The divine altar, the deity statue with a cracked seam. Luo Yuan had seen such a scene before.
In that month of the god’s birth, every night she would see this clan deity’s statue. Only, unlike that time, now within the statue’s seam there was no ceaseless, terrifying groan calling out. There was only thin threads of black smoke seeping out, gathering around the statue, condensing without dispersing.
Objectively speaking, this was a scene that would frighten anyone, but Luo Yuan understood this was the clan deity. In her heart, not only did she not fear, she even felt a kind of delight.
“Clan deity?” she called softly.
“Come, come to me.” The deity’s familiar gentle voice drifted out from the dark crack.
With his words, the cracked seam of the statue suddenly widened. The drifting black smoke formed a path that led straight into the statue’s body. Luo Yuan did not hesitate. Wearing that wedding robe, tightly holding the small white porcelain jar, she stepped onto that black smoke and finally fell into the expanded dark seam.
Ahead seemed like an abyss, yet also like a deep sea — a pitch-black and profound world. The constantly rolling black air grew thicker and thicker, making Luo Yuan feel an illusion of suffocation. Wrapped in this dense black air, many negative emotions began to corrode her. The deeper she sank, the more stagnant that black air became, as if countless hands were dragging her, pulling her in all directions.
In the deepest part of this dark and chaotic world, there was a glowing white figure. He floated alone in the profound blackness. The white light emanating from his body dispelled the surrounding black energy, making him resemble a pearl fallen into muddy filth, so conspicuous and beautiful.
He opened his eyes, glanced at Luo Yuan from afar. Luo Yuan instantly felt herself gain some inexplicable strength. She struggled free from the restraints of those black “silt,” falling toward him like a weary bird returning to its nest.
She herself, in this black world, carried another color — the red of camellia — the red that represented emotion and desire. That red did not come from her wedding robe; it came from herself.
The red fell into that pure white and blended together.
Luo Yuan was dazed for a moment before she realized she was holding the clan deity. Holding him by the waist, her face buried in his chest, clinging tightly.
This was the first time she had been this intimate with the clan deity. In the months before, she had only occasionally tugged at his sleeve; she had never even touched his hand.
She unconsciously let out a satisfied sigh.
In truth, she had already figured it out long ago. After leaving the old residence, as she plotted murder and her own death, there had always been a heavy longing deep in her heart. When she couldn’t help but buy that pot of red camellias and stared at it day after day, her heart slowly understood.
Toward the clan deity, she felt worship, respect, fear, curiosity — and beyond these, the love a woman feels for a man. Only, this feeling was ill-timed, impossible to speak aloud. And she knew very clearly that she was just an ordinary person, possessing nothing. Even if she had met the clan deity by a twist of fate, there could never be a future.
She was not greedy. To see the clan deity once more before dying was already enough for her.
But now… what was this? Could this be an imagined world after death? Do people still dream, still fantasize after death?
Being tightly held by the wife he had accepted, with all her strength as if refusing to let go, the smiling clan deity did not struggle. He simply lifted his sleeve and behind her back grasped, pulling out pieces of formless black air. This was the evil of killing, the same as the countless thick black air here.
These black airs that flowed along her black hair were pulled out by him, dispersed beyond the white light, merging with the black air outside. Then on Luo Yuan’s body, only that red of emotion and love remained.
“You said you wished to offer sacrifices to me. I have permitted it.”
Hearing this sentence, Luo Yuan finally lifted her head from his embrace. Seeing the clan deity’s face so close at hand, she instinctively revealed a cherishing, ingratiating smile, hugging him even tighter. She thought, this world after death was truly joyful.
Being clung to so persistently was indeed a novel experience. The clan deity still smiled faintly, letting her hold him, and continued, “Therefore, you shall be my wife from now on.”
A clan deity could choose a wife — from birth to disappearance, a clan deity had only one. According to ancient custom, when someone gave a gift that delighted the clan deity and proposed to offer sacrifices to him alone, it was equivalent to voluntarily proposing a marital contract. If the clan deity accepted, he would turn the person into a “ghost,” granting her an existence the same as his, thereafter sharing life and death together.
Every wife of a clan deity, regardless of gender, was their messenger walking the human world.
Of course, the most important requirement for offering to a clan deity and forming a marriage contract was the blazing emotion and strong desire in the other party’s heart. Only then could the boundary between life and death be broken, leaving the origin and end of all things — the Nether River — and following the yearning of the heart to return to where the clan deity was, thus completing this divine marriage.
“Wife?” Luo Yuan thought with a bit of astonishment. She truly dared to fantasize, thinking about marrying the clan deity in the world after death. Did this count as blasphemy? It probably did, however…
“How wonderful,” she muttered, burying her face into the clan deity’s chest again, rubbing against him comfortably.
Although she shouldn’t think this way, it really felt joyful.
Seeing his wife quietly laugh in his arms, the clan deity felt she seemed a bit enthusiastic — much more enthusiastic than before. Could this be the difference between before and after marriage? He wasn’t quite sure. He held his wife and slowly sank into the darkness.
