Chapter Twenty-One: From This Day, My Heart Holds a Wish

Wu Yue saw it.

First, Wu Yue saw Jiang Ruhai, who was bending over to water the vegetable patch, looking like an ordinary old farmer. But as Wu Yue gazed more intently, he saw, right between Jiang Ruhai’s brows, a figure seated in meditation—his face identical to Jiang Ruhai’s, robed in Daoist vestments, radiating a dignified serenity. As if noticing Wu Yue’s gaze, the figure frowned ever so slightly...

Wu Yue saw Xue Xiaoyu, saw Xue Xiaoyu carefully planting flower after flower in the desolate corners of Lishan. With each flower she planted, a faint light would be born, sinking into the mountain, nurturing it...

A fat man lounged on a deck chair, his chest bare and open, waving a large palm-leaf fan nonstop, as if suffering from the heat. Wu Yue remembered this man—the uncle of Lishan, a portly fellow known for his excellent cooking. Yet as Wu Yue looked closer, he realized this was no ordinary man but a primordial beast wreathed in flames...

Wu Yue saw Yu Fu playing with a thin, deaf child. The child, called Forty-Nine, seemed to sense something and suddenly looked up at the sky...

Wherever his gaze landed, all was revealed. This was Lishan’s gift after countless ages—a blessing that united spirit and heaven, seeking knowledge and truth.

In Wu Yue’s eyes, Lishan had changed. It was no longer a barren mountain but lush and full of life—yet bound by countless colorful chains, inscribed all over with trembling runes. Deep within the mountain, Wu Yue saw a little girl, exquisite as if carved from jade, lying on a jade bed, her eyes tightly shut. As Wu Yue watched, her eyelids fluttered slightly. After a long time, a voice drifted over... “The time has not yet come...”

Is the time not yet ripe? Wu Yue left Lishan and walked for an unknown distance. He saw a heroic swordsman upholding justice, saw travelers dining on wind and sleeping in the dew, saw beggars with empty bellies... vivid figures, one after another. What was it that they all sought? Wu Yue was bewildered. In his heart, the secrets of Lishan had vanished—there was no love, no hate, no anger. Only confusion remained. What were they seeking? Why did they live?

He did not know how long he wandered, nor how far he had gone. Wu Yue came upon a palace bathed in purple mist, where all manner of exotic and auspicious beasts vied with one another. Entering, he was immediately met with the roaring of a golden dragon, followed by a terrifying divine sense that swept across the world! Suddenly, an elder in yellow robes appeared at the dragon’s side, calling out in a clear voice, “Which Daoist friend has come here in search of enlightenment?”

But Wu Yue was already far away. From bustling streets he arrived at a village, where in a courtyard a woman, exasperated, scolded a small child. The child wore a look of dejection. As Wu Yue looked on, time flowed backward: the child told his tutor he could not attend school because of family matters... the child, standing in a stream, caught shrimp and fish, his face full of delight...

What a thoughtless child! Does he not know that only by studying and achieving success can he repay his parents’ kindness?

No, he’s just a child—a child who longs for freedom. Wu Yue questioned and answered himself, as if pondering something deeply.

If only a sudden rain were to fall.

And fall it did, pouring down in torrents.

Wu Yue came to a body of water, where fish leaped out, gasping in the air for breath—if only for a moment—before falling back, only to leap again.

Is it just for survival? Like the one who owned the stone stele? Is it only to live, only to survive? But how can such small creatures ever escape the unpredictable might of heaven?

A line of birds fought their way across the sky, beating their wings with effort. Were they flying toward distant lands, or merely shaking the rain from their wings, or striving to cast off the shackles of heaven and earth? They flew on, ceaselessly, yet eventually fell from the sky, their wings never ceasing until death. What, then, were they persisting for? Wu Yue began to understand, but even more confusion remained.

On the shore, grass was beaten down by the rain; in the woods, trees bent beneath the deluge.

See? You cannot escape, cannot resist.

So why should I accept this mission?

With bewilderment, Wu Yue continued to watch.

A dilapidated pavilion stood in the rain, seemingly unbowed by any storm. Inside, a solitary, somewhat aged man stood at its center. He wore plain clothes, his temples touched with gray, and held a battered wine gourd. From time to time he took a hearty swig, content in his solitude.

“Where are you going?” Wu Yue asked; it was his first time speaking.

“Home,” the man replied at once, without asking where the voice had come from.

“Not returning in glory and fine clothes?” Wu Yue asked.

The man laughed heartily. “At fifteen I set my heart on learning, and by twenty I was known throughout the capital. For thirty years I governed the world. I’ve seen all the splendor and bustle of carriages and horses. Now I only wish for a life unbound and at ease. Last night I missed my departed parents, so I set out under cover of darkness. I feel such joy and freedom, it’s as if the decades before were lived in vain. What care have I for returning home in glory?”

“Is it that all creatures compete for freedom beneath the frosty sky?”

“More than that—the heart finds its true home where it is at peace.”

“Then was I wrong? I do not understand.”

“A youth roams far and wide, a man of middle age brings peace to the world, and the old long for home. Each stage of life has its own matters. I have always striven to live without shame before heaven and earth, and wished for a life without regrets. But thinking back, all I truly wanted was to follow my heart’s desire—and every heart is unique. Ah, I must be getting old, to ramble on so…”

“Thank you...”

The rain cleared, and the sky brightened.

The old man in the pavilion suddenly shuddered, feeling a warm sensation flooding his body, as if all his ailments from years of toil had been swept away.

“It’s as if I dreamed—a young man questioned me about something...” The old man reached for his wine gourd, only to find it empty. Was it truly not a dream?

Wu Yue understood. He knew his own path now. To seek freedom in accordance with the heart’s desire, to wish for home because of what the heart longs for... these are not contradictory.

The heart is the source, freedom the result, and this return home is my struggle.

His mind clear, his intent radiant, Wu Yue returned, carrying with him nine parts conviction—his dedication to his own path—and one part doubt, for the Dao itself is boundless...

After the rain, a rainbow arched across the sky. Fish frolicked joyfully in the water; birds spread their wings and soared aloft. The grass lifted its head, shaking off raindrops; the trees stood tall and proud, gazing into the distance... This was their triumph, their pursuit—they had won...

“Hey, hey, hey, did you really understand all that?” Xue Xiaoyu looked at Wu Yue with undisguised disdain.

Wu Yue opened his eyes, and with a gentle motion of his hand, the universe seemed to rest in his palm.

“You’ve formed your Divine Spirit?” Xue Xiaoyu exclaimed in shock. “You reached this stage in just half a day? Lishan is truly unfathomable—I need to go plant more flowers at once!” She hurried off into the distance.

Wu Yue lifted his gaze to the surrounding stone steles. The inscriptions, each unique, contained the laughter and fury of endless ages.

“How can those who come after be content to remain behind those who came before? The waves of the future must always surpass those of the past.” Wu Yue murmured. A strange aura suffused the air, and Wu Yue seemed to merge with Lishan itself.

“The time is not yet ripe,” Wu Yue sighed; Lishan sighed; every blade of grass and leaf joined in the sigh.

Jiang Ruhai, watering his vegetables, suddenly looked up and muttered, “It’s time for Lishan to be renewed again.” His eyes were complex—cold, yet tinged with regret.