Chapter 12 Dreamscape
For several days, life went on as usual. If they were to label their arrangement as cohabitation, they had already been living in the same apartment, with matching items down to the last detail. If they were to call it intimacy, their line of work had kept them together in life and in death, never once separating. Even real couples in the mortal world would find it hard to match their constant companionship. The way they interacted as brothers was pretty much the same as how they interacted as a couple.
The only difference was that they had once slept in separate rooms, each in his own bed, with a wall between them. Now, Xie Bian had moved into Fan Wujiu’s bedroom, sharing the same bed.
At first, Fan Wujiu had refused. He felt it was improper toward Xie Bian, and more than that, he feared he might lose control of himself. Yet before he could voice his objections, Xie Bian had already caught his hesitation and looked at him coolly. “You don’t want to sleep with me? In the end, you still find me repulsive. If you don’t even like me, why force yourself to be with me?”
Fan Wujiu immediately swallowed his words and changed his tune. “……I am willing, I am very willing.”
Xie Bian was too sensitive, too delicate. Fan Wujiu feared that any misstep would hurt him. Since he had already committed to this act, he couldn’t afford to let it all fall apart now.
Only then did Xie Bian’s mood improve. He lifted the covers and lay down on the other side of the bed.
Once the lights were off, Fan Wujiu lay stiffly in the dark, nerves on edge, terrified that something might happen in the night. Just looking at a photograph of Xie Bian was enough to make his heart race, so how could he possibly remain unaffected with the real person lying right next to him? This was a test of willpower he wasn’t sure he could pass.
His mind spiraled with thoughts.
What if Lao Bai suddenly pounces on me, demanding I fulfill my boyfriend duties? Do I push him away or not? If I push him away, will he be hurt and overthink things again? If I don’t push him away…… No, absolutely not. I can’t possibly make a move on my brother!
His mind was in turmoil, and just then, as if responding to his thoughts, Xie Bian rolled over and nestled into his arms. Their faces were so close that he could feel the warmth of Xie Bian’s breath.
Fan Wujiu’s heart nearly stopped.
Was this it? Was he about to make a move? Was he seeking intimacy? How should he refuse without hurting Lao Bai’s feelings?
But Xie Bian did nothing more. He simply slept there, breathing steadily in his embrace, just as he had on that first night.
Fan Wujiu remained rigid for a moment, waiting, but when nothing else happened, he finally confirmed that he had been overthinking it.
Now he just felt awkward.
It wasn’t as if he was imagining things out of sheer vanity. After all, which couple, when their love was deep, would not engage in the joy of union? Xie Bian had been struck by the golden arrow of love, which meant he was at the height of his affection. For him not to express any such desire was completely unscientific. Fan Wujiu had even consulted Venus himself, and he had confirmed that those struck by the arrow would not only overflow with love but also feel a physical longing for their beloved. That was precisely why he had been bracing himself, trying to figure out how to handle the situation.
Yet Xie Bian’s response was so pure, as if he merely wanted to hold onto him like a pillow and sleep.
The more Fan Wujiu thought about it, the more he found it plausible that Xie Bian, who had always been ascetic and never even visited bars, might not even know that lovers could engage in such activities. He probably thought that sharing a bed was the extent of an intimate relationship.
The more he thought about it, the more he felt it was plausible.
He gazed at the sleeping figure in his arms, his expression complicated. Lao Bai really was so pure and innocent.
Xie Bian, even in love, was not the clingy type. He never demanded good morning or good night kisses, nor did he ask Fan Wujiu to profess his love with a thousand sweet words. The most extravagant thing he did was hold him to sleep every night and that sudden kiss on their first night together. This saved Fan Wujiu from having to come up with too many excuses. He could never bring himself to refuse Xie Bian, but there were certain lines he couldn’t cross. As long as Xie Bian didn’t bring it up, Fan Wujiu didn’t have to worry about making excuses or rejecting him.
But even the most innocent of embraces was a sweet form of torture for Fan Wujiu. Every night, Xie Bian would hold him without warning, and Fan Wujiu had to rely entirely on his self-control to keep from pushing him away. It was only natural that his body would react, and every night he would recite calming mantras several times to help him sleep. It wasn’t unusual for him to lie awake all night.
He didn’t know when this would end. How long could the effect of the golden arrow last?
Fan Wujiu found himself torn. Part of him wanted the torment to end as soon as possible, while another part of him hoped that day would never come.
When he realized the latter thought had crossed his mind, he froze for a moment, then gave a self-deprecating smile and muttered, “Hypocrite.”
