Chapter 273: End of Main Text

Chapter 273: End of Main Text

"Ah, the snow has finally stopped."

Upon waking, Liu Buhua opened the window to find the ground covered in a blanket of snow. Turning to Shen Qiuji, who had sought refuge in his room because his own air conditioning had broken, and was now wrapped in a genuine cashmere blanket, Liu remarked, "I'll call someone to clear the snow off the mountain road soon, and then have your air conditioning fixed. The snow was too heavy last night; I feared they might have an accident on the way."

Shen Qiuji's face remained expressionless. "Even if it's fixed, it'll break again. I can't bear another day like this."

Liu Buhua let out a deep sigh and patted him on the shoulder, "Winter can be tough indeed. I appreciate your patience."

Shen Qiuji: "It's not about patience; it's about destiny being cruel."

Liu Buhua: "..."

"Look at the beautiful sunshine today. Basking in it will ward off the chill. If not, use a few more heating pads."

Liu Buhua tore open the heating pad package and lovingly stuck them onto Shen Qiuji. "Feeling warmer now?"

However, Shen Qiuji's expression soured further. Discarding the blanket, he walked outside.

Liu Buhua noticed he was heading towards the ancestral hall.

It dawned on Liu – the young man's mood wasn't just about the broken air conditioning. He missed his master.

Ever since Xie Yinxue passed away, Shen Qiuji had worn a gloomy face, as if the world owed him something. Only after paying respects to Xie Yinxue would his demeanor improve briefly.

However, upon opening the doors of the ancestral hall that day, they no longer saw the radiant golden coffin.

Instead, a tall man dressed in dark robes stood at the center. Hearing the door open, he turned slightly, casting a glance their way.

Candles in the hall, which never went out, flickered brightly. The gentle breeze from the door made the flames dance, reflecting in the man's deep, icy blue eyes, reminiscent of ripples in a serene pond.

Snapping back to reality, Shen Qiuji frowned at the unfamiliar face, "Who are you?"

Meanwhile, Liu Buhua gazed into the man's recognizable vertical pupils, uttering in surprise, "...Xiaoganma?"

"Is he that male serpent spirit?" Shen Qiuji began to recall. He observed Bu Jiuzhao, "You've taken human form?"

Liu Buhua inquired, "Xiaoganma? Are you here to pay respects to our master too?"

Bu Jiuzhao remained silent, shifting his gaze from them and focusing on a portrait hanging on the wall.

The portrait depicted a young man in a light blue robe, exuding elegance. He lay lazily beneath a pear blossom tree, his hair adorned with the tree's delicate white petals.

Liu Buhua and Shen Qiuji followed Bu Jiuzhao's gaze, quickly noting the portrait. Simultaneously, they observed the absence of the golden coffin that once resided within the hall. In its stead was a painting of Xie Yinxue.

Startled, Liu Buhua looked around, "Where's father's coffin?"

Shen Qiuji immediately suspected Bu Jiuzhao, "What have you done with my master?"

Bu Jiuzhao stood still, silent, his face displaying an air of detached indifference. Unless he spoke, one couldn't discern his innermost thoughts.

After a pause, he finally uttered a seemingly random word, "Cold."

"Huh? The room isn't cold."

Liu Buhua, puzzled, glanced at the temperature control near the door. Assured that the indoor temperature was around 26°C, he remarked, "We have underfloor heating."

Furthermore, Bu Jiuzhao's dark robe seemed thick and warm. Dressed as he was, shouldn't he feel warm enough?

Perhaps Bu Jiuzhao, with his delicate constitution, was more susceptible to the cold. Liu Buhua suggested, "Xiaoganma, the sun outside is quite pleasant today. If you feel cold, why not bask in the sunlight? I remember you enjoy that."

Upon hearing this, Bu Jiuzhao finally tore his eyes away from the painting.

His gaze slid past both Liu Buhua and Shen Qiuji, settling on the brilliant and warm sunlight outside. After a moment, as if speaking to himself or perhaps questioning them, he murmured, "Has the day already dawned?"

Liu Buhua exclaimed in surprise, "Have you been standing here all night?"

Given the perpetual lighting inside the hall, it might be reasonable for Bu Jiuzhao not to notice the transition from night to day. However, once they opened the doors and the outside light streamed in, he should've recognized it was daytime.

Besides, the doors had been open since they entered the hall.

Yet, Bu Jiuzhao seemed lost, as if his consciousness or even his soul was disconnected from his body. Oblivious to Liu Buhua's words, he just stared blankly at the painting of Xie Yinxue, as if nothing else existed.

Shen Qiuji glanced between the painting and Bu Jiuzhao. The realization was clear.

