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Guzi, age 7
The Heavenly Capital was beautiful, no doubt.
The streets were paved with gold, and ginormous temples floated on clouds. Birdsong always floated ceaselessly in the distance despite the lack of actual birds. Flowers bloomed and never faded. Heavenly officials walked around going about their daily duties, occasionally stopping to talk to each other.
Guzi solemnly observed all of this from the room he was given to stay at by a tall, handsome man with a stern expression. Guzi did not know his name, but he had watched the little flame that was all that was left of his dad disappear in that man’s hand. So Guzi did not think very highly of the man, but he had nowhere to go anymore, so he just silently stayed.
He was allowed to wander the empty temple, but he never dared take a step outside. He wanted nothing to do with the perfect, glowing world outside of the temple. He much preferred travelling around with his dad, and he was certain that all the places his dad promised to show him were a thousand times more beautiful than the Heavenly Capital.
The stern man came and went, never sparing Guzi more than a passing glance. Not that Guzi minded. He was used to being ignored by his real father after all. At least the stern man did not kick or hit him when he was angry.
One day, Guzi sat behind a large pillar and peeked out at the man for over an hour as he sat there, looking over stacks of papers that seemed to confuse him and definitely stressed him out.
The man had a plate of plump grapes sitting by his arm, but he never touched a single one of them.
After the second hour, the man sighed and looked over at Guzi.
“Come here,” he said.
Guzi, ever the obedient child, hurried over and sat down across from the man, staring up at him with wide eyes. The man was young and handsome, much like his dad and the gege in white. But the man did not smile and looked kind of cold.
The man stared at him hard for a few moments. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Guzi,” he answered in a quiet voice.
“What’s your surname?” the man asked.
“I- I don’t know,” Guzi admitted. No one had ever told him.
The stern man pursed his lips. “How old are you, Guzi?”
Guzi blinked a few times, looking away from the man. “I don’t know,” he answered again.
The man took a deep breath. “Fine,” he said. There was a moment of silence. Then, he pushed the plate of grapes towards Guzi.
Guzi looked at the large purple grapes, then up at the man, who just continued to stare at him hard. Slowly, Guzi picked up a grape, plucking it from its vine. Then, he started peeling the grape.
His dad preferred eating grapes that are peeled, and Guzi was often the one who peeled them. When the grape was peeled, Guzi slowly held the grape out to the man.
The man’s eyebrow twitched. “You eat it,” he said.
Guzi stared at the grape in his small hands, his eyes growing even wide. “I eat it?” Of all the grapes he peeled for his dad, he had never actually gotten to eat one. There were a few times that he wanted to sneak one to see what grapes tasted like, but after thinking about it, he would rather give it to his dad. If his dad did not eat grapes, he would eat people, and Guzi knew that was a bad thing.
Without a second thought, Guzi pushed the entire grape into his mouth. The burst of juicy sweetness made him gasp aloud. Without even finishing the first grape, he immediately started peeling a second one.
His little mouth could only fit three large grapes at a time, so after Guzi finished peeling the fourth one, he held it out to the man.
The man stared at him and shook his head once, going back to the papers.
Later that night, Guzi opened the door to his bedroom and was about to climb into bed when he noticed a plate of grapes on the low table in his room. Next to the grapes was a lantern.
Guzi examined the lantern, looking at all the strange symbols written all over it. The lantern was solid gold and very shiny. Guzi was almost afraid to touch it in fear he would get fingerprints all over it.
It was upon a second, more thorough look that Guzi noticed the faintest green glow from inside the lantern.
Guzi placed the lantern by his bedside that night, and he felt much less lonely when falling asleep in the empty temple that night.
Guzi, age 10
“Lang-gege! Lang-gege!” Guzi yelled when he saw Lang Qianqiu return after a week down in the Human Realm.
He had been waiting for Lang Qianqiu’s return all week. He sat by his window looking for Lang Qianqiu’s characteristic flash of light that signaled his coming and going. When he finally saw that flash, Guzi grabbed the golden lantern by his bedside and scrambled down to greet him.
“Guzi,” Lang Qianqiu said when Guzi rushed to his side. He patted his head twice.
“Did Lang-gege find another part of my dad?” he asked, practically running to keep up with Lang Qianqiu’s long strides.
Lang Qianqiu sighed heavily and reached into his robes to pull out two small green orbs.
Guzi’s eyes lit up. “Two?!”
Lang Qianqiu nodded stiffly.
Guzi quickly opened up the top of the lantern and watched with wide eyes as Lang Qianqiu dropped the two orbs into the lantern. When the lantern closed again, the green glow grew just a bit brighter. Guzi grinned happily. He set the lantern down for a moment to hug Lang Qianqiu’s leg.
The martial god was briefly stunned. Then, he managed a small smile and patted Guzi’s head.
“How is your training coming along?” he asked.
Guzi picked up the lantern again, hurrying after Lang Qianqiu. “Ehmmm… it’s okay…?” he said slowly. “I’m really good at five of the moves you taught me!”
“Only five?” Lang Qianqiu asked. “Didn’t I teach you ten before I left?”
Guzi hung his head. “I know. Guzi will keep practicing diligently, Lang-gege!”
Lang Qianqiu waved his hand dismissively. “Show me what you know. Maybe you’re doing it wrong.”
Guzi nodded before running off and putting the lantern in his room. He grabbed his sword, which Lang Qianqiu had gifted to him last year, promising Guzi to teach him martial arts when he could hold the sword up with one hand for ten minutes.
