Chapter Thirty-One: The Choice

Despair is a fatal wound for many, and Han Tanyi was no exception. If, earlier, he had harbored some lingering desire to escape, it was now utterly extinguished, leaving him sitting numbly on the ground. The two rocky walls continued to press inward, their oppressive force sending waves of pain through his body, as if ready to crush him at any moment. Perhaps instinctively, his spiritual power unfurled, forming a shield around him, trying in vain to block the encroaching stone. Yet it was futile; he could already feel the tremors from the collision of matter on the shield’s surface.

“Am I really going to die here?” Han Tanyi murmured softly. No one wishes to die, and to accept such an outcome inevitably brings a sense of dejection and helplessness. His life had never been smooth, but it had been peaceful enough. In that moment, scenes from Mount Qilian replayed before his eyes: the dignified yet gentle presence of his master, the innocent smile of Qiu Wan’er, the cold elegance of Butterfly—faces clear and blurred by turns, impossible to forget. “No, I cannot die here. I must go back. I must survive!”

The desire to live, once awakened, is terrifying. The shield, barely wider than a man, suddenly shone with renewed brilliance, as if infused with fresh energy, pushing the rock walls outward with newfound strength. Yet even so, it was far from easy. The force of the walls was formidable; the more he resisted, the more intense the pressure became, making Han Tanyi grit his teeth and strain with all his might.

“I’ll help you. Hold on!” At that moment, a figure appeared at his side from an unknown direction. She stretched out her arm, pressing her hand over his, and spiritual power surged forth, stronger than Han Tanyi’s by seven or eight degrees. The shield thickened, and the pressure on him eased.

“Why do you do this?” Without looking, Han Tanyi knew who it was. Relief mingled with conflicted emotions. If it were only about life and death, having someone help him would be a joy. But he did not wish for Shui Linglong to be that person. He already felt indebted to her, and that debt deepened now. It was the first time the two had been so close, nearly face to face. Han Tanyi felt awkward, unsure what to do.

A subtle fragrance wafted around them—a gentle, natural scent, far from the heavy perfumes, soothing even the most troubled heart. Han Tanyi dared not look at Shui Linglong’s face, turning his head aside. Shui Linglong, however, gazed directly at him, her eyes full of tenderness. “You need not blame yourself. I do this of my own will. If I hadn’t brought you to the Blue Lotus Sect, you wouldn’t have suffered so much. It is my fault. Honestly, I have no way to break this illusion. If we can’t escape today, I’ll stay by your side until the end—as my atonement.”

“But—” Words like ‘atonement’ are uncomfortable for anyone, especially in such dire circumstances. Han Tanyi didn’t know how to respond, still avoiding her gaze. She was right; if he must die, having someone beside him would lessen the loneliness. Shui Linglong loved him, which was a happiness for him; for her, being with the one she loved was happiness as well.

The movement of the rock walls slowed, stirred by Shui Linglong’s power, though they did not stop. Each advance brought greater pressure, until he could hear faint cracks in his arm bones, threatening to break, sweat forming on his brow.

“You are the Blue Lotus Sect’s Saintess. Surely you know a way to escape. Leave me—if someone must die, let it be me. I don’t want to drag you down, do you understand?” After a silence, Han Tanyi could no longer suppress his shout. He sensed their endurance was nearing its limit. This was the only thought that flashed through his mind before giving up. Shui Linglong was not surprised; her gaze remained fixed on him as she whispered, “Don’t move. Let me look at you. Since our time is short, let me remember your face, so if we are parted on the Road to the Underworld, I can find you. Let us be companions. In this life, fate brought us together but not as lovers; in the next, I’ll meet you before Butterfly does, and never let you go.”

Her words were deeply moving. Shui Linglong’s left hand gripped Han Tanyi’s tightly, as if she could truly never let go. Her right hand withdrew, gently removing her veil. Han Tanyi had seen her face before, but now it seemed different; the words ‘celestial beauty’ felt pale and inadequate. She leaned closer, their faces nearly touching. Han Tanyi’s heartbeat quickened, the thumping almost palpable. Whether from the unfamiliar situation or the crushing pressure, his breathing grew rapid. Shui Linglong gently bit his ear, whispering, “I love you.”

‘I love you’—so simple, yet never before had anyone said it to Han Tanyi. In this place, at this time, with such actions, he could neither escape nor avoid it. He stood there, face flushed, bewildered as Shui Linglong embraced him. His hands withdrew; if death was inevitable, what purpose was there in struggling? Yet he didn’t know where to place his hands, wanting to respond but unable to bring himself to touch her.

Sensing his awkwardness, Shui Linglong slowly let go, her face full of reluctance, her eyes lingering on him with deep affection. Suddenly, she smiled—a triumphant, inexplicable smile in such a moment. “It seems I am selfish, wanting you to stay with me, to live and die together. But your heart still hesitates; it does not belong to me, and I won’t force you. They say a woman is most beautiful when she smiles, so I smile now. Look carefully, remember me at my most beautiful, and live well, do you understand?”

At first, Han Tanyi was caught up in her words and actions, but her final sentence shocked him awake. To tell someone to live—what does it imply? Everyone knows. Wasn’t it supposed to be together? Why now, when all was tinged with farewell, did she do this? Could it be—

His eyes widened, unable to believe his suspicion. Life and death are serious matters; people are selfish. If only one can live, who would truly let another take their place? But in that moment, Han Tanyi had no choice. Shui Linglong gave a forceful push, and he began to rise, floating upwards with a speed far surpassing what he could imagine. He watched as her figure grew smaller and blurrier below. His mouth opened and closed, wanting to shout but unable to utter a word. His body ascended ever higher, until all was a white haze and nothing could be seen. In that moment, Han Tanyi understood—heartache is truly an indescribable feeling.