When Luo Yuan had finally enjoyed herself enough, she realized the two of them were floating in the thick black air, still sinking, slow and silent. She couldn’t help doing something she had wanted to do for a long time — she touched the clan deity’s sleeve, slipped her hand into his wide long sleeve, and touched his hand. Fingernails, fingertips, knuckles, every inch of his palm and the back of his hand.
The cold-white, porcelain-like hand was obediently pulled out of the sleeve by her. Luo Yuan lowered her head and gently pressed her cheek to that palm, closed her eyes, and took a breath.
“There’s a very nice scent… what kind of fragrance is it?” Luo Yuan sniffed that hand, murmuring to herself.
The clan deity replied with a smile, “It’s probably the fragrance of my ashes.”
Luo Yuan: “……” She lifted her face, which had gone blank for a moment, looked at the clan deity’s smile, and guessed he was teasing her on purpose.
She pretended she hadn’t heard, burying her whole face and nose into the clan deity’s hand, rubbing several times even more insistently.
The clan deity repeated with a smile, “It’s the scent of ashes — when the divine statue was cast in fire, my ashes were blended into it.”
Being reminded of ashes twice, Luo Yuan suddenly remembered the small white porcelain jar she was holding. She loosened her hold on the clan deity a little and brought the jar in front of her. She felt as though her own ashes were inside.
Why would there be ashes? Was she cremated? After death, if one was cremated, would the ashes appear in one’s own hands?
What kind of post-death world was this? Luo Yuan held the little porcelain jar up to show the clan deity.
The clan deity tapped the jar with the hand she had pulled out from his sleeve. “Your ashes. Where would you like to place them?”
“Place them… where?” Luo Yuan repeated, very puzzled.
The clan deity suggested, “Then place them within my body, how about that?”
Luo Yuan once again began to reflect on herself, wondering if her imagined world after death had become too excessive. If all of the clan deity’s actions here were her fantasies, then what exactly did her heart desire? What kinds of things did she want to do to the clan deity? Was she truly such a person? Only now did she realize she had discovered a new version of herself.
Of course she wouldn’t refuse. If after her death, her ashes could truly be placed with the clan deity — she didn’t dare hope for them to be placed inside his body; even being placed in the shrine before him would be enough. But that was impossible. After all, it wasn’t like a flower — placing it there wouldn’t look beautiful. All of this must be illusion.
“Sigh.” Luo Yuan sighed.
“What is it, you don’t want that? If you wish to place them in the ancestral hall, that is also fine,” the clan deity said indulgently.
“No, I want to place them with you. But… if only it were real.”
The clan deity understood what was going on with her and explained, “It is real.”
Luo Yuan sighed.
“It is real,” the clan deity repeated once more.
Luo Yuan rested her head on his chest and contentedly took two more breaths.
“Mm, forget it.” The clan deity looked at the head resting against his chest with a gentle smile, then reached out and pulled open his robes, exposing his chest, revealing a crack that cut horizontally across it. It looked like the fracture of shattered porcelain — on a flawless piece of porcelain, an exceptionally conspicuous, ugly, and jagged crack.
Luo Yuan stared in surprise. From within the crack, she saw that the clan deity’s body held nothing at all — empty. The clan deity opened his hand and, still smiling slightly, said to her, “Come, place it inside.”
The ashes she kept in the white porcelain jar were red. The vivid red fell into the crack on the clan deity’s chest, and throughout the process, he continued to gaze at her with a gentle smile. As Luo Yuan watched, she suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to cry. She felt warm and at peace, as if she had returned to the home she longed for most, something wrapping around her and protecting her.
A few specks of bright red ash fell onto the porcelain-white crack, staining the area red. Luo Yuan reached out and gently wiped and caressed it. As her hand brushed over the long crack, she felt the cold porcelain growing warm, softening with warmth, releasing a faint fragrance.
This form of the clan deity was eerie, yet Luo Yuan felt no fear. Her gaze landed on that crack across his body, and all she felt was a wave of tenderness. The crack looked like a long, unhealed wound. Without realizing it, she leaned forward and brushed the area around the crack lightly with her nose and lips.
The clan deity: “……”
Well… how to put it… young people truly were enthusiastic.
Luo Yuan lifted her head and, seeing the clan deity’s expression and gaze, suddenly felt a flush of shame and embarrassment. She lowered her head to apologize.
“…Sorry.”
Even as she apologized, she continued clinging to him tightly.
The clan deity indulgently draped his white sleeve over her and asked, “Do you wish to see my birth?”
“Your birth?” Luo Yuan was bewildered again. Can I even imagine such a thing?
She instinctively nodded.
So the clan deity stroked her face, lifted her up, and gently pressed her against his chest. His movements were extremely gentle, without the slightest force, but Luo Yuan suddenly felt her body turn heavy. Like a stone, she abruptly sank into deep sludge — sinking in through the clan deity’s chest!