In the meantime, Lang Qianqiu sent Guzi to various civil gods’ temples to learn how to read and write. And at night, Guzi would come back and try to hold his sword up for a little longer, no matter how much his hand hurt from a day of copying texts.
The entire time, Guzi did everything asked of him without complaint. When things got a bit difficult, he just reminded himself that he was doing this for his dad’s sake. He had to listen to Lang Qianqiu so he would keep looking for pieces of his dad.
On the other hand, Guzi also needed to learn how to be strong so he can did not have to rely on his dad all the time. Guzi was very aware of the fact that his dad got hurt trying to protect him, even though no one told him that explicitly.
The pitiful looks he got from the civil gods (who were all massive gossips) told him enough.
Six months ago, Guzi finally could hold up the sword for ten minutes straight, and Lang Qianqiu, as per his promise, started teaching him how to use it properly.
Guzi grabbed his sword and ran back to the main hall, where Lang Qianqiu was sitting at his table, drinking tea, his own sword resting by his side.
“Show me the ones you know first,” Lang Qianqiu said, giving Guzi a nod.
Guzi performed those five moves without a single flaw. He had practiced each of them a few hundred times, focusing on only one move per day, so at the end of the week, he only knew five. The sixth one still felt a bit weird, so Guzi had not started on the seventh one.
When Guzi demonstrated moves 6-10, he stumbled through them, barely escaping slicing his own hand open.
Lang Qianqiu put down his cup of tea and picked up his own sword. “Come with me.”
They headed out to the training field behind Lang Qianqiu’s temple. With a snap of his fingers, bright flames lit up the torches around the field.
Then, Lang Qianqiu demonstrated the moves for Guzi. And Guzi copied him, paying close attention to all the tiny details and nuances of each move.
They trained late into the night. Guzi was exhausted, and he felt that his arm had no more strength in it. Lang Qianqiu had yet to break a sweat.
“Not bad,” he said, patting Guzi’s shoulders. “Keep practicing.”
“Yes, Lang-gege!”
Guzi, age 14
Literature and memorizing texts were merely a matter of spending time.
Martial arts and sword fighting were no more than a matter of practice.
Cultivation, on the other hand, Guzi had a difficult time grasping.
Guzi was aware he had the absolute best resources provided to him. He was taught to read and write and fight by gods. And when it was time for him to go into seclusion to cultivate, he was given access to a spiritual cave that no mortal could dream of finding.
But something about the deafening silence and being completely alone bothered Guzi.
After Lang Qianqiu dropped him off at the cave, he had disappeared, and Guzi was all alone, with no way off of the mountain. It was the first time Guzi had gone to the Human Realm aside from visiting Xie Lian and Puqi Village.
And it was certainly the first time Guzi had been in the company of no one.
Even when he was alone in Lang Qianqiu’s temple, he had his dad’s lantern to keep him company. But no amount of begging and tears could convince Lang Qianqiu to allow Guzi to take his dad’s lantern with him to the cave.
Something about a ghost’s presence could easily disturb the delicate balance of the spiritual cave.
So Guzi was left alone for an entire month, doing nothing all day except sitting in meditation.
It was probably one of the worst month of Guzi’s life. When Lang Qianqiu finally arrived to pick him up again, Guzi hugged the god for a full five minutes, not letting go.
Lang Qianqiu became terribly flustered by the act, even though Guzi hugged him on a regular basis, just never for so long.
“How old are you?!” Lang Qianqiu asked, dusting off his robes. “Aren’t you too clingy for your age?”
Guzi beamed, too happy to see him to care. “I’m really glad you came, Lang-gege!”
Lang Qianqiu huffed, his glare doing nothing to hide the small smile in his eyes. “Well, I couldn’t just leave you up here, could I?”
“How have you been, Lang-gege?” Guzi asked.
“Fine,” Lang Qianqiu said. “The palace has been… quiet without you.” He reached over and ruffled Guzi’s hair, a bit surprised to find that he no longer reached down to do so. Guzi stood at his shoulder now. He was really growing fast. “Let’s go.”
“How’s Dad?” Guzi asked immediately after, following Lang Qianqiu out of the cave. “Did you find all of him yet?”
Lang Qianqiu sighed. Guzi knew his dad was a sensitive topic. Lang Qianqiu hated him at first, but over the years, the hatred simmered down to a lingering bitterness towards him, probably due to Guzi’s influence.
“Not yet,” Lang Qianqiu said. “I found five more pieces while you were in seclusion.”
Guzi gasped, and he jumped excitedly a few times. “Really?! Then how many more pieces until he can take on a form again?”
Lang Qianqiu frowned slightly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “You’ll- You’ll probably have to ask His Highness’s husband about that.”
Guzi thought about Xie Lian’s husband. Guzi did not know much about him, and generally tried avoiding him. He knew that Hua Cheng did not like his dad either, and Guzi had clear memories of Hua Cheng beating up his dad pretty viciously.
In fact, most people that Guzi met disliked his dad quite a bit. While Guzi was aware that his dad was not exactly a good guy, he was certain his dad was not a bad guy either. After all, he treated Guzi better than his real father did!
It was like how most people also disliked Hua Cheng, but Xie Lian still married him! Guzi was there; he was in charge of bringing in the wine and two cups (that was about as close as he had ever gotten to Hua Cheng). If the dreaded Crimson Rain Sought Flower could be a good guy sometimes, so could Guzi’s dad!
