Chapter 56: Longing in Vain (Part Two)

“Did you not wish to see me? Come closer, I have waited for you a long time.”

Suddenly turning around, she saw him clad in white Buddhist robes, his glazed eyes, his face suffused with a serene compassion reminiscent of the Buddha himself. Upon seeing her, his expression betrayed neither joy nor sorrow, anger nor delight. It was as though she were but an ordinary soul, one among the multitude.

Yet she could not summon grief nor happiness; suddenly, a rush of metallic sweetness filled her throat, pain tore through her organs, wrenching and rending.

Above her head hung a tuft of pine needles, beneath her feet lay clusters of withered grass. He sat upon a massive stone, before him a small black wooden table. On it, a lotus incense burner released a wisp of smoke, a cup of clear tea rested beside it, and a strand of sandalwood prayer beads lay quietly at the center.

“You!” she cried, rushing forward and stopping beneath the stone, gazing up at him, uttering a single word. Without warning, a mouthful of blood spewed forth, splattering at his feet, staining the stone’s surface—bright red, like the flower blooming at the threshold of the underworld.

His brow and gaze remained unchanged, looking at her with indifference. He asked, “Was it you who slaughtered the Lü clan?”

Dai Dai’s eyes were bloodshot as she looked at him, lips curled into a smile, seductive and vivid. “Yes.”

Her reply rang with defiance, her tone a deliberate provocation, daring him to wrath.

He remained unmoved, raising a hand to indicate the prayer beads on the table. “Put them on. If you do, I will spare your life.”

Dai Dai glanced at the beads, then looked to him, her gaze filled with obsession, feigning indifference. “If you wish me to enter the Buddhist path, it would be better for my soul to scatter. King, how could I bear never to touch you again? King, I know you miss me too, don’t you?”

“Wretched creature!” He suddenly opened his eyes, righteous and stern.

At that moment, a net sprang from the earth and another descended from the sky, ensnaring Dai Dai and suspending her midair. It happened in an instant—she had no chance to escape.

He rose from the stone, gazing from afar at Dai Dai trapped within the net. “I will give you one more chance. Will you wear the prayer beads or not?”

“No!” That stubborn tone was unchanged from before. The arrogance and disdain in her expression began to infuriate him.

“Hopelessly deluded!” He clasped his hands behind his back and spoke coldly: “Build a fire. Burn her alive.”

The dry wood and kindling had long been prepared. At a gesture from Li Fuquan, the soldiers swiftly assembled the pyre.

The firewood was arranged in a circle around Dai Dai, more than ten feet high, leaving a wide open space in the center.

The fire was ignited personally by Ji Ye. Oil had been poured upon it, so the flames leapt up instantly. In those first moments, suspended above, Dai Dai could still bear the heat, but her heart was twisted with unbearable pain.

“Wretched creature, have you understood?” he asked again.

Dai Dai laughed wildly through her agony, nodding fiercely, tears in her eyes like stars. “I understand. Birth, aging, sickness, death, joy and sorrow, meeting and parting—all end as a handful of yellow earth. Our journey through this world is to atone for sin. Life is not for pleasure, death is no pity; all is merely obedience to fate.

I understand: to meet those we resent is due to persistent obsession; when death comes, all dust settles.

I understand: to part from those we love—life is born into loneliness, and every feast under heaven must end.

I understand: what cannot be attained…”

She looked at him, tears rolling from her eyes like thousands of stars falling from the sky, extinguished, dimmed, sorrowful.

“What cannot be attained—what do you understand?” He saw the flames licking at her crown, her black hair burned away in an instant, dark ashes drifting through the air.

She was bald now, yet her radiance remained dazzling.

Hair—threads of love. What burned away was only the hair atop her head.

“What cannot be attained, I understand…” The pain of burning twisted her features, but as she gazed at him, her obsession ran deep. “I understand, what cannot be attained was never mine; I ought… I ought to let go.” Rain-like tears streamed down her face, yet she laughed aloud, “If I cannot attain it, I let go. King, I understand it all. Did you not say I was born with wisdom? But, King, I cannot let go.”

“You must let go, whether you can or not.” His words were cold and merciless, pressing her relentlessly.

Her legs, arms, and back were already scorched. The onlookers turned their heads away, unable to watch, their hearts urging her: let go, let go.

But she refused.

“I was born beneath your snowy mountain, I can recite all the sutras you know, but what does that prove? I still want to be with you, still want your kiss, still want you to sleep beside me.”

“Silence, wretched creature!”

“Haha, am I desecrating your Buddha?”

Seeing him angered brought her delight; even his ferocity was preferable to seeing that expression of emptiness.

“King, in this life, you’ve begun to lose faith in Buddha, you’ve begun to fear snakes.” Understanding dawned in her, and she laughed triumphantly. Though her body was wracked with pain, her heart was liberated, joyous.

“Silence!” His rage was uncontrollable, his features twisted with anger.

She laughed all the more, her breath weak, yet her eyes shone like thousands of stars rising anew, their brilliance rivaling the moon.

“I am no longer the drifting dust in your heart. Am I now equal to your Buddha in your eyes?”

“Silence, silence! Someone, pour oil—burn her alive!”

His fury ignited, and she clearly felt the fire below change. Her eyes widened, pupils contracting, her soul tasted the torment of karmic flames.

If the fire continued, even if this were a dream or an illusion, upon waking she would be dead.

No, she could not die.

With a shrill scream, the net shook violently, and with a heavy thud she fell into the heart of the flames. The fire sealed above her, burning into a blazing mass. Even if someone wished to save her, it was already too late.

Li Fuquan heard only a single heartrending scream before the fire’s depths fell silent; after this, she could not possibly survive.

His clenched fists gradually relaxed, his whole being eased, as if what burned was not a person, but the dust in his heart.

He turned and left, with eunuchs and soldiers following in silence. They broke camp and departed without a sound.

The fire continued to burn, accompanied by cracking noises, reminiscent of breaking bones.

She claimed to be a demon of ten thousand years;

They said she was the treasured darling of the You clan;

He made her empress, mother of the Great Yan dynasty;

And in the end, upon her death, no one collected her bones.

The fire burned for a long time; when it finally died, only a heap of ashes remained.

The imperial serpent slithered from some hidden lair, entered the ashes to search, and never emerged again.

Author’s note: For the eighth.

Change the subtitle: from Ashes to What Cannot Be Attained.