Mortal: Traveling Between Two Realms with Mei Ning to Pick Up Trash

A few days later.

Under the eaves of Qingzhu Xiaoxuan, life was like a stagnant pool.

Zhou Yu and Han Li sat inside the shop, one behind the counter and the other by the chessboard, each occupying a corner.

In the past few days, the two have barely spoken, exchanging only a few words: "You're here?" "Yes." Then there is a long silence.

The bamboo leaves outside the window still rustled as before, but it sounded like something was missing.

Perhaps it's the absence of that muttering voice as he placed the pieces, or perhaps it's the absence of that phrase, "Come on, let's play another round."

Master He went into seclusion, and Xiao Qin left. Suddenly, the little shop was almost empty, and even the air seemed thin.

A series of hurried footsteps came from the bamboo path.

Zhou Yu and Han Li both looked up at the door.

The door was pushed open.

Xiao Tan stood at the door, still holding the oil-paper umbrella in her hand. Although it wasn't raining, she still held it up, as if she needed something to separate herself from the world.

Her face was even paler than before, almost transparently pale, with only a faint bluish ring under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept in a long time.

Her gaze swept around the store, landing on Han Li, then on Zhou Yu, with a hint of cautious hope.

"Manager, Zhou Yu, any news?"

Xiao Tan's voice trembled.

Zhou Yu glanced at Han Li.

Han Li sat behind the counter, his gaze falling on the tea stains on the table, which were circles of brown marks.

He didn't speak.

The bamboo leaves outside the window rustled, and a withered leaf drifted in through the crack in the door and landed on the counter.

The tip of Xiaotan's umbrella spun on the bluestone ground, making a very soft scraping sound.

Han Li shifted his gaze from the tea stains on the table, glanced at her, and then looked away again.

"Little Qin..." His voice was a little dry. He paused, as if searching for the right word, "He said that he and you were originally different between immortals and mortals, and he felt that he could not watch you grow old, so he went to cultivate alone."

Zhou Yu then handed Xiao Qin's belongings to Xiao Tan.

"Sister Xiaotan." Zhou Yu's voice was very soft, as if he was afraid of disturbing something.

Xiao Tan's gaze shifted from Han Li to Zhou Yu, and then from Zhou Yu to the items.

Xiao Tan stood there, motionless.

She looked at Han Li, then at Zhou Yu, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but she didn't say anything.

Then her eyes reddened.

She lowered her head, raised her hand to wipe the corner of her eye, and her hand was wet. She looked at the back of her hand and wiped it again.

The more I wiped away the tears, the more they flowed.

"He's alright," she said softly, as if speaking to herself, "he just can't be with me anymore."

She raised her head, looking at Han Li, then at Zhou Yu, her gaze containing something unbearable to look at.

"Yeah?"

The two words, spoken in the quiet shop, sounded like two stones thrown into deep water.

Zhou Yu stood by the counter, one hand resting on the countertop.

His mouth opened a crack, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

It closed again.

Han Li remained silent for a moment, then stood up, walked behind the counter, took a small jade box from the shelf, placed it on the counter, and opened it.

He said in a slightly unsteady voice, "These are the epiphyllum flowers he picked on this trip. They can be used in medicine to cure your illness."

After saying that, he turned around, his back to Xiao Tan, and began to process the medicinal herbs.

Xiao Tan stood in front of the counter, looking at that figure from behind, her eyes reddening even more. She stopped crying, but her eyes were filled with tears.

She stared at Han Li's back for a long time. His back remained motionless, with only his shoulders rising and falling slightly with his breath.

She gripped the umbrella handle tighter.

"He..." her voice was low, "...will never come back."

She paused for a moment.

"Is it right."

Han Li did not answer; his hand paused for a moment.

"Come pick up the medicine in ten days," he said.

Zhou Yu stood aside, wanting to say something. He looked at Xiao Tan, at her pale face, at the tears in her eyes, and at her slightly trembling lips.

I wanted to say, "He will come back," but I couldn't bring myself to say it, because it would be a lie.

I wanted to say, "You must live well," but that was too light; it couldn't suppress such heavy sorrow.

Xiao Tan didn't ask any more questions. She bowed slightly to Han Li and Zhou Yu, turned around, and left, following closely behind.

Zhou Yu stood at the doorway, looking at the empty bamboo path.

Xiao Tan's footprints left shallow imprints on the wet bluestone slabs, extending all the way into the depths of the bamboo forest.

"I just remembered something," he said.

Han Li didn't turn around. "What?"

"Someone once asked me a question," Zhou Yu said, leaning against the doorframe, his gaze still fixed on the faint mark, "whether I should stop someone who has carefully considered their death."

Han Li paused for a moment.

"What did you say?"

I said, "I don't know."

The wind picked up outside the window, blowing a few bamboo leaves in and landing them on the counter.

Zhou Yu stared at those few leaves for a long time.

"We still don't know."

Han Li didn't reply. He put the medicinal herbs in his hand into the mortar and began to grind them.

……

Zhou Yu and Han Li arrived in front of Master He's cave.

A chessboard is placed in front of the pavilion.

A thin layer of dust had settled on the chessboard.

Zhou Yu stood in front of the pavilion, looking at the chessboard, and reached out to gently brush the dust off the chessboard with his sleeve.

A line of text gently appeared above.

Han Li and Zhou Yu finished reading.

"...Life is like a game of chess; once a move is made, there's no going back."

Zhou Yu looked at the line of words, reached out his hand, and gently touched the strokes of the words with his fingertips.