“Oh,” Guzi said, hiding his disappointment.
Lang Qianqiu glanced at him but said nothing. He put a hand on Guzi’s shoulder, and in a dizzying flash, they were standing in front of Lang Qianqiu’s temple at the Heavenly Capital again.
They entered the main hall, and Guzi froze, blinking at the sight of a long table stacked high with food. Gods from both the Upper and Middle Heavenly Courts milled around, drinking and chatting. Guzi had never seen so many people gathered in Lang Qianqiu’s palace before today.
“Lang-gege,” Guzi said slowly. “What is going on here?”
Lang Qianqiu ruffled Guzi’s hair again. “I threw a feast,” he said, stating the obvious.
“But… why?” Guzi asked.
Lang Qianqiu’s eyebrows furrowed. It was something he did when he was embarrassed, Guzi had noticed.
“Lang-gege?”
“I told everyone it was my birthday,” Lang Qianqiu forced out.
“But it’s not?” Guzi asked, beyond confused. Even if it was, Lang Qianqiu was not one to celebrate such frivolous things with such a large feast. All of Heaven was here!
“…I know you had a hard time alone in seclusion,” Lang Qianqiu sighed. “I wanted you to come back to something more…” he gestured vaguely at the scene.
“Lang-gege…” Guzi said in an awed voice. “This is- This is for me?”
Lang Qianqiu coughed.
Guzi hugged him again. “Thank you, Lang-gege!” he shouted.
Several gods around them glanced over, surprised to see Lang Qianqiu being hugged tightly by some youth.
“Guzi,” Lang Qianqiu said in a low voice. He put a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder and peeled him off. “Just- Just enjoy.”
Guzi nodded enthusiastically. He quickly ran off to his room, checking on his dad’s lantern first. When he noted just how much brighter it had gotten since Guzi last saw it, he was filled with yet another rush of joy.
He changed his clothes quickly before hurrying down to enjoy the party.
Guzi greeted a few of the civil gods that taught him when he was younger. They congratulated him on coming out of secluded cultivation, so it seemed that Lang Qianqiu had told some people the truth.
Guzi milled around the party, eating what he wanted, and sneaking a few sips of alcohol here and there. Lang Qianqiu had always forbade him from drinking because it would stunt his martial arts ability and slow his cultivation, but Guzi always tried some when he could get away with it.
But in his opinion, alcohol was not as great as everyone said it was. It only tasted okay, but perhaps it was the small act of rebellion he was attracted to.
“Guzi.”
Guzi spun around quickly, hiding the cup in his sleeves. His eyes widened briefly when he saw Xie Lian standing there, Hua Cheng hovering close behind him.
Guzi clasped his hands together and bowed. “Taizi Dianxia!”
Xie Lian smiled. “You’ve grown up in the last few years I haven’t seen you,” he said, looking Guzi up and down. “You’re not even calling me ‘Scrap Gege’ anymore.”
Guzi’s face flushed. “My apologies for that, Dianxia!” he said, bowing again.
“No need for such formalities, Guzi,” Xie Lian said with a gentle smile. “I’ve heard you started cultivating a few years ago?”
“Ah, yes!” Guzi said.
“How’s that been going?” Xie Lian asked.
Hua Cheng gently nudged Xie Lian with a murmured, “Gege.” He then handed Xie Lian two snow-white steamed buns. Xie Lian took it with a bright smile and a word of thanks.
“General Tai Hua said I’m growing surprisingly fast despite starting so late,” Guzi said with a small flush of pride.
Xie Lian hummed, breaking one of the buns in half and handing half to Hua Cheng, who smiled when he took it.
Guzi shivered slightly. Seeing Crimson Rain Sought Flower with a gentle smile on his face really was as terrifying as the others made it out to be. At least it meant he was in a good mood.
“How is my cousin?”
Guzi blinked, taking a second to remember that his dad was indeed Xie Lian’s younger cousin. Which would technically make Xie Lian his uncle. And Hua Cheng would also be his uncle? A slightly unnerving thought.
“General Tai Hua has been extremely gracious in helping me collect pieces on his trips to the Human Realm,” Guzi said. “I think… I hope it will be soon that my dad can regain conscious and take on a human form again.”
Guzi snuck a glance at the red-robed ghost king behind Xie Lian, and he swallowed hard at the waves of tension rolling off of him. Guzi straightened, refusing to be too intimidated. His dad would definitely berate him if he cowered now.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian said quietly, taking Hua Cheng’s hand. The foreboding feeling diminished. “Lang Qianqiu also mentioned your martial skills are quite exceptional, isn’t that right?” he asked, changing the subject.
Guzi laughed a bit uneasily. “Exceptional is a bit too much credit,” he said humbly. “But I definitely try to make use of all the knowledge everything General Tai Hua imparts on me.”
Xie Lian gave a small laugh. “Looks like he grew up after all,” he murmured to himself, and Guzi had a feeling Xie Lian was not talking about him.
It was only after Xie Lian and Hua Cheng wandered off, and after Guzi had another deep gulp of alcohol to calm his nerves that he remembered who supposedly was the Guoshi of Lang Qianqiu.
Guzi felt another shiver run down his spine. Really, these gods and ghosts were too powerful, with too much history and bad blood between them.
That night, Guzi laid in bed, unable to sleep. He looked at the lantern by his bedside, his room cast in a comforting green glow.
