predetermined," he calmly replied.
"I believe in fate, but I don't accept it." I looked into his eyes and said half-jokingly, "I once believed so firmly that fate had taken you away from my life forever. Yet now it brings you back. Tell me, should I still believe in fate?"
"Did you wish me to come back?" he suddenly asked.
A gust of wind blew, causing the candlelight inside the rabbit lantern to flicker violently. I couldn't answer this question. Because I always thought there was no reason for this question to exist anymore. He couldn't come back, whether I wanted him to or not.
"Whether I wish it or not, you're already back." I mimicked him and didn't give a direct answer. After speaking, I even stuck out my tongue, then felt embarrassed—I'm too old to still stick out my tongue.
"You, looking like this, are the Xiao Shaluo I'm familiar with." He probably caught my embarrassing sticking-out-tongue expression and touched my head, his eyes as gentle as they were years ago. I lowered my head, my heart in turmoil.
Zimiao's palm, Ao Chi's panic, the grievance of the woman in red—all churned endlessly in my mind.
"Not going back?" he asked.
"After daybreak," I said stubbornly.
"Alright then, come watch the lanterns with me," he stood up and reached out his hand to me.
"You're going to appear in the flesh[7]? Dressed like that?" I swept my eyes over his attire - his jet-black hair, his moon-white robe, his tall and elegant figure. If he showed up, mortals would surely go crazy.
"What's wrong with dressing like this for the Lantern Festival?" he shrugged, unconcerned. "Maybe you dislike my rustic style and don't want to go with me?" His eyes sparkled mischievously, like an old urchin.
Alright, it's a festival so let's do as we please, who cares what others think! I grabbed his hand and stood up, my clothes instantly changing style. The fashionable coat and high heels vanished without a trace, replaced by a verdant green robe and embroidered lotus shoes. Thousands of years ago, this was how I looked.
I stopped thinking about anything else and walked boldly into the crowd, stepping onto the lantern-lit street that stretched into the distance. Many people were looking at us, and I even heard some young girls gasp in admiration. There was no malice, only envy.
Zimiao held his rabbit lantern in one hand and held mine in the other, walking calmly and easily with the flow of the crowd. From time to time, he would tell me the answers to the riddles on the lanterns or the origins of certain foods. It seemed like the one who had missed out on time wasn't him, but me.
On that autumn day many, many years ago, I walked with him through the streets like this. On that day, I was as happy as a bird flying out of its cage. Every ordinary street scene and passerby was a source of excitement and curiosity for me. No matter how crazily I ran, he was always behind me, never more than a step away. I once thought that strolling around the streets with him again was an unattainable dream for a lifetime. But when the dream became reality, I could no longer find the ecstatic joy of that year. The human world has become as familiar as my own fingers, and I've lost my curiosity about it.
I followed him honestly, only misbehaving once when we passed by a stall. Just like before, I quietly tapped the back of a girl picking out mirrors. The butterfly printed on the mirror immediately flapped its wings and flew into the air. Once again, I succeeded in scaring a girl to a pale face, then ran away snickering. All kinds of lights fluttered around us like fireflies, more beautiful than dreams.
As we continued forward, the number of pedestrians dwindled. Glancing at the time, it was already three in the morning. The vendor selling sweets by the street was happily closing up shop. A few minutes later, I sat on a bench by the street, holding a bowl of fragrant and sweet brown sugar glutinous rice cakes.
"Want some?" I scooped up a piece and asked him. He shook his head, "Didn't you say that girls nowadays are afraid of getting fat and avoid sweets? Aren't you worried about becoming a fatso?"
"I'll get fat then," I peevishly stuffed my face with two more pieces.
"The more you're told not to do something, the more you do it," he chuckled. "Back when you were still a tree, you got in a huff just like this."
I choked. He stifled a laugh and patted my back. Swallowing the last piece of the cake, I let out a satisfied belch and blurted out to Zimiao, "You know, that single-celled Ao Chi wants me to make dessert for him every night. If I don't make it, he won't sleep, and he won't let me sleep either. One time I refused to make it, and he deliberately farted under the covers, which really ticked me off!"
Zimiao burst into laughter. I laughed too. I don't know why I suddenly told this to Zimiao. I was with Zimiao all night. The person I voluntarily talked about was really that guy Ao Chi, and it was so natural.
"Are you an outstanding cook?" Zimiao asked, still laughing.
"Depends on your standards," I stuck out my tongue again. "Everyone certainly eats it. In any case, I've been a dessert shop owner for a whole year."
