Fengguang averted her gaze from the River of Forgetfulness. “I don’t want to drink it. I’m just curious—where does all this water come from? With people going for reincarnation every day, isn’t there ever a risk of running out?”
“Of course not. The water comes from the River of Forgetfulness itself,” Meng Po explained. “Ever since Pangu split the heavens and the earth and the Underworld came into existence, the River of Forgetfulness has been here. Its water is endless. How could it ever run out?”
Fengguang was amazed. “That’s incredible. So, where is this river? Can I go see it?”
Meng Po replied, “It’s just past the sea of red spider lilies. Not far. Follow the stream and you’ll reach a lake. That lake is the River of Forgetfulness. If you want to go, go ahead.”
With that, she returned to her work, barking at a weeping female ghost, “Why are you crying? Drink the River water and you’ll stop crying, guaranteed!”
Fengguang glanced at the field of blood-red flowers not far away. She slowly stepped off the redwood bridge and into the sea of blossoms. This was her third time walking into this field. The scenery hadn’t changed from her first visit.
Her thoughts drifted to Naihe—the man named after the bridge by which he had been found as a baby. Meng Po had once told her that Naihe was neither a ghost nor a ghost officer, but that this flower field belonged to him.
She didn’t know if she would run into him again, but part of her hoped she wouldn’t. Still, she walked on, following the river that flowed beneath Naihe Bridge. She had no idea how long she’d been walking before the red flowers began to thin out, revealing a majestic waterfall tumbling down from a mountain.
The water cascaded into a lake, and that lake fed the river that continued on into the flower field.
So the River of Forgetfulness wasn’t a river—it was a lake.
The water was crystal clear, and the smooth, rounded stones at the bottom were visible. There were no fish or shrimp or any other creatures—just water and stones.
Fengguang saw her reflection on the surface. She crouched by the lake, dazing off quietly. A black butterfly fluttered near her and slowly brought her back to her senses.
She had always found the black butterflies in the Underworld strange—they were semi-transparent, like they were carved from black crystal.
She had never asked about them, and Meng Po had never explained.
Her curiosity got the better of her. She slowly reached out to touch the delicate black wings—but before she could, a cold hand suddenly grasped her wrist.
She looked up and saw him—the white-haired man in black, who had appeared without a sound.
“You mustn’t touch the Youdie,” Naihe said.
“Why not?”
“The red spider lilies are watered by the tears of souls crossing Naihe Bridge. From each flower, a Youdie—a soul butterfly—is born. These butterflies are vessels of their former lives’ memories. When someone reaches the Underworld at the end of their natural life, their butterfly will hover around them. If you touch one…” His voice softened. “…you may recall your past life.”
Fengguang’s hand trembled. “My past life memories…”
“Remembering a past life can make a person lose their grip on this one. It can overwhelm you emotionally—possibly even break you.”
“I’ve always had this dream…” she said.
Naihe hesitated, then asked, “What kind of dream?”
“A woman… dying because of a man,” Fengguang said blankly. “I’ve been having this dream for as long as I can remember. But I can never clearly see the man’s or the woman’s face. Then… then I met Yun Ji. And the dreams stopped. Naihe, do you think… do you think the dream was something that happened to me in a past life?”
Lucien On ABRWF Chapter 34.1