Chapter Fifty-Seven: Good Things Come with Difficulties

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I am tormented, unsure of what to do next. Now that I possess the Blood Linglong, my distress has only deepened. Finding the remains of Ziyi filled me with joy, but when Wan’er insisted on being buried alongside him, my heart tightened with unease. I bear no prejudice, nor do I harbor any ill thoughts toward Shangguan Wan’er; I simply believe she ought to stay. Time has traversed more than two thousand years—why not seize the chance for another resurrection?

Such an opportunity is rare; fate has favored Wang Ying and her, granting them this chance. I truly do not wish to let her body be buried so soon. “Seventh Uncle, tell me—how can I preserve Wan’er’s body?” Since Shangguan Wan’er’s soul has already entered the Soul Jar, I am not afraid she will overhear.

“Think about it! What did we use to preserve Wang Ying’s body? Was it not Blood Amber? Wan’er’s body remained uncorrupted underground for two thousand years thanks to Blood Amber! Now, with Blood Linglong, Wang Ying’s soul can be preserved; with your blood and her soul, her flesh can be kept intact as well. So, the Blood Amber should be returned to its rightful owner.”

His words awakened me as if from a dream. Yes, Wang Ying now has Blood Linglong—what need is there for Blood Amber? Besides, Blood Amber originally belonged to Shangguan Wan’er. Yet my heart remains hesitant; I simply cannot bear to let such a beautiful corpse be buried. I wonder if this feeling is selfish. Still, I know very well that my intentions remain pure; until now, my feelings for her have been those of a brother toward his sister.

Yet Wan’er waited two millennia and finally met Ziyi; their burial together is most reasonable and widely approved. Fortunately, with Blood Amber, her body will not decay, and perhaps, if fate allows, she may walk the earth again.

Wei Qi and I sought out the village chief once more, expressing our needs. The chief patted his chest and assured us it was no problem. He even said if I lacked money, he would lend it to me—repaying him if possible, otherwise not. He spoke words that touched me deeply: the west side of the village was the committee office, with several empty rooms much better than Wei Qi’s second uncle’s house. I was welcome to live there if I wished.

I politely declined; staying at Wei Qi’s second uncle’s home was comfortable and warm.

The burial site remained the same—where Tianxing was interred. Letting the three remain together seemed fitting. Wei Qi reminded me that the mature woman’s body, which was originally used for Wang Ying, was now vacant. Why not arrange a ghost marriage for Tianxing?

It felt somewhat like matchmaking at random, yet it was a clever plan. He lingered beneath the tomb of the King of Ju for so many years, proving his loyalty and affection. I opened the Soul Jar and discussed it with Shangguan Wan’er. After a moment’s hesitation, she agreed to follow mine and Wei Qi’s suggestions.

With the burial site secured, the chief arranged for the old elm tree at the village entrance to be felled, dried over a fire, and the finest carpenters summoned to craft a superior coffin for Ziyi and Shangguan Wan’er.

Night deepened, the moon hidden by clouds. By now, the villagers knew of mine and Wei Qi’s abilities, so they listened to us without question. All expenses were covered by the chief. Around midnight, dozens of men carried a jet-black coffin along the road.

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This was the coffin for Shangguan Wan’er and Ziyi. Ziyi’s ashes were placed in an urn, which was then set inside the elm coffin. As for the mature woman, she would be buried alongside Tianxing.

At the moment Wan’er and Ziyi’s bodies were laid to rest together, I made a sudden decision: I quietly placed Ziyi’s Phoenix Pool Sword into his coffin. Wei Qi protested, saying such a divine weapon was rare and a pity to bury.

I already knew that the Phoenix Pool Sword was an unparalleled artifact, but I could not be selfish. The sword was not mine; Ziyi had sacrificed himself for Shangguan Wan’er, and his weapon belonged by his side.

Wei Qi nodded in approval, saying I had done the right thing. After laboring half the night, we completed the burial for Ziyi and Shangguan Wan’er. The mature woman’s body was also interred with Tianxing. Wei Qi presided personally, holding a modern ghost marriage ceremony for them.

When I returned home, it was late. In my right hand were three Blood Linglong pearls; in my left, the Soul Jar, containing three souls—Wan’er, Qingting, and Xuanli. I gently opened the Soul Jar; Qingting and Xuanli lay resting, while Wan’er sat, her black hair cascading down, so I could not see her face from above. I wanted to call to her, to comfort her, to tell her I had buried her body with Ziyi. In the end, I said nothing, nor disturbed her, instead quietly sealing the jar.

Setting the Soul Jar aside, I turned my attention to Wang Ying.

Wang Ying’s body lay there—her soul now settled within. Since Blood Amber had gone into Wan’er’s grave, I had to hurry to revive Wang Ying’s soul, so she could remain by my side, and I need not worry about her body.

Thinking of this, I quickly took one Blood Linglong pearl from the brocade box. When I placed it at Wang Ying’s lips, I hesitated. Would feeding her Blood Linglong revive her soul? Would her body come back to life? If she revived, what would happen? Would she recognize me in her seven days of life?

Suddenly, I realized that if I fed her the medicine, her brief seven-day revival might be happiness—or perhaps cruelty. Would seven days of rebirth bring her joy, or deepen her sorrow?

This is reality: if we died and lived again for seven days, the feeling would not be happiness, but grief—a harsh truth.

I woke Wei Qi from his slumber and shared my thoughts with him. He agreed; seven short days would likely bring more anguish. Still, he said Wang Ying must take Blood Linglong. Such chances are not given to all, and everyone had sacrificed so much for it. If Wang Ying refused, it would betray everyone’s efforts.

Wei Qi made a convincing argument; Wang Ying’s revival might not bring happiness—she might recall her hatred, or despair over her fleeting life. Yet among 1.3 billion people, only she had this chance. I must let her experience it.

Wei Qi departed. Before leaving, he put his arm around my shoulder: “Nephew, I hope tomorrow morning you bring your wife to visit me!” He left, grinning.

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I closed the main door, then the bedroom door, and settled onto the bed once more.

Wang Ying lay quietly, like a sleeping, mature child. Steeling myself, I gently pried open her lips and placed a Blood Linglong pearl inside, then closed her mouth.

I sat waiting, expecting Wang Ying to suddenly awaken with a gasp, but she showed no sign of waking. Her face remained unchanged, showing no hint of resurrection.

“Wang Ying, Wang Ying, my wife, wake up!” Instinctively, I touched her shoulder—my heart chilled. There was no warmth at all! Could Blood Linglong have lost its potency after two thousand years? If so, it was a bitter disappointment.

No matter how I called to her, she showed no reaction. Minutes passed; her hand was cold when I felt it, her pulse silent.

Despair crept in. Perhaps I had overestimated Blood Linglong’s power, or perhaps Shangguan Wan’er had misremembered its name. Two thousand years is a vast river of time; anything could change within its flow.

I sat dazed as the minutes ticked by. Dawn began to break outside, yet Wang Ying remained lifeless, unmoving.

Perhaps I had given Wang Ying too little. I decided to try again, gently opening her mouth and placing another Blood Linglong pearl inside.

Yet the result was equally disappointing. After the second pearl, she was unchanged—still cold, still unmoving. Now I was truly helpless.

Looking at Wang Ying’s cold body, my heart shattered. Even if she cannot live for seven days, if only her soul would return! But now, her soul is gone, her body cold. There is only one Blood Amber, buried with Shangguan Wan’er.

What am I to do? As I pondered, tears streamed down my face.