[Translation] I'm Not An Immortal (我不成仙) by Shi Jing (时镜): Chapter 001 — Killing One’s Wife to Attain the Dao

 

“Rumble…”

A muffled peal of thunder rolled across the horizon beneath the surging black clouds.

Outside the window, the rain suddenly intensified again. Torrents of water poured from the green-tiled eaves, splashing onto the muddy ground already pitted with puddles.

The wind shook the loosely latched windows back and forth with loud banging sounds.

Jianchou, who had been doing needlework inside, jumped at the noise and nearly pricked her finger.

Looking at the constantly rattling window, she felt inexplicably uneasy. She quickly set down the half-sewn robe in her hands, walked over, and shut the windows tightly.

Once the windows were closed, the sound of the rain outside did not lessen in the slightest.

The muffled thunder rolling through the sky grew closer and closer, as though it were rumbling directly above their roof.

Hearing it, Jianchou could not help sighing softly.

She gently stroked her still-flat abdomen, and an unprecedented tenderness appeared on her porcelain-white face.

Perhaps this was Heaven’s greatest gift to her.

Only three months into her marriage, Jianchou had never expected to become pregnant so quickly.

That morning, she had suddenly begun vomiting for no reason, so she invited the village doctor to examine her. Yet the doctor only kept congratulating her. After she pressed him repeatedly, he finally smiled and told her:

“You are with child.”

For a long while, she could not react. She could not even remember how she had paid the consultation fee or seen the doctor out afterward.

Jianchou had originally been an orphan with only a given name and no surname.

Ever since she could remember, she had known she had neither father nor mother. Fortunately, kindhearted people had taken her in, allowing her to live a peaceful and stable life.

Later, she met Xie Buchen. At the time, he was not yet a scholar, merely the young master of the Xie family, and the two had little interaction. It was only after the Xie family fell into ruin and Xie Buchen was hunted down by enemies—only to be saved by Jianchou—that an inseparable bond formed between them.

Three months ago, they had finally settled down in this small village and married.

Thus, Jianchou also gained a surname.

From then on, she became “Xie Jianchou.”

Xie Buchen had long studied the Four Books and Five Classics. Even while still at home, he had already shown literary talent and passed the preliminary examinations. Later, he passed the county exam and earned the title of xiucai, becoming even more diligent in his studies.

Unable to bear seeing Jianchou suffer hardship, he had once held her hands and told her that once he achieved higher honors, he could become an official. Then Jianchou would become an official’s wife as well.

Early this morning, Xie Buchen had gone to the county academy to study.

Ordinarily, he should already have returned home for lunch by this hour, but today there was such a heavy storm.

Jianchou thought that since he had brought an umbrella, the muddy roads were probably difficult to traverse, delaying his return.

When he came back, she would tell him the wonderful news.

A faint smile curved her lips. Listening to the noisy rain around her, she no longer found it irritating.

Walking back from the window, Jianchou did not resume her sewing. Instead, her eyes swept toward a treasured sword hanging on the wall in a sharkskin sheath—the only valuable possession in the house, something Xie Buchen had insisted on bringing even at the risk of his life.

She stepped to the doorway and gazed toward the narrow courtyard gate, hoping to see Xie Buchen emerge from the curtain of rain.

It was a simple farmhouse courtyard. Several large white geese were enclosed within a bamboo fence, happily honking in the rain while occasionally craning their long necks to preen their feathers.

Beyond the thick veil of rain, one could see the rolling mountain ranges in the distance, their deep green darkened further by the storm.

The thunder rolled endlessly from beyond those mountains.

One hand resting against the doorframe and the other upon her abdomen, Jianchou hesitated over whether she should take an umbrella and go to the academy to find him when suddenly the sound of footsteps came through the rain.

Splash… splash…

The sound of rain striking an oil-paper umbrella gradually drew closer.

A tall figure slowly emerged from the blurred rain curtain. Water dripped continuously from the rim of the umbrella like strings of beads, splashing into the puddles below.

Xie Buchen’s brows were long, his nose straight, his lips thin, carrying a line of near-cold severity.