He clenched his fists, eyes reddening in an instant, glaring at Bu Jiuzhao, he uttered with gritted teeth, "You turned my master into a painting."

Bu Jiuzhao didn't deny it.

He also paid no attention to Shen Qiuji. Instead, he took a few steps forward, reaching out, seemingly wanting to caress the face within the portrait.

"Stay away—!"

Shen Qiuji rushed fiercely to Bu Jiuzhao, giving him a strong shove. He then stretched out his arms, blocking the portrait of Xie Yinxue, preventing Bu Jiuzhao from getting any closer.

Bu Jiuzhao, with his towering stature and commanding presence, should have easily withstood such a shove. But, as if he'd taken a direct blow to the heart, he staggered backwards several steps.

Liu Buhua rushed over to steady him, expressing his concern, "Little Aunt..."

Annoyed by Liu Buhua's seeming betrayal in aiding the culprit, Shen Qiuji angrily shoved him too, shouting, "Get out! Both of you, get out now!"

Like a lonely, wandering soul, Bu Jiuzhao stood in the shadows outside the shrine. He hesitated to step into the warm sunlight he'd yearned for, as if fearing that its brightness might consume him entirely.

Facing Shen Qiuji's accusations and rebukes, Bu Jiuzhao took it all without uttering a single word in his defense, except for resisting when Shen Qiuji tried to close the shrine's door.

His method of resistance was to stand in the middle of the doorway, preventing the door from closing.

In the end, Shen Qiuji tried so hard to shut the door that it broke, leaving it permanently open.

Bu Jiuzhao remained unharmed, not a hair out of place, which only made Shen Qiuji even more convinced that his earlier stumble had been a feigned display of vulnerability.

"Alright, alright, Ah Ji, you should head to school," Liu Buhua attempted to mediate, "I'll keep an eye on Little Aunt here and won't let him enter the shrine, okay?"

Shen Qiuji scoffed, "Given your blind loyalty, I don’t trust you."

Liu Buhua, desperate, swore, "If I deceive you, may I be reborn in my next life unable to become a flower."

Recognizing the severity of such a vow to Liu Buhua, and finding Bu Jiuzhao unbearably annoying yet unmovable, Shen Qiuji relented, "Fine."

After sending Xie Yinxue's cherished disciple to kindergarten, Liu Buhua returned to the shrine and found that Bu Jiuzhao hadn't tried to sneak in. He was seated on the steps, no longer gazing at the portrait but quietly watching the snow on the ground.

The snow sparkled brilliantly under the sun, almost blinding in its luminosity.

With every inch of shadow receding due to the sunlight, Bu Jiuzhao would shift slightly, staying within the shade.

Observing this, Liu Buhua sat beside him, cautioning, "Little Aunt, be careful with your eyes. Staring at the snow for too long can cause snow blindness."

But as soon as he finished speaking, Liu Buhua remembered that Bu Jiuzhao's unique eyes were likely immune to such conditions.

Nonetheless, heeding the advice, Bu Jiuzhao lifted his gaze from the snow to the sky.

Turning to Liu Buhua, he asked, "Has the world outside always looked like this?"

His voice was raspy and hoarse; Liu Buhua always felt as if he could scoop a handful of bitter water from it.

Liu Buhua retorted, "Where is there a sky?"

Bu Jiuzhao replied, "In the painting."

"Painting?" Liu Buhua turned to glance at the portrait behind them, "You mean in my godfather's artwork?"

"Yes."

Bu Jiuzhao gazed upwards, speaking to the vast expanse above, "The sky within the painting seemed limited. I thought the outside world would offer a larger horizon, but it appears just the same. Whether vast or confined, I can't discern its boundaries."

Liu Buhua commented, "Well, of course. The universe is boundless; how could you possibly see its edges?"

"Really?"

After uttering those words, the man bowed his head, suppressing every emotion in his eyes, returning to observe the pristine snow below.

Unable to bear the stifling silence, Liu Buhua cleared his throat, "Little Aunt, before my godfather was laid to rest, he mentioned you."

This statement undoubtedly captured Bu Jiuzhao's attention. Though silent and without raising his eyes, Liu Buhua noticed the faintest tremor in his eyelashes.

Encouraged, Liu Buhua continued, "He asked me to take good care of you. So, as his dearest..."

Bu Jiuzhao lifted his gaze, his profound and icy beast-like eyes intensely focusing on Liu Buhua, his pupils narrowing like fine needles, concealing a hidden tumult.

Liu Buhua quickly corrected himself, tentatively suggesting, "...favorite?"

The man remained silent.

