Rebirth of a Star General 125.1
Moon (1) (Part 1)
Moon (1) (Part 1)
Qingyuan’s sixty-second Mid-Autumn Festival was the coldest in Da Wei.
It’d been raining since the morning when the dark clouds rolled heavily across the sky. From the look of things, it seemed the rain wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.
The high and tapered jagged peaks of the Lianxue Mountain ridge stretched endlessly, contending with each other in beauty.
The carriage slowly traveled along the mountain road.
Although it was difficult to travel on, Lianxue Mountain was lively all year round due to a temple called Yuhua. Incense sticks were constantly burned at Yuhua Temple, as it was said that those who worshipped Buddha here would find their wishes realized. At every New Year and other festivities, Shuojing’s high-ranking officials and aristocrats would come here to pray and chant sutras for their family’s good health and harmony, and for everything they desired to come true.
The carriage curtains were lifted. The Xiao Family’s Lady1 Bai Rong Wei glanced out the carriage and softly said, “We’re almost there. We’ll be at Yuhua Temple before an incense stick of time.”
“Are you hungry?” Xiao Jing asked warmly beside her.
Bai Rong Wei shook her head and looked back at the carriage following them. Somewhat worriedly, she said, “Huai Jin . . .”
Xiao Jing sighed lightly but didn’t speak.
Everyone in the Xiao Family knew that Second Young Master Xiao didn’t like the Mid-Autumn Festival—in fact, he hated it.
Xiao Zhong Wu died in battle just before the Mid-Autumn Festival. Had he been alive, he would’ve come back and enjoyed the Mid-Autumn banquet with his family. Unfortunately, he died in the Battle of Mingshui. The Xiao Family’s Mid-Autumn banquet was halfway through preparations before it came to an abrupt stop.
And it never continued.
Since then, on every Mid-Autumn Festival, Xiao Jue would be absent from Shuojing. This year marked the first time he’d be celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival in Shuojing since taking over the Southern Army. The Xiao Family followed Madam Xiao’s tradition of burning incense and praying at Lianxue Mountain’s Yuhua Temple.
However, nobody expected the weather to be so terrible on this day. Not only was the sun hidden, but the rain was also ceaseless.
Just as Bai Rong Wei estimated, it took less than an incense stick of time for them to catch sight of Yuhua Temple’s entrance. A monk wearing a conical bamboo hat was there sweeping the fallen leaves from the ground. Noticing the arrival of the Xiao Family’s carriages, he set down his broom and welcomed them into the temple.
Because of the rain, the mountain road was even more difficult to travel on. At this time in previous years, Yuhua Temple would long be bustling; today, however, other than the Xiao Family’s carriages, only one other carriage was stationed outside the mountain gates. It was unclear which Madam or Lady it belonged to.
Xiao Jue followed them inside.
The sky was dark, so although it was still afternoon, it appeared to be evening already. They followed the monks’ example and had a vegetarian meal first before entering the Buddhist hall to begin burning incense and praying.
Bai Rong Wei and Xiao Jing entered first. When it was Xiao Jue’s turn, the green-clothed monk stretched out his hand and stopped him. “You mustn’t enter.”
Bai Rong Wei and Xiao Jing turned around. Bai Rong Wei asked, “Why? He is my younger brother—we traveled up the mountain together to pray.”
The green-clothed monk joined his palms and bowed towards her. When he turned back to Xiao Jue, he lowered his head and closed his eyes. “You’ve caused too much carnage. The Buddhist hall is a place of peace, hence those with a heart stained with blood must not enter.”
Everyone else was taken aback.
Too much carnage.
In the Battle of Guocheng Valley, sixty thousand people were drowned—was that not too much carnage? During these years, innumerable Southern Barbarians died under his hands—his heart was, indeed, stained with blood.
“Shifu,” Bai Rong Wei said anxiously, “Buddha offers compassion to all sentient beings, regardless of rank and status, so what is the meaning of this?”
“Although his hands have been stained with the blood of many, he saved just as many lives.” Xiao Jing frowned. “So isn’t Shifu being too one-sided on this matter?”
The green-clothed monk remained silent as his eyelids drooped.
“Shifu, please be kind,” Bai Rong Wei pleaded. “Our Xiao Family is willing to burn more incense and donate more silver as long as my brother can also enter the Buddha hall to pray—”
“There’s no need,” a voice interrupted her.
The youth in brocade robes looked up, his eyes landing on the Buddhist hall. Inside, a golden Buddha sat cross-legged, a fierce Vajrapani glowered, and a Vairocana sat serenely. From above and away, they looked down at him compassionately.
Sanskrit chants lingered, and the abyss of worldly suffering grew boundlessly. Even Buddha couldn’t save it.
He should’ve expected this.
“He can’t save me.” The corners of Xiao Jue’s lips curled up. “I don’t want to turn back either.”