Life with Xie Bian was quite leisurely. People died every day, but not every day did people with great merit die. Such souls were rare, and more often than not, they found themselves with no work to do. Collecting rent was even simpler. They only had to collect it once at the start of the month, leaving them a lot of free time.
The Black and White Impermanence had something of a homebody tendency, likely because in the past, before the role of impermanence ghosts existed, they were constantly on the move, running errands all over the place and working themselves to the bone. Once they finally got a break, all they wanted was to stay indoors, never venturing out, and laze around at home like a pair of salted fish. So, whenever Fan Wujiu had some downtime, he’d dive into video games, while Xie Bian was obsessed with catching up on soap operas. The simple pleasure of passing time like this fascinated them. After working tirelessly in their youth, they now just wanted to live a carefree, retired life.
Of course, immortals didn’t age, but they were no longer young either.
These past few days, the fantasy drama Xie Bian had been following had just aired its season finale. He hadn’t yet found a new show to watch, and had fallen into a state of boredom, with nothing to do.
“I want to travel,” Xie Bian said, tossing his phone aside. “I’ve been cooped up in this room for too long. It’s getting a little stuffy.”
Fan Wujiu, of course, was always willing to fulfill Xie Bian’s requests. “You want to go out for a walk? Sure, where do you want to go?”
Xie Bian thought for a moment. “Fujian.”
Fan Wujiu paused. “Are you homesick?”
“I don’t miss my hometown, I miss old friends,” Xie Bian said, gazing into the distance. “It’s been a long time since I last went back to visit.”
“What old friends do you still have?” Fan Wujiu replied. “Even if you do, they’ve probably already passed through a few cycles of reincarnation by now.”
“Aren’t you an old friend?” Xie Bian turned to look at him. “You’re my only old friend now.”
They had both been born in the Fujian province, the place where they grew up. After becoming soul collectors, their work kept them so busy that aside from passing through when they were gathering the souls of the Fujian-born deceased, they rarely returned to their hometown. And even those brief visits were more like business trips. They hadn’t truly taken the time to observe how their homeland had changed over the years.
Now, neither of them knew what their hometown looked like anymore.
Once a person became a ghost or god, they severed their ties to the mortal world, and the past became something distant, difficult to hold onto in their hearts. When people spoke of the Black and Whit Impermanence, they only remembered that they served in the underworld, never thinking about their origins in Fujian. Even Xie Bian, when he recalled that place, felt no strong yearning for home, though he remembered it as the place where he and Fan Wujiu had grown up together.
He had cut all his worldly ties, and the only connection left was with Fan Wujiu. If there was anything he still held onto, it was the childhood he had spent alongside him.
Fan Wujiu paused, then cleared his throat lightly. “Alright. How do you want to get there?”
If they had chosen to travel on clouds or used the art of shrinking the land beneath their feet, they could have reached Fujian in an instant. But that wouldn’t have felt like a real trip. After all, what kind of trip would it be if they didn’t take the time to enjoy the scenery along the way?
Xie Bian said, “I want to see more of the road.”
Fan Wujiu understood immediately. “I’ll buy train tickets.”
So, they embarked on a spontaneous trip, leaving as freely as the wind.
Human transportation was so convenient that even traveling across several provinces only required a few hours by high-speed rail. When Fan Wujiu booked their tickets, he purposely chose a window seat so that Xie Bian could enjoy the view along the way.
The scenery flashed by as the train sped along. Mountains, rivers, lakes, and lush vegetation all appeared the same to mortal eyes. However, in the eyes of a god, these mountains had mountain spirits, the waters had water nymphs, and even the flowers, grass, and trees were all demons. All things had a spirit.
The local immortals and spirits sensed the passing of the Impermanence Immortals, and so, the water rippled and the leaves gently swayed, all as a greeting to the gods.
Xie Bian gave a slight nod, acknowledging their greeting in kind.
He had escorted the souls of powerful ministers and nobles during prosperous times, and he had also guided the spirits of warriors who had fought in chaotic eras. He had seen the beauty of flourishing lands, as well as the scars left by war.
The land itself was eternal, unchanged unless the oceans dried and the mulberry fields turned to ashes.
The world was divided into yin and yang realms. While humans and ghosts existed separately, the gods wove in and out of both. People today could still share the same moon as those from a thousand years ago, gazing at the same rivers and mountains.
Xie Bian gazed at the vast rivers and mountains, as though he had witnessed a thousand years of history.
