In the long-forgotten autumn of a bygone age, when crimson leaves danced upon the wind’s breath, seeking a lost home in the vast expanse of the sky, lay a land untouched by grand designs.

The heavens above were a flawless sapphire, mirroring the quiet beauty of the Zhao kingdom. From the hearths of humble dwellings, wisps of smoke curled heavenward, painting a scene of rustic serenity, akin to a farmer’s paradise.

Here, in a secluded village nestled at the foot of ancient mountains, generations were born and passed without venturing beyond the familiar horizons of their home.

As the dawn wind swept through the village, carrying with it a flurry of autumnal leaves, the mournful song of the suona rose from the village’s edge. Children, their faces alight with innocent glee, darted through the streets, their laughter echoing in the crisp morning air.

A crimson palanquin, adorned with silk and tassels, was the focal point of the gathering. It halted before a modest courtyard, the air thick with celebratory shouts and joyous clamor. It was the abode of a family preparing to welcome a bride into their midst.

Legend whispered that their ancestors were skilled carpenters, but the current patriarch was a scholar, one who had tasted success in the county examinations. Yet, instead of pursuing a life in the capital, he had returned to his village, choosing the quiet life of a rural scholar.

Now, decades had passed, and the scholar’s only son, Wang Lin, had come of age. Today was his day of joyous union.

Wang Lin was known to all in the village. A silent figure, touched by fate, he was a mute, often found gazing into the distant landscapes, his thoughts a mystery to those around him.

As the festivities reached their zenith, a veiled woman, her head bowed in modesty, emerged from the palanquin. Her hand was gently taken by Wang Lin, and together, they walked towards their new life within the courtyard.

The bride was Liu Mei, the second daughter of the wealthiest family in the village, a woman secretly admired by many young men. Since childhood, she had shared a special bond with Wang Lin. The two were often seen together, watching the horizon in quiet companionship.

Their union was no surprise to the villagers, only a source of quiet envy.

Village weddings were simple affairs, lacking the extravagance of city celebrations. A modest feast was prepared, and the entire village was invited to share in the joy. As the sun dipped below the western hills, the festivities drew to a close, leaving the newlyweds to their privacy.

In the bridal chamber, Wang Lin, his heart filled with anticipation, lifted his bride’s veil. He beheld a face of breathtaking beauty.

Liu Mei’s cheeks flushed a delicate rose as she gazed at Wang Lin, her smile radiating warmth.

Their eyes met, a connection that transcended time, a silent promise that echoed through countless lifetimes.

The following day, Liu Mei sat in the courtyard, facing a smiling Wang Lin. In his hands, he held a piece of wood, carefully carving an image of his beloved wife in her most radiant moment.

Their life was a simple tapestry of warmth and affection. Two years passed, and a son was born to them, named Wang Ping.

The boy was bright and articulate. As he grew, the family of three basked in the glow of their harmonious existence.

Wang Lin, following in the footsteps of his ancestors, chose the craft of carpentry over his father’s books. He was content to live out his days in the peaceful village.

Liu Mei devoted herself to her son, showering him with love and care. She prepared his meals, played with him in the fields, and filled his nights with enchanting stories.

Ten years passed. When Wang Ping turned fifteen, he set his sights on a scholarly life, bidding farewell to the village to partake in the county examinations.

On the day of his departure, he saw his mother seated in the courtyard, while his father meticulously carved another wooden likeness of her. The sculpture was, as always, exquisitely beautiful.

Wang Ping succeeded in his studies, earning a place in the capital. Years later, Wang Lin and Liu Mei followed their son to the city, making their home within its bustling walls.

Time flowed like a river, and Wang Lin and Liu Mei’s hair began to silver. Wang Ping, with his newfound status, carved his own path in the capital.

He eventually took a wife, a woman named Qing Yi, a beautiful maiden from a wealthy family.

Qing Yi was a devoted daughter-in-law, earning the love and respect of Wang Lin and Liu Mei. Yet, their contentment was tinged with wistful acceptance, for Wang Ping’s marriage marked a new chapter in his life, one that might lead him far from home.

Wang Lin and Liu Mei chose to return to their tranquil village, seeking solace in their remaining years.

Back in their old home, Wang Lin carved a third likeness of Liu Mei. The wrinkles of time were etched upon her face, yet her beauty remained undiminished.

Life was a gentle, unhurried stream, free from tempestuous waves. Wang Lin cherished each day spent with Liu Mei. Though he had never spoken a word to her, their silent bond was woven from shared sunrises and sunsets, a tapestry of love that grew richer with each passing year.