“Hey, Dad?” Guzi murmured. “Lang-gege said that with my skills and if I keep working hard, I could probably cultivate to godhood before I’m twenty.”
The lantern did not answer, of course. Guzi sighed heavily, tucking an arm behind his head. “But… I don’t think I really belong here, in the Heavenly Capital. Their lives are just so… mundane, and yet there’s still so much drama.”
Guzi rolled over onto his side, looking at the lantern still. “Dad… when are you coming back? I miss peeling grapes for you, and listening to your stories of your adventures, and telling you not to eat humans.” He smiled softly.
Guzi was not sure when he drifted off to sleep.
Three days later, after another late night training session with Lang Qianqiu, Guzi lay on the dusty ground of the training field, groaning the martial god corrected his form once again.
Lang Qianqiu reached a hand down to pull Guzi up.
Guzi took it, and when he stood up, he said, “Lang-gege.”
“Hm?” Lang Qianqiu said absentmindedly, kicking up Guzi’s sword with the tip of his boot.
“I want to go to the Human Realm as a rogue cultivator.”
Guzi, age 18
“I’d like a room for the night please,” Guzi said politely to the innkeeper. He placed a piece of silver on the counter.
“Right away, gongzi!” the innkeeper said, swiping the piece of silver into a pouch.
He led Guzi up to a small, but clean room overlooking the nearby lake.
“Would this gongzi like anything to eat before our cook leaves for the night?”
Guzi nodded. “If that’s not too much trouble,” he said.
“If you don’t mind me asking, gongzi… are you the rogue cultivator from the Far East?” the innkeeper asked with a smile.
Guzi laughed and nodded.
Ever since he came down to the Human Realm to put his cultivation to use, every town that Guzi stopped at and every person he helped have been asking where he came from. At first, Guzi just gave them the name of some small town far away from his current location.
After a coincidental run-ins with people from those said towns, Guzi just vaguely said he was from the East.
As the innkeeper hurried away, Guzi unpacked what little possessions he had. He set his sword against the low table and took out the lantern that he always carried on his persons. He put his dad’s lantern in the middle of the table, the room cast in that familiar green glow.
As Guzi travelled, helping out people wherever he went, taking up jobs big and small, Guzi always kept an eye out for any signs of his dad’s soul. Over the past four years, Guzi managed to find a total of five pieces.
It was quite frustrating, seeing that he was used to Lang Qianqiu bringing back soul pieces almost every time he took a trip to the Human Realm.
But Guzi reasoned it was because his dad’s soul was nearly whole now, so there were fewer and fewer pieces to be found. Guzi could only hold onto the hope that it would be soon that his dad could be revived.
Additionally, in those four years, Guzi had accidentally created quite the name for himself. People gave him the title of ‘Heaven’s Ghostly Lightning’. Guzi was not sure whether it was a good or a bad thing.
Apparently it meant he attacked fiercely and mercilessly as if he had all of Heaven behind him, and leaving his enemies as no more than a smoking scorch mark on the wall before disappearing without a trace the next day, like a dissipated ghost.
When someone first told Guzi a story about himself, it was exaggerated to the point where Guzi started doubting whether the person was really talking about him.
But Guzi never bothered with that much. He did not care for the fame at all. He was content with a simple life of travelling and collecting pieces of his dad’s soul.
In the four years in the Human Realm, Guzi had had no contact with any gods. He would occasionally pray to Lang Qianqiu to tell him how he was doing, and pray for his blessings when dealing with a particularly difficult case, but Guzi was pretty sure Lang Qianqiu did not hear any of his prayers anyway.
From what Guzi was aware of, Lang Qianqiu never bothered with prayers himself. He had his junior officials take care of it all.
But Guzi was still comforted with the idea that Lang Qianqiu may be listening.
That night, after Guzi ate a good meal, he fell asleep to the green glow in his room.
But in the middle of the night, Guzi sat up drenched in cold sweat. Something had felt very wrong, shocking him out of his sleep. Guzi immediately touched his sword, which was by his side, but something was wrong.
It took a second for Guzi to realize that the room was pitch black.
He stumbled out of bed and lit a candle with a snap of his fingers. On the low table in the middle of the room, his dad’s lantern lay broken into several pieces, and there was no sign of any remaining green fire.
It took Guzi two days longer than usual to get rid of the evil spirits plaguing the town. One of the spirits had also clawed three deep gashes into his back that were starting to get infected.
But Guzi did nothing more than just clean them and wrap them up. He did have some money for medicine, but the thought never crossed his mind. He just mindlessly went through the motions of taking care of himself.
Guzi searched all over town for any signs of his dad. He prayed each night to Lang Qianqiu for assistance, for a sign of where his dad’s soul went. But he never got an answer.
Guzi had no choice but to gather himself as best as he could and go back to searching, resolving to gather pieces in a new lantern for as many years as it would take.
Just as he was about to leave town, one of the young maidens he saved ran over with a large basket.
“Gongzi!” she called.
Guzi turned around, barely mustering a polite smile.
“This is for you, gongzi,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear shyly. “Thank you for saving our small town. This is some food that we made for you to eat on the road,” she said. “I… I noticed that you did not seem to be sleeping well, so I snuck some tea that could help you sleep. And I know you took quite an injury for me, so there are some medicine in here too,” she said. Guzi stared at her, not quite comprehending. She blushed and avoided his eyes. “The- The white powder is to put on the wound, and the green ones are to ingest orally.”