"There are countless delicacies in the East China Sea, and every dragon there has a spoiled tongue," he casually said, while carefully wiping away the sugar stains from the corners of my mouth. "Shaluo, do you understand what I mean?"
I was nonplussed. I know my cooking skills are nothing impressive. Almost all the desserts in Unceasing back then were the results of "Fatty" and "Skinny," or in other words, all made by Ao Chi. But after we got married, he has never stepped into the kitchen again, only knowing how to bully me into preparing three meals and late-night snacks. No matter how awful in taste or appearance the food I make, he devours it all like a dumpster, never complaining and always looking satisfied. I once thought that this amoeba was born with a good appetite and was not picky. And now, Zimao tells me that the dragons in the East China Sea all have spoiled tongues.
There are still occasional traces of fireworks in the distant sky, but compared to before, they are very sparse. There is no one else on the streets except for him and me. I must have look very dull now, the sparkle in my eyes fading with the end of the last fireworks.
"Pretending not to be angry, pretending not to care, pretending not to be afraid - all these are not good habits," he placed the rabbit lantern at my feet. "When you're hungry, eat; when you're tired, sleep. Everything should be natural. In the eyes of others, you may have weathered storms and remained unsullied by the world, but..."
I interrupted him, "What about in your eyes?"
"You haven't reached the level yet," he said bluntly. "Thousands of years of cultivation can make your spiritual power rise and make your spells improve a lot, but even a lifetime may not be enough to understand and refine your heart. Refining your heart to be honest is often the hardest thing to do."
He has always been the one who can easily see through me at a glance. Yes, I'm not as calm as I'm acting. I just... find it embarrassing to throw a tantrum like a shrew. I'm the boss lady who is regarded as a spiritual idol by many people or demons. I have god-like abilities and Buddha-like serenity. Before that goddess[8] in red appeared, I almost thought I'm truly such a "knowledgeable person[9]." Now I realize I'm simply overly glamorized.
"I've become hypocritical," I laughed self-deprecatingly. "I should have just grabbed Ao Chi by the ear on the spot and made him kneel on a memory stick or a mouse."
"Your way of handling things isn't wrong, but it can get better in the future," he leaned back in his chair, looking at the sleeping streets in the distance. "If you're willing to continue to 'grow up.'"
I'm starting to understand why he can always remain calm and unruffled, why his emotions are so inscrutable. Zimiao, how long have you been "refining" your heart... I also leaned back on the chair, gazing in the same direction as him, silently watching, neither of us speaking. He also has his worries, but I can never see through them.
The night of Wangchuan wrapped around us generously. The sparsely scattered stars in the sky, each one like my increasingly heavy eyelids; every slight breath he took was a comforting lullaby.
And so, I fell asleep on the streets of Wangchuan. Not far away, a figure, hidden in an unseen place, appeared and then left quietly. With no concept of time, no dreams, I slept soundly.
In the morning, I woke up to Zimiao's smiling face, the morning light forming halos around him. He grinned at me, "Your sleeping posture is still ugly."
I blinked hard and looked down—sure enough, I was sitting on the ground again, my head resting on his thigh, my hands clutching his calves like a koala. I vaguely remember that year on Mount Fulong, when I got drunk and ended up in this embarrassing state, holding him to sleep until dawn, and he, in order not to wake me, kept the same posture all night.
"Let's go." He straightened out his crumpled clothes.
"Where to?" I stood up and stretched lazily.
"A married woman staying out all night—once is enough," He laughed, shaking his head.
Alright, let's go back. There's still an explanation waiting for me in "Unceasing."
Footnotes:
[1] The name Wangchuan(忘川) is formed of the word wàng(忘: to forget) from yí wàng(遗忘: to become forgotten) and chuān(川: river) from hé chuān(河川: rivers). So Wangchuan City translates to Forget River City, or City of River of Forgetfulness.
[2] 偏听偏信: selective listening; to hear what one wants to hear.
[3] 母老虎: tigress; (fig.) fierce woman; vixen.
[4] 哭 闹 又 上吊 comes from the folk saying 一哭二闹三上吊 meaning first: cry, second: make trouble, third: hang yourself. In short, make a scene; throw a tantrum.
[5] 彪悍: Used humorously, actually means brazen; shameless.
[6] 雾里看花: to be unable to see the truth of the situation clearly. 雾里看花, 水中望月: Flowers in fog and moon in water are imaginary things, alluding to things that are forever out of reach.
[7] 现身: a deity/god showing oneself; divine revelation.
[8] Just to be clear: a woman of great beauty, not a female deity.
[9] 高人: very able person; highly skilled or knowledgeable person. When referring to hermits, it means someone of noble character.
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