Years continued to slip away. When the autumn leaves once again painted the landscape, Wang Lin and Liu Mei had grown old and frail. Their son, Wang Ping, visited occasionally, but his stays were brief.

The two elderly souls sat in their courtyard, Liu Mei gazing lovingly at Wang Lin. In his hands, he held a piece of wood, crafting what might be the final sculpture of their life together.

The wood slowly took shape, revealing Liu Mei’s features. But it was not the aged woman before him that he captured, but the youthful bride from their wedding day.

“I know, even though you’ve never spoken a word to me, you are no mere mute…” Liu Mei murmured, watching the unfolding carving with tenderness in her eyes.

Wang Lin looked up, his face breaking into a smile, and shook his head, remaining ever silent.
Three days after the sculptor laid down his tools, a pallor fell upon Liu Mei. She lay abed, the ravages of age unable to fully mask the beauty of her youth. Her frail hand clasped tightly to that of Wang Lin, who sat beside her, unwavering in his vigil.

“I know… the scale does not lie…” she whispered, her voice a breath of wind.

“Do you remember our first meeting, so long ago? You were gazing at the heavens, lost in some unseen wonder. I was consumed by curiosity, drawn to your side to share in your vision.”

“But I saw nothing. And as I turned to leave, you spoke, uttering the first words you ever addressed to me… You remember, as do I…” Liu Mei’s gaze, filled with a tenderness that could rival the clearest spring water, rested upon Wang Lin.

“You declared me your wife… and yourself, my husband… a destiny etched in the stars.” A gentle smile, like the first bloom of spring, softened Liu Mei’s face as she drifted back into the misty realms of memory.

Wang Lin returned the smile, his grip tightening around her hand, offering silent comfort.

Thus they sat, their eyes locked in a timeless dance. Liu Mei spoke, a tapestry woven from a lifetime of shared moments – the carefree days of their youth, the solemn vows of their wedding, the joy of their son, Wang Ping.

“Ping’er is a good son, but he is grown now, with his own path to forge… We cannot bind him to our side forever… When I am gone, you shall remain. You must watch over him,” she murmured, her voice fading.

Wang Lin shook his head, his eyes filled with a gentle light as he looked upon her.

The hours melted away, and as the first rays of dawn painted the sky with hues of gold and rose, a melancholic autumn wind stirred the fallen leaves, sending them swirling in a dance of mortality. A flicker of confusion clouded Liu Mei’s eyes, and she tightened her grip on Wang Lin’s hand.

A sudden rush of color flooded her withered cheeks, a radiant blush akin to a dying ember’s final burst. A spark of vital energy seemed to course through her frail frame.

“I see it… Wang Lin, I see it!” She struggled to sit upright, her face alight with a joyous wonder. She pointed towards the heavens beyond the window, words tumbling from her lips.

“I see what we sought in the skies of our youth. I truly see it! I see you and I…floating above…

“We are Immortals…I…I…” A torrent of tears streamed down her face as she beheld a vision, beautiful yet heartbreaking.

“How could this be…” she gasped, her voice choked with sorrow.

“It is all over,” Wang Lin spoke softly, cradling her hand, echoing the first words they exchanged as man and wife, his voice a low, soothing rumble of love and acceptance.

That very night, as Wang Ping, having resigned his post and returned home with his wife, Qing Yi, to spend his remaining days with his parents, discovered them in their chamber, sleeping peacefully, smiles etched upon their faces, gone from the world.

He stood, transfixed, before their silent forms, tears cascading down his face as memories of their love and his childhood flooded his mind.

After their burial, Wang Ping and Qing Yi remained in their ancestral home, until the relentless march of time claimed them as well.

Meanwhile, within the cavern guarded by the Thirteen, Wang Lin and Liu Mei sat cross-legged, eyes closed in deep meditation. Between them floated a luminous pearl, its ethereal light binding them together.

At long last, Wang Lin opened his eyes, gazing at his beloved wife for an eternity it seemed.

A single tear trickled down her cheek as she, too, opened her eyes, meeting his gaze with an intensity that echoed their shared dream-journey, seeking an eternity.

“Is it over?” Mu Bingmei whispered.

“It is over. Close your eyes, and when you open them again, all will be a new beginning…” Wang Lin replied softly, knowing the complexity of the emotions that swirled within the woman before him. Regardless of their tangled nature, she could never truly break free.

Mu Bingmei stared at him, uncomprehending of his words, yet obediently closing her eyes, halting the flow of tears.

“Open them…” The familiar voice echoed in her ears.

And when she opened her eyes, she saw…

(To be continued…)