That day, the three of them were chatting by the Celestial River. Han Nü, once again, brought up matters from the mortal world and fell silent. No matter how much Tan Yin pressed, she only smiled and shook her head, refusing to share any details. Han Nü was remarkably good at keeping secrets—if she didn’t want to talk about something, no one could pry it out of her. If not for being trapped within the embroidered world, Tan Yin might have died never knowing about this chapter of Han Nü's life.
"No matter what happened, you no longer belong to the mortal world. Naturally, you shouldn’t let worldly attachments bind you anymore," Tai He had said, sitting leisurely on a green stone. "The laws are rigid, but people are alive. If you keep on like this, I fear you’ll eventually invite tribulation. If you really can’t let go of whatever it is in the mortal world, why not break the rules and sneak down to resolve it? Don’t worry, we’ll cover for you."
Han Nü had looked gratefully at him, then at Tan Yin—her memory of Tan Yin, who bore a striking resemblance to A-Chu, nodded and smiled, saying, "Go ahead. We promise not to say a word."
Han Nü had taken that embroidered tapestry with her—the one she had promised to give A-Chu as a wedding dowry. By now, she was a goddess, and conjuring grand palaces or a vast fortune of gold was a mere flick of the wrist. Years must have passed since she left the mortal realm. A-Chu was probably in her thirties now. How had she fared? Did that man, Anping, treat her well?
Full of hope, Han Nü secretly descended to the mortal world, concealing her divine light. She first returned to the old, dilapidated wooden house on the mountain where she had lived with A-Chu. After her death, no one had lived there. A-Chu probably hadn’t maintained it either. In the decade or more that had passed, the house had collapsed, and the ruins were overgrown with moss and vines.
Han Nü felt a pang of disappointment. She had imagined that after her passing, A-Chu might have kept up the house for a while—after all, the two sisters had lived there for six years, and it was where Han Nü had died. But she shook off the thought. It didn’t matter. As long as A-Chu was living well, that was enough. The dead were gone, and the living had to carry on. A-Chu couldn’t be trapped in the past, unable to move forward.
Disguising herself, Han Nü descended the mountain and walked into the nearby town. Although over a decade had passed, not much had changed in the small, remote town. The little inn where A-Chu had once worked still stood. It was late in the day, and the innkeeper, now a bloated man with a big belly, was lazily moving to close up shop. It took Han Nü a while to recognize him—it was Anping, the once-handsome youth now weathered into a sleazy middle-aged man.
From inside the inn, a woman's voice called out, and Anping turned around, shouting impatiently, "I heard you! What are you nagging about?"
Han Nü quietly floated inside, disappointed to find that the voice didn’t belong to A-Chu, but to a sharp-featured woman she didn’t recognize. Where was A-Chu? Had she not stayed with Anping after all? She had said she married him—had this scoundrel abandoned her in the end?
Suddenly, the sound of a child wailing erupted outside, followed by furious banging on the door. The voice that had haunted Han Nü’s dreams for so long now rang out, shrill and heartbroken: "Anping! You heartless bastard! Leaving me and our daughter for some hussy! You even stole my inn! Everyone, come see! Come judge for yourselves! Look at this scoundrel who’s lost all decency!"
Han Nü’s whole body trembled. Forgetting everything else, she rushed out the door. There, A-Chu stood, no longer the delicate, frail girl she had once been. Her hair was disheveled, her face pale and sallow—she had become a common peasant woman. Tears and mucus streaked her face as she pounded on the door, her once beautiful features twisted in anguish. Her daughter, a girl of about eight or nine, stood beside her, crying uncontrollably. But A-Chu didn’t seem to notice her daughter—she was entirely focused on hammering the door, causing a scene.
The neighbors gathered, pointing and gossiping as if they were watching a show.
"That shrew’s at it again, haha."
"Every day she comes to cause a ruckus, and every day she gets beaten. What’s the point?"
"This inn used to belong to her, you know. But that scoundrel took it from her because she bore him a daughter, not a son. Gave her divorce papers and threw her out. No wonder she’s upset."
"Poor thing…"
Han Nü's hands trembled. This was the little A-Chu she had once cherished, the girl she had protected so dearly. After Han Nü’s death, this was how she had ended up? Living in such misery? Her daughter, likely the child beside her, was sobbing uncontrollably, but A-Chu didn’t even glance at her—she just kept pounding on the door in utter desperation.
Han Nü stepped forward, wanting to take A-Chu away, to rescue her. But just then, the door swung open, and a bucket of water was thrown over A-Chu, drenching her. The sharp-faced woman inside gave her a contemptuous look, then shot a glare at Anping before walking away, saying, "You handle this!"
