Guardian: Zhen Hun (Novel) Vol. 1

by Priest

Usually, when asked to report at such a bizarre time, a normal person would assume there was a typo and would at least call ahead to confirm. But Guo Changcheng had always been terrified of social interactions, and staying at home for more than half a year had given him a severe case of telephone phobia. As soon as he even thought about having to call someone, he felt so stressed that he couldn’t sleep for nights on end.

It took a special kind of talent to be so ragged and yet so provocative.

Out of nowhere, Is he an instructor or the school hottie? flashed across Zhao Yunlan’s mind.

Zhao Yunlan had no preference between men or women, and what’s more, he’d been single for a few months. His suspicious gaze changed as lust crept in. His heart, despite the inappropriate timing, skipped a beat.

There was a dark distance in that intense gaze. His expression held both a sort of restrained yearning and an affection that was almost palpable…but at the same time, there was deep, crushing pain. Out of nowhere, Guo Changcheng got the feeling that the man had been standing there for thousands and thousands of years.

“I hate everything that circles around and around—life and death, again and again, unending.”

The current director of the Special Investigations Department, Zhao Yunlan, was also the Guardian. This Guardian was equally comfortable in the Netherworld or in banquet halls. He was talented and smooth, able to hold his alcohol and exchange cups with anyone in the Three Realms. Eating, drinking, whoring, gambling, or putting on a show—he was an expert at it all.

ZHAO YUNLAN HESITATED, but then, despite the fierce wind atop the tall building, he met Shen Wei’s eyes and saw himself in their depths—himself and, somehow, the night sky, impossibly intermingled. For some reason, looking up into those eyes, Zhao Yunlan instinctively let go and placed everything, including his insignificant little life, in Shen Wei’s hands. He regretted it the moment he let go. Is lust rotting my brain?

Then he was being held tightly in Shen Wei’s arms as they both collapsed on the roof—tightly enough that his bones creaked in protest, as though Shen Wei were hugging something he’d lost long ago. A strange feeling stirred in Zhao Yunlan when he glanced at his wrist and saw the bruises from Shen Wei’s hold on it.

The burgeoning desire Zhao Yunlan had been feeling turned into a lit firecracker. It exploded spectacularly, leaving behind a sea of red paper that spelled out “love affair.” Every nerve in his body was alight. But the dance of romance was one he knew well; there was an art to its push and pull. After that delicate overture, he pretended not to notice anything.

“Life and death are of great significance. In all of my classes, I tell my students that in this world, there are only two acceptable reasons to give your life. The first is to die for your home and country, by which you fulfill your duty. The other is to die for someone who truly knows you. In that way, you fulfill yourself. Outside of those things, treating your life lightly is an act of cowardice. Do you understand?”

“The sundial goes around once a day; the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, over and over, symbolizing life’s endless cycle of reincarnation.” Zhao Yunlan sat deep in thought for a while before continuing. “But there’s another way of looking at it. Some people believe reincarnation is an endless cycle of killing, the old replaced by the new. What’s lost will be lost forever, and what has passed will never return. With a turn of the clock, one can look back, but not go back. With a turn of the reincarnation cycle, though, even if one tried to look back, they wouldn’t know which way to look.”

“Some lies are told deliberately, Tongxue, while some are not. The former serve to deceive others, while the latter deceive oneself. Either way, it’s very sad.”

In the blink of an eye, Zhao Yunlan banished the irritation from his face as he turned, an old pervert magically transforming into a young bohemian. Gently and with great courtesy, he said, “Ah no, Shen-laoshi, you’re much too polite. No need to walk me out.”

“Think about it. If there were someone in this world you loved enough that you’d sacrifice half of your life for theirs, how would you feel if they then started vanishing from your life again?”

The Soul-Executing Emissary had come into existence in the depths of the Netherworld, but he was not a ghost immortal, nor was he subject to the Ten Yanluo Courts.13 Legend said he had originally been a mere wisp of fiendish energy from the darkest bowels of the Nine Hells. But from this inauspicious beginning, in a rare stroke of serendipity, he evolved to attain a physical form. He wielded the Soul-Executing Blade, and gods, humans, or any other being, whether from the thirty-three levels of Heaven above or the eighteen levels of Hell below, could be executed by that blade if found guilty. Deities and demons alike bowed their heads to him, and all beings feared him…all but Zhao Yunlan. Whether he was thick-skinned or boneheaded or just missing reflex tendons14 others had, Zhao Yunlan not only failed to fear the Emissary but found him gentle and refined with a good personality. His only shortcoming was that, whether speaking or writing, the Emmissary’s language was just a bit archaic—too refined and flowery.

