Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I have been brewing soup on Naihe Bridge for seven hundred years, and for the first time, in front of a hundred thousand ghostly souls, I splashed a ladle of steaming Meng Po Soup right into the King of Hell’s face.

The surroundings fell so silent that even the wailing of ghosts ceased.

The Soul-binding Chain in Black Impermanence’s hand hit the ground with a loud clatter, and White Impermanence’s tongue forgot to wag. Beneath the bridge, the River of Forgetfulness Water churned with dark red waves. On the bridge, the ghosts queuing for reincarnation stretched into a long line, every single one of them craning their necks to watch me, as if they were watching a play in the Underworld.

The King of Hell wiped his face, the veins on his temples throbbing. “Meng Qi, have you gone mad?”

I slammed the ladle against the edge of the cauldron, my voice even louder than his. “You’re the one who’s mad. I’m not sending this soul off.”

Today was the day for the Underworld’s year-end audit.

Every Ghost Officer, Judge, and King of Hell was present. Even Siming Star Lord had descended from the heavens, claiming he was here to inspect whether the Underworld’s reincarnation process was fair. According to the procedure, I was only responsible for ladling soup, handing over bowls, urging souls along, and sending them off-just like an old ox on an infernal assembly line.

I hadn’t originally intended to cause trouble.

Until I saw three words written in the Book of Reincarnation for the next soul to cross the bridge.

Xie Wujiu.

I stared at those three words for a long time, thinking I had gone senile from brewing soup for too long.

But in the next instant, Black Impermanence had already escorted that soul before me.

The man was bound in a Soul Prison Lock, his wrists and ankles wrapped in dark iron chains. His soul was so faint it was nearly transparent, looking as if it might dissipate at any moment. His head was lowered, but his back was held very straight. A stray lock of hair fell over his forehead, obscuring his eyes.

The wind on the bridge had blown cold for seven hundred years, but I had never been afraid of the chill.

Yet at that moment, I felt a piercing cold go straight through my back.

Of course I recognized him.

Even if he had been crushed by reincarnation for nine lifetimes, even if his soul was fragmented and incomplete, even if his name was nearly worn away this time, I still recognized him.

He was Xie Wujiu.

He was the fiancé I had bowed to heaven and earth with in the Mortal Realm, yet never managed to marry.

He was also the person I had personally, bowl by bowl, sent off to forget me.

Over these seven hundred years, Xie Wujiu had reincarnated nine times.

For the first eight times, I was the one holding the bowl, watching him drink it before he turned to walk into the Reincarnation Well.

Once, he was a poor scholar who froze to death on the way to the imperial examinations; once, he was a minor border general who died on a winter night at the age of twenty-one; and once, he was a schoolteacher who, just before death, dipped his finger in water to write the character for “Seven” on his bedboard.

I didn’t dare look, and I didn’t dare ask.

I told myself that it was better for him to forget-only by forgetting could he keep living.

But today, there was a small line of text written in cinnabar following his entry in the Book of Reincarnation.

Xie Wujiu: Tenth reincarnation canceled. Remand to Avici Hell; soul to be extinguished.

I took one look, and the ladle dropped.

The King of Hell said coldly, “The Underworld has its own rules.”

I laughed. “Rules? I’ve brewed soup on this bridge for seven hundred years. I’ve seen wronged souls, malevolent ghosts, those who deserved the boiling oil, and those who shouldn’t have died. But I have never seen anyone who, after suffering through nine lifetimes of misery, is still sentenced to have his soul extinguished by your so-called rules.”

Siming Star Lord stepped forward slowly.

Dressed in white with gold-threaded cloud patterns on his sleeves, he stood among the crowd of Ghost Officers looking as clean as if he had never stepped through blood. In seven hundred years, he had come to the Underworld three times. Every time he came, there were always a few more inexplicable changes made to the Book of Reincarnation.

I detested him most of all.

He looked at me with a faint smile. “Meng Po, the Underworld is a place of reincarnation, not a place for sentimentality.”

“Then why are your old debts from the heavens being settled on the Underworld’s head?” I glared at him. “What crime did Xie Wujiu commit that makes him worth hunting through ten lifetimes?”

The King of Hell barked, “Meng Qi!”

I ignored him.

I simply looked down at the man standing before me.

He hadn’t said a word from beginning to end. Only after I threw down the ladle did he finally raise his head.

Those were a pair of very dark eyes.

As dark as that unextinguished lamp in the long nights of the Mortal Realm seven hundred years ago.

My breath hitched.

Because as he looked at me, he actually let his lips curve into a gentle smile.

Then, in a raspy voice that was nearly broken, he called out to me.

“Ah Qi.”

A deathly silence fell over the bridge.

My fingers suddenly tightened around the fabric of my skirt.

It was impossible.

Meng Po Soup washes away the soul and spirit, and the Reincarnation Well grinds away bones and memories. Logically speaking, let alone nine lifetimes, even after just one, it should be impossible for anyone to remember their past.

But as Xie Wujiu looked at me, the faint light in his eyes grew brighter bit by bit.

“I’ve been looking for you for a long time,” he said.

It felt as if something had slammed hard against my chest.

Siming’s expression changed instantly.

In the next moment, the three-hundred-year-old cauldron beside me suddenly exploded. Scalding soup shot into the air, and the Ghost Officers fell into chaos. Black and White Impermanence scrambled to stabilize the souls, the King of Hell raised his sleeve to block the liquid, and Siming raised his hand to seal the bridge.

Taking advantage of the chaos, I stepped forward, grabbed the chains on Xie Wujiu’s hands, and turned to run.

The wind of the River of Forgetfulness howled beneath the bridge, and behind me came the furious shouts of the entire Underworld.

Yet only one thought remained in my mind.

This shitty job as Meng Po-I’m quitting.