HCAW 152

Chapter 152: A Life of Looking Back

Several days after the warm chamber council, the crowd poured into Guixi. They built snow walls against the wind and pitched tents in high spirits. Since Bai Huan Guard had already explained everything on the journey, though the icebound land left many stunned, they quickly set to work.

The Penglai folk rubbed their hands and feet for warmth, chattering excitedly when they saw Fang Jingyu. “Captain Fang, this place is cold as hell. And yet you were already here working—what guts!”

Fang Jingyu’s lips curled into a faint smile. “You all coming to this godforsaken place makes you braver than me.”

Beside the stone gate, the Langgan Guard directed the troops. Soldiers brought out cloaks made of terns feathers, felt boots and cloaks, distributing them among the people. Buckets, dried beans, and preserved meat followed as rations. Fang Jingyu was still wondering where all this came from when a girl in a short jacket and a silver-tasseled tiger hood popped out of the crowd. Pretty and lively—it was Ruyi Guard.

Ruyi Guard crossed her arms and stood proudly before him.

Fang Jingyu greeted her, “So Ruyi Guard is here too? I didn’t see you earlier. I guess the crowd blocked the view.”

“You cheeky brat, spouting nonsense! A big deal like this and I wouldn’t come? That would be the strange part!” Ruyi Guard stomped her foot angrily. She seemed to read Fang Jingyu’s doubt instantly, hands on hips and full of swagger. “Your High—Your Majesty, were you just now wondering if we’d have enough provisions here in Guixi?”

Seeing the puzzled look on his face, she lifted her chin proudly. “Don’t worry. Bai Huan Guard already told us—so long as the terns lead the way, Langgan Guard’s troops and I can cross the Taoyuan stone gate and bring back food and water from Yingzhou and other eras. Besides, there are plenty of sea beasts and fish in Guixi. We won’t starve.”

Fang Jingyu nodded. “I see. You’ve thought of everything, my lady.”

By now the sky was an iron gray, but the clouds glowed crimson like a raging fire. Near the towering ice wall, under the command of several Xian Mountain Guards, people worked in perfect order. After issuing his orders, Langgan Guard turned and saw Fang Jingyu standing behind him. His expression shifted, and he hurriedly bowed. “Your Majesty.”

Fang Jingyu quickly helped him up. “Why so formal, Father? We’re family. No need for such ceremony.”

“I owe Your Majesty too much. I don’t dare ask for forgiveness.”

“Then I’ll issue a decree,” Fang Jingyu said sternly. “From now on, you may not kneel to me again.” Langgan Guard hesitated, then slowly rose.

“That’s better.” Fang Jingyu’s brows relaxed and his tone softened. “Father, you’ve had a long journey. Rest early tonight. Did Bai Huan Guard explain the origins of the Taoyuan stone gate and Guixi?”

Langgan Guard sighed. “Over twenty years ago, I once heard the Tianfu Guard speak of it. I found it hard to believe back then, but now that I’ve seen it with my own eyes, I know it was all true.”

Fang Jingyu nodded. The Taoyuan Stone was likely truly the bone of the “Great Immortal Yonghe,” to have such miraculous effects. What astonished him more, though, was how the people of Penglai and Yingzhou, upon seeing all this, could understand so quickly—and follow him without hesitation into Guixi to chisel at the ice wall.

“Your Majesty, don’t underestimate us.” Langgan Guard chuckled. “Even a spark can light a prairie blaze. Give us time, and we’ll break through this wall. When Your Majesty left Penglai, we went into hiding, fleeing Emperor Changyi’s men. Just when all hope seemed lost, Bai Huan Guard and Yingzhou’s soldiers appeared and led us through the Taoyuan stone gate. That’s how we came to aid you.”

He studied Fang Jingyu for a moment, his eyes softening. “It’s been a long time. Your Majesty has grown into a fine man.”

Fang Jingyu smiled faintly. “Whether I’m a good man or not, that’s another matter. But if I am anything today, it’s thanks to your raising.”

They were reminiscing fondly when Langgan Guard’s gaze suddenly caught on something nearby. He looked up, eyes widening. His lips moved soundlessly, and he stammered:

“Min… Minsheng?”

Fang Jingyu turned too and saw Chu Kuang standing behind them, looking thoroughly lost.

The sky had dimmed. Only a splash of red from the dying sun lingered in the distance, gently brushing across Chu Kuang’s body. He wore a cloak of sea beast hide, hair tousled, face pale as snow, and his eye shone like red jade in the dusk.

He no longer looked like the upright and courteous Fang Minsheng of old. Now, he looked like an abandoned little dog—pitiful and lost.

Seeing Langgan Guard, Chu Kuang couldn’t find any words. He just stood there blankly, trembling. Langgan Guard, however, suddenly strode forward and pulled him into a crushing embrace, so strong it felt as if he might crush every bone in him. “Minsheng!”

Chu Kuang only shivered, lips sealed like stitched shut, saying nothing at all. Langgan Guard muttered incoherently, his voice low and trembling, “I never thought… I’d live to see you again.”

The man’s embrace was solid and warm. Chu Kuang stood at a loss, then, after a moment, timidly reached out and clutched at Langgan Guard’s robe, murmuring:

“Father…”

At that familiar address after ten years apart, Langgan Guard’s eyes turned misty. To him, Fang Minsheng was like a pearl lost for a decade—now finally found again, cradled in his palm.

