The night mountain path was terrifying. No light pierced the forest, only a sliver of moonlight squeezed through gaps in the trees and landed on his skin. It felt like the sky had flipped, the stars now upon the earth.

The sound of insects chirped in the woods, mingled with rustling noises. Chen Changsheng arrived beneath the gate of Zhenlong Mountain.

The gate of Zhenlong Mountain was less imposing than in past years. Too much time had passed, and even the stone tablet at the mountain’s base showed signs of weathering and erosion.

Chen Changsheng ascended the mountain, passed the Taoist Temple, and reached the burial ground on the hill.

It was worth mentioning that spirit coins were scattered over the graves. A glance told him they were placed recently.

Besides that, a fresh grave sat next to Old Huang’s. Whose it was, he didn’t know.

Chen Changsheng had no time for that. He went to Old Huang’s grave, opened his liquor jug, took a sip himself, then poured the rest before the tombstone.

Chen Changsheng said, “I’m not cheap, nor did I forget to bring incense. I wanted to offer you three sticks, truly. But I could only bring liquor this time. Rough it with this.”

Chen Changsheng found it strange. He was never one to talk to graves, for he knew well that the dead cannot hear.

He couldn’t help but think: if he didn’t know this, he’d surely believe Yan Huanglou could hear him.

Sometimes, the more one understood, the more they lost the heart of things.

Anyway, Chen Changsheng wanted to say a few more words.

He’d pretend. Deceive himself.

The reason was simple: he just wanted to chat a little with that good-for-nothing Old Huang.

“Ruyi and Ping’an have grown up. Safe and sound, all goes well…”

“Qingshan City is much more peaceful now. No need to live in fear anymore…”

Chen Changsheng muttered, finding himself saying more than he’d planned.

Many people deserved his care.

But his friends of old? Though friends, they mostly treated him with some reverence. Yan Huanglou was different. He had no ‘rules,’ no boundaries.

His wild laughter and reckless jokes often stirred something within Chen Changsheng’s troubled heart. That’s why he treasured this friend.

Later that night, Chen Changsheng ran out of words. Perhaps he was weary. He propped his chin on his hand and closed his eyes, falling asleep before the grave.

A dream came: a tea stall with ten-copper tea, Old Huang’s despondent face after losing money, the memory of freshly steamed buns… 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

The moon faded, and a thin mist rose in the mountains.

A rustling sound woke the sleeping Chen Changsheng.

He slowly opened his eyes and turned to look.

Through the mist, a figure approached. As it drew near, he saw the person held incense, candles, and spirit coins. They’d come to pay respects.

Chen Changsheng recognized him: the abbot of this temple on Zhenlong Mountain. His Daoist title was Zhixuan, he seemed to recall.

When Zhixuan Master saw a figure seated before the grave, his heart leaped. He thought he was seeing a ghost.

But when he saw who sat there clearly, his shock and fear were tenfold what it had just been.

“You…”

Zhixuan Master’s eyes widened. The incense and spirit coins fell from his grasp. He immediately knelt and kowtowed.

“This lowly disciple pays respects to the Celestial Immortal!”

Chen Changsheng looked at him. “Why are you here so early?”

Zhixuan Master’s mind reeled. He never expected to meet the Immortal here. He answered honestly, “This disciple… came to pay respects to a friend.”

Chen Changsheng looked at the fresh grave beside Old Huang’s. “This one?”

“Exactly.”

Then Chen Changsheng learned from Zhixuan Master whose grave it was.

A childhood friend of Zhixuan Master’s. Also from Qingshan City. Name Zeng Zhi. His family ran a paper offerings shop in the city.

But later, Zhixuan Master became a Daoist, while Zeng Zhi couldn’t. His family’s trade forbade it. The Daoist Sect had such strange rules.

Daoist Zhixuan said, “Please forgive this crime, Celestial Immortal.”

“This crime?”

“This disciple acted without permission, burying a friend here. Please show mercy!”

Zhixuan Master only buried his friend here hoping to bring him closer to Immortal Fate. It showed how much he cared. He’d risk offending the Immortal just to win a little blessing for his friend.

Chen Changsheng simply said, “This mountain isn’t mine. Where people bury whom, I have no power over.”

Daoist Zhixuan sighed with relief and offered repeated thanks.

Chen Changsheng regarded him. “You seem deeply attached to this friend.”

“He was my playmate since childhood.”

“Is that so…”

“Proceed to honor your friend then. Don’t mind me.”

Zhixuan Master acknowledged with a quiet sound.

He carefully gathered the fallen incense, candles, and spirit coins, tucking them into his robe. He approached his friend’s grave, lit the spirit coins to ignite the incense.

Once incense and candles were burning, he produced a ritual bell from within his sleeve.

Standing before the grave, he stepped in the pattern of the Seven Stars, chanting scriptures as if performing a ritual.

“Ding ling…”

The bell chimed.

The Taoist Scriptures spoken by Daoist Zhixuan sounded unusual to Chen Changsheng.

He thought it might be scriptures for guiding souls, but upon closer listen, it differed somewhat.

“…Merit adorns the spirit, the soul returns to Boundlessness, death itself is peace and joy…”

Zhixuan Master chanted, wholly concentrated.

By the time the ritual ended, the mountain mist had lifted. Zhixuan Master was drenched in sweat and sat down to rest.

Only then did Chen Changsheng speak. “The scriptures you recited… seem intended for more than guiding souls?”

Daoist Zhixuan hesitated before answering, “Replying to the Immortal: they are for accumulating blessings in the underworld. So the departed may be reborn well in their next life.”

“I see.”

Chen Changsheng looked at Old Huang’s grave. “I must also thank you for regularly scattering spirit coins at my old friend’s resting place.”

“Please don’t mention it. After all, this disciple disturbed your friend’s rest first.”

“No matter. He liked company.”

Chen Changsheng borrowed some spirit coins from Zhixuan Master and scattered them.

As he did, Zhixuan Master looked at him several times, seeming to want to ask something.

Chen Changsheng said, “Ask what you wish.”

Zhixuan Master ventured, “Dare I ask the Immortal… do these things truly work? Do they help?”

Chen Changsheng paused, considered, and answered: “They do. They help.”

Zhixuan Master smiled. “Thank you, Celestial Immortal!”

Truth be told, Chen Changsheng lied to him.

The dead are gone. Rituals cannot help. They pile up neither blessings nor ensure good rebirths.

But sometimes, a white lie isn’t a bad thing.

These rites were all Zhixuan Master could do for his friend now.

Chen Changsheng said, “He was truly fortunate to have a friend like you.”

Zhixuan Master was startled. “I do not deserve such words. I dare not…”

Chen Changsheng offered a warm smile. “I descend the mountain now, Master. Farewell.”

“Seeing off the Celestial Immortal.”

As Chen Changsheng walked away, a thought began to form.

What if one had a friend like this? A friend who chooses auspicious days for your great events; checks compatibility charts for your beloved; names your newborn child; examines feng shui when business falters; performs exorcisms when illness strikes; grants blessings for longevity in old age; selects auspicious ground after your death… and even when you’ve passed into the underworld, recites scriptures to guide your soul and gather merits.

Such bonds… such is the wonder of the Mortal World.