When she finished her ramble, Guzi was still staring at her blankly.
“Gongzi?” she asked quietly.
“Ah, thank you,” he said, snapping out of his daze. “What’s- What’s your name, miss?”
She smiled shyly again and tucked her hair once more. “Zimei, Song Zimei,” she said.
Guzi smiled tiredly and took the basket from her. “Thank you, Miss Song.” He gave her a bow and left, slowly walking out of town.
But where he would go next?
Guzi, age 20
It was exactly two years to the day Guzi woke up and found his dad’s lantern shattered. And despite searching high and low for two years, Guzi had yet to find a single piece of his dad’s soul.
And tonight, Guzi found himself in the Ghost City, and entire bottle of very good quality wine in his hand. He had spent half of his savings on the wine. He was not quite drunk yet, but thankfully, he was definitely getting there.
Guzi had taken up a disguise of a normal human merchant. His robes were drab in color and few in layers. His sword had been stashed away.
He had been wandering around the Ghost City for a few hours now, just walking and looking. Somehow, he ended up in the Gambler’s Den. He observed a few rounds of games before finished off his wine.
By then, Guzi was feeling particularly miserable, and he opened his mouth to call out a bet of his own when suddenly, a sharp yell caught his attention.
“Get your hands off of me!” a girl yelled sharply. Her yell was followed by a muffled groan.
Guzi slowly turned his head towards the commotion to see a short girl in dark blue robes kicking the shit out of a bear demon.
Quickly, a circle gathered around them. Some cheered on the girl, others jeered at the bear demon, and yet, still some yelled at the bear demon to fight back.
Guzi just watched.
Within a few minutes of the vicious beating, the attendants working at the Gambler’s Den pulled the girl off.
“Let me at him!” she screamed, and Guzi saw her eyes flash red in anger. “He tried groping my money off of my persons!”
So she was not a human girl. Guzi grew bored and turned away. He looked back to the table of games he had been observing before, which only seemed to be betting money. It was the safest and most mild of betting tables in the entirely of the Gambler’s Den.
With the commotion broken up, the others also returned to their respective tables or wandered out of the establishment. Before the next round started, Guzi heard a huff next to him.
He glanced down and saw the girl in the dark blue robes standing next to him, arms crossed and obviously still angry.
As bets were called around in a clockwise direction, the girl pushed her way to the front. When it was her turn, she said, “30,000 gold bars, highest.”
Guzi’s eyes nearly bugged out at that. The girl did not seem to be carrying 30,000 gold bars anywhere on her, though her robes were very richly made.
As if sensing his stare, the girl glared up at him. Guzi quickly looked away.
She took the cup, gave it two shakes and tossed out the dice. She had rolled two sixes.
Guzi watched her play several rounds like this. Sometimes she went for highest, sometimes lowest, but every single time, she won. When she finished playing, Guzi was sober in shock, and the girl walked away to collect her 150,000 gold bars.
After a second’s thought, Guzi chased after her.
“Excuse me, miss,” he said.
The girl looked at him sharply. “What?” she asked. “Not going to steal my money too, are you?”
“No,” Guzi said with a small frown, a bit affronted. “I just wanted to ask-” He blinked. “Miss Song?”
The girl snapped her head up to look at him again, squinting her eyes. “Why do you know that name?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” Guzi asked in confusion. “Are you not Song Zimei?”
Song Zimei tilted her head to the side and she crossed her arms. “I don’t go by that name anymore,” she said. She looked at him a bit closer. “Oh, it’s you. That rogue cultivator. Heaven’s Ghostly Lightning, was it?”
“Ah, yes,” Guzi said with the slightest blush. “Can I inquire what Miss Song is doing in a place like this?”
Song Zimei snorted. “What’s a righteous cultivator like you doing in a place like this?”
Guzi smiled patiently. “This is merely a stop on my travels.”
“Humph,” Song Zimei said. “Well, I live here. Turns out, my mom’s not my real mom. My dad had an affair with a snake demon of all people and took me away to the village he grew up in, married some rich lady, and raised me none the wiser. But then he got too drunk one night and spilled everything to his wife, who drove me out before my dad’s corpse was even cold yet.”
“Ah, I’m sorry about that, Miss Song,” Guzi said sympathetically.
“I don’t need your pity,” Song Zimei said. “My life’s great here. Turns out I have spectacular luck, so I make some pretty easy money.” She looked Guzi up and down. “And you look like you could use some. Here.”
She reached into her sack of gold bars and took out two of them, pressing them into Guzi’s hands.
“I can’t accept this, Miss Song!” Guzi said immediately, trying to hand it back.
“Take it as a present from an old acquaintance,” she said, waving her hand. Guzi had no choice but to tuck the gold bars away. Then, she smirked. “By the way, you never gave me your name.”
“My name is Guzi,” he said with an easy smile, following Song Zimei out of the Gambler’s Den.
“Just Guzi?”
“Just Guzi.”
“Well, Guzi-gongzi,” Song Zimei said. “Since you’re visiting my hometown, why don’t I treat you to dinner?”
Guzi, age 22
The Ghost City was strangely busy today.
Usually, it was bustling with ghosts, demons, and humans alike, but today was especially busy.
Guzi could barely squeeze his way through the marketplace, clutching his paper wrapped parcel to his chest to avoid it getting damaged. It took him almost twice as long as it usually did to reach Song Zimei’s little hut in the residential half of the Ghost City.
