Chapter 34: The End of Mortal Ties

The path down the mountain was smoother than she remembered, perhaps because her cultivation made her steps light and nimble.

Bai Yuening followed the faded yet deeply etched memories of her predecessor, crossing familiar rice paddies and streams, heading toward the small courtyard at the foot of the eastern slope of the village.

The village seemed livelier than usual; the distant sounds of drums and gongs hinted at celebration. She paid it no mind, simply following the quiet side path.

Turning past a venerable old locust tree, her view suddenly opened up. On the narrow road ahead, a procession bedecked in crimson and festoons moved slowly onward.

It was a wedding procession.

A brand-new bridal sedan chair, the thunderous clang of gongs and drums, and a jubilant throng crowding around.

At the head of the procession, the groom, dressed in a red robe and riding a short horse, wore an honest face, his expression tinged with shy delight.

Beside the sedan chair, a woman in a brilliant red wedding gown, her face veiled under a scarlet hood, was being helped along by a matron of honor, each step carrying her toward a new life.

Bai Yuening stopped where she stood.

At a distance and through the clamor of voices, she watched in silence.

That dazzling red dress unsettled her for a moment.

The memory of that little figure who used to stumble after her, needing her hand to cross the threshold, had now reached the age to be married.

She should have been among the relatives seeing her off.

“Well now, that’s quite the scene. Is that your younger sister? This wedding is really something,” Ye Ming’s voice rang in her mind, laced with the curiosity of one enjoying the spectacle.

Bai Yuening did not reply. Her gaze moved past the crowd to the slowly receding bridal sedan.

She saw it.

At the window of the sedan, a slender hand quietly lifted a corner of the red curtain, peering out as if searching for something.

Was she… looking for her?

Bai Yuening instinctively stepped back, hiding herself more completely behind the sturdy trunk of the old locust tree.

The sound of drums and gongs faded as the procession turned past the village entrance, taking the noise with it.

She stood there until that splash of red vanished entirely at the horizon, then slowly emerged and continued toward the home of her memories.

The low slope remained, but the familiar courtyard now appeared much more dilapidated and sunken.

A corner of the mud-brick wall had collapsed, exposing the weedy yard within.

The wooden gate hung ajar, its faded spring couplets torn and ragged.

It was nothing like the home she remembered—modest but always neat, filled with the warmth of daily life.

The courtyard was utterly silent.

She pushed open the creaking wooden door and stepped inside.

The main room was dim, sparsely furnished, a thin layer of dust coating everything, exuding the chill of long abandonment.

Her gaze swept over the empty house and finally fixed on the square table against the wall.

There, side by side, stood two black lacquered ancestral tablets.

The candlesticks were cold, the incense burner empty.

The words carved on the tablets struck her eyes—

“In memory of the late Bai Shichang”

“In memory of the late Qin Yuelan”

Bai Yuening stood frozen, her breath catching in her chest.

So… that was why the letter had never mentioned her parents—to spare her grief.

Ten years of secret support, thinking she had repaid her debt, yet she knew nothing of when they had left this world.

The final farewell, in the end, she had missed.

“…This…” Ye Ming fell silent as well.

That ever-buoyant spirit of his seemed crushed, and after a long pause, he said quietly, “My condolences.”

Bai Yuening closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of the cold, still air.

When she opened them again, her gaze was tranquil and calm.

She turned and left the courtyard, found a secluded corner, took a plain coarse robe from her storage pouch, and draped it over herself. She loosened her hair, masking her appearance.

She walked toward the nearest neighbor’s gate, where an old woman was hanging clothes to dry. The woman looked up at her in puzzlement.

Bai Yuening lowered her eyes and spoke softly, “Forgive my intrusion, auntie. Is it true that the Bai family at the foot of the slope… no longer has anyone at home?”

“I’m a distant relative, just passing through, and wanted to pay a visit.”

The old woman regarded her a moment, then sighed. “The old Bai couple, they’re gone. Fell ill with something incurable.”

“Poor souls. Even before passing, they kept talking about their eldest daughter…”

Bai Yuening suppressed a pang within her, her tone gentle with sorrow. “Might you know where they’re buried? Since I’m here, I ought to offer some incense.”

“Up on Old Pine Ridge behind the village, right next to the crooked pine tree.” The woman pointed the way and went on to reminisce about the Bai couple’s kindness and their final thoughts.

Bai Yuening listened silently, thanked her, and turned toward the back of the village.

The mountain breeze swept over the low ridge, stirring the freshly lit incense before the graves, the pale smoke curling into the cool air.

Bai Yuening stood quietly before the tombstones, her gaze lingering on the rough carvings: “Bai Shichang” and “Qin Yuelan.”

Unbidden, scenes from the depths of memory came flooding back.

The man’s honest smile as he hoisted her overhead to watch the village festivities.

The woman mending clothes by lamplight, humming off-key folk songs.

During famine years, the meager grains at the bottom of the bowl always pushed into her and her younger sister’s bowls…

A chill touched her cheek; she lifted her hand to find her fingertips damp.

