Chapter Thirty-Three: Once Been Here

This scene was utterly horrifying; never in my wildest imagination did I expect her arm to be so fragile that with one tug from Ma Mingjing, it would simply fall off.

Ma Mingjing himself was terrified, yet the Ma family was unwilling to give up. The elder bellowed at Ma Mingjing, declaring that this marriage was of paramount importance to their clan, that it would determine the family’s fortunes for years to come. He commanded Ma Mingjing to help the bride up and insisted that, come what may, the final bow must be completed.

As long as the bow was made, the marriage would be sealed.

Not daring to defy the elder’s orders, Ma Mingjing wiped the rain from his face, crouched down, and tried to lift the bride. Yet the rain only intensified, cascading down in torrents. As Ma Mingjing reached for the bride’s body, the rainwater deformed her completely. Even her features, under the relentless downpour, blurred and twisted, dissolving away.

Helpless, Ma Mingjing could only manage a forced bow, going through the motions of the ceremony.

Moments later, the bride and her once-lavish paper wedding dress had been reduced to a pulp, clinging to the ground in a sodden mess.

At that moment, the shamaness, Lady Wang, beside me, wore an expression of astonishment. Suddenly, excitement flickered in her eyes as she exclaimed, “So that’s how it is! So that’s how it is!”

All I could see was that, beneath the rain, Weiyang had turned to paper pulp, but I couldn’t fathom what it all meant. A sense of worry gnawed at me.

Puzzled, I looked at Lady Wang. She met my gaze, her face alight with joy. “The old immortal was right after all. You, young man, are truly full of merit and virtue.”

Her excitement made her cough, but after a few fits, she steadied herself, not coughing up blood this time, which allowed me to relax a little.

The rain still had not ceased.

Dense black clouds rolled and tumbled overhead, as if intent on tearing the very sky asunder. The ruined temple, already dilapidated, leaked badly; rain outside became a drizzle within. Yet Lady Wang sheathed her peachwood sword, her eyes brimming with hope.

Meanwhile, beneath the nameless stone, the bride was now nothing but mud—washed to fragments by the deluge, beyond any hope of being lifted again.

Ma Mingjing stood there, uncertain what to do. He looked to the elder, whose expression was grave, his face fierce and trembling with fury. Suddenly, the elder pointed at the nameless stone and roared, “Our Ma family treated you with respect and sincerity, seeking this marriage in good faith—only to be toyed with by your Ye family. Ye Weiyang, mark my words: from this day forward, our Ma clan is your mortal enemy. You are but a lowly ghost; no matter what it takes, we will destroy you!”

The elder’s rage made his face quiver.

No sooner had he spoken than a bolt of lightning, sudden and without warning, split the sky and struck directly before him. The lightning, a mighty pillar, crashed down with terrifying force. With a thunderous roar, mud and water exploded, hurling both Ma Mingjing and the elder into the air.

Ma Mingjing landed, spattered and caked in mud, a pitiful sight—gone was his earlier elegance. The elder, who had just uttered his threats, was flung to the ground, unable to rise for a long while. Ma Mingjing hurried over to help him up.

When the elder was lifted, his face was blackened and charred. He opened his mouth to speak, but blood welled up and spilled out instead. The other members of the Ma clan rushed over to check on him.

“Bring... bring me Ma the Cripple!” the elder spat out furiously.

The Ma family searched everywhere, but there was no sign of Ma the Cripple. Ma Mingjing said, “Grandfather, I fear Ma the Cripple has already run away!”

“Run away? I’d like to see where he thinks he can go. Find him! Search the whole world if you must, but bring him to me—I’ll deal with him myself!” The elder, too enraged, coughed up more blood. It seemed that, aside from their shared surname, Ma the Cripple had little connection to this Daoist clan. Trouble had barely begun, and they had already turned on each other.

“Grandfather... what about the marriage?” Ma Mingjing glanced at the nameless stone and asked.

“Marriage? After being played for a fool, you still don’t see it? This whole business at the old burial mound was a trap from the start. The one promised to you was nothing but a paper effigy. If not for that downpour destroying the substitute, you would have completed the three bows and married a paper bride.” The elder was furious.

