I'm Not An Immortal (The Adventure of Jian Chou) - Chapter 1
Chapter 1
“Boom…”
A muffled thunder rolled across the edge of the sky, heavy with dark clouds.
Outside the window, the rain intensified with a “swoosh,” pouring down in torrents, cascading off the green roof tiles, and splashing onto the muddy, puddle-strewn ground below.
The wind rattled the loosely closed windows, creating a “clang-clang” sound.
Jianchou, who was busy with her needlework indoors, was startled by the noise and nearly pricked her finger.
Watching the shaking windows, she felt a growing sense of unease.
Quickly setting down the half-sewn robe in her hands, she walked over and pulled the windows shut.
Yet, even with the windows closed, the sound of the rain outside did not diminish in the slightest.
The occasional thunder that rolled across the sky grew closer, as if it were rumbling right above their roof.
Hearing this, Jianchou let out a sigh.
Gently placing a hand on her not-yet-visible belly, her porcelain-white face softened with an expression she’d never shown before.
Perhaps, this was Heaven’s greatest gift to her.
Three months after her wedding, Jianchou hadn’t expected to be pregnant so soon.
This morning, out of nowhere, she had felt nauseous.
She called in the village doctor, who kept offering his congratulations.
After much questioning, he finally smiled and said, “You’re expecting.”
For quite a while, she was in a daze, unable to remember how she paid the doctor or saw him out.
Jianchou, an orphan with only a given name and no surname, had known from memory’s start that she had no parents.
Luckily, kind-hearted people had taken her in, allowing her to live a peaceful life.
Later, she met Xie Buchen.
At that time, he was not yet a scholar, just the young master of the Xie family, and they had little contact.
Only when the Xie family fell into ruin and Xie Buchen was pursued by enemies did Jianchou rescue him, forging an unbreakable bond between them.
Three months ago, they finally settled in this small village and got married.
Thus, Jianchou gained a surname and was now known as “Xie Jianchou.”
Xie Buchen, having diligently studied the Four Books and Five Classics, was known locally as a talented scholar.
Later, he took the county exams and became a xiucai (scholar), making him even more dedicated to his studies.
Not wanting Jianchou to suffer hardship, he once held her hand and said that when he attained higher honors, he could become an official, and she would then be the wife of an official.
This morning, Xie Buchen had gone to study at the county academy.
On normal days, he would be home by this hour for a meal, but today, the heavy rain had delayed him.
Jianchou thought, he had brought an umbrella, but the muddy roads must be difficult to traverse, which is why he was late.
When he returned, she would share the grand news with him.
With a faint smile on her lips, she listened to the steady sound of rain and no longer felt irritated.
Walking back from the window, Jianchou didn’t resume her needlework but instead glanced at a treasured sword with a sharkskin sheath hanging on the wall—their household’s only valuable possession, something Xie Buchen had risked everything to keep.
She walked to the front of the house, looking toward the narrow courtyard gate, hoping to see Xie Buchen emerge from the rain.
This was a simple rural courtyard, with a few large white geese happily calling out in the rain, occasionally twisting their long necks to groom their feathers.
Sometimes, as they shook themselves, raindrops scattered from their glossy feathers, shining like crystal beads.
Through the heavy rain, she could glimpse the undulating green mountains in the distance, a deep ink-like green intensified by the rain.
Layers of thunder rolled over the mountains.
Jianchou held onto the doorframe with one hand and rested the other gently on her belly, hesitating about whether to bring an umbrella and go to the county academy to look for him.
Just then, the sound of footsteps came from the rain.
“Pitter-patter…”
The sound of raindrops on an oiled-paper umbrella grew closer.
A tall figure gradually emerged from the blurred rain.
Raindrops slid down the umbrella’s edge, like strings of pearls, falling and splashing into the ground, mixing with the surrounding rainwater.
Xie Buchen’s eyebrows were long, his nose straight, his lips thin, with a cold, nearly sharp curve.
The dampness of the rain softened his brow, giving him an added touch of chill.
