FLME Ch53

While watching TV, Xie Heyu opened Weibo to monitor the netizens’ feedback.

It wasn’t just them dutifully waiting for the grand finale of Legend of the Immortal Sect on time; millions of drama fans were even more anxious. Two weeks ago, they had already tried demanding the director release extra episodes. When that failed, they turned to “harassing” the lead actors. The comment sections under Jian Heng and the others’ Weibo posts were flooded with questions about the finale.

The eve of the finale had paused on a perilous cliffhanger with Mount Yunxiao besieged. No matter how one analyzed it, it seemed to be a dead end. The closer people looked at the details, the more shockingly grim the foreshadowed clues became.

Deep down, everyone already had a faint premonition of a bad ending, but they were still hoping for a miracle.

Sure enough, the moment the grand finale updated, the trending topic shot into the top ten, its view count skyrocketing wildly.

Netizens scrolled straight to the very end. With one look, the hearts that had been hanging in suspense finally died.

[Fine, everyone’s dead.]

[It really was a dead end… The disciples of Mount Yunxiao swore to guard the secret of the sacred relic to the death. Even if they held it this time, there would be a next time, and a time after that… As long as the sacred relic exists, the conflict will never dissipate; as long as the conflict remains, they will always be targets.]

[They are like tombstones, standing tall before the sacred relic.]

[There was no way out for Mount Yunxiao, it was merely a difference between dying early or dying late…]

[I think they had anticipated their own ending long ago. Look at them roasting taro in the courtyard—so peaceful, as if tomorrow was just going to be another ordinary tomorrow.]

Many netizens had dragged the progress bar to watch the ending first. After seeing it, their hearts completely flatlined. However, though their hearts were dead, their hands were still functioning. Stubbornly refusing to accept reality, they dragged the progress bar back to see exactly how everyone died.

Having seen the ending first, the netizens’ reactions weren’t quite as explosive, as they had already mentally prepared themselves.

But for the two sitting in front of the TV, every subsequent scene was a blind-box surprise.

When Xi Su watched TV, getting engrossed meant losing all vigilance. At this moment, he had long forgotten what Yu Wen had warned him about. Watching the people of Mount Yunxiao gathered around the fire in the courtyard eating taro, with Jiang Qiuyue still having the leisure to read a storybook, this peaceful and warm scene warmed his heart, making him believe in hope once again.

That was, until Jiang Qiuyue said to San-shijie: “Don’t be afraid, I’ll walk ahead of you.”

This line, which sounded suspiciously like a death flag, gave him a very bad feeling.

Dozens of minutes later, Xi Su sat expressionless. He pulled a tissue and wiped away his uncontrollable tears and snot.

He was relatively composed today and didn’t completely lose his mind. He merely said, “It doesn’t matter. I’ve been killing fish at the supermarket for ten years, my heart is already as cold as my fish-killing knife.”

Yu Wen: “Your snot is about to drip onto your clothes.”

Xi Su: “Waaah—”

Keeping firmly in mind the iron rule that “Chu Zhiyao will die,” Chu Han didn’t suffer quite as massive a blow. But seeing the later parts, he still broke down, repeatedly smashing his head against a throw pillow.

“Didn’t you say everyone died?!” he cried out in a breakdown. “Why did Chu Zhiyao die, but Puyang Xi didn’t?! Why didn’t they kill the male lead too?!”

Double death means a happy ending, don’t you understand?!

What kind of good CP ends up separated by life and death?!

Sitting cross-legged on the sofa, Yu Wen let out a ghostly sigh.

The only one left perfectly steady in the living room was Xie Heyu. Yu Wen was certain he had been watching the whole time, but currently, he didn’t seem to have any emotional fluctuations.

“Teacher Xie, don’t you find it tear-jerking?” Yu Wen leaned over and asked in a whisper.

Xie Heyu cast a sidelong glance, looking at him quietly.

“It’s alright. What the director wanted us to see wasn’t death, and that wasn’t how you acted it either.”