Liu Buhua slightly lowered the intensity of the "love," probing again, "...cherished?"

Those vertical pupils only grew narrower.

Liu Buhua, slightly embarrassed, added, "—indifferent godson, I've created a detailed plan to help you seamlessly integrate into modern human society."

At this, Bu Jiuzhao finally diverted his gaze, succinctly indicating his willingness to hear more, "Go on."

Liu Buhua wasn't just talking the talk; he had indeed prepared a plan. With Bu Jiuzhao's nod of approval, he pulled out his smartphone, accessed his notes, and began, "First and foremost, in today's society, besides money, education is paramount for one to stand firm. Unfortunately, Little Aunt, you lack both wealth and credentials."

“……”

"But don't worry!" Liu Buhua clutched his phone, shifting his tone, "I've got your tuition covered. Since you're new to this world, take a couple of days to familiarize yourself, ensuring you acclimate well. Starting next week, you'll join Ah Ji in kindergarten."

"Xiao Ganma, given your age, attending kindergarten should be easy for you. Just a month, and then you can move on to elementary school. If you do well, you might even make it in time for this year's elementary school entrance exams. After that, you'll advance to middle school... huh?!"

As he spoke, Liu Buhua suddenly fell silent.

His mouth was still there, perfectly fine, but he could only produce muffled "mm-mm" sounds and couldn't form a complete sentence.

Bu Jiuzhao abruptly stood up, his ashen eyes gazing skyward, murmuring, "It's going to snow..."

It seemed as though he had silenced Liu Buhua, preventing him from speaking, perhaps fearing that Liu's chatter would disrupt the serene sound of the falling snow.

However, Liu Buhua also looked up at the sky alongside him, but no snowflakes were in sight. Instead, he caught Bu Jiuzhao wearing a subtle smile.

Those ashen eyes, which seldom showed compassion yet frequently bore a cold and unfeeling gaze, now danced with a soft laughter, a stark contrast to his usual icy demeanor. It was as if the lingering frost of winter had melted, welcoming the gentle warmth of spring.

Liu Buhua had never seen him smile like that—certainly not in the absence of Xie Yinxue.

He was so captivated that he failed to notice the previously bright morning sky now darkening, the distinct line between light and shadow beneath the eaves and steps gradually blurring.

By the time Liu Buhua noticed, Bu Jiuzhao had already shifted slightly.

The man took broad strides off the steps, stepping into the light that was no longer warm and radiant but had turned a dull, cold gray. He then reached out and caught the first drifting snowflake.

— It really began to snow.

Amidst his surprise, Liu Buhua heard the man utter, his voice weary and heavy, "I hold such resentment..."

The man's long lashes fluttered downwards, looking at the snow in his palm, a smile still lingering on his lips, but his voice was filled with a biting resentment.

"Xiao Ganma, who do you resent?"

Liu Buhua was taken aback. It felt as if Bu Jiuzhao was speaking to the snowflake in his hand, prompting him to ask without thinking. Only after asking did he realize his voice had returned.

The lone figure amidst the snow replied, "I resent myself."

The snowfall grew heavier.

In the evening, after Shen Qiuji returned to Mingyue Cliff from school, he saw a silhouette standing in the snowy ground in front of the ancestral hall.

The figure was clad in dark robes, with the tips of his raven-black hair dusted with snow.

Shen Qiuji cast him a glance and, seeing that he hadn't entered the hall, paid him no mind. He went into Liu Buhua's room to bask in warmth and do his homework. By the time he was halfway through, dusk was nearing.

Heading to the door to turn on the light, he passed by the window and noticed, amid the deepening shadows outside, a faint golden glow emanating from the man's embrace.

Shen Qiuji asked Liu Buhua, "Did you give him a lantern?"

"No," Liu Buhua peeked and replied, "That's a tritium lamp my godfather gave him."

Shen Qiuji clenched his fists, exclaiming, "What's he showing off for?!"

He then looked up at the gentle snowfall and complained, "Why isn't it hailing to strike him down?"

Using the broken door of the ancestral hall as a reference, Liu Buhua thought for a moment before rationally suggesting, "Even a rain of blades wouldn't do the trick, would it?"

But Shen Qiuji seemed inspired, declaring, "I'll conjure a blade rain then!"

Liu Buhua tried to bring him back to reality, cautioning, "Ah Ji, with your current skills, even conjuring a simple rain might be a stretch, let alone a blade rain. Just finish your homework first."

"Just watch me!"

Leaving behind this threat, Shen Qiuji dashed into the study, rummaging for an esoteric method to conjure a blade rain.