The hand holding the umbrella was the same one that held his brush—long and slender, pale and refined.
Seeing him, Jianchou’s face immediately relaxed, a small smile lifting her lips.
“You’re back.”
Xie Buchen nodded lightly, parting his lips as if to say something, but instead, he smiled and stepped under the eaves, carefully closing the umbrella and placing it by the door.
Jianchou hurriedly invited him in, reaching out to help him remove his soaked robe.
The dark green robe, drenched in rain, had taken on the color of the surrounding mountains.
Concerned that he might catch a cold, she didn’t expect that, at that moment, her hand would be caught by another cold hand.
Following that hand up, Jianchou met Xie Buchen’s faintly smiling face.
Why did something feel strange?
Puzzled, Jianchou asked, “Your hand is so cold, what’s wrong?”
Xie Buchen shook his head and glanced around at the room’s furnishings.
It looked just as it had when he’d left that morning, except now a few garments lay on the simple square table.
Some had been neatly folded and set aside, while two were left unfinished, with a needle still embedded in the sleeve of one.
Jianchou explained, “I hadn’t closed the window properly before, and with the thunder and rain, I rushed to shut it. After that, I was so caught up worrying about why you hadn’t returned yet that I forgot to keep sewing. But I did finish the other clothes, so you can change soon. If the rain eases in the afternoon, you can return to the county academy—”
“Jianchou.”
His usually cool voice was now touched with an odd rasp.
Jianchou assumed he’d caught a chill from rushing home in the rain and grew anxious.
“Your voice is hoarse; you must’ve hurried back and been caught in the rain. If you couldn’t make it home, you could have just stayed at the academy…”
But as she spoke, her heart warmed sweetly at the thought.
As she went on, the smile on her lips widened.
Xie Buchen just watched her quietly.
He was soaked, water pooling at his feet.
Jianchou, with all her heart and mind, was focused on him, her smile warm and radiant.
The scene of her greeting him in the rain replayed in his mind, along with the echo of an ancient voice that had reverberated through him like thunder.
“The Dao is often nameless; even the smallest simplicity, the world cannot subdue.”
“People are of flesh, born of mortal desires, bound by the seven emotions and six desires, entangled in wealth and pleasure.”
“Beyond the world lies the immortal mountain, vast amidst the sea of clouds. Mortal life is like a single mustard seed, and the world’s fleeting passions are all but illusions. Why do people not shed their mortal roots to seek immortality?”
“Cut off emotional ties, sever worldly bonds. If one seeks the Dao, one must forsake all else—by what means will you prove your resolve?”
By what means will you prove it?
Those five short words loomed like an insurmountable chasm, separating the mortal world from the immortal realm.
And Xie Buchen had to cross it.
He lifted his hand, placing his icy palm on Jianchou’s warm cheek with a faint smile.
“As long as you’re here, I’ll always come back.”
The coldness of his hand made Jianchou shiver.
“Why go through such trouble? I’m not delicate or precious. But it’s good you came home; I have something to—”
She extended her hand, her warm palm covering the back of Xie Buchen’s hand.
At the touch, she felt its chill.
With a sigh, Jianchou grew too worried to remember what she wanted to say.
“You’re too cold.”
“It’s nothing; I’m stronger than you are.”
Xie Buchen smiled, took a step back, and turned calmly to face the sword hanging on the wall.
Its black scabbard was covered in scales that gleamed darkly, free from any dust.
Slowly, he reached out, took hold of the sword, twisted it slightly, and pulled.
Bit by bit, its cold light shone forth, mingling with the sound of the rain and thunder outside, filling the room with a tense stillness.
As he drew the blade, it was as if he were releasing something.
Jianchou watched him intently, her mind preoccupied with how to tell him about the pregnancy.
“I polish this sword every day, so it hardly gathers any dust, but I’ve never unsheathed it before. It truly is beautiful; no wonder you insisted on bringing it.”