“It was I who failed you… let you suffer so much.” Langgan Guard stroked his head, gaze filled with sorrow. “From now on, I won’t let you endure any more. I’ll protect you and His Majesty, even if it costs me my life.”

Fang Jingyu looked at the two embracing figures, moved beyond words. After all their trials, their family was finally reunited. He stepped forward and gently laid his hand on their backs, wrapping them into a shared embrace. “We’re all here now. Whatever hardship comes, we’ll face it together. There’s nothing to fear.”

They held each other quietly for a long moment. In that instant, it was as if Guixi no longer held its deadly cold—as if spring had come. Even after they parted, their gazes lingered with fondness and reluctance.

Langgan Guard once more stroked Chu Kuang’s head and said warmly, “Go help His Majesty now. I still have duties to tend to. I’ll come find you both later tonight—we’ll share a few good cups of wine.”

The two nodded and watched as Langgan Guard walked away, wordless for a long time.

After he left, Fang Jingyu clapped Chu Kuang on the shoulder. “What’s with you, seeing Father again and turning all silent?”

Chu Kuang dropped his head, kicking at shards of ice with his toe. “I’m not who I used to be anymore. I’ve done things unworthy of the Fang family. I wouldn’t even dare set foot in the ancestral shrine.”

“What does it matter? You’re still you. We’re the ones who wronged you. Why should you be the one feeling ashamed? Honestly, I’d rather you beat us up to let off steam.” Fang Jingyu grinned.

Chu Kuang said nothing, only continued to stare at his toes.

Just then, a voice came beside them. “Your Highness, Young Master Chu—so this is where you were.”

They turned and saw Bai Huan Guard walking toward them, now dressed in a clean white winter cloak trimmed with rabbit fur. Her eyes lit up when she saw them, and she smiled gently:

“Forgive the intrusion. I’ve a few people I’d like to introduce. Have you two finished your heart-to-heart?”

Fang Jingyu raised an eyebrow. “What kind of people?”

Bai Huan Guard only smiled without replying. Then two figures emerged from behind her. One wore a wide-collared padded robe, bearded and holding a pipe; the other had dark skin, thick brows, and big eyes. The moment Fang Jingyu saw them, he froze. It took him a long moment before he could force out the words:

“Mule… Ah Que?”

It was like lightning out of a clear sky.

In Daiyu, he’d seen Mule hanging in his own seaweed house—neck stretched long, flies buzzing. Later, Bi Bao Guard told him Ah Que had died too. These two, standing before him now, were indisputably dead men.

Yet they looked nothing like the dead he had seen in Daiyu. Their faces were ruddy, their chests rose and fell with breath, and mist curled from their mouths in the cold. Fang Jingyu staggered forward and grabbed their hands—warm, alive, full of life.

“You… you…” Now it was his turn to stammer. “How are you…”

Bai Huan Guard smiled. “Your Highness once told me of what happened in Daiyu, and how these two gave their lives for you. So when I crossed the Taoyuan stone gate this time, I went to the very moment before their deaths and brought them here.”

Fang Jingyu’s eyes widened. Was such a thing even possible? But the Taoyuan stone gate had always defied reason—and here Mule and Ah Que stood before him, a miracle made flesh.

The two men gripped his hands tightly, calling out, “Your Highness!”

Mule said with a sigh, “Bai Huan Guard came and found me, said I died at the hands of the Gu Bi Guard in this world, unable to aid Your Highness. So I came here, to serve you properly.”

Aque added excitedly, “I came with Brother Mule! Bai Huan Guard said I once played the hero and got rid of a great threat for you—did Your Highness remember me?”

Fang Jingyu’s throat tightened. These two had yet to sacrifice themselves. Seeing them like this—alive, beaming—he was overwhelmed, moved nearly to tears.

Then Chu Kuang stepped forward, asking solemnly, “Bai Huan Guard, you brought them from the moment before their deaths through the Taoyuan stone gate—doesn’t that change the fate of the world they came from?”

Bai Huan Guard sighed softly. “Young Master Chu, you once said yourself that from Tianfu Guard’s memories, the Taoyuan stone gate leads to countless worlds. But none of them have shown a way to break through the ice wall. So now, we must gather every bit of strength we can and at least find a way to survive in this Guixi.”

Everyone fell into joyful chatter, reunited with old friends. Then suddenly, Fang Jingyu seemed to remember something. “If Mule and Ah Que are here, then…”

The white-robed woman smiled knowingly. “I knew Your Highness had one more person on your mind, so I brought him as well.” Her gaze passed over Fang Jingyu’s shoulder. “Please look—he’s arrived.”

Fang Jingyu and Chu Kuang stepped forward, stunned, staring into the distance.

Beyond the distant mountains, beneath the golden evening light, the black stone gate stood open. A lone figure waved to them from beside it, dressed in a plain, flower-patterned robe. A frail scholar.

Seeing him, Fang Jingyu’s body moved on its own.

In that moment, all sound disappeared. The memory of blood spilled across green stone came surging back. He had seen this friend die for him—his body shattered and lifeless. And yet now, he stood there, alive and well.

The twilight blurred everything, making it seem like a dream. Fang Jingyu felt a deep, wordless emotion rise within him. Guixi, though desolate and ruined, now felt like a paradise—because here, the dead lived again, and lost friends were returned. One day, it would become Penglai again: winter thawed, flowers blooming.

“Deli!”

He rushed forward. Chu Kuang followed.

It was a reunion that transcended life and death. The three of them embraced, laughing through tears. In the glow of the fiery sunset, they held each other tightly—as if they would never again be parted.