The damp chill clung to the corners of his eyes and brows, making him seem even frostier.

The hand gripping the umbrella handle was the hand of a scholar—long-fingered and pale.

The moment Jianchou saw him, relief immediately appeared on her face, and the corners of her lips lifted unconsciously.

“You’re back.”

Xie Buchen nodded faintly. His lips parted slightly as though he wanted to say something, but in the end he merely forced a smile. He stepped beneath the eaves, closed the umbrella, and carefully inverted it beside the doorway.

Jianchou quickly ushered him inside and reached out to remove the robe already soaked through by rain.

The dark blue-green robe, drenched by water, had turned the same deep green as the mountains outside.

Afraid he would catch cold, she never expected that at that instant, her hand would suddenly be pressed down by another icy hand.

Following that hand upward, Jianchou saw Xie Buchen’s faintly smiling face.

Why did he feel so strange?

Confused, she asked, “Your hand is so cold. What’s wrong?”

Xie Buchen shook his head and glanced around the room.

Everything looked just as it had when he left that morning. Several finished garments sat folded neatly beside the table, while two unfinished pieces lay scattered there, one sleeve still threaded with a needle.

Jianchou explained:

“The window wasn’t shut properly earlier, and with all the thunder and rain I hurried to close it. Afterward I kept worrying about why you still hadn’t returned, so I forgot to continue sewing. But I already finished the other clothes. Once the rain lightens this afternoon, you can change and head back to the academy—”

“Jianchou.”

His cold voice this time carried a strange hoarseness.

Thinking he had been chilled by the rain, Jianchou became worried.

“Even your voice is hoarse. You must have hurried home through the heavy rain. If you couldn’t make it back, you could’ve simply stayed at the academy…”

Though she said that, sweetness filled her heart.

As she spoke, the smile on her lips widened.

Xie Buchen merely looked at her quietly.

His entire body was soaked. Water pooled around his feet. Before him stood Jianchou, her eyes and heart full of him, warm even in her smile.

The scene he had encountered while returning through the rain replayed calmly in his mind once more, along with the thunderous old voice that echoed there:

“The Dao is eternally nameless. Though simple and small, none under heaven dare claim dominion over it.”

“Humans are mortal flesh, bound by the seven emotions and six desires, unable to escape wine, lust, wealth, and anger.”

“Beyond the mortal world lie immortal mountains amid the vast sea of clouds. The mundane world is but a mustard seed; worldly attachments are ultimately illusion. Why do people not cast off their mortal roots and seek immortality and the Dao?”

“Sever emotional ties. Cut worldly bonds. If one wishes to seek the Dao, one must relinquish everything. By what will you prove your resolve?”

By what will you prove your resolve?

Only five words, yet they formed a heavenly chasm dividing the mortal realm from immortality.

And Xie Buchen had to cross it.

He lifted a hand, his cold fingers brushing Jianchou’s warm cheek, and smiled faintly.

“With you at home, I had to come back at least once.”

His hand was so cold that Jianchou shivered.

“There’s no need to trouble yourself so much. I’m not some delicate noble lady. But it’s good you came back—I have something to tell you…”

As she spoke, she covered the back of his hand with her warm palm. The instant she touched him, she felt that bone-deep chill.

Sighing, she forgot what she had wanted to say.

“You’re freezing.”

“It’s nothing. I’m much stronger than you.”

Smiling, Xie Buchen stepped back calmly and turned around. At once, his gaze landed on the sword hanging upon the mottled wall.

The black sheath was covered in scale-like patterns, still gleaming without a trace of dust.

Slowly, he reached out and took the sword down.

With a light twist and a pull, inch after inch of cold steel emerged, gleaming sharply in the dim light. Accompanied by the rain and thunder outside, it forced one to hold their breath.

As more of the blade was unsheathed, a faint ringing sword hum gradually became clearer.

He drew the sword as though releasing something.

Jianchou watched him without blinking, while inwardly wondering how to tell him about her pregnancy.

“I wipe this sword every day, so it never gathers dust, though I’ve never actually seen it unsheathed before. It’s truly beautiful—no wonder you insisted on bringing it.”