Yu Wen’s eyes lit up. “How did you know?”

“Death is a result, but it is not the endpoint. The rising sun, the blooming peach blossoms, the final meetings that were missed, the last words that couldn’t be delivered… The focal point isn’t death, but ‘to be continued’. ‘We will meet again, when you too walk upon this path’—that’s probably what the director meant to convey.”

Yu Wen didn’t speak for a long while. After a good moment, he pursed his lips, his eyes shining brightly. “Teacher Xie, you’re really smart.”

Xie Heyu, however, shook his head.

It wasn’t that he was smart; Yu Wen’s acting had made it quite obvious. If one paid extra attention to this character, they could see the difference.

Chu Zhiyao’s cinematic flashback right before his death highlighted a specific scene—a plotline that hadn’t appeared earlier in the drama. The time was around the Lantern Festival, and everyone from Mount Yunxiao was releasing sky lanterns in the back mountain to pray for blessings.

Er-shixiong, always doing things by the book, handed them each a piece of paper, telling them to write down their wishes and paste them on the lanterns.

Lao Si immediately picked up his brush and wrote: [Please grant my Er-shixiong peerless culinary skills.]

He picked it up, admiring his own vigorous calligraphy, and said smugly, “This way, I won’t have to associate myself with firewood, rice, oil, and salt next year…”

San-shijie dawdled for a bit, then elegantly wrote: [I want a new hair stick.]

Jiang Qiuyue was lying in a tree reading a new storybook.

Puyang Xi stared blankly at the sky lanterns.

Holding a branch and wearing a stern face, Er-shixiong urged them one by one. Chu Zhiyao felt that right then, he looked just like a strict, fierce teacher in a schoolhouse.

Afraid of getting smacked, Xiao Koi’s little brain spun rapidly, and he wrote eight characters on the rice paper.

[Favorable weather, a peaceful world.]

A very illusory wish.

Lao Si laughed. “So it turns out what our Lao Liu holds in his heart is the entire world.”

Jiang Qiuyue glanced over. Perhaps thinking those eight characters were pretty good, she said flatly, “Lao Liu, write it for me too, I want that one as well.”

Er-shixiong scolded her for being lazy to death.

But turning around, Er-shixiong also wrote “Favorable weather, a peaceful world” on his own sky lantern.

San-shijie was unhappy. She said, “If you guys are all doing that, what does my hair stick amount to? Forget it, I’ll be magnanimous too.”

So she crossed out her new hair stick and changed it to “Favorable weather, a peaceful world.”

Everyone wrote these words half-jokingly, half-seriously. Puyang Xi couldn’t understand them; their lackadaisical attitude seemed insincere, yet simultaneously very sincere.

Unlike the others, Puyang Xi’s wish truly was exactly this.

Favorable weather, no sickness or disaster, enough to eat and wear, and a peaceful world.

Chu Zhiyao had set a good precedent. When it finally came time to release the sky lanterns, everyone’s lantern read “Favorable weather, a peaceful world.” Lao Si joked, “If outsiders saw this, they’d think our Mount Yunxiao harbors such grand righteousness.”

San-shijie said lazily, “Our Xiao Koi has finally learned how to do things for the sake of face.”

Chu Zhiyao pouted and mumbled, “It’s not for the sake of face…”

The others didn’t hear his muttering, only Puyang Xi did.

The two of them had fallen behind the rest. Puyang Xi asked him why he wrote that.

Chu Zhiyao said, “My birthday wish is this every year, the others just don’t know. That year there was a severe drought, combined with the war, there was no food at home. My father starved to death, my mother starved to death, and my grandmother starved to death too. If the weather is favorable and there’s no fighting, the fields can grow lots of grain, and they wouldn’t have to starve to death.”

He rarely mentioned his past. He had been too young when his parents died and couldn’t remember many things clearly. Living every day so carefree, everyone assumed those events hadn’t affected him.

But the truth is, no one can easily detach themselves from suffering.