She had wept.

Was it for the regret of the original soul who never got to say goodbye?

For the lifelong longing and unrequited hope of this kind couple?

Or for the unspeakable twists of fate?

She could not tell.

Ye Ming was unusually quiet.

The buoyant presence that usually hovered in her mind was now utterly subdued, lingering quietly behind her.

Bai Yuening closed her eyes, letting the emotion flow. When she opened them again, she was calm once more.

Just as she was about to turn and leave, the sound of hurried footsteps approached from behind.

“Wait, Sister Yuening! Is that you? Sister Yuening!”

Bai Yuening paused, then slowly turned.

On the path below the ridge, a young woman in a bright new wedding dress came running, lifting her skirts.

Her hair was slightly disheveled from running, her makeup blurred by tears, which only made her eyes shine more brightly as she stared at Bai Yuening.

Ten years had transformed the little girl who once only knew how to call “Sister” in a childish voice into a young woman now of equal height.

Bai Yueyao stopped a few steps away, chest heaving, eyes wide and unblinking as if afraid her sister would vanish at any moment.

“It’s really you… I went home to fetch something and saw fresh incense in front of our parents’ tablets, so I guessed you might have returned…”

Her voice was choked with tears, yet she tried hard to smile. “Sister Yuening, you really did join the Immortal Sect. You’re just the same as ten years ago, not changed at all…”

Before she finished, she rushed forward and hugged Bai Yuening tightly.

The embrace trembled with force, her tears soaking through Bai Yuening’s shoulder.

Bai Yuening stiffened for a moment.

This unguarded affection was unfamiliar to her, even bewildering.

Her hand, hanging at her side, moved slightly; at last, she gently raised it, resting it lightly on her sister’s shaking back.

Bai Yueyao did not know that the sister she clung to now had long since changed souls within.

“When did Father and Mother pass?” Bai Yuening’s voice was a little hoarse.

Bai Yueyao sniffled, her words broken. “A year ago. Mother first fell ill, then Father held on for half a year before following her.”

“They always missed you. Though the neighbors said you’d become an immortal and looked down on us mortals—”

“But they never believed it. They said you weren’t that kind of person.”

“You sent grain home regularly. They knew you must be well, just that the sect’s rules were too strict for you to come down the mountain.”

“They always wanted to thank you in person, to see you again…”

Bai Yuening listened in silence. Those simple words painted a picture of the endless longing and trust her parents had held over the decade.

The original owner had risked her life for gratitude, but her parents had never taken it for granted.

Softly, Bai Yuening asked, “And you? How did you contact me?”

Bai Yueyao released her and wiped her face with her sleeve. “A while ago, I ran into an immortal from Cloudrise Sect on an errand down the mountain. He looked extraordinary, so I worked up the courage to ask if he knew a cultivator named Bai Yuening. He seemed to remember, so I begged him to carry a letter for me…”

So that was it.

Worldly ties, so easily thought severed, were in truth still tightly knotted in hidden places.

Bai Yuening drew out several bottles of pills from her storage pouch—herbs for fortifying the body and prolonging youth, suitable for mortals—and pressed them into Bai Yueyao’s hand.

“Keep these. They’ll be good for your health. Consider it… a wedding gift.”

Bai Yueyao looked at the cool, smooth jade bottles in her hand and her eyes reddened anew. “Thank you, Sister Yuening.”

“Truly, your coming home means more than anything. Father and Mother’s spirits can rest easy now.”

Bai Yuening nodded. “Yes.”

A thousand words, and in the end, only silence.

From this day, immortal and mortal would walk separate paths.

“I must go now. Yaoyao, take care.” Bai Yuening spoke softly.

Bai Yueyao nodded hard, tears rolling down her cheeks, but she forced a smile. “Take care, Sister Yuening.”

Bai Yuening looked one last time at the twin graves, and at her tearful sister’s brave smile.

She turned and walked down the path she had come by, toward the mountain.

She did not look back.

The mountain wind caught her robes, and her figure soon vanished at the end of the trail.

Bai Yueyao stood motionless, gazing after her sister long after she was gone.

Not until the distant sound of wedding horns drifted from the village did she slowly clasp the bottles in her hands and turn away, heading toward the road that would lead her back to her mortal life.

On the road back to the sect, Bai Yuening walked slowly.

It seemed she could still feel the warmth and dampness of that embrace on her shoulder.

“Um…” Ye Ming’s voice finally sounded again, cautious now, stripped of its usual playfulness.

“Are… are you all right?”

“I am fine,” Bai Yuening replied, her voice calm and even.

Ye Ming hesitated, as if searching for words of comfort, but in the end could only say awkwardly, “Well… everyone has their fate. You’ve already done more than enough.”

Bai Yuening gave no reply, only lifting her gaze to the towering gates of Cloudrise Sect piercing the sky.

Her ties to the mortal world were severed, her attachments cut.

Ahead, there was only the path of cultivation.

She quickened her pace.