The little Daoist nun stayed silent for a long while before finally speaking. "A couple of years ago, when I came here with my senior brothers to offer incense to the patriarch, I saw it too. I just never knew who it was..."
Chen Changsheng shook his head. "He wasn't famous. In his early years, he was just an old man who ran a tea stall in Qingshan City."
"Oh."
Chen Changsheng let out a breath and poured a bit more wine.
The little nun simply watched the mister in the green robe squat before the grave. He stared at the small mound of earth as if he had a great deal to say, yet he did not utter a single word.
The little nun thought for a moment. "I miss my father and mother, too."
Chen Changsheng froze for a moment upon hearing this, then nodded.
The little nun seemed to understand his current state; it was no different from her own frequent dazes in the dead of night.
"Your father suffered an undeserved calamity," Chen Changsheng said. "But at least you're still alive, and you've grown up safely in this temple."
Chen Changsheng pondered for a moment. "I was an old friend of your great-grandfather, and only met your grandfather and parents later on. Our generations are too far apart, so This Chen isn't sure what you should call me either. If you don't mind, how about calling me 'Granduncle'?"
The little nun thought it over, raised her head, and called out.
"Granduncle."
She then asked, "I never met my great-grandfather. Doesn't that mean you've lived for a very long time?"
Chen Changsheng thought about it. "It looks like I've lived a long time, but in truth, I haven't lived for many days at all. It's been rather miserable."
"Miserable?"
"Yeah."
The little nun didn't quite understand. Didn't being miserable and impoverished refer to someone's family circumstances? How did that relate to how long someone had lived? She felt this granduncle spoke rather strangely, or perhaps he just hadn't read many books and had gotten his words mixed up.
Chen Changsheng then asked, "Is life in the temple hard?"
"It's alright."
"That makes sense. Qingxian Temple is part of the orthodox Daoist Gate, after all. They wouldn't let their disciples go hungry. Getting a full meal is easy enough."
"Mhm."
Chen Changsheng stood up and dusted the dirt from his clothes. "Let Granduncle ask you something."
"Go ahead, Granduncle."
The little nun appeared somewhat calm, but her hands, tightly gripping the corners of her robes, revealed her inner turmoil.
In the end, it was just empty talk. She didn't know this man, so how could she fully trust him?
"Have you ever thought about revenge?" Chen Changsheng asked.
The little nun pursed her lips, looking a bit timid.
After a moment of hesitation, she nodded.
"What if those enemies are already dead?" Chen Changsheng asked.
The little nun's heart skipped a beat. She stared at him, unsure of what to say.
Chen Changsheng reached out and stroked her hair.
"Your enemies are all dead. Every last one of them..."
Hearing this, the little nun shook her head. She didn't speak; she just looked at Chen Changsheng and kept shaking her head.
"It's true. Granduncle wouldn't lie to you."
"I don't believe it."
The little nun pursed her lips. Amidst her bewildered gaze, she couldn't help but ask, "How did they die?"
"After the Yu Army breached The Pass, those people died under their blades," Chen Changsheng said. "Their corpses were all burned to ash."
The little nun lowered her head, her breathing suddenly growing ragged.
She looked unsettled. When she raised her head again, she was biting her lip, her eyes rimmed with red.
"Are you really my granduncle?"
"I wouldn't lie to you."
"Granduncle," the little nun said, "I can't feel happy about it. I just feel sad..."
As she spoke, she began to cry, her tears falling endlessly.
She was just a little girl, after all. Whenever she cried, she just wanted to hide herself away. She simply leaned against Chen Changsheng's waist and buried her face, sobbing.
"There, there. Don't cry."
Chen Changsheng patted her back, his touch gentle and rhythmic.
Wang Yingying's sobbing wouldn't stop.
She believed it was true, yet she felt none of the joy of having her great vengeance fulfilled.
The indignation in her heart hadn't been erased. Instead, she suddenly felt overwhelmingly empty, as if she had lost her goal and the very meaning of her life.
Chen Changsheng crouched down and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Those people are already dead! The ones who framed your parents didn't even leave any remains behind. Even though they didn't die by our hands, they still got what they deserved. The spirits of your parents in heaven can finally rest in peace. Wang Yingying, don't be sad."
He reached out and brushed Wang Yingying's hair back, saying, "Blame Granduncle for arriving too late. Blame me..."
Wang Yingying shook her head, still sobbing.
At this moment, she couldn't take in a single word.
The hatred in her heart only made her feel that those wicked people had died far too easily.
She cried for a long time.
Standing halfway up the mountain, she sobbed endlessly, wiping her tears until the front of her robes was soaked.
After a long while, her sobbing quieted down.
She slowly calmed down, but the light had vanished from her eyes. She just stood there blankly, not saying a word.
Chen Changsheng stayed by her side, not disturbing her.
Wang Yingying's gaze shifted toward the sprawling expanse of Qingshan City.
Her master and senior brothers had told her that if she stood halfway up this mountain, she could see the entirety of Qingshan City. But the truth was, her master and senior brothers had lied. No matter where she stood on this mountainside, she couldn't see her own home.
She exhaled softly. Amidst the misty drizzle following the rain, she couldn't even see Qingshan City anymore.
"Liars."
Wang Yingying murmured.
Chen Changsheng remained silent, offering no reply.
Without even turning her head, she walked away.
Wang Yingying had her own stubbornness; she refused to believe all of this.
She needed to ask and investigate for herself before she would believe it.
There was also her mother.
And her father.
She was unwilling to believe this granduncle who had appeared out of nowhere.
Even though she had clearly believed him just a moment ago, she now regretted it.
Chen Changsheng watched her walk step by step back toward the temple.
He didn't speak up to stop her.
Instead, he simply sat down right there. Gazing at Qingshan City shrouded in the misty rain, he caught up with the old friend resting beside him.
He drank his wine, mouthful by mouthful.
His heart was filled with boundless regret.
He thought to himself that he never should have participated in that archaeological dig. Then he wouldn't have found the Mayfly Jade Carving inside that box, nor would he have been cursed to come to this place, forced to experience this uncountable suffering, watching his old friends pass away while being completely powerless to stop it. He possessed immense power, yet he couldn't make this world bend to the desires of his own heart.
Wang Yingying carried the same air about her as he did.
A profound indignation toward this world, along with an unspeakable loneliness.
The very first moment Chen Changsheng laid eyes on her, his heart ached.
How old was she, really? Yet she had already suffered so much.
Chen Changsheng kept thinking about what things would be like now if he had only arrived a little earlier and found them in time.
The father and son of the Wang Family would still be alive and well. There would be no plague to claim lives, nor would there be rogue soldiers to torment innocent people. Wang Yingying would have been able to grow up safely, and her eyes wouldn't be forever filled with hatred.
Slowly, Chen Changsheng fell over drunk in front of the grave.
Savoring the lingering taste of the wine, he slept in a drunken stupor for a very, very long time.
The rain poured down, falling onto his body.
It was as if even the rain regarded him as nothing.
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