Zhu Xian: They've all been reborn

Behind Tongtian Peak is the Ancestral Temple.

Shuiyue stood at the bottom of the stone steps, looking at that hunched back.

The wind blew through the old tree, the leaves rustling, and a few withered leaves swirled and landed on her moon-white Taoist robe.

She didn't move; she just stood there.

Wan Jianyi slowly turned around.

That once exceptionally handsome face is now covered with deep wrinkles. His left sleeve hangs empty, and his right hand still clutches that worn-out broom.

His eyes were murky like stagnant water, yet a barely perceptible flicker of emotion flashed across them the instant he saw her.

"Junior Sister Shuiyue," he said, his voice hoarse as if a door hinge that hadn't been used in years was turning.

Shuiyue's lips trembled, and it took her a long time to squeeze out a few words: "Senior Brother Wan... you're still alive."

Wan Jianyi nodded slightly, his gaze shifting to the distant mountains. "Alive."

A silence fell. Only the sound of the wind passing through the eaves of the ancestral hall could be heard, like a low sob.

"Why?" Shuiyue took a step forward, her hands clenched tightly beneath her Taoist robe. "Why did you keep it from me? Why did you keep it from everyone?"

Wan Jianyi looked down at the broom in his hand, gently stroking the rough bamboo handle. "It's good that I'm alive. Where I am or what I'm doing doesn't matter."

Shuiyue suddenly became agitated, her voice rising eight octaves: "Not important? You think you've been dead for a hundred years! I thought you'd been dead for a hundred years!"

Her eyes reddened. "All these years, I..."

She couldn't continue.

Those whispers to his memorial tablet in the dead of night, those tears shed during secret memorial services, those regrets and longings suppressed in the heart and never spoken to anyone, are all stuck in my throat now.

Wan Jianyi raised his head and looked at her quietly.

His eyes held a complex mix of emotions: guilt, helplessness, and a hint of something Shuiyue couldn't decipher.

"What happened back then is all in the past," he said softly.

"We can't get through!" Shuiyue practically shouted.

"You think time can heal all wounds? Wan Jianyi, you're so selfish!"

She walked quickly forward and stopped three steps away from him.

From this distance, she could clearly see every wrinkle on his face and a few withered grasses mixed in with his gray hair.

"Why didn't you defend yourself back then in the Jade Purity Hall? Why did you admit to those fabricated charges?" Shuiyue's voice was choked with sobs.

Do you know how much it hurt me to watch you get convicted?

Wan Jianyi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "What's the use of explaining? They need someone to take the blame for Master's death, and I did indeed do it."

"But you did it to save Qingyun! To save everyone!" Shuiyue said urgently.

"The former sect leader fell into demonic possession; if it weren't for you and Senior Brother Daoxuan..."

"Enough." Wan Jian interrupted her, his voice suddenly turning stern. "Don't bring up the past anymore."

Shuiyue was stunned. Looking at Wan Jianyi's tightly closed eyes and pursed lips, she suddenly understood something.

"It was Senior Brother Daoxuan who sent you to guard this place, wasn't it?" she asked in a low voice. "He's protecting you in this way, and also protecting Qingyun's secret."

Wan Jianyi did not answer, but his slightly trembling right hand betrayed the turmoil in his heart.

Shuiyue took another step forward, and could almost feel the warmth of his breath.

"Do you know how I've spent the last hundred years? Every time I pass by the ancestral hall, I take a few extra glances, always feeling like you're still watching me from somewhere. Everyone says I'm crazy, that my obsession is too deep..."

Her voice lowered, tinged with self-mockery: "Maybe they're right. I really can't let go, I can't let go of you, I can't let go of the past."

Wan Jianyi finally opened his eyes and stared directly at Shuiyue.

Those eyes, once as bright as stars, are now as deep as an ancient well, yet they still possess a power that makes Shuiyue tremble.

"Let it go, Shuiyue." His voice softened considerably. "We're both getting old; let bygones be bygones."

Shuiyue shook her head, tears finally streaming down her face: "You make it sound so easy. Do you know how much I wanted to stand up for you in the Jade Purity Palace back then, how much I wanted to tell them the truth? But I... I was afraid..."

This was the first time in a century that she had admitted to her own cowardice.

At that crucial moment, when all the evidence pointed against Wan Jianyi, she chose to remain silent.

This guilt, like a thorn, has been stuck in her heart for a hundred years.

Wan Jianyi sighed softly: "You did the right thing. If you had told the truth back then, not only would you not have saved me, but you would have implicated many more people. The fewer people who know the secret of the Immortal Execution Sword, the better."

Shuiyue stared at him blankly, and suddenly realized that he looked much older than she had imagined.

Wan Jianyi, who was once full of vigor and whose sword could pierce nineteen provinces, is now just an old man in his twilight years, guarding the ancestral hall and sweeping fallen leaves.

"Come back with me," she pleaded. "I'll go talk to Senior Brother Daoxuan and clear things up. You don't need to hide anymore."

Wan Jianyi shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips: "This is my home. Peaceful, free, it's quite nice."

He turned around, picked up a broom, and began to slowly sweep the fallen leaves off the steps.

The bamboo broom scraped across the bluestone slabs, making a rustling sound that was particularly clear in the silent valley.

Looking at his hunched back, Shuiyue suddenly recalled the spirited young man in white robes a hundred years ago. Back then, Wan Jianyi was the brightest star of the Qingyun Sect, an object of admiration for all disciples. But now…

Her heart ached.

"At least let me come see you often," she said softly.

Wan Jianyi didn't turn around, but his sweeping paused slightly. "Why bother? It's better to cherish the memory than to meet again."

Shuiyue stubbornly shook her head: "No, I'm coming. It's been a hundred years, I can't let myself regret this again."

She walked to his side, took out a plain white handkerchief from her sleeve, and gently wiped the sweat from his forehead.

This intimate gesture made Wan Jianyi stiffen, but he did not dodge.

The two stood quietly in front of the ancestral hall, just as they had stood side by side a hundred years ago atop the clouds, looking down upon all living beings.

The wind grew stronger, swirling up fallen leaves and ruffling Shuiyue's Taoist robe and Wan Jianyi's white hair.

The distant sound of bells from Qingyun Mountain drifted over, melodious and solemn, as if telling a story from the distant past.

"I should go now," Shuiyue said softly, "but I will come again."

Wan Jianyi finally turned around and smiled slightly at her. The smile was faint, but it made Shuiyue vaguely see the boy from back then.

"Take care," he said, only two words.

Shuiyue nodded, turned around, and took off on her sword.

Just as she was taking off, she glanced back and saw Wan Jianyi still standing there, watching her leave. Sunlight shone on him, casting a long shadow on the ground.

At that moment, Shuiyue suddenly understood that some things will never disappear with time.

Just like the clouds and mist on Qingyun Mountain, they gather and disperse, disperse and gather again, never stopping.

And the love in her heart will, like the wind in the mountains, never cease.