Seething with anger, Anping stormed out, slapping A-Chu so hard she staggered. "You wretch! I’ll break your legs if you don’t stop!"
He kicked and beat her as she clung to his legs, crying, "Anping! You heartless man! What about all the promises you made? If you don’t want me around, fine! Just give me the ten taels of gold the government awarded us that year, and I’ll leave with our daughter!"
Anping kicked her away, roaring, "You wretched woman! I’ve known all along you had no heart! You even betrayed your own sister! I must’ve been blind to marry you! You want ten taels of gold? You’ve eaten and drank well every day, dressed in fine clothes. The money’s long gone!"
He pointed at A-Chu, who lay on the ground, unable to rise, and turned to the crowd, speaking as if he were the victim. "You all heard her! I’m not the heartless one! This woman betrayed her own sister for ten taels of gold, helping the government burn her alive! You all remember that, don’t you? Who would want such a heartless snake of a woman?"
The crowd murmured. Many older folks remembered the day the so-called "witch" was burned, only for a sudden rainstorm to put out the fire. Now they realized that A-Chu had been the witch’s sister. Some of them looked at her with disgust, others with pity.
A-Chu wailed, "Wasn’t it for you? Wasn’t it because you said you had no money to marry me? That day, I quarreled with my sister, and I told you everything! I did it all for you! How can you treat me like this now? How can you live with yourself?"
Anping sneered, "You ask a good question. Can you live with yourself?"
Amidst the noise and chaos behind her, Han Nü no longer paid attention. She turned around and slowly left this nightmarish town. The memories of the past flickered before her eyes, and suddenly, a bone-deep coldness enveloped her. Who was she? Why was she standing here? Why had she descended to the mortal realm with this embroidered tapestry?
A dowry? The agony of being consumed by flames? Had she really lived through all that?
What kind of world was this? Every human face seemed so twisted, ravenous, filled with the impulse to devour. It was either kill or be killed.
Han Nü lowered her head, cradling the embroidery in her hands, gently stroking it. The fabric still bore her bloodstains, remnants of the time when she, with all her heart, sewed a dowry for A-Chu while dragging along her broken body.
"Kill her. Kill her!" Han Nü's eyes flared with a savage red glow. She turned around, breathing heavily, as a mad urge to kill surged through her limbs. It felt as if she were once again bound to the pyre, the fierce flames devouring her skin and hair. The pain was unbearable, suffocating her.
She collapsed to the ground, her pale skin once more showing dark, red burns as if scorched by fire. Blood began to seep from the cracks in her body, soaking into the embroidery.
"Kill her!"
Blood-like tears flowed from Han Nü’s eyes. After a long, agonizing time, the wounds slowly began to heal. She crawled back up, inch by inch, turning around and heading back to the town. The shop was already closed, and A-Chu was sitting outside, crying softly with her daughter.
Han Nü watched them in silence. Once, she had wanted to give A-Chu everything, to protect her with her entire soul, ensuring she would never shed a single tear, never feel a moment of sorrow.
But now, A-Chu was crying. She was covered in blood, sobbing.
Should she kill her?
Should she kill her?
In her mind, the warning of the Celestial Gods echoed like the toll of a great bell: "Once you become a god, you must sever all ties to the mortal world. Do not kill mortals wantonly, or your divine essence will be destroyed, your soul scattered to the winds."
She was a god. But why had she become a god? If she killed A-Chu, she would perish as well, her soul would scatter...
Why? Why did she become a god?
A-Chu... A-Chu... Han Nü looked at her, this woman who was now covered in blood, crying as if her heart were being ripped apart. Suddenly, the stranger before her morphed into the image of a sixteen-year-old A-Chu—youthful, laughing, with bright eyes, teasingly clinging to her arm.
She had once given her everything.
Could she bring herself to kill her?
After what felt like an eternity, Han Nü slowly rolled up the embroidery and tucked it back into her sleeve.
Turning around once more, the sound of A-Chu’s sobbing faded away. The darkness transformed into a soft white light as she returned to the divine realm.
Across from her, Tan Yin approached, dressed in white, her black hair flowing, her face adorned with a gentle smile. In a flash, she turned into the youthful A-Chu, smiling brightly as she reached out to grab Han Nü’s hand, asking, “So, did you resolve everything?”
Han Nü's face twisted into a strange smile, one that was both sweet and filled with despair.
"Yes, it's resolved."
And with that, all the light dissolved back into darkness.
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