As with many socially awkward individuals, he found phone calls far more terrifying than speaking face-to-face.

“Also, are you discriminating against overweight people? We fatties aren’t thieves! We don’t go around taking advantage of others! What’s wrong with being overweight? Being overweight is fine!”

Shen Wei had lost count of how many times he’d been left speechless that night. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Zhao Yunlan’s work environment was like with employees like these.

“There is someone I met only by chance. There are no connections between us; to him, I must only be a stranger with whom he’s exchanged a few words.” Shen Wei spoke gently against the background noise of scratching nails. “But I very much want to see him one more time.”

“‘Form is emptiness,’”16 Lin Jing recited, then he said, “I’ll conduct a ritual for him later.” “‘Form,’ my ass! Either speak normally or shut up!” Serenely, Lin Jing continued with his recitations… “‘Emptiness is form.’” “Fuck your mother’s second uncle!” Zhao Yunlan snarled. After a moment of silence, Lin Jing pleaded sincerely, “Boss…my mother’s second uncle has long since passed, so please forsake these empty forms of wrath and lust.” Zhao Yunlan had nothing to say in response.

After a moment’s thought, he took hold of Shen-laoshi’s right hand and drew an invisible calming charm on the back of it with his forefinger. That done, he grinned smugly and planted a light kiss in the same spot. Having allowed himself this indulgence, he said gleefully, “Good night, sleeping beauty. When I’m done with the case, I’ll ask you out properly.”

It was a man’s voice, tremendously pleasant to the ear. His tone was gentle and courteous with a solemn note that made people unthinkingly lower their heads. Perhaps Guo Changcheng still wasn’t fully awake. Everyone around him was frozen in place, but he did something truly audacious: he gathered his courage and looked up to sneak a peek at their visitor. The guest’s slim body was entirely wrapped in a black robe that hid even his hands and feet, and his face was concealed by a veil of black mist. Nothing else could be discerned through all the inky blackness. He first stopped at the door, then bowed to Zhao Yunlan from a distance, hands together. His long sleeves swept the tops of his feet as he spoke. “My apologies for the disturbance.”

As he passed by, Guo Changcheng caught a scent. It wasn’t the rotting smell they’d encountered at the hospital; it wasn’t foul at all. It was a very light fragrance that reminded Guo Changcheng of midwinter at the foot of the Daxing’anling Mountains far to the north. It was the scent that accompanies the first breath when you push open the door and walk out into the morning after a whole night of snow. It was the scent of endless, eternally unmelting snow: pure and impossibly cold, tinged with the last fragrance of dying blossoms. The scent carried far into the distance, all the way to the end of the road of life.

“What exactly are these ‘Four Hallowed Artifacts of the Netherworld’?” The Emissary paused. “A seal.” “A seal?” “Legend describes them as a Great Seal tied to the balance of yin and yang and the Six Paths of Reincarnation.20 Word of this seal has been passed down since time immemorial, and many sources that speak of it can no longer be verified. It may be real, or the stories may have been exaggerated over time. Regardless, the fact remains that living and dead souls alike are irresistibly drawn to the Reincarnation Dial due to its life-lending properties. It has already disrupted the order of reincarnation. If it falls into the hands of someone with ulterior motives, the results will be worse than we can imagine.”

“You believe hearts to be fickle because your own feelings change so casually."21

“My master asked me to convey a message. My lord, you have performed your duties meticulously for centuries, each day like the one before. You’ve avoided the person enshrined at the tip of your heart much as you’d avoid raging floods and savage beasts. To all appearances you are the epitome of self-control, but don’t you truly fear being unable to control yourself?” The Emissary said nothing, but the coldness emanating from him grew heavier. “My master has tremendous sympathy for your deep feelings, my lord, and went to the effort of having him brought before you. He wished to see if you are truly without desire, without—”

So much for your big talk! Didn’t you say you can land anyone you set your sights on? Something about how when girls see you, their eyes light up, and when bottoms see you, they drool? Look how gently he let you down! Tell me, Zhao Yunlan, does rejection hurt?”

But ah, Shen Wei… Zhao Yunlan contently looked at his own reflection in the rearview mirror and turned the name over in his heart. Shen Wei was like a famous, expensive blue-and-white vase. Even if you couldn’t own it forever, it was worth it just to display it at home for a few days and bask in its glory.

The Mountain God of the Great Wild entered the Cycle of Reincarnation.

“The Emissary comes from the same place as the Chaos King of the Gui. The only reason he wasn’t trapped behind the Great Seal with his Chaos King brother was that the Mountain God of the Great Wild elevated him to demigodhood.

