Chapter 143 | You Said You Only Wanted to Die

Before the morning dew had dried, Duan Xianxing had already been pacing under the plum trees for half an hour.

He clutched a freshly carved wooden tablet in his hand, his knuckles slightly white from the force. He had cut this blue sandalwood from the back mountain during the night; the wood was fine-grained and carried a faint fragrance.

Duan Xianxing looked up toward the cliff edge from time to time—Li Nanzhu had been standing there for a long while, the morning breeze fluttering the sleeves of her green robes as if she might fly away with the wind at any moment.

"She... looks much better lately," Duan Xianxing whispered to Zhu Yinxi beside him, his voice kept extremely low as if afraid of disturbing something.

Zhu Yinxi spun his jade flute between his fingers without answering, but Duan Xianxing knew his second senior brother had noticed as well—ever since that day she had leaped from Wandao Peak, the haze in Li Nanzhu's eyes seemed to have thinned slightly.

She had begun to eat her meals on time, and she no longer carried that self-destructive ferocity when practicing her swordplay.

The evening before last, they had even seen her catching fish by the stream with Suisui, the splashes of water shimmering like fine gold in the sunset.

"So..." Duan Xianxing swallowed hard. "I think it's okay to ask now."

Zhu Yinxi's flute suddenly stopped, tapping lightly on the back of the younger boy's hand—a sign of agreement. His second senior brother was always a man of few words, but this gesture was enough to show his stance.

Duan Xianxing noticed that Zhu Yinxi had specifically changed into a brand-new moon-white long robe today, and even the jade crown binding his hair had been polished exceptionally bright.

When Li Nanzhu turned around, she saw her two senior brothers looking as if they wanted to speak but hesitated. She tilted her head slightly, a gesture that made her look like she had returned to the way she was three months ago when she first entered the sect. "What is it?"

"Junior Sister..." Duan Xianxing took a deep breath as if gathering all his courage. His palms were even sweating, leaving damp marks on the wood. "That... we wanted to..." His voice grew smaller and smaller until he finally just shoved the wooden tablet into Zhu Yinxi's hands.

Zhu Yinxi looked down at the blank tablet, then at Duan Xianxing's flushed face, and let out a rare sigh. It was a soft sigh, yet it made Li Nanzhu's eyelashes tremble slightly.

He stepped forward, his voice remaining calm. "Do you want to erect a memorial?"

Those words were like a stone thrown into a still lake; the air instantly turned stagnant.

Li Nanzhu's eyelashes fluttered. She looked at the wooden tablet in Zhu Yinxi's hand, then at Duan Xianxing's knuckles which were white with tension. A sour ache rose from the depths of her heart, forcing her to press her lips thin.

—They thought she was "better."

—That was why they finally dared to ask.

This realization made her heart feel as though it were being gently squeezed. All these days, they had been carefully observing her, waiting for this moment when she "returned to normal."

Like guarding a fragile porcelain vase, they were terrified that even the slightest carelessness would cause it to crack again.

Ultimately, Li Nanzhu only shook her head gently.

Duan Xianxing opened his mouth to say something, but swallowed the words back down.

Neither he nor Zhu Yinxi knew that person's name.

They only knew that Li Nanzhu had once murmured the word "Master" in a drunken stupor, and that something must have happened behind the light gate in that ancient cultivator's cave dwelling to make their junior sister end up like this.

But since Li Nanzhu was unwilling to speak of it, they had no reason to ask. They were even more afraid of re-opening the wound on her heart. The only thing they could guess was that the green jade fan she now carried everywhere was likely the only relic left behind by her "Master."

With nothing known, no name, and not even any remains, what could possibly be carved on a monument?

Suisui jumped down from her shoulder, its bone claws tugging at the corner of her robe.

Li Nanzhu looked down and found that the soul fire in the little skeleton's eye sockets was jumping with unusual intensity for some reason. Upon closer inspection, she saw a blurry figure reflected in the ghostly blue soul fire—a faceless, featureless silhouette of a person standing with a fan.

So familiar, so familiar.

She was dazed for a moment, then gave a light laugh, squatting down to gently brush her fingertips over Suisui's skull.

"There's no need." Her voice was soft, yet exceptionally firm. "He doesn't need a memorial."

Li Nanzhu's fingertips unconsciously brushed the green jade fan at her waist. The cold touch reminded her of the temperature of the bluestone floor against her forehead when she had kowtowed on the day of her apprenticeship; it also reminded her of the promise she had made in her heart back then.

Duan Xianxing's throat bobbed, but no sound came out.

He exchanged a look with Zhu Yinxi—they both understood that this might be the last chance.

The boy suddenly stepped forward, his voice trembling slightly with urgency. "But Junior Sister, you need to have... a memento..."

But Li Nanzhu still shook her head firmly.

—She couldn't erect a memorial.

That blank wooden tablet was like a blade; once erected, it would be like her own hand cutting off the last thread of hope.

She was afraid that one day she would wake up and, just like in her dreams, suddenly fail to remember his face. She feared that eventually, even the weight of those three kowtows would fade.

What she feared even more... was that erecting a monument meant truly admitting that he was dead.

"This is fine." She took the blank wooden tablet from them. Li Nanzhu's thumb rubbed over the grain of the wood; the rough texture felt like Duan Xianxing's clumsy concern. He clearly couldn't even carve words well, yet he had stubbornly wanted to give her something to lean on. "Keeping it blank... is fine."

The mountain wind blew through the plum branches, shaking down a few petals.

Duan Xianxing suddenly noticed that when Li Nanzhu said those words, the corners of her mouth were turned up slightly. It wasn't a practiced, perfect smile, but a real one, carrying a trace of warmth.

The boy scratched his head and pulled a carving knife from his robe. "Then... do you want to at least carve something?"

Zhu Yinxi's jade flute tapped lightly on the wooden tablet, leaving a shallow indentation. Li Nanzhu looked at that mark and suddenly smiled.

"A single dot is enough," she said. "Like... an unfinished story."

Suisui's soul fire suddenly brightened. The little skeleton used its bone claws to draw a circle on the ground, then a line—like an unfinished talisman. Li Nanzhu knelt down and added a stroke to the pattern.

Watching this scene, Duan Xianxing suddenly felt his nose tingle. He turned his face away, pretending the wind had blown something into his eyes. Zhu Yinxi spun his jade flute in his palm three times before finally stopping at a specific angle—a habitual gesture when he was deep in thought.

The morning light grew brighter, shining on the blank wooden tablet and on the faint smile at the corners of Li Nanzhu's mouth.

She knew what she was waiting for—waiting for a promise that might never be fulfilled, waiting for the day of her soul transformation stage, waiting for the day when she was strong enough to find all the answers.