Chapter 6: Memories and Obsession

Time rewinds to when Zhong Kui ran to the human world to catch the lecherous spirit.

Meng Po sensed something was wrong when the white-robed man asked her if there was something wrong with the soup.

After the white-robed man left, she also departed from the Naihe Bridge.

She walked to a small temple, even smaller than Zhong Kui’s temple. In front of it sat a bald monk who looked very delicate and refined.

Meng Po quietly stood before the monk.

The monk opened his eyes and said:

“Amitabha. You should settle your attachment yourself. There’s no need to come to me, I cannot help you.”

A look of confusion appeared in Meng Po’s eyes.

She slowly took a small mirror from her bosom. The mirror expanded with the wind until it reached her height.

Quietly touching the mirror, Meng Po murmured:

“This is my memory… and his memory…”

A sequence of memories continuously unfolded within the mirror.

Meng Po’s eyes became more and more dazed, yet her expression grew softer and gentler.

Inside the mirror:

A pair of childhood friends.

They grew up together.

The girl had trained in martial arts since childhood, coming from a family of warriors; the boy was a scholar.

Though weak since birth, whenever the girl needed him, he would always stand in front of her.

Even if he ended up battered and bruised, even if she ultimately had to solve the problems herself.

Born in an era of war and chaos, they could only support each other.

The girl never questioned why he, clearly weak, always recklessly stood before her.

The boy never questioned why she, a girl, solved every problem with force.

It wasn’t that they didn’t question—it was unnecessary.

Because she believed—as long as he was there, she was safe.

Because he believed—as long as she was there, he was happy.

Unfortunately, the world works that way.

It seems that as long as one is happy, disasters will inevitably come to block the path.

That year, due to forced conscription, the boy had to leave.

But he was only a scholar, and she knew that once he left, he wouldn’t return.

So she decided to disguise herself as a man and go in his place.

But he refused.

She didn’t want him to get hurt, and he certainly wouldn’t allow her to get hurt either.

So he left secretly.

And she followed him in secret.

The boy endured battle after battle.

He survived.

But he knew it was only because she was also in the army that he lived.

He didn’t resent her disobedience.

He only felt heartache—she had to suffer alongside him.

But she never cared.

She only wanted him to survive.

The battlefield was cruel.

No one would spare you for being kind.

During a desperate breakout, he fought with all his might to ensure she could survive.

Each cut of the blade landed on him.

He felt no pain—she did.

In the end, he succeeded.

He knew she could survive.

He was satisfied.

But he didn’t know.

What he did—for her—meant:

To live was to die.

She could not survive alone.

She picked up a blade, stepping backward.

She would not commit suicide.

Because she knew he would never allow it.

So?

All she had to do was turn back and kill all those who had taken his life.

She turned back.

Ignoring the path he had opened for her.

Because without him ahead, there was no path.

So she walked backward.

Because in that path back, he would be there.

She cried, she laughed, she called his name.

Step by step, she walked backward.

She only wanted to see that he was still there.

But there were too many enemies, blocking her view.

The enemies’ blades reflected light, piercing her eyes.

When she finally found him, she smiled.

She lay in his arms, content.

She softly and continuously called his full name.

In the past, whenever she called his full name, he knew something was wrong.

He would appear before her, no matter the cost.

When she called only his given name, he knew she was teasing.

But this time, it didn’t work.

Whether full name or given name,

He remained silent, unresponsive.

She closed her eyes.

She understood.

She understood that in this world, he was gone forever.

So she would go to another world to find him.

She stubbornly believed that in another world, he would exist.

But unfortunately…

She resolved not to reincarnate.

She was willing to wait for him.

Always.

With patience, she could wait for him.

But with each cycle of reincarnation—

He could not recognize her.

When the memory sequence ended, Meng Po fell silent. She formed a hand seal and slowly returned the mirror to her bosom.

She said:

“Through a thousand lifetimes, if I could let go, I wouldn’t have come to find you.”

The monk sighed helplessly:

“Every false deity faces the same problem. You know it, I know it. Yet letting go is never easy.”

He continued solemnly:

“Since you cannot let go, why not confront it?”

“Your attachment is actually the simplest thing.”

“Face it, and you can pass through.”

Meng Po said bitterly:

“It’s not that simple.”

“Not to mention what happens after he knows.”

“Just thinking about letting go and forgetting… I can’t do it.”

She looked up at the sky in confusion:

“I live because of this memory.”

“Without it, I am nothing.”

The monk sighed:

“Attachment… oh attachment.”

“You and I both struggle in this ocean of obsession.”

Then he added:

“Go.”

“Try facing it.”

“Perhaps… you can let go?”

Meng Po shook her head:

“I’m afraid…”

The monk pressed his palms together:

“Amitabha.”