"If one spends their entire life seeking the Dao but still achieves nothing, is all this sacrifice worthwhile?" Zhou Yu asked. "Shopkeeper, do you think... Elder He truly has no regrets?"

Han Li did not answer; his gaze remained fixed on the line of words, on those words.

Zhou Yu turned to look at Han Li, "Shopkeeper, do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Cultivating Immortality".

Han Li glanced at Zhou Yu, his gaze holding something indescribable—not scrutiny, not contemplation, but more like… reminiscence.

It was the wind that blew many years ago, carrying the scent of that small mountain village, the scent of the Seven Mysteries Sect, the scent of Yellow Maple Valley, the salty and fishy scent of the Chaotic Star Sea, and the scent of the snow-covered sky of Tiannan.

"I don't regret it," Han Li said.

Zhou Yu looked into his eyes, like someone who had traveled a long way looking back, exhausted but never feeling like they had gone astray.

"Why?" Zhou Yu asked.

Zhou Yu waited for a while, but Han Li did not speak again.

Outside the pavilion, peach blossoms were still falling, one by one, onto the chessboard.

Zhou Yu stood up and used his sleeve to brush away the newly fallen peach blossoms.

The two walked back along the way they came, neither of them speaking, only the sound of their footsteps on the fallen leaves could be heard.

……

By the time I returned to the shop, it was already dark.

Zhou Yu pushed the door open. The shop was exactly as it had been when they left. The chessboard was still in its original place, the teacups were still in their original place, and Qu Hun was standing in the corner, having been there for who knows how long.

Han Li walked behind the counter, picked up the now-cold teacup, glanced at it, and then put it down.

Then calls came from outside the door.

"Someone, please save Little Dragon!"

"Someone, please save Little Dragon!"

Zhou Yu and Han Li came out to check and found that Xiao Long was covered in wounds and unconscious.

Please—

The middle-aged man looked at the two of them.

Please—

Zhou Yu felt breathless. He instinctively took a step forward and reached out his hand—

Then he stopped.

He looked down at his outstretched hand, palm up, fingers slightly spread.

Then he saw Xiaolong's face.

There was blood, mud, and abrasions on his face. There was a cut on the corner of his mouth, an old wound that had already scabbed over.

Zhou Yu remembered the medicine he had given Xiaolong when he came to the store last time.

Now that wound has reopened.

Zhou Yu's hand hung in mid-air, just like that.

He suddenly realized something.

She and Han Li were never the same.

This difference isn't about personality or circumstances; it's something fundamental.

Who is Han Li? He started from the Seven Mysteries Sect, fought his way out of the Yellow Maple Valley, and survived the bloody storms of the Chaotic Star Sea for two hundred years. Every single day of those two hundred years told him the same thing: there is no mercy in the cultivation world.

He had seen too many soft-hearted people; the grass on their graves had been replaced several times over. This wasn't cold-bloodedness; it was an ironclad rule earned through two hundred years of licking blood from the edge of a knife, a survival principle etched into his bones.

But what about yourself?

Zhou Yu looked at his hand and suddenly felt it was absurd.

When he came into this world, he brought not only this body, but also twenty years of life. In those twenty years, in that place called "Earth," the first thing he learned was not how to survive, but why to survive.

He didn't live for two hundred years, he only lived for twenty, but those twenty years shaped him into a person.

A person who is out of place in the world of cultivation.

Zhou Yu's hand was still hanging there.

He suddenly understood many things.

It's not about understanding Han Li's actions to be right, but about understanding that they are on two different paths.

Han Li's path is to survive. To survive, he can remain silent or turn away. In the past two hundred years, Han Li has seen too much, so he knows when to turn away and when to close his eyes.

But I am not Han Li.

Zhou Yu's fingers curled slightly.

He recalled what his sister and family had done for him in his past life. He realized that the biggest regret in life is not what one did, but what one didn't do.

So, should he extend his hand or not?

Extending it might get you into trouble.

If he wouldn't extend his hand, then so be it. He turned back into the shop, closed the door, and continued drinking tea, playing chess, and living. Han Li would do this, Master He would do this, and everyone in the cultivation world who has lived for over a hundred years would do this.

But is he still himself?

If he pulled that hand back and closed that door, he would no longer be Zhou Yu. He would become someone else, someone more like Han Li, someone more suited to the world of cultivation, someone who would live longer.

But he's not that kind of person.

Zhou Yu suddenly smiled.

He figured it out.

What he wanted to understand was not "whether or not to save her," not "whether or not she could be saved," not those grand principles of weighing the pros and cons.

What he realized was that my decision to stay wasn't because I didn't know I couldn't keep him.

He had seen Xiao Qin leave, seen Xiao Tan cry, and seen Master He go into seclusion after leaving behind the four words "No regrets after a move." He had seen too many things that could not be kept.

People cannot be kept, feelings cannot be kept, and even life cannot be kept. This is the way of heaven, the rule of the cultivation world, the saying "there is a difference between immortals and mortals," and the destiny written under everyone's fate.

He cannot change the way of Heaven.

But he can refuse to bow his head.

He can reach out, even if that hand can't change anything, even if he saves someone today, tomorrow might bring another calamity.

He stretched out his hand, which was to say, "I, Zhou Yu, am still me, Zhou Yu."

Whether something stays or not is up to fate; whether it stays or not is up to me.

This is enough.

Zhou Yu's hand finally fell, firmly supporting the middle-aged man's arm.