My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

Ye Qingfeng stood in the courtyard, looking up at the moon.

He saw that scene clearly.

The old man's obsession dissipated, and his body returned to stillness, which could be considered a release.

only……

He suddenly frowned and looked into the room.

The old woman's life force was rapidly waning—not from the decay of death, but from... her vitality dissipating on its own.

She didn't want to live anymore.

Ye Qingfeng sighed softly and did not go in.

Some partings are beyond the control of outsiders.

Inside the house, the old woman carried the old man's body back to the bed, covered him with a blanket, and lay down beside him herself.

She held his cold hand and closed her eyes.

"Old man... wait for me..."

"The road is paved... Let's walk together..."

His breathing gradually calmed down and eventually stopped.

As dawn broke, Ye Qingfeng pushed open the door of the small house.

The elderly couple lay side by side on the bed, holding hands, their faces calm and peaceful.

Both were joyous funerals.

He chose a sunny slope on the back of the mountain and built a joint burial tomb there.

The old man's body and the old woman's remains were placed side by side.

There was no coffin, only two faded old clothes wrapped around his body.

Fill in the soil and erect a monument.

Ye Qingfeng found a flat stone, used his finger as a brush, and used his Qi to carve characters:

The joint tomb of Chen Shouren and Zhou Huilan

We shared the same bed in life, and the same grave in death; our unwavering devotion will become a lasting bond.

After finishing carving, he returned to the courtyard and rummaged through the old couple's old wooden box.

At the bottom of the box was a small cloth bag containing three aged incense sticks, all well-preserved.

Ye Qingfeng took the incense back to the tomb and stuck it in the soil in front of the tombstone.

He took a step back, straightened his clothes, and solemnly bowed to the tombstone.

Then he raised his right hand and flicked his fingertips lightly:

"Ignite."

The three incense sticks ignited spontaneously without a flame, their wisps of smoke rising straight upwards, creating a hazy glow in the morning light.

Ye Qingfeng watched the smoke quietly.

May you meet again in your next life.

May this mountain path truly lead to a place...where there is no parting.

As dawn breaks, the mountain birds begin to sing.

Ye Qingfeng stood in front of the tomb for a long time, but miraculously, the three incense sticks showed no sign of going down, as if they were endless.

He turned and went down the mountain, stepping onto the 520 stone steps he had laid himself.

Take it one step at a time, without rushing or being slow.

Reaching the foot of the mountain, I looked back and saw that the courtyard was already hidden in the morning mist, and could not be seen clearly.

Only the stone steps, like a white jade belt winding around the mountainside, gleamed with a warm light under the morning sun.

......

Chen Shouren and Zhou Huilan's only son, Chen Qingshan, returned to the mountain on the seventh day after his parents' death.

He runs a small cloth shop in a nearby county town and is usually so busy that he can only come back once a month.

Because I had received a large order, I was delayed for a few days. Feeling uneasy, I closed the shop early, bought my parents' favorite pastries and fabrics, and hired a donkey cart to rush back.

When he reached the foot of the mountain, he was stunned.

The steep, difficult hillside I remembered has somehow been transformed into a complete set of bluestone steps.

The stone steps are neat and wide, extending upwards step by step, and gleam with a warm luster in the afternoon sun, like a jade belt winding around the mountainside.

"Who...who repaired this?" Chen Qingshan asked in surprise and doubt as he carried his bags up the steps.

He climbed the 520 steps without much difficulty.

Each stone step is polished smooth and non-slip, and the corners are specially widened, clearly taking into account the convenience of the elderly walking.

"When did my parents hire someone to build such a road?" His doubts deepened. "This project must have cost at least several dozen taels of silver..."

Upon reaching the courtyard gate, the wooden gate was ajar.

"Father! Mother! I'm back!" Chen Qingshan pushed open the courtyard gate.

The courtyard was quiet.