To sink into ruin like this wasn’t so bad.
He turned around and walked out. “I’ll wait for you two outside.”
From behind sounded Bai Rong Wei and Xiao Jing’s shouts. He frowned somewhat impatiently. The moment he turned around, he tossed everything to the back of his mind.
He didn’t know that, after he left, the green-clothed monk chanted one of the many names of Buddha before softly saying, “Fate is not necessarily against you.”
…..
Because of the rain, their journey down the mountain would’ve been more slippery than their journey up. Moreover, the sky had darkened further, so if they traveled down the mountain after praying, it was possible something might go wrong. Tonight, they could only stay at Yuhua Temple.
It was inevitable.
The monk arranged living quarters for Bai Rong Wei and the others before retreating. Bai Rong Wei sighed. On the table were some mooncakes specially made by Yuhua Temple. She said to Xiao Jing, “Go get Huai Jin—we’ll celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival together the best we can like this.”
Xiao Jing knocked on the door adjacent to theirs, but there was no response. He pushed it open and entered, only to find it empty.
Xiao Jue wasn’t in his room.
He looked towards the temple’s courtyard where the rain had washed clean the flagstones. It was raining, so where could Xiao Jue have gone?
In Yuhua Temple’s backyard stood an ancient, centuries-old tree that’d been there since the temple’s construction. The ancient tree had exuberant foliage, so devotees who came to burn incense believed it to be animistic and named it the ‘Immortal’s Tree.’ The Immortal’s Tree was covered in red silk ribbons—some held wishes to pass the imperial examinations with high marks whilst others held wishes for conjugal bliss. The branches were covered in a layer of red thread; as there was no cover, once it rained, the wish-carrying ribbons would get wet and stick to the branches, causing the entire tree to appear as if it’d been draped with red gauze.
A youth walking under an umbrella stopped.
A piece of red fabric with yellow tassels stitched into it had fallen to the ground. The heavy rain must’ve blown it down.
Xiao Jue paused before bending down and picking it up.
On every piece of red silk, the owners had written their desires. He looked down at it. Its left side was drenched by rainwater, causing the ink to swirl into a muddled mess that left no remnants of its original appearance. Only a single crooked character was left on the right, reminiscent of a three-year-old’s scribbled handwriting: ‘see.’
See?
See what? How strange. As he was tall, he decided he might as well retie this strange piece of red silk back on the tree. He specially found a branch surrounded by a thick mass of leaves—this way, it’d stay dry more easily.
After he was done, he picked up the umbrella he’d set aside. However, he realized that the sachet hung around his waist had been exposed due to his previous actions, causing him to freeze.
The sachet was extremely old. Embroidered into the deep cerulean bag was a black python made up of golden threads. Vivid and majestic; refined and ornate. But because of time, the stitches were worn, causing the python design to become less distinct. The sachet itself was deflated as if empty.
His fingertips stroked the sachet, and something seemed to sink in his eyes.
The youths at Xianchang Hall all knew that Xiao Jue had a sachet that never left his side since childhood. The mischievous Lin Shuanghe was always curious about what treasure was kept within. One time, he found the opportunity to snatch it—after opening it, he discovered it was filled with osmanthus candy.
Back then, Second Young Master Xiao was heavily ridiculed—he liked sweets so much that he had to bring them to school.
Nobody knew that they were handmade by Madam Xiao when she was still alive.
After Madam Xiao’s death, he still carried this sachet with him; however, it no longer bulged with candy. There was only a single . . . old and inedible blackened osmanthus candy.
Xiao Jue left the mountain and entered Xianchang Hall at fifteen. When he was still on the mountain, he’d already learned everything he had to learn, hence he only had to skim through the content taught by the instructors once to memorize it. The instructors loved him, and his schoolmates envied him; to them, he was someone who must’ve accumulated lots of virtue in his past life to be reincarnated like this.
But Xiao Zhong Wu treated him harshly.
He’d always been languid. Back on the mountain, nobody but his teacher kept him in check; as for Xiao Zhong Wu, he was never around. Once he left the mountain, his schoolmates would often invite him to drinking parties or opera performances—since they were all fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds, there was no reason to reject them.
Although most of the time he was just lazily sitting aside watching the lessons or perhaps even sleeping, in Xiao Zhong Wu’s eyes, this son of his would most likely become a degenerate and a loiterer.
Xiao Zhong Wu would reprimand him, exercise domestic discipline, confiscate his monthly silver allowance, and punish him with copying manuscripts and practicing martial arts.
Xiao Jue would follow his wishes but, as a youth with wildness and arrogance etched into his very bones, how could he possibly just accept it?
The more calm and collected he was in receiving his punishments, the angrier Xiao Zhong Wu would be. Later, he fought with Xiao Zhong Wu.