He knocked politely on the door and waited for her to open to the door.
“Zi-lang,” she said with a smile, ushering him inside.
Guzi could not help but return her smile. “A-Mei, how have you been? I, uh, brought you a gift.”
Song Zimei laughed and rolled her eyes, accepting the gift. “Exactly how long do you plan on keep bringing me gifts like we’re courting?”
Guzi laughed. “I’m pretty sure courtship can happen regardless of whether a couple is married or not.”
Song Zimei pressed the parcel against her chest and batted her eyelashes, lowering her head in mock-shyness. “Then… how could I ever thank this gongzi for thinking of little Meimei?”
Guzi laughed, unable to help himself. “Don’t- Don’t do that,” he said.
Song Zimei’s eyes widened innocently. “Do what, gongzi? Does Guzi-gongzi not think this Meimei looks like a blushing maiden?”
“Too much so,” he laughed.
It took only a few encounters with Song Zimei for Guzi to find out that she had an affinity for acting. She could play a coy, helpless maiden when she wanted something, but if that did not work, she would show her true colors, not afraid to get her hands dirty.
She sniffled, wiping away a nonexistent tear. “Don’t tease Meimei!” Then, she broke out into her usual grin, revealing her sharp fangs. “So what is this thing?” she asked, pulling at the strings that held it together.
“Oh, it’s nothing special,” Guzi said. “I saw it when I passed through a town and thought of you.”
Song Zimei cocked an eyebrow and slowly unwrapped the paper. She lifted up a glass snake statue. The craftsmanship was terrible, the snake bulging the side of a wrist in some places, and as thin as a couple fingers in others. The eyes were mismatching in size as well, and the snake was cross-eyed. It was truly an abomination.
“Guzi!” Song Zimei laughed loudly, smacking his shoulder.
“What?” he asked with a smile. “You don’t like it?”
She shook her head, still laughing. “No, no, I think it’s great,” she said. She brought the little statue to a shelf that was already full of other terribly crafted snake statues. “Look, it belongs perfectly.”
“I think so too,” Guzi said.
Song Zimei admired her wonky snake statue collection for a second before walking back over to Guzi.
“Now,” she said. “It’s been two weeks since I saw you. I think you owe me something.” She held out her hand expectantly.
Guzi stared at it, not understanding.
She continued to look at him.
“Was I supposed to get something?” Guzi asked slowly, frantically thinking about what he promised to bring her.
Song Zimei just cracked a wide smile and poked his stomach. “I’m kidding,” she said. “But I think a kiss is due, right?”
Guzi smiled and obliged because it was really hard to deny his fiancée anything.
“Let’s go check out the festivities,” she said a few moments later.
“I noticed it was really busy today. What’s the occasion?”
“You don’t know?” Song Zimei asked. “Hua Chengzhu is coming back today.”
Another thing that had changed over the years as Guzi grew older was his apprehension towards Hua Cheng slowly disappeared. He came to the conclusion that he was in Xie Lian’s good graces, therefore Hua Cheng would not do anything to him. And with his dad gone, Guzi had no reason to hold a grudge against him.
Guzi and Song Zimei wandered the streets for a while, checking out all the specialty merchants that had stopped by the Ghost City. They tried all kinds of street food – Song Zimei with delight, and Guzi with hesitation.
And they accidentally got caught up in a parade of ghosts and demons, all chanting “GRANDUNCLE! GRANDUNCLE! GRANDUNCLE!”
The two of them were swept into the parade, their hands previously clasped together tightly, but were quickly separated.
“A-Mei!” Guzi shouted over the din. “Zimei!”
Guzi turned his head left and right, looking for Song Zimei. He pushed through the crowd, headed in the opposite direction from everyone else, which he got a lot of angry glares for.
“Zi-lang”
Guzi whipped around at the shout of his name, and he saw a flash of Song Zimei’s hair. Guzi struggled harder against the flow of the parade, and suddenly, he found himself stumbling into a clearing in the parade.
Song Zimei had fallen into the clearing as well, but she was not so lucky. She collapsed at the feet of a white-clad figure with a sharp cry.
Almost immediately, the parade stopped, and heads turned.
“Let me get rid of her for you, Granduncle!” a hot-headed boar demon shouted, about to push his way into the circle, his eyes glaring at Song Zimei.
“Don’t lay a hand on her!” Guzi shouted, his sword drawn before anyone could get another word in.
At the sound of his weapon unsheathing, Guzi found several knives, mallets, and swords pointed in his direction. Guzi gritted his teeth, his blood boiling as he readied himself for a fight.
But then, he noticed that Song Zimei was being helped up by the person she fell in front of.
“Thank you,” she said, uncharacteristically polite. She bowed to him, then shifted and bowed to the person beside him. “This one apologizes for interrupting the celebrations, Chengzhu.”
It was only then that Guzi realized exactly whose parade they had stumbled into.
Guzi straightened like someone had slammed a rod down his spine. “Taizi Dianxia!” he said, clasping his sword and bowing sharply. “Guzi apologizes for the interruption!”
“Guzi?” Xie Lian said in wonder.
A hand touched his shoulder, and Guzi lifted his head. It was then that he realized that he was quite a bit taller than Xie Lian.
“It really is Guzi,” Xie Lian smiled. “And this is…?”
“Ah, this is my fiancée Song Zimei.”