Xie Buchen finally unsheathed the sword completely, the gleaming blade reflecting his dark, deep eyes.
In that moment, he saw himself clearly.
These were his own eyes—without affection or desire, without joy or sorrow, untouched by doubt or hesitation.
Everything in this world was nothing but illusion.
What was there that couldn’t be abandoned?
Even if it was…
Jianchou.
This was only to prove his commitment to the Dao.
His calm gaze moved from the frosty blade to Jianchou’s face.
Her attire was simple, with a modest hairstyle and plain dress, but her face was strikingly fair, with a subtle elegance in the curve of her eyes.
Even in such humble surroundings, she couldn’t conceal her natural radiance.
Xie Buchen had never noticed that his wife was this beautiful.
Yet this beauty no longer stirred his heart in the slightest.
An ancient well undisturbed.
“Jianchou.”
He called her name again.
Jianchou blinked and stepped forward half a pace, about to ask him what was wrong.
But in the next instant, her steps halted abruptly.
A sharp pain surged through her—
A sword!
Confused, Jianchou looked down and saw the sword piercing her chest.
She followed the bright blade upwards and saw the hand holding it.
It was Xie Buchen’s hand.
The hand that held a brush, held an umbrella, now held a sword.
Xie Buchen gazed at her impassively; the tenderness of the past seemed like a fleeting illusion, entirely faded away.
There was a hardness in his gaze, a look that seemed affectionate but was void of any real emotion.
The sword embedded in her chest felt like an icy shard, numbing her to the point of almost forgetting the pain.
Jianchou’s pupils contracted, her lips parting slightly in shock and confusion, mingled with anguish.
Xie Buchen’s hand held the three-foot blade, its tip now buried in Jianchou’s chest.
Bright red blood began to seep out, trickling down the sharp edge, drop by drop…
Plop.
The first drop of blood landed on the ground, like a piece on a blood-stained chess board.
Xie Buchen’s pale face, illuminated by the vivid red, gained an eerie touch of color.
“You…”
Jianchou struggled to speak, but her mouth gaped open like a fish thrown onto dry land, and only faint sounds emerged.
Tears glistened in her eyes.
Why…
Xie Buchen took in her every expression, yet his gaze seemed distant, as if looking through a veil, completely unmoved.
Slowly, cruelly, and with almost a kind of elegance, he withdrew the sword.
Blood bloomed like a flower on her chest, and she could no longer keep her balance.
Xie Buchen watched indifferently, the sword tip angled downward, allowing the blood to drip and pool on the damp ground.
“This life, I have wronged you. If there is reincarnation in the six realms, in the next life, you are free to claim my life in return.”
This life, I have wronged you.
If there is reincarnation in the six realms, in the next life, you are free to claim my life in return.
Jianchou struggled to stand, clutching her chest wound.
When she looked down, all she saw was blood trickling through her fingers.
It was her heart’s blood, and her eyes were filled with tears.
Her figure wavered, and finally, she collapsed to the ground.
At that moment, Xie Buchen lifted his sword, his steps silent, as he walked past her.
Her body curled up, her fingers clenched tightly, as if trying to grasp something.
But all that brushed past her was the damp edge of his clothing.
Swish…
The pouring rain continued, and the low rumble of thunder still rolled along the edges of the sky.
Beyond the small courtyard, the verdant mountains appeared even more vividly green.
A large white goose paced in the rain, and as Xie Buchen stepped out, a few of them began to flap towards the gate.
He did not spare them a glance, only raising his eyes towards the low courtyard wall.
A few withered grass stems trembled in the rain.
On the wall stood an old Taoist, his hands behind his back, his feet hovering exactly three inches above the rain-soaked grass stems.
His aged gaze, seemingly perceptive of heaven’s mysteries, rested on Xie Buchen.
The blood on Xie’s sword was being washed away by the rain, gradually fading.
With a faint smile, the old Taoist spoke, “The worldly bonds are severed; your mind is exceptional. When you seek immortality in the future, you shall certainly have a place among the greats.”
