Uncle Fu only realized his binding with Shi Deng had been dissolved when he opened that letter.
His ability was Thread Binding—a standard, unremarkable ability. The only unique aspect was being able to choose one person for soul binding.
Originally, the bound person couldn’t unilaterally dissolve the binding, or he would definitely have noticed.
However, the Leader had always been so clever. Breaking the binding didn’t surprise him one bit.
Of course, perhaps it was also because he’d grown old.
He was already very old—from a young man in his twenties to his current decrepit state. Sometimes when looking in mirrors, he could detect the sense of decay within his body.
Age spots covered his hands and cheeks.
During earlier retrogrades, he could still help the Leader in combat. But later, as his body aged increasingly, the Leader sometimes wouldn’t even let him handle light tasks.
This was also good.
From youth to middle age to old age, he’d continuously accompanied the Leader throughout, viewing him as his own child. In this way, it could be considered a fulfilled life—moreover, Xiao Deng and Shi-ge had come later.
When the Leader disobeyed and tormented himself, he’d feel angry, but more helpless.
He felt heartache for this child. Yet he’d watched him lose vitality bit by bit, watched him lose himself in repeated time retrogrades, contract an incurable illness.
Fate always loved toying with people.
As if invisible hands always existed, making everyone’s endings rush toward where they were meant to go from the beginning.
The Leader’s life was filled with regret at every step. Thus Shi-ge and Xiao Deng were the same—after all, they were the same person.
From the moment he saw that letter permeated with farewell between every line, he vaguely sensed the Leader probably wouldn’t return.
He’d wait at home, but his child wouldn’t come back.
***
The white-haired elderly man rushed desperately, arriving at Shenhu City just in time to witness Xiao Deng being swallowed by the rift.
He still had clothing draped over his arm that he’d brought for the child, worried he’d catch cold at night.
No longer needed.
Uncle Fu stood in place for a while. He didn’t choose to approach and ask for reasons. Actually, he could roughly guess—the letter the Leader left him spoke cryptically, but also revealed some information.
It was farewell.
Now that Xiao Deng was also gone, he didn’t know where he should go anymore.
Uncle Fu lifted his head to look at the boundless Yellow Springs, found a place no one noticed, used his threads to create rope, and walked toward that surging blood river.
He’d originally thought he couldn’t enter. But when he truly stepped onto Yellow Springs’ shores, his body suddenly lightened.
Uncle Fu looked at his hands, suddenly discovering he was now in a semi-transparent state.
The Voice: [Living persons without opportunity cannot enter Yellow Springs. You forced entry. Your body dissolved. You have already died.]
What Yellow Springs didn’t say was—even if he hadn’t forced entry here, with his body nearing its final days, he’d have lived only a few more days at most. Thus a day earlier or later made little difference.
It remembered this elder—the one who always followed beside that youth.
Uncle Fu said gently, “This is also good.”
The Voice: [Please enter Yellow Springs for reincarnation.]
Uncle Fu replied, “No.”
The Voice fell silent briefly. [You have no obsessions in your heart.]
Yellow Springs’ perception rarely erred. This human’s heart was clear, holding no obsessions toward the mortal world he couldn’t release.
The elder smiled. Eyes that had experienced so many years held both weathering and transparency. “In the mortal world, I no longer have anyone to miss or care about.”
“I’ve heard Yellow Springs’ time is disordered. Two Worlds people exist eternally. I want to use much time waiting for one person to come home.”
The Voice remained silent.
The elder’s face became blurred. His form was shrouded in black misty veils like a cloak. The memories in his mind were completely emptied. He forgot why he was here, why he remained, what he was waiting for.
He reached out to pluck reeds, weaving a straw hat.
Thus, on Yellow Springs’ shores, one more Two Worlds person appeared.
***
Most of the time on Yellow Springs, aside from flowing water and wind, all remained utterly silent.
The Two Worlds person wove the straw hat in his hands with dedication, though progress was very slow. Inexplicably, he wanted to weave a hat different from everyone else’s.
Until one day, Yellow Springs’ waters began flowing backward. With each reversal, a youth appeared above Yellow Springs.
The first time, only a young man in butler’s attire followed beside the youth.
From the second through the final times, three people always accompanied him.
However, the youth’s features didn’t change much. Instead, the butler who’d continuously followed him transformed from youth to old age.
The Two Worlds person silently watched them.
Yellow Springs was disordered, time chaotic. With this single glance, who knew how much spacetime separated them?
After a very, very long time passed, the Two Worlds person’s straw hat was woven and dismantled, dismantled and rewoven countless times. He remained perpetually unsatisfied. Perhaps he should also weave a flower onto it?
But what kind of flower?
He didn’t know anymore.
The Two Worlds person fell silent. Earnest requests reached his ears:
“Excuse me, may I borrow your straw hat?”
“Hello, may I please use your straw hat?”
“I want to see someone.”
“…”
The Two Worlds person stopped what he was doing and looked up—
It was that youth who frequently caused Yellow Springs to flow backward.
The youth’s voice had grown very hoarse. He seemed to have traveled from very far at the river’s other end, requesting for who knows how long.
The Two Worlds person thought: Does this person need the straw hat so desperately?
He looked down at the straw hat he’d woven more than halfway. Along all of Yellow Springs’ shores, only his was this kind of unfinished hat. That made it special enough, didn’t it?
So he walked over and handed the straw hat to the youth.
The youth was surprised and delighted. His beautiful heterochromatic eyes brightened instantly.
The Two Worlds person felt a shallow happiness inside.
He heard the youth ask, “For me?”
He nodded.
The youth asked again, “Do you know me?”
He shook his head.
He shouldn’t know him—he didn’t even know the youth’s name.
The youth seemed to suddenly remember Two Worlds people had no living memories. Looking somewhat conflicted, he finally touched the hat on his head and stood up. “I need to see someone very important. Thank you for helping me. Even though I don’t know you, I’ll remember you.”
Not knowing what to say, he simply stood quietly, watching the youth leap into Yellow Springs to see that very important person he’d mentioned.
The Two Worlds person left his original spot, found an open area, and looked toward the world beyond Yellow Springs.
Outside Yellow Springs, watching—those should be the youth’s friends and family.
The Two Worlds person saw a white-haired elderly man. The elder’s eyes were full of heartache and worry, seemingly waiting for the youth to return safely.
Waiting?
The Two Worlds person stood silently for a moment, thinking—he seemed to also be waiting for someone to come home.
Who was that person?
He couldn’t remember anymore.
Gentle breezes swept across the reeds along both shores. The tranquil Two Worlds Song drifted past each Two Worlds person. They occasionally lifted their heads, occasionally looked from Yellow Springs toward the mortal world.
All longing and attachment were hidden within this melody never heard by the world’s people.
***
Author’s Note:
It’s “藏(cang)” [hidden], but also “藏(zang)” [buried]
Wrote a special chapter for Uncle Fu. He’s waiting for a child who will never come home.
Supplementary note: This chapter pairs best with the opening of Chapter 51 and Chapters 70-71 for enhanced flavor~
***
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Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152