“Fiancée?” Xie Lian said wondrously. “Ah, how quickly the years pass,” he sighed. “You disappear from the Heavenly Court without a word and no one can find you for so many years, and it turns out you’ve been hiding out here? You should come to Paradise Manor. I’d like to know what you’ve been doing all these years. I haven’t heard a good story in some time.”
“Gege, let’s go,” Hua Cheng said.
Xie Lian laughed and took Hua Cheng’s hand. “Very well, let’s go, San Lang.” He glanced at Guzi and Song Zimei, who have retreated to the side. “Stop by soon, Guzi,” he said sincerely.
Guzi nodded once to ensure that he will.
When the parade had passed, Song Zimei elbowed him in the ribs, hard.
“What was that for?” Guzi groaned, rubbing his chest.
“You told me you were basically an orphan nobody who happened to get very lucky and got a chance to learn cultivation and martial arts from some masters!” she hissed as they ducked into a dumpling shop that sold normal dumplings.
“I am though!” Guzi said. “My real parents are long since dead, and I don’t even remember who they are. My dad has disappeared to who knows where, and I’m still looking for him.”
“Then how do you know His Highness?” she asked, poking her chopsticks at the back of his hand. “And Hua Chengzhu didn’t see you as a stranger either.”
Guzi almost pouted. “They… They knew my dad?”
Their large bowl of dumplings came, and they split it between them. Guzi took the first dumpling and blew on it gently for a few seconds before holding it out to Song Zimei.
She ate it without thinking twice, and asked her next question ruthlessly. “Then who trained you in cultivation and martial arts?!”
“Shh,” Guzi said. “Look, it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you,” he said. “It’s just, it would probably cause a lot of trouble if word got out.”
“Tell me,” she commanded. “Please?” she added in a softer voice.
“The Martial God of the East, General Tai Hua,” he ended up sighing.
Song Zimei sputtered a few times. “You were trained by a god?!”
“Not so loud,” Guzi said.
She lowered her voice. “Wait, so who’s your dad?!”
Guzi winced silently. He usually avoided naming his dad because it was often followed by disgusted looks and a chain of insults.
“Ah…” Finally, he sighed. “The Night-Touring Green Lantern, Green Ghost Qi Rong.”
Song Zimei stared at him for a very long time.
“A-Mei?” Guzi asked worriedly.
Song Zimei looked down at their half-eaten bowl of dumplings. She scooped one up and put it in her own mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing.
“So you know two of the Four Great Calamities, one of which is the dad you’ve been mysteriously searching for for so many years. You were taught martial arts and cultivation by a martial god of the Upper Court, and His Highness occasionally asks you to chat over tea?”
“Yup,” Guzi said.
“Anything else I should know?”
“I was taught to read and write by civil gods. I lived in the Heavenly Capital for seven years. And the reason His Highness knows me is because he watched over me when my dad was their prisoner.”
Song Zimei stared at him for a few more seconds. Then, she asked, “So you’ll cultivate to godhood?”
Guzi shook his head. “I don’t think I’m fit for that kind of life,” he admitted. “I would like to cultivate to immortality, but I don’t want to be a god.”
Song Zimei just nodded solemnly. “Okay,” she said.
“Okay? You accept all that?”
She nodded. “You’re still my fiancé, right? So I don’t see why not. Now hurry up and eat before the dumplings get cold.”
Guzi, age 155
“Is this where you live?” Lang Qianqiu asked, his nose wrinkling a bit as he looked around the courtyard. “It’s… nice,” he said.
Guzi laughed, tossing chicken feed into the chicken coop, where it was quickly pecked at by three hens. “Not everyone is a crown prince, Lang-gege. Besides, it’s one of the best houses in town,” he said.
Lang Qianqiu did not look convinced. “Where is your wife?”
“She went hunting. She said she saw some fat pheasants by the mountains earlier,” Guzi said.
“Song Zimei hunts?” Lang Qianqiu asked, blinking in surprise.
“Well, yeah,” Guzi said. “She likes the taste of wild game. And she gets really grumpy when she’s stuck at home all day.”
“Then do you have servants?” Lang Qianqiu asked, looking around the courtyard.
“No, we don’t have servants,” Guzi said. “And before you ask, we take turns cooking and cleaning. Though, A-Mei cooks more, and I clean more. I only know how to make noodle soup,” he said with a sheepish laugh.
Lang Qianqiu looked at Guzi for a long time. “You’re really okay living like this?” he asked. “Settling down… in a small town in the middle of nowhere?”
“Yeah,” Guzi said. “I’ve always preferred a simpler life. I go out night-hunting sometimes, so it’s not too bad. Our neighbors visit often, and when they don’t, A-Mei and I keep each other company.” He blushed lightly. “We were also discussing whether or not we should have some kids.”
Lang Qianqiu frowned slightly.
“Lang-gege, you don’t have to worry about me,” Guzi assured. He took a deep breath. “I know I worried you those few years after Dad’s soul disappeared, but… it’s been a really long time since then.”
“You’re really okay now?” Lang Qianqiu asked.
Guzi nodded.
Lang Qianqiu swept a critical eye over Guzi again. Then, out of nowhere, he drew his sword. “It’s been over a century since I’ve tested your abilities,” he said. “Grab your sword.”
Guzi broke out in a wide smile. He quickly set dumped the rest of the chicken feed into the coop and ran inside to grab his sword.
They dueled until the sun sank below the horizon, and Song Zimei returned with six pheasants in her hands. Guzi invited Lang Qianqiu to stay for a humble meal, and they caught up on everything that have happened in the past century or so.
