Chapter 43: Reunion of the Living and the Dead

As dusk settled, the round moon hung high in the sky, its light streaming through the clouds to bathe the earth in a veil of brightness tinged with mist.

The Xie family residence lay in the southwest of Husu City, not far from the Cong’an Temple Xie Qiao had visited during the day, yet it was an even quieter and more secluded place. Years ago, Xie Qiao, having pledged his service to Cui Shen, moved here to Husu County with his newly-wedded wife, Liu Qian. Both husband and wife were of serene temperament, and after searching for many houses, they finally chose this tranquil abode as their new home.

Within these walls, Xie Qiao and Liu Qian shared a single year together, yet it brimmed with happiness. Both were gifted: he with painting, she with poetry. They kept each other company, composing verses and painting side by side, their days colored not only by art but also passionate love—so much so that even the immortals would envy them. Yet all of that had faded to smoke and memories. Now, Xie Qiao sat motionless by the window in his study, gazing up at the full moon outside, with only the blue lamp for company.

A voice came from just beyond the study: “Master, it’s getting late. You should rest soon!”

“I know. You’ve run about for me all day and at your age, that’s not easy. Go and get some rest yourself,” Xie Qiao replied softly.

The old servant let out a quiet sigh, then all was silent again.

The night was chill as water, time slipped by unnoticed, and Xie Qiao still could not sleep. He stared at the moon, his eyes clouded with sorrow and longing, yet tinged with hope.

“Xie Ziping!” Suddenly, someone tapped lightly on the window and called his name. Startled, Xie Qiao peered out, and by the moon’s clear glow, he instantly recognized the visitor.

“Lady Zhou?”

“May I come in?” The woman in red stood outside, her smile radiant and charming.

“Please do! Oh, let me open the door for you!” Xie Qiao hurried to rise.

“No need, I can come in myself. I just called to you so I wouldn’t startle you by barging in.” As she spoke, the lady in red vanished from the window. Xie Qiao felt a cool breeze, carrying a trace of exquisite fragrance. Then, from behind, he heard that familiar, crisp voice: “I’m already inside.”

He turned. By the dim light of the oil lamp, he saw the beautiful woman in red standing once more before him. Excitement flickered in his eyes, but he dared not step forward—not out of fear of her fox-nature, but because he realized they were alone, a man and a woman, in the same room. He remained where he was and bowed deeply: “Lady Zhou, for what you did today, I am truly and deeply grateful!”

“I accept your thanks! But besides your request, I’ve accomplished something else for you.” Zhou Hongxian gave a faint smile, then turned toward the shadows behind her: “Qian-niang, since you’ve come all this way, why not reveal yourself?”

When Xie Qiao heard these words, hope flared in his eyes. He called into the open air, “Qian-niang, why will you not show yourself to me?”

There was no response for a long time. Xie Qiao looked to Zhou Hongxian in confusion. She sighed lightly and said, “Don’t be like this, Qian-niang! Your husband begged me to let him see you, and you agreed. It hasn’t been easy for either of you. Just appear and let him see you, won’t you?”

“Lady Fox, your kindness humbles me, but what does it matter if we meet or not? After all, the paths of the living and the dead can never cross.” The words came from the air, cold and hauntingly sorrowful.

Hearing this, Xie Qiao’s eyes widened. “Qian-niang, since you truly are here, how can you bear not to see me?”

Once more, silence fell.

Zhou Hongxian saw the awkwardness and managed a wry smile. “Qian-niang, I know you hold back because something weighs on your heart. But I think you think too much. Compared to lovers reuniting, many things are no longer important! Besides, it’s rather awkward being a third wheel here. Tonight is the full moon, a perfect night for worship. I’ll go practice on the roof for a while. You stay and think it over—if you can truly bear to miss this chance to see your husband, just come find me on the roof, and I’ll take you away!” With that, Zhou Hongxian winked at Xie Qiao and disappeared.

Xie Qiao seemed to watch a breeze drift away, then turned back to look at the empty room, his tone growing desolate: “Qian-niang, do you truly not wish to see me?”

A chilly sigh sounded, and before Xie Qiao’s eyes, the air gradually condensed into a hazy human form. The oil lamp’s flame flickered green. In moments, the figure grew clearer, finally solidifying into the outline of a woman: white-robed, black-haired, her bearing graceful and slender.

Xie Qiao’s lips trembled. In this moment, to say he felt no fear would be a lie, yet what surged stronger was excitement.

“Qian-niang!”

“Don’t come any closer!” She stopped him with a cold voice, hiding her face behind her sleeve, refusing to show herself.

Tears welled in Xie Qiao’s eyes. “Why must it be so?”

Her voice drifted, soft and mournful: “I am already a ghost, my face pale and dreadful. I fear I will frighten you. These years, I have been held captive by the old ghost of Pine Slope, forced to serve him. I no longer have the face to meet you!”

At these words, Xie Qiao’s expression changed, pain filling his eyes, his voice thick with guilt: “Qian-niang, whether you are human or ghost, you are still my wife. Everything you have suffered is my responsibility. It was my weakness—I failed to protect you! All I ask is your forgiveness. Please, lower your sleeve and let me see you, just once.” By now, tears streamed down his face.

A sob, cold yet heartbreaking, rose from Qian-niang’s lips. She slowly let her sleeve fall, and a pale yet delicate face, streaked with tears, gazed at Xie Qiao.

“Qian-niang!”

“My love!”

At last, Qian-niang let go of her reserve, running into her beloved’s arms. They clung to each other, weeping bitterly. Six long years they had been apart—once the envy of all, now separated by the gulf between living and dead. Who could measure the sorrow and longing contained in this reunion? Their grief and yearning were too deep for words.

Foreheads pressed together, they poured out their hearts to one another, talking late into the night, until the oil lamp burned low. At last, joy overcame their sorrow, and Xie Qiao swept Qian-niang into his arms, carrying her toward the bed.

A blush tinged Qian-niang’s pale face, her voice trembling: “My love, are you truly unafraid of me?”

Xie Qiao looked at her tenderly and smiled. “You and I are husband and wife—what is there to fear?”

With that, they embraced passionately, tumbling together onto the bed. Truly, what does it matter that the living and the dead walk separate paths, so long as love endures? Since ancient times, the world has seen many such foolish lovers—after so long apart, who would begrudge them this spring night?

Under the full moon, Zhou Hongxian sat cross-legged on the rooftop, gazing at the sky. A cloud drifted across the moon, forcing her to pause her practice and stretch lazily.

“It’s been an hour or two. Since Qian-niang hasn’t come, she must have reunited with her husband. Well, let’s go see how the two of them are doing!” Zhou Hongxian was about to leap down, but her ears twitched, catching a subtle sound in the stillness.

“Good grief!” Her eyes widened, and for a moment she was tempted to pry up a roof tile and peek inside. Common sense stopped her, and after eavesdropping for a bit longer, she stifled a laugh behind her hand. “All my worrying was for nothing! Those internet sages were right—there’s nothing lovers can’t resolve with a little... intimacy.”

But the sounds were too distracting. Soon Zhou Hongxian found herself restless, one hand pressed to her heart, the other cupping her chin, staring up at the sky in frustration. “This is torture! When, oh when, will my own goddess appear?”