The older Chu Zhiyao got, the more clearly he could recall the scenes of his family dying. Every year, he prayed for favorable weather, so that not a single person would ever have to starve to death again.

Puyang Xi remained silent for a long time.

Finally, he feigned a relaxed tone. “The rice in my hometown is different from here. When I get the chance, I’ll bring two stalks over to show you.”

Chu Zhiyao was quite happy. “Okay, when are you going home?”

Puyang Xi gave a vague answer, and the topic ended there.

Later, on the day Mount Yunxiao was breached, Puyang Xi really did bring two stalks of gleaming golden rice over. But by the time he rushed there, Chu Zhiyao was already dead; they had missed their final meeting.

Chu Zhiyao had a final dying word that Puyang Xi never knew.

He said, “Lao Qi… let’s meet a little later.”

Live a little longer, come down to see us a little later.

When the director discussed the scene with Yu Wen back then, he told him there was no need to act too despairing here. From the wish for favorable weather, one could see that Puyang Xi and Mount Yunxiao were ultimately heading toward the same destination via different paths. The deaths of the others were merely the prelude to another kind of hope rising.

We will meet again, our paths lead to the same end.

It was roughly that kind of feeling.

Therefore, from beginning to end, Yu Wen didn’t shed a single tear, nor did he even say goodbye. Since they were destined to reunite, there was no need for farewells.

At the very end of the grand finale, a few brief narrative segments explained the aftermath: Mount Yunxiao was annihilated, Puyang Xi took over, rumors of the sacred relic resurfaced in the martial world, and Puyang Xi became the new target.

He grew from a young man into a middle-aged man, his face carrying more authority, a beard growing on his chin.

One day, while harvesting rice in the fields, he sat on the edge of the ridge to rest when a five- or six-year-old child came over and asked him if he had ever been to the Immortal Sect.

“Father and Mother said that the people of the Immortal Sect can fly, summon the wind and rain, and do anything. But they don’t like the Demon race, so I can’t go to the Immortal Sect to become a disciple. My King, is this true?”

The no-longer-young Puyang Xi froze for a long, long time.

“…Your father lied to you.” After a long while, he smiled and stood up, patting the dirt off his clothes. Holding the child’s hand, he walked toward the dirt road. “In the past, I cultivated in a place called Mount Yunxiao. I was the seventh in line, so everyone called me Lao Qi. They all treated me very well. Later, when they found out I was of the Demon race, they still treated me very well…”

“Mount Yunxiao? Where is that? Can I go there to become a disciple?”

“Not anymore… Decades ago, that place was already left with no one living there.”

“Why? Where did all the disciples of that sect go?”

On the dirt path through the fields, a blanket of silence fell. The middle-aged man held the child’s hand; all around them was only the rustling sound of the wind blowing through the wheat.

“…Dead,” he sighed. “Only Lao Qi is left.”

Yu Wen’s worries were not unfounded.

The lingering aftertaste of Battle Royale hadn’t yet faded. Some netizens, purely out of love for him, had watched both productions back-to-back. After finishing them, their eyes were cried dry, and their souls had practically floated away.

Some Battle Royale variety fans came to Immortal Sect seeking comfort—after all, Immortal Sect was famous for its joyful, lighthearted pacing. As a result, they crashed headfirst into the grand finale, receiving another massive critical hit.

Although there had been ample foreshadowing in the early stages and a bad ending was long anticipated, the internet still exploded.

[Okay, fine, so this is Xianxia, right? This is what Xianxia is all about, right? Hahahahahaha, I’m not crazy, I’m perfectly normal.]

[Who has that meme of Xi Su yelling ‘retreat, retreat, retreat’! Let me stab the director and screenwriter to death with it!]

[Xi Su! Where is your Italian cannon! Fire it for me!]

[Melon King, I misjudged you… You’re so hilarious in person, why are your works so painful…]

[Yu Wen! Jian Heng! If you two have the guts to film angsty dramas, you should have the guts to come out and do fan service!]