And Guzi was more than content with the simplicity of it all.
Guzi, age 398
“A-Mei?” Guzi called as he walked into the house, carrying a large bundle of firewood on his bare shoulder.
Song Zimei had her head down on the table, groaning quietly.
“A-Mei? What’s wrong?” Guzi asked, rushing to her side in an instant. “Do you feel sick?” He put a hand on her forehead.
“No, it’s not that,” she groaned. “I’m fine.”
“Let’s get you to bed,” Guzi said.
He picked her up in his arms and carried her to their bedroom, gently setting her down on the bed. He pulled the covers up to her chin and adjusted the pillow under her head.
“Should I go make you some noodle soup?” he asked, feeling her forehead again. “Or I’ll go pump up some cold water?”
Song Zimei shook her head ever so slightly. She groaned quietly again. “Guzi,” she said, her hand grabbing his sleeve.
“What? What is it?” Guzi asked, leaning in. “Do you need a doctor?”
“No, it’s-” Song Zimei bit back another groan. “I think- I think it’s Mount Tonglu. It’s opening again.”
“What?” Guzi asked. “You mean the one where thousands of ghosts and demons go and fight to the death?” he asked in slight revulsion. Guzi never understood why so many ghosts found the need to do so.
Song Zimei nodded. “It’s fine,” she said. “I’ll be fine in a couple of weeks. And at least we don’t live near any places of gathering for ghosts and demons. It’ll be unlikely the openingof Mount Tonglu will affect us.”
She patted his hand, and Guzi relaxed a bit.
“Do you think a new Ghost King will be born?” Guzi asked.
Song Zimei managed a weak snort. “Even if one did, what would they have to control? And it would be less havoc for everyone to deal with.”
She bit her lower lip and squeezed Guzi’s hand.
“Hm?”
“Do you think all the kids will be alright?” she asked quietly.
Guzi took a deep breath and put his hand over hers. “I’m sure they’ll be alright. We can take a trip to the Ghost City when you feel better to see how they’re doing?”
Song Zimei nodded. She closed her eyes as her head throbbed again. Guzi stayed by her side.
Guzi, age 410
Guzi had only been happening by the town when he found out. He was headed home after another successful trip night hunting.
His pockets were full of little trinkets for Song Zimei and for his great-great-great grandkids when they pop over to visit. He was only staying in town, but apparently, he was recognized by one of the town’s elders, who remembered him as helping their town out so many years ago.
Guzi himself honestly did not even remember anymore, but he graciously accepted the free food and lodgings.
It was only when he was eating dinner in the inn when he heard two other cultivators talking about it.
“…movement in the forest just outside town… several people have gone missing the past few days… corpses hanging upside down and drenching the ground in blood.”
“Do you think it’s…?”
“No, no, don’t talk about that. There’s no way, right?”
Guzi quickly set down his chopstick and grabbed his sword. He left a piece of silver on the table, and he had disappeared into the night before his seat at the inn had even gotten warm.
Guzi found himself blindly wandering in the dark forest behind the town. And indeed, the deeper he went, the more he could feel the demonic energy growing.
Soon, he could smell the metallic scent of blood, and not long after that, Guzi saw the first bodies, hanging from the trees, blood dripping from various wounds.
Instead of becoming fearful like a normal person would, Guzi got excited. He walked faster, following the suffocating demonic energy and the trail of bodies.
Finally, he started to hear voices. “Hurry up!” a tinny voice shouted. “Our Great Master wanted us to get these bodies up before dawn! We have to drench this whole forest in blood!”
There was a lot of grumbling and groaning that followed the command.
Then, Guzi heard, “WHAT’S ALL THE MOANING AND COMPLAINING ABOUT? THIS ANCESTOR’S WORD IS LAW! AND NOW THAT I’VE BECOME A DEVESTATION CLASS, DON’T THINK I GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR WORTHLESS LITTLE LIVES! GET FUCKING MOVING, YOU USELESS PIECES OF TRASH! AND YOU! WHAT NEWS DO YOU BRING ME NOW?!”
There was a lot of nervous fumbling of words, followed by a sharp slap.
“IF YOU CAN’T GET YOUR JOB DONE AND FIND HIM, DON’T COME BACK AND REPORT OR I’LL TAKE YOUR SHITTY LIFE!”
Guzi sped up, his footsteps leading him to a clearing where he saw several miserable little ghosts dragging dead bodies into the forest. And in the center of the clearing, perched on a rough slab of stone like it was a throne and casually munching on an arm, was Qi Rong.
Another little ghost stood by his side, fanning him.
“CAN’T YOUR WEAK ARMS FAN ANY FASTER?!” Qi Rong roared at the ghost.
The poor thing flinched and fanned faster.
Qi Rong took another large bite out of the arm. He chewed and looked at it before throwing it away in disgust.
Guzi unconsciously stepped closer, making leaves crackle. Qi Rong spun around. “WHO’S THERE?! SHOW YOURSELF!”
Guzi could not move for a second.
“DOES THIS ANCESTOR NEED TO COME OUT AND GET YOU?! BECAUSE IF YOU MAKE THIS ANCESTOR DO IT, DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT BEGGING FOR YOUR LIFE, HAHAHAHAHA!”
Guzi took a deep breath and finally stepped into the clearing, his voice thick with emotion and his eyes swimming with tears.
“…Dad?”