In moments of extreme anger, one might indeed tap into hidden potentials. Hence, Liu Buhua wasn't sure if Shen Qiuji could succeed or even how resilient Bu Jiuzhao was now, after his time in Shuochangsheng. What if he could withstand a wooden door but not a rain of blades?

After all, his godfather had entrusted him to take good care of his 'little godmother'.

So, Liu Buhua discreetly tried to tip off Bu Jiuzhao, advising him to take precautions.

Yet, Bu Jiuzhao remained unmoved.

He stood vigil outside the ancestral hall, seemingly unaffected by the elements, or the passage of time.

Amid the swaying snowstorm, his eyes, as if forged from the coldest ice, glinted faintly, shimmering in the light of the lamp he held.

With the snow, it drifted, traced his visage, and settled onto the snowy ground.

It was then that Liu Buhua realized what they had seen shimmering in the man's eyes that morning when they opened the doors of the ancestral hall — it was not the reflection of candlelight, but ripples reminiscent of water waves.

"Little Godmother…"

Liu Buhua, in surprise, asked, "Were you... crying?"

"…What have I done wrong?"

The man's Adam's apple bobbed, responding with a question rather than an answer.

His voice was raspy and hoarse, the kind that only arises from deep pain and torment.

Just as Liu Buhua was about to tell him that everyone cries and there's nothing wrong with shedding a tear, Shen Qiuji arrived in the courtyard. Liu Buhua, thinking Shen Qiuji might genuinely have found a method to summon a rain of blades, hurried to intercept him.

To Liu Buhua's surprise, Shen Qiuji merely wanted to indulge in some schadenfreude, commenting cheekily, "He's crying? Let me see."

But Bu Jiuzhao paid them no mind. He clasped his hands, holding tightly the small tritium lamp Xie Yin Xue had given him, pressing it close to his heart and murmuring bitterly, "At first, all I really wanted…"

"Was merely…"

— to seek out a sliver of warm sunlight.

Changxue Zhou is so cold, constantly battered by fierce winds and frost, where the sky is sealed and the earth closed off, granting only one day of warm sunshine every summer solstice.

No one shielded him from the biting wind, nor sheltered him from the chilling snow.

So, in his longing and anticipation to touch that radiant warmth, to use it as protection against the cold, where had he gone wrong?

He pondered this for ten thousand years in Changxue Zhou, three thousand years trapped within the Eternal Autumn Picture, and countless nights in Mingyue Cliff, yet he couldn't figure out his mistake.

"What have I done wrong—?!"

Bu Jiuzhao lifted his face to the sky, questioning with raw desperation.

In that instant, his body underwent a transformation. Firstly, his pupils constricted sharply, and then the whites of his eyes reddened. He knelt to the ground, arching his back. His robes tore apart in mere moments. The next second, the lone human figure in the courtyard vanished, replaced by a colossal beast, its fur as dark as storm clouds.

The beast dug its claws into the ground, its upper body bending forward, as if preparing to leap and soar into the sky.

"He's not a serpent spirit?" Shen Qiuji exclaimed, eyes wide at the shocking scene before him.

Liu Buhua quickly covered his companion's mouth, "Hold your tongue. We're both on his menu, and with his cooking skills, he might just turn us into a gourmet meal."

As if Liu Buhua's words struck a nerve, the beast roared, its mouth gaping wide, revealing menacingly sharp fangs.

The cry was one of heart-wrenching sorrow, echoing mournfully across the vast expanse of the universe.

In an instant, flames shot to the heavens, a blazing surge of scorching heat emanated from the beast, spreading out with a force that seemed capable of obliterating everything, reminiscent of a hellfire consuming all in its path.

Instinctively, Liu Buhua and Shen Qiuji shut their eyes. Yet, when the wave of fire washed over them, they felt only warmth. Upon opening their eyes, they found that not a trace of snow remained across the vast expanse of Mingyue Cliff.

And the beast didn't take to the skies.

Stunned, Liu Buhua watched as the creature, with the urgency of chasing stars and moon, dashed into the ancestral hall, heading straight for a hanging painting.

Overcome with emotion, tears flowed from his eyes, "Little Godmother! You've cursed me to never be a flower in my next life—!"

The beast, however, did not stop or look back.

It was as if, in this boundless world, the creature desired nothing more than to be a single droplet of ink from a pen, leaving its mark beside the youth.

In his daze, Liu Buhua remembered a snowy day when he had asked Bu Jiuzhao in front of the ancestral hall why he harbored such self-loathing.

Bu Jiuzhao replied, "I often resent this life that isn't truly mine, forever entangled in ceaseless pursuits."