Yu Wen scrolled through the internet. It was a chaotic mess. Some people were yelling for the director to release an after-story, some were demanding the lead actors come out to interact, and some were even screaming for Xi Su to start a livestream.

Teacher Blue Hair cures everything—on a whole different level.

Having just hosted a livestream a couple of days ago, Yu Wen didn’t really want to do another one. But seeing the overwhelmingly high demand, he hesitated for a moment before turning on his camera, planning to record a short vlog.

After saying hi, he pointed the camera at Xi Su.

Xi Su was currently writing his post-viewing reflection. With his laptop open in front of him, the blank document had yet to see a single word typed.

Yu Wen called out, “Teacher Xi, I’m recording a video, say hi to everyone.”

When Xi Su turned around, a pair of sunglasses was resting on his face from who-knew-when.

Yu Wen: “…Why are you wearing sunglasses?”

The corners of Xi Su’s mouth hooked up into a smirk, and he answered completely off-topic: “It’s fine, my defenses weren’t broken, and I won’t cry. I’ve always been tough. I watched it with a bystander’s mentality, how could my defenses possibly be broken…”

Xie Heyu took his sunglasses off.

Xi Su’s eyes were bloodshot, and tears immediately spurted out. “Wuwuwu… Teacher Xie, you’re so vicious. I don’t even have my last shred of dignity left, are you happy now…”

Even Xie Heyu hadn’t anticipated the sight hiding behind the sunglasses. Taken aback, he quickly put the sunglasses back onto Xi Su’s face and comforted him, “It’s okay, you look very handsome when you cry.”

Xi Su’s crying stopped abruptly. “Really?” He picked up his phone to fix his hair. “Really or fake?”

Xie Heyu: “Really.”

Xi Su: “Swear on your conscience.”

Xie Heyu: “…I can’t really do that, I was speaking against my conscience.”

Xi Su: “…”

Accidentally failing to hold it back, Yu Wen burst into laughter.

At that moment, Chu Han suddenly turned around next to them, his face covered in tears. Unlike Xi Su, with his delicate and refined features, he didn’t look completely unhinged even while crying.

“Yu Wen,” he said, speaking with calm self-restraint while shedding tears. “I have a once-in-a-lifetime request, can you promise me?”

Yu Wen: “Please speak.”

Chu Han: “Can you kiss the actor who played Puyang Xi for me to see?”

Yu Wen: “…”

Yu Wen was still reeling in shock and hadn’t even spoken when Xie Heyu’s brow twitched. Reaching out, he covered Yu Wen’s mouth and said to Chu Han, “No. The fans said he’s not allowed to kiss stinky men from the outside.”

This was a vlog with no central theme, spiraling into sheer absurdity. After filming it, Yu Wen watched it a few times and realized that even Teacher Xie had started becoming abnormal.

I guess insanity really is contagious.

Great, the only normal person in the company has finally fallen.

Before posting it, he worried a bit that this video might affect the company’s external image. But on second thought, the company was already a psychiatric hospital anyway—it wasn’t his turn to affect it.

So he posted the video with the caption: [Don’t be sad anymore, caught a Teacher Blue Hair for everyone to pet.]

With the heat of Immortal Sect currently at its peak, the moment Yu Wen posted on Weibo, swarms of netizens followed the internet cables over, acting cute and throwing tantrums, begging him to film a bonus fan-service after-story.

This really wasn’t something Yu Wen could decide. He patiently comforted the bitterly weeping fans in the comments, replying: [This depends on our schedules, we might not be able to coordinate a time.]

A fan then replied: [Then what about the Evil-Hero ship? The Evil Dragon definitely has an open schedule, right! Wuwuwu little fish, please film one, anything is fine! The Hero and Chu Zhiyao, at least one of them needs a happy ending!]

Chu Zhiyao was already dead, but the Hero was still alive.

Yu Wen felt even more put on the spot.

It was true that the Evil Dragon had an open schedule…

But there were copyright issues, as well as the problem of fine detailing…

And, a hologram… how much money would that cost?!