“But all those years ago, the Mountain God asked him to look after the Great Seal…”

But falling for someone was no big deal, he reminded himself. In the big city, it could happen eight times a day. If someone wasn’t interested, you backed off. You didn’t get clingy or make a scene. That was basic social etiquette.

Shen Wei had been restraining himself for too long. In the perfect silence, he couldn’t help letting go for once. Lying there with Zhao Yunlan so tantalizingly near, his thoughts spun out of control. It was overwhelming. He imagined gathering that warm body close, pressing kisses to those eyes, that hair, those lips…tasting and partaking of every part. He imagined possessing Zhao Yunlan utterly.

But whether it was animal attraction or Zhao Yunlan’s personal traits, or even love at first sight…would any of those really make someone lie awake all night long just to foolishly watch someone sleep? That had to be several lifetimes of entanglement—a love with deep, deep roots.

“Unlike Bon beliefs, they clearly didn’t believe that all things had spirits, but they did believe that mountains had souls—maybe because they lived in the mountains and were familiar with avalanches. They even believed that the souls of mountains were powerful enough to suppress the souls of the dead. So they erected the sacrificial altar at the ‘Opening of the Mountain’s Soul’—the side of the peak that doesn’t face the light.

“Other people can approach it without harm, but you…” An unfamiliar hesitance entered the Emissary’s voice as he considered his choice of words. He continued at last, “You were born with an unstable soul. If you draw too close to these soul-sealing objects, of course you will feel the effects more than others.”

The Soul-Executing Emissary fell silent again, then said, “Everyone has one True Flame of Samadhi on each shoulder and one on their head. You were born with no fire on your left shoulder—a phenomenon known as ‘ghost-touched shoulder.’ That makes your souls prone to instability. The Guardian should take more care in the future.”

Zhao Yunlan came to the annoying realization that his Special Investigations Department was basically a summer camp for nepotism babies.

Isn’t a man’s most fundamental dignity found in taking care of his family and in being able to keep the person deepest in his heart safe?” From close by, the Emissary murmured, “Does that describe you as well, Guardian?” “You can’t force something like fate.” Zhao Yunlan had no idea why the Emissary might interject with something so trivial. A bit taken aback, he answered, “If someone was willing to follow me to the ends of the earth, if they took care of me and understood me and my needs, but I didn’t even have the heart to protect them? What the fuck would I even be? Would I even deserve to be called human?”

Zhao Yunlan nodded. “If I were in his shoes and the woman I loved died at those people’s hands, under the rules I’d laid down, I would hate them even more than I’d hated the old chief.” “More than that…” The Soul-Executing Emissary looked up through his gray mist at the towering, unmoving Awl. “Even rending them limb from limb could never appease my hatred.”

“Stone that is aged but not yet old; water that is frozen but not yet cold; body that is dead but not yet born; soul that is melted but not yet burned…”

“Guardian.” The voice was muffled beneath the mask. “It’s been thousands of years, but you haven’t changed a bit.”

“I hate two things,” he said. “Ugly people doing evil things, and menacing mutts blocking the road. You guys truly are model soldiers of the new age—all you do is trigger other people’s land mines.”

“The year I was ten, you found me and gave me the Soul-Guarding Order.” Daqing nodded, confused. “You’re already old enough that you want to write a memoir?” “I was just a happy, stupid child. I thought I was like a male Sailor Moon.” Zhao Yunlan laughed self-deprecatingly and petted the fat cat’s head. “Daqing, tell me the truth now. Who exactly am I?” Daqing froze. “You said you were the yao cat who served the Soul-Guarding Order—that you were the one who found the Guardian of each generation. I always thought the Soul-Guarding Order was like an ancient sword with a spirit, and anyone could be the Guardian as long as they met its requirements. But the truth is…there’s only ever been one Guardian, right?” Daqing stared at him, round eyed. Sometimes he was bad at faking it; at that moment, his gaze barely resembled a cat’s. “Don’t go getting a swollen head—” “Then where did the True Flame of Samadhi on my left shoulder go?” Daqing’s fur stood on end. “You remember?” Zhao Yunlan took a cigarette from his pocket and leaned back into the sofa, feeling weary. “That was a trick, dumbass.” The black cat said nothing. “So that means I really did have a past life.” Daqing meowed softly and leaned closer, hesitantly. As if he were an actual furball kitty, he nudged his head against Zhao Yunlan’s belly, then nuzzled it. It was unusual for this dumb fatty to be so agreeable. Zhao Yunlan picked him up and stroked his back. “I don’t know,” Daqing said. “Back then, my cultivation wasn’t...