He despised his millennial existence where everyone he encountered wished for his demise;

Despised that he met the one he loved, who brought warmth and light into his life, yet plotted to trap that very person eternally within the confines of a painting in his stead.

He even despised that he had lived at all;

Despised the discontent he harbored;

Despised himself for leaving Changxue Zhou;

Despised that he couldn't remain forever unattached and hopeful, to be born alone and to die alone.

An overwhelming hatred consumed Bu Jiuzhao, so intense it melted every flake of snow on Mingyue Cliff. Yet, when he rushed into the painting, he found snow there as well.

— Inside the painting was another Mingyue Cliff.

Beneath the lush pear blossom tree in the backyard of the Moonlit Cliff, there lay a silhouette of icy azure.

The figure reclined on a wicker daybed, resting her forehead on the back of her hand with eyes closed. Her raven-black hair, reminiscent of satin, cascaded beside her, adorned with a few petals of pear blossoms.

While pear blossoms bloom without snow, paradoxically, a thin layer of snow covered the alabaster toes of the young man. With the blossoms upon the snow, it was as if snowflakes fell on a snowy ground, indecipherable as to which was whiter.

Bu Jiuzhao knelt on the snow, reverting to his human form, looking at the young man's aloof yet exquisite face, pondering: Perhaps the youth is the fairest of all.

Perhaps the young man sensed Bu Jiuzhao's irreverent thoughts, for he lifted his thick lashes, gazing with eyes cold and clear as midnight ink, raising an eyebrow to ask, "It hasn't even been a day, why are you back so soon?"

Bu Jiuzhao parted his lips, but no sound emerged.

Only when the young man rose from the daybed, his bare feet stepping on the snow as he walked towards him, did he lean down with a gentle smile, brushing Bu Jiuzhao's cheek with his cool fingertips, asking, "Why the tears? Were you bullied outside?"

Bu Jiuzhao finally found his voice, answering hoarsely, "...Yes."

The young man probed, "Who dared to bully you?"

"You."

Through misty eyes, Bu Jiuzhao looked into Xie Yin Xue's eyes, saying, "I wanted to see the world outside, but I kept hearing your voice urging me to come home."

Hearing this, Xie Yin Xue bent one knee, crouching before him: "You've only been gone a day, I didn't rush you."

Meanwhile, the sky began to sprinkle snowflakes as delicate as fluff.

Bu Jiuzhao, who loathed snow, became agitated by the falling snow and stubbornly murmured, "You did hurry me."

"Am I that terrible?" The youth's eyes curved playfully, "What should we do then?"

Bu Jiuzhao blinked back, his long lashes trembling, looking past the young man to the vast snowy expanse—marked with uninterrupted footprints leading right to him.

Resentment still lingered in his heart.

He resented the vastness of the world outside, so immense and high that he couldn't soar above it.

But if the world truly had no boundaries, then even the world within a painting, no matter how small, was boundless. There, he could fly as high as he wished.

He didn't want to be the migratory bird that flew aimlessly across the snowy terrains.

Year after year, dawn till dusk, he wanted every glance to catch the imprints he once left in the snow.

And the snow kept falling, landing on Xie Yin Xue, nesting within the icy silk strands of the young man's hair, descending as if fulfilling a wish he once made to the youth.

Bu Jiuzhao fixed his gaze on the snow, and in an instant, remembered why he despised it.

Because snowy days were frigid, and amidst the blinding blizzards, there was no one willing to offer him the slightest warmth.

But now, he no longer felt cold; he envied the snowflakes, even yearned to become one.

Gently, he rested his head on the youth's shoulder, pressing close to the warm skin of his neck, whispering —

"I wish I could fall upon you too."

Author's Note:

① "Long do I rue this body's not my own; when will I forget its ceaseless striving?" — From Su Shi's "Lin Jiang Xian: Night Return to Lin Gao".

Roughly translated: I long for freedom, but I am bound by this body. When can I forget the constant hustle and overlook fame and fortune?

② The title, "When can I take off my shoes and thank the times, having a world of sun, moon, and sky within a pot?" is from Li Bai's "Returning to my Old Home at Stone Gate". The essence is: Hoping for a day when one can disregard worldly matters as one would remove shoes, entering a fairy realm within a pot, possessing its own celestial bodies and landscapes.

The extras for this story are lengthy, but I feel the main text concludes perfectly here. I had envisioned this ending from the very start; all the writing was leading up to this moment.

I'll continue updating the extras. Many tales remain untold, including the backstory of Bu "Doggy" Jiuzhao and Xie Yin Xue. Tomorrow's update will pick up from the main story's conclusion, diving into the extras, filled with the sweetness of their daily lives.