The chickens in the coop were clucking from hunger, the vegetables in the vegetable patch were wilting, and the water jar was almost empty—this was unlike my mother's usual meticulous and hardworking nature.

"Mother?" Chen Qingshan's heart tightened. He put down his things and quickly walked towards the main room.

No one was inside.

He then pushed open the door of the small house next door.

There was still no one there; he seemed to have thought of something.

I stumbled and rushed out of the yard, only to see the new grave on the hillside behind the house.

His parents' names are engraved on the tombstone:

The joint tomb of Chen Shouren and Zhou Huilan

We will share the same bed in life and the same grave in death; our love will never change.

The characters are vigorous and powerful, penetrating deep into the stone, something no ordinary stonemason could have done.

"Father and Mother...are they gone?" Chen Qingshan rushed to the grave, touching the cold tombstone, tears welling up again.

The parents died on the same day and were buried together here.

Who did all this? And what's the deal with those stone steps?

He cried for a long time before gradually calming down and beginning to carefully examine the grave.

He was stunned when he saw it.

Three sticks of incense were placed in front of the tombstone—the kind of old incense his mother had treasured for many years, which he recognized.

Strangely, the three incense sticks were still burning.

Three wisps of smoke rose straight up, condensing and not dissipating in the windless mountains, like three thin white lines rising towards the sky.

Even more strangely, the incense burned for so long without showing any signs of shortening its burning time.

The red dot on the incense stick flickers on and off at a constant speed, as if time itself has lost its meaning here.

"How long has this incense been burning?" Chen Qingshan murmured to himself.

He remembered his mother saying when he was a child that some enlightened masters could burn incense for seven days without going out, symbolizing peace of mind and lasting blessings.

Just as he was in shock, two butterflies suddenly flew over the grave.

One is a simple, elegant moon-white with pale gold patterns along the edges of its wings; the other is a warm, goose-yellow with light brown spots on its wings.

Two butterflies, larger than ordinary butterflies, fluttered around the grave, sometimes intertwining and circling, sometimes flying side by side, their movements as graceful as a painting.

They danced around the three wisps of smoke, their wings occasionally brushing against the smoke column, yet they remained undisturbed by the heat.

Chen Qingshan was mesmerized.

He recalled his parents' story—his mother was a widow and his father was a carpenter from another town. Despite the gossip, the two fell in love, lived in seclusion in the mountains for decades, and supported each other through thick and thin, never arguing with each other.

My father always said, "I'm fifteen years younger than you, so I have to treat you extra well so I can be there for you when you're old."

The mother laughed and said, "Silly boy, feelings can't be measured by age."

Now they have passed away together and are buried here, their incense burning eternally, and butterflies fluttering side by side...

This was no ordinary death.

This is... a peaceful death blessed by the gods.

Chen Qingshan wiped away his tears and solemnly kowtowed three times to the grave:

"Father, Mother, you loved each other throughout your lives, and even in your final moments you were accompanied by the divine. Your son... is so happy for you."

He stood up, went back into the house to pack up his parents' belongings, and prepared to go down the mountain to handle the affairs of the cloth shop. He would move back up the mountain to guard their graves in the future.

Before leaving, he took one last look at the three sticks of incense.

The incense is still burning.

The wisp of smoke still rises straight.

The two butterflies still fluttered.

This scene was deeply imprinted in his heart.

After returning to the county town, Chen Qingshan sold the cloth shop.

When familiar guests asked him why, he did not hide anything and recounted what he had seen and heard in the mountains.

Mysterious stone steps, a joint burial tomb, incense that never dies, and two butterflies that accompany each other.

At first, people just thought it was a strange tale.

Until a curious herb gatherer actually went to explore that mountain and returned with great confidence:

"There really is a stone staircase that looks like a ladder to heaven! I've never seen such excellent stonework!"

"Those three incense sticks in front of the grave were burning when I visited three days ago, and they were still burning today!"

"Those two butterflies were real! I tried to shoo them away, and they just flew around me; they weren't afraid of people at all!"