“Grandfather, when the paper effigy fell, I did bow to her.” Ma Mingjing recalled that, in his panic, he had managed to complete that final ceremonial bow.

At these words, the elder’s face turned ashen. He didn’t utter a single word before fainting dead away.

The Ma clan, frantic, carried the elder away from the old burial mound.

Minutes later, the Ma family was gone from the hill, and the rat spirits who had kept watch over the villagers had also vanished without a trace.

Only the villagers remained, eyes vacant, standing motionless in the driving rain like wooden posts. Without the rat spirits to control them, they seemed like nothing but empty shells.

I asked Lady Wang why the elder fainted when he heard Ma Mingjing had bowed to the paper bride.

“The three ceremonial bows mean that Ma Mingjing has effectively married a paper bride. But the paper bride is an empty shell—he’s married to nothing. The Ma family sent Ma Mingjing here because his fate bears the mark of solitary doom, destined to a life of loneliness with no heirs. They hoped to break this curse through a ghost marriage. If it succeeded, they could try to condense a yin spirit for the bride, and, if successful, she could become flesh and bear children, perhaps ensuring heirs for the Ma clan,” Lady Wang explained patiently.

“The Ma family is so large—surely Ma Mingjing isn’t their only hope for descendants?” I asked in puzzlement.

Lady Wang smiled faintly. “We’re outsiders, but from what I could see, Ma Mingjing has no siblings. So, in this generation, he’s the sole direct heir. He did mention he’s the seventh son, which suggests he once had siblings, but for some reason, they’re all gone.”

“He’s now married an empty shell here at the old burial mound, and the paper bride is destroyed. Even if they wanted to annul the marriage, they can’t. The empty shell has claimed the sliver of fate he had for marriage—leaving the Ma clan completely cut off from future heirs.”

At last, I understood why the old man had been so distraught after hearing those words.

When the burial mound finally quieted, the rain eased, and the clouds swirling in the night sky gradually dispersed, as though the whole storm had been sent for this very purpose.

The long-lost moon hung high, clear as a mirror.

Starlight scattered across the sky, making the heavens more beautiful than ever. As Lady Wang and I gazed upward, a sudden clopping of hooves echoed from the distant mountaintop.

The hoofbeats were ethereal, like a sound from the edges of the sky, yet also resonating in my mind.

I looked toward the crest of the old burial mound, and there she was: dressed in red, mounted on a white horse, gazing down the slope. At the sight of her, my heart leapt once more.

At that moment, Lady Wang said, “Child, it seems Miss Weiyang had set her heart on you long ago. That’s why all this happened. Do you know why she used a paper substitute to marry another?”

“Why?” I asked.

“Silly boy, isn’t it obvious? She wanted to make you jealous, to help you see your own heart.” Saying this, Lady Wang gave me a push out of the ruined temple.

“Go on!” she urged.

I took a deep breath, steadied my nerves, and walked toward the nameless stone.

There, I paused and looked up to the mountaintop. Mist swirled about, and from within it she emerged, the sound of her horse’s hooves crisp and light. In a moment, she too arrived at the nameless stone.

She dismounted and walked toward me, her feet gliding above the ground, her steps utterly silent. As she drew near, a gentle breeze lifted her veil.

For the first time, I saw her face.

Just one glance, and I was transfixed.

I had imagined her beauty before, but never could I have guessed that, from the very first moment I saw her, her beauty would penetrate my very soul.

Somewhere in the depths of my being, it was as if fate had bound my heart to hers; as if, in another world within me, she had once visited.

“How long do you intend to stare at me like that?” she asked suddenly, her red lips parting softly.

Startled from my reverie by her melodious voice, gentle as a spring breeze, I quickly averted my gaze, realizing how impolite I’d been to stare so.

“Weiyang, about last time—I’m sorry, I never meant to deceive you!” My mind was a blank, and for a moment, I didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s all right,” she replied.

Then, remembering the red hairpin I held, I hurried to take it out and offer it to her. She accepted it, her gaze flickering, then with a wave of her hand, another identical hairpin appeared in her palm—the other half of the pair. She handed both pins back to me and said, “On the day we are wed, you can place them in my hair yourself.”

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