Chapter 6: The Origin of the Iron Tree

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It is well known that the red thread managed by the Matchmaker God is used to bind fates together, but that does not mean the red thread cannot be used for other purposes. Once one understands the principle behind an object, how it is used depends entirely on the user’s intent.

A single red thread, when used to bind fates, typically doesn’t knot if well tied. When used to transmit messages, the thread is invisible to anyone except the Matchmaker God and the recipient.

That thin red thread shimmered faintly with its natural glow, flickering softly. The Ghost Lord set Yan Nianqing down, stretched his hand forward, and the letter flew into his palm. Once received, the red thread slowly faded away.

The Ghost Lord raised an eyebrow, never having expected the little elder to be so impatient. He had thought the wait would be longer. Opening the letter, he was amused by the few words written: “I have come across fine wine and wish to share it with Your Excellency.”

Having known the little elder for some time, the Ghost Lord had never seen him so generous. Well, then, just for that fine wine, he would make the trip. As the Ghost Lord mused this, a creaking sound from the “Mirror of Flowers and Water” startled him.

Hearing the noise, Yan Nianqing also looked toward the mirror, but the Ghost Lord quickly blocked his view with his hand. Yan Nianqing keenly sensed something amiss and exclaimed anxiously, “Mother! What are you doing? Let me see! Please, let me see!”

The Ghost Lord smiled faintly and said, “Shh... Little Nian, hush now, there are indecent things happening in the mirror. You’re still young; you can’t watch.”

Yan Nianqing’s ears flushed crimson; he ceased struggling. Unbeknownst to him, the Ghost Lord gazed expressionlessly at the mirror, where his own reflection stared back with white hair and a face drained of color.

With a thought, the Ghost Lord withdrew the “Mirror of Flowers and Water.” This mirror had accompanied him for many years, helping him evade countless calamities, but this time, things truly seemed precarious.

Just as the Matchmaker God delivered the letter, the mirror showed an ominous sign. This impending disaster was likely connected, in some way, to the little elder.

Blessing or curse—it cannot be avoided. No matter how he evaded it, the calamity would surely come.

The Ghost Lord removed his hand from before Yan Nianqing’s eyes. He felt both helpless and resigned at having to leave him twice.

Yan Nianqing spoke first, “Mother, are you going out?”

The Ghost Lord crouched and nodded plainly, “Yes.”

Yan Nianqing pressed his lips, frowning deeply. His strength was insufficient; going out would only endanger his mother. If she had no concerns, she would have taken him along long ago. Though reluctant, he put on a mature face and said, “Mother, please be careful. Go early and come back early!”

The Ghost Lord smiled, placing Yan Nianqing’s soft hand against his warm cheek. “Mother promises to return early. If you’re bored, just keep playing with those older folks.”

Pouting, Yan Nianqing replied unwillingly, “I’ll think about it.”

The Ghost Lord waved his hand and slowly vanished like dust before Yan Nianqing. Instinctively, Yan Nianqing reached out, but grasped nothing. He snorted coldly and stormed out of the hall. “All of you, get out here!”

The five who responded wore expressions of utter despair.

Heavenly Realm, Pavilion of Longing.

The Ghost Lord, skilled and familiar, climbed over the wall into the Pavilion. The ancient peach tree still stood, its scattered blossoms dancing in the breeze. Rarely indulging in leisure, the Ghost Lord wandered about. The courtyard’s scenery had changed little.

Yet, somehow, he felt something was different. Searching several courtyards yielded no sign of the little elder, until finally, beneath the peach tree where they first met, he found him.

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Perhaps now he knew what had changed. The fastidious little elder no longer wore his usual official robe but a pale blue garment. Today, his hair was unbound, casually tied with a snow-white ribbon.

Though the surroundings were the same, the change lay in the viewer’s shifting heart.

A low wooden table stood before the little elder. Its craftsmanship was crude, rough to the eye but practical. The Ghost Lord’s gaze fell on four or five small jars of wine, their lids still closed. It truly was hard to walk away; how long had it been since he last touched wine?

Without hesitation, the Ghost Lord sat down. Two porcelain bowls were on the table. He said with a mix of surprise and amusement, “Really? You invite me here to taste fine wine? So you want me to get drunk with you and forget my sorrows?”

Moonless’s eyes reddened slightly in displeasure. “Enough nonsense! Drink up!” He reached to snatch the jar near the Ghost Lord.

The Ghost Lord stopped him with one hand. “No, no, no! It’s rare I get to drink!”

Moonless rolled his eyes silently—rare? Who believed that, given how often he mooched wine from him.

With good humor, the Ghost Lord poured two bowls full. They clinked their bowls together, the clear sound ringing out. The Ghost Lord sipped cautiously, unwilling to drain it in one go, but Moonless drained his bowl in one gulp. The Ghost Lord poured another bowl and smiled, “Don’t say I never drink anymore. After all, I have a family now.”