As they neared the border of Fujian, perhaps out of apprehension at being near his hometown, Xie Bian no longer paid attention to the scenery outside the window. He closed his eyes and settled into a light doze during the last stretch of the journey.
Seeing this, Fan Wujiu considerately offered him a shoulder to lean on.
Xie Bian made no objections and rested his head comfortably against him.
In this sleep, he found himself back in the Fujian of a thousand years ago.
A child, no more than ten years old, sat by the window, reading a book. Another noisy boy burst into the courtyard, shouting loudly, “Bian! Bian! There’s a shadow play in town tonight! Let’s go quickly, or we’ll miss it!”
The boy raised his delicate, doll-like face, his eyes showing interest, but also hesitation. “But I haven’t finished my lessons. The teacher will punish me tomorrow.”
“You’re so clever, the teacher won’t be willing to punish you. If he does, I’ll tell him it was my idea. If anyone should be punished, it should be me!” Fan Wujiu took his hand and pulled him out of the house. “Anyway, I’m tough, and I’m not afraid of a little punishment.”
The two children ran hand in hand all the way to the town. Fan Wujiu had good physical strength, while Xie Bian was slightly out of breath. By the time they arrived at the puppet theater, a large crowd of adults had already gathered around. They were stuck behind, unable to get in or see anything.
Fan Wujiu crouched down. “I’ll carry you, and then you’ll be able to see.”
Xie Bian shook his head. “But if you carry me, you won’t be able to see, and that’ll be pointless, won’t it?”
“You can tell me what happens. That way at least neither of us will have wasted the trip,” Fan Wujiu said.
Xie Bian thought for a moment and found it to be a reasonable suggestion. He leaned against Fan Wujiu’s back, letting himself be lifted to see the shadow play.
What the play was about, he couldn’t quite make out in the dream, and he probably didn’t remember it at all. But the memory of Fan Wujiu carrying him to watch the play had never faded, lodged somewhere in the corner of his mind.
The scene shifted. They were in a bamboo forest. A young man in white, about sixteen or seventeen years old, was playing the zither in the forest, while a black-clad youth with a high ponytail practiced swordplay in front of him. The sword energy swept through the air, causing leaves to fall. As the leaves fluttered down, the music became more frantic, and the sword moves grew fiercer. Suddenly, the zither string snapped. The young man in white furrowed his brow as a drop of blood formed at his fingertip.
Fan Wujiu hurriedly sheathed his sword and rushed over, concern written all over his face. “Are you alright?”
Xie Bian shook his head gently, wiping away the blood with a handkerchief. “Your sword is too fast, my music can’t keep up.”
Fan Wujiu felt guilty. “I’m sorry.”
“How is it your fault? It’s my poor skills with the zither,” Xie Bian said, standing up with the instrument in his arms. “But your martial arts have improved greatly.”
“Unlike you, who are suited for studying, I can only practice relentlessly and try to win first place in the military examination,” Fan Wujiu said, pulling out a small bottle of medicine to treat the wound on Xie Bian’s hand.
As he applied the medicine, Fan Wujiu looked at him with a pained expression. “I’ve been training day and night, and now my hands are covered in calluses. They’re nothing like your hands, so beautiful from playing the zither, and yet they get injured so easily.”
Xie Bian knew the pain Fan Wujiu endured from practicing martial arts, and it made him feel uneasy. “You never cared for a career in the court, and you always said you hated that whole system. What changed? Why do you insist on walking this path now?”
“I never intended for this, but you, with your extraordinary talent, can’t possibly stay in this village your whole life. You’re destined to make a name for yourself in the imperial court,” Fan Wujiu lowered his head. “I just don’t want to be apart from you.”
He hadn’t intended it, but the person he cared for was right there.
Xie Bian whispered, “In the future, we will both marry and have children. We won’t be able to avoid parting.”
His words felt insincere. He did like the person before him, and never once had he considered marrying someone else. But Fan Wujiu couldn’t possibly share the same feelings.
Fan Wujiu frowned slightly, then lifted his head to look at Xie Bian in silence. “Brother Xie, I’m not cursing myself, I’m just telling you what’s in my heart. In this life, I am destined to have no descendants.”
At that moment, Xie Bian couldn’t understand that it was, in fact, a confession.
……
“Xiao Bai, Xiao Bai.”
……Someone was calling him.
Xie Bian slowly awoke, still lost in a haze.
Fan Wujiu looked at him gently, his eyes filled with a smile. “We’ve arrived.”
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