Chapter 3

Chapter 3

My Own Name on the Book of Reincarnation

I told Xie Wujiu to hide in the back room before opening the door myself.

As expected, the person standing outside was Cui Jue.

He was dressed in black robes, clutching the Judge’s Book of Life and Death, his face even paler than usual. While other Judges were imposing and majestic, he looked like a pathetic, impoverished scholar who had worked himself to death, as if a single gust of wind might knock him over.

Upon entering, he first glanced at me, then at the closed door of the back room.

“You’re hiding a soul.”

I sneered. “No kidding. Did you come here in the middle of the night to bring me New Year’s gifts?”

Cui Jue didn’t banter with me. He placed the Book of Life and Death directly on the table. “Siming has sealed the bridge, and the King of Hell has issued an arrest warrant. Hand him over before midnight, and you’ll lose a century’s worth of salary at most. Hand him over after midnight, and you’ll be charged with the same crime.”

“What crime?”

“Defying Fate.”

My chest felt tight. “What exactly is ‘Defying Fate’?”

Cui Jue fell silent for a moment, as if weighing his words.

Then he said, “Seven hundred years ago, there was a couple in the Mortal Realm. Their fates were destined: one was to live, and one was to die. The living one was meant to be a sacrifice for the Imperial Family at the age of thirty in exchange for peace across the land. The one who died was meant to be the reason the other raised an army to topple half the empire.”

I laughed out loud. “Is the Underworld in the business of storytelling now?”

“I’m not joking.” Cui Jue stared at me. “The girl was named Su Du. The boy was named Xie Wujiu.”

My smile froze on my face.

Su Du.

That name was like a fine needle, pricking me gently and drawing a strange ache from the marrow of my bones.

A fleeting image flashed through my mind.

Red candles, a bridal veil, and a man holding my hand, whispering in my ear, “Ah Du, don’t be afraid.”

In the next instant, blood covered the floor.

I braced myself against the corner of the table.

Cui Jue asked softly, “Do you remember?”

“No,” I gritted out. “Keep talking.”

“The Imperial Family didn’t want Xie Wujiu to raise an army, so they framed him for treason in advance. They didn’t want Su Du to die too miserably, so they arranged for her to die in an ‘accident’ before the wedding. Logically, that should have been the end of it. But when Xie Wujiu’s soul reached the Underworld, he refused to drink the soup or enter reincarnation. He caused such a stir that the Hall of the King of Hell knew no peace for three days.”

“Then you arrived.”

“Who?”

“You.” Cui Jue looked at me. “After Su Du died, for some reason, her soul did not dissipate. She walked to the Naihe Bridge on her own. You met Xie Wujiu and agreed to stay in the Underworld as Meng Po. The condition was that as long as you personally sent him into reincarnation, he would be allowed to live.”

A chill ran through me.

“Liar.”

“I wish I were lying.” Cui Jue flipped open the Book of Life and Death and pushed it toward me. “See for yourself.”

The Book of Life and Death was densely packed with names and karmic debts. Turning to the page from seven hundred years ago, I saw two entries.

Su Du: Lifespan ended. Transformed into the Underworld’s Meng Po.

Xie Wujiu: Spared from soul dissipation. Sentence commuted to nine cycles of reincarnation.

Beside them was a line of small characters.

Exchange finalized. Pact-holder: Meng Qi.

I stared at those lines as if they were a joke.

But what was even more ridiculous was the blood-red thumbprint at the bottom of the page. It matched the lines on my palm perfectly.

I suddenly remembered why I had to go into seclusion every hundred years.

The King of Hell said that because Meng Po spent so much time brewing soup, she was easily disturbed by the past. Therefore, every hundred years, she had to drink a bowl of her own Soup of Forgetfulness to wash away stray thoughts.

In seven hundred years, I had drunk it seven times.

It turned out that what was washed away wasn’t “stray thoughts.”

It was my own life.

The door to the back room creaked open.

Xie Wujiu walked out and stood under the light, his expression very calm.

“So it wasn’t that she didn’t want to save me,” he said. “It was that she used herself to buy me nine lives.”

Cui Jue said nothing, which was a tacit confirmation.

I suddenly found it all absurd.

“Since the exchange was for nine lives, why must his soul be dissipated in the tenth?”

Cui Jue’s expression grew even more grim.

“Because someone doesn’t want him to live anymore.” He paused. “And they don’t want you to remember, either.”

I thought of Siming almost immediately.

“Is it Heaven?”

Cui Jue nodded. “This morning, Siming came down with a Heavenly Decree and altered the main registry. Even the King of Hell couldn’t withstand the pressure.”

“Couldn’t withstand it?” I laughed. “Since when has the Underworld fallen so low that it can’t even protect a single soul?”

Cui Jue rubbed his temples. “Ah Qi, you’ve been brewing soup on the bridge for too long. You don’t realize that the Three Realms are not what they used to be. For years, Heaven has been seizing control over the power of reincarnation. The Underworld is nothing more than their gatekeeper. Xie Wujiu’s soul involves more than just the two of you.”

“Then what else does it involve?”

Cui Jue didn’t answer.

But the more he avoided the question, the more I knew there was a massive trap behind it all.

The room fell so silent that the sound of the candle wick snapping was audible.

After a moment, Xie Wujiu suddenly spoke. “Ah Qi.”

I turned around.

He looked at me with deep exhaustion in his eyes, yet he still spoke gently. “If these nine lives were bought by you, then this life should not cost you any more.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” He took a step forward, his chains clinking softly. “You’ve been trapped on this bridge for seven hundred years.”

“So what?”

“I can’t bear it.”

When those words came out, I almost thought I had misheard him.

Seven hundred years of the wind from the River of Forgetfulness, seven hundred years of Meng Po Soup, seven hundred years of watching him live and die, forgetting me nine times. Everything I thought had been worn away long ago suddenly grew back like wild grass in that instant.

My eyes stung, but I had to maintain my fierce facade. “Who asked if you could bear it? Did I ask you?”

Xie Wujiu smiled.

When he smiled, my nose stung even more.

Cui Jue coughed lightly from the side, as if he couldn’t stand to watch any longer, and handed over a small black jade token.

“Before midnight, there is an abandoned Reincarnation Path on the eastern side of the Underworld that bypasses the main bridge,” he said. “If you’re going to leave, go now.”

I looked up at him. “You’re helping me?”

“I’m not helping you,” Cui Jue whispered. “I simply want to know who exactly altered the Book of Reincarnation to look like this.”

I took the token, my palm feeling cold.

But at that moment, the Book of Life and Death began to flip on its own.

The pages fluttered wildly before stopping on the very last page.

On that page, a new name was written.

Meng Qi: To be detained tonight at midnight.

And the charge was exactly the same as Xie Wujiu’s.

Defying Fate.