“A family?!” Moonless choked on his wine, eyes wide in shock. “What did you say?!”

The Ghost Lord chuckled proudly. “Little elder, my child is about three or four years old in human years.”

Moonless sprang up abruptly, then sat down dazed. “How could that be?” he whispered. That was an empty red thread! Afterwards, he had consulted many ancient texts and discovered another secret of the hollow red thread.

The Ghost Lord casually replied, “How couldn’t it be? If you don’t believe me, I can bring him for you to see one day. But be warned: you’ll need to prepare an appropriate gift.”

Moonless's mouth went bitter despite the sweet wine taste. He looked at the Ghost Lord with complicated eyes. “Don’t you know...”

The Ghost Lord swirled his bowl and took a light sip. “Know what?” His eyes narrowed slightly.

Moonless filled his own bowl, his words caught in his throat. The drifting peach blossoms lent a subtle sorrow to the scene. Fueled by the wine’s warmth, his choked words drifted away with the wind...

“Yanlu’s passion leads to the wails of ten thousand ghosts, but when the Ghost Lord falls in love, death is imminent!”

Moreover, the current King of the Underworld, due to his body of eternal ice, could never fall in love. The Ghost Lord had everything he could want—why must he tread the path to the gates of hell?

The Ghost Lord laughed heartily, draining his bowl. “I never thought I held such a place in the little elder’s heart. You worry for my life? I thought you wished me dead so you wouldn’t be bothered.”

Moonless blushed, neither denying nor affirming. Initially, he had indeed hoped that, but after spending time with the Ghost Lord, he realized he was not as terrible as rumors suggested—he actually considered others’ feelings.

Setting down the empty bowl, the Ghost Lord squinted, propping his chin with one hand while drumming the table with the other. He cared little about how the little elder learned his secret. “So? Did you invite me here just to talk about this?”

Moonless pursed his lips, glaring at the Ghost Lord in annoyance. Why meddle in his affairs when his own were unsettled? He knew the other must know. Gathering himself, Moonless asked, “Do you know where Lan Li has gone?”

Moonless’s question betrayed some guilt. Lan Li had been reckless, never considering his feelings. In anger, he had said irreparable things. Still, it wasn’t entirely his fault.

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Moonless finally asked the core question. A triumphant smile played on the Ghost Lord’s lips as he stretched out a hand. “You want to know where Lan Li is? Fine! You’ll have to trade something for it!”

Moonless was taken aback by this opportunism. The Ghost Lord truly never changed. Resigned, Moonless gritted his teeth and asked, “What do you want?” He would give whatever he had.

The Ghost Lord stroked his chin and looked up at the peach blossom branches draped with red threads. “Little elder, is there any way in this world to make that cold-hearted King of the Underworld fall in love?”

Moonless almost spoke instinctively, “How could there be...” but then fell silent. He needed to know Lan Li’s whereabouts but didn’t want to trouble the old ghost over this. Suddenly, he remembered something stored within his ring.

A flash of red light appeared in Moonless’s hand, and a small, black, unidentifiable object landed on the table. Moonless turned it over and said, “Of course there is.”

Surprise flickered in the Ghost Lord’s eyes as he pointed to the black object. “What is this?”

Moonless had his plan ready. “This is called the Iron Tree, forged from the stones leftover from Nuwa’s mending of the heavens.” He did not lie about the origin, but what followed was fabrication. The stones Nuwa used were indeed sentient, but how could a stone bloom and bear fruit? He guessed the Ghost Lord’s affection was fleeting; if this could avert a fatal calamity, it would be a good deed.

Growing more resolute, Moonless continued, “The stones Nuwa used are naturally spiritual. If you nurture it daily with your essence, day after day, once this Iron Tree blooms, the little King of the Underworld’s love will take root. Your union with him will be within reach.”

Without hesitation, the Ghost Lord carefully cradled the Iron Tree as if it were a treasured heirloom. He laughed heartily. “Moonless, thank you.”

Hearing his own name, Moonless’s heart tightened. He comforted himself that this was for the Ghost Lord’s sake.

Holding the Iron Tree in one hand and a bowl in the other, the Ghost Lord drank deeply. “You wanted to know where Lan Li is, right?”

Moonless nodded, somewhat dazed.

The Ghost Lord shook his head with a sigh. “Actually, you should know better than me. He is exactly where you most hope he would be.”

Saying this, the Ghost Lord set down his bowl, quietly packed up the remaining jars of wine, and left.

Moonless was stunned, unaware of the meaning behind “where you most hope he would be.” A fragment of bitter words he had spoken days ago flashed through his mind. His eyes widened, and he covered his mouth to stifle any sound as tears quietly fell...

That foolish cat!