At last, Xie Buchen fully drew the blade.

The icy gleam reflected in his abyss-like eyes.

At that moment, he suddenly saw clearly.

These were his own eyes.

Without emotion. Without desire. Without sorrow. Without joy. Without hesitation. Without attachment.

All people in this world were nothing more than fleeting illusions.

What was there that could not be abandoned?

Even…

Jianchou.

She was merely proof of his determination to seek the Dao.

His calm gaze shifted away from the frosted blade and settled upon Jianchou’s face.

Plainly dressed in simple cloth and hairpins, yet her fair face and elegant eyes possessed an indescribable beauty. Even in such poverty, her radiance could not be concealed.

Never before had Xie Buchen thought his wife so beautiful.

Yet such beauty could no longer stir his heart in the slightest.

His heart was as still as an ancient well.

“Jianchou.”

He called her name again.

Jianchou blinked and stepped forward, about to ask what exactly was wrong—

But in the next instant, her movement abruptly halted.

Agonizing pain struck.

A sword.

Confused, Jianchou lowered her head and saw the sword protruding from her chest.

Following the gleaming blade upward, she saw the hand holding it.

It was Xie Buchen’s hand.

The hand that held a writing brush.

The hand that held an umbrella.

The hand that now held a sword.

Xie Buchen gazed at her indifferently, all the tenderness and affection of the past seeming like smoke vanishing into nothing.

His gaze was cold and merciless, yet somehow still faintly emotional.

The sword piercing her chest felt like a block of frozen ice, numbing even the pain.

Her pupils contracted violently. Jianchou’s lips parted slightly, lost and stricken.

Xie Buchen held the three-foot-long blade, its tip already buried in Jianchou’s chest.

Bright red blood spread outward, dripping down the sharp edge one drop after another.

Tap.

The first drop struck the floor like a bloodstained game piece.

Illuminated by that vivid crimson, even Xie Buchen’s pale face gained a strange flush of color.

“You…”

Jianchou struggled desperately to speak, but her mouth opened soundlessly like a fish thrown ashore.

Tears shimmered in her eyes.

Why…?

Xie Buchen took in every expression she made, yet seemed separated from them by an invisible barrier, utterly unmoved.

Slowly.

Cruelly.

Yet almost elegantly.

He withdrew the sword.

Blood burst from Jianchou’s chest, and she could no longer remain standing.

Xie Buchen looked at her calmly, the sword angled toward the floor as blood dripped from its tip onto the damp earth.

“In this life, I have wronged you. If there is reincarnation within the Three Realms and Six Paths, then in the next life, you may come and claim my life.”

In this life, I have wronged you.

If there is reincarnation, then in the next life, you may seek vengeance upon me.

Jianchou could no longer stand. Clutching the wound in her chest, she lowered her head and saw blood endlessly flowing through her fingers.

It was the blood of her heart.

The tears in her eyes.

Her body swayed several times before finally collapsing to the ground.

At that moment, Xie Buchen lifted his sword and silently walked past her.

Her body curled inward, fingers clenching desperately as though trying to grasp something.

But only the corner of a rain-soaked robe swept past her sight.

The torrential rain continued to pour.

Thunder still rolled along the edge of the heavens.

Beyond the courtyard, the endless mountain ranges seemed greener than before.

The white geese wandered through the rain. As Xie Buchen stepped out, several flapped toward the fence, yet he did not spare them a glance. Instead, he raised his eyes toward the low courtyard wall.

Several broken stalks of withered grass trembled in the rain.

Standing atop the wall was an old Daoist priest with white hair and an ancient face, his hands clasped behind his back. Yet his feet floated exactly three inches above the grass rather than touching it.

His weathered gaze seemed capable of seeing through heaven’s secrets as it fell upon Xie Buchen.

The blood on Xie Buchen’s sword was gradually being washed away by the rain.

With a slight smile, the old Daoist said:

“You have severed your worldly ties, and your temperament is exceptional. One day, when you seek immortality and the Dao, there will surely be a place for you among the great powers who reach the heavens.”