Celestial Margin

Yulin rushed through the halls of the Margin, annoyed by the sudden change. He had started watching the lower reality as soon as he realized the first soul had been reborn, but he had not expected him to manifest his mark so early this time. It wasn’t the earliest it had manifested, there was the time he was born with it, but Yulin hoped he would have more time to think about descending. 

Although, just like Yuhe predicted, he had already known he would. 

“Xuangui,” Yulin didn’t bother to announce himself as he stepped in the Remembering Shell’s domain. Xuangui was sitting on the edge of his couch, positioned as if he had simply been waiting for Yulin to arrive. “The mark–”

“Manifested early.” Xuangui finished, his eyes still half-closed as they always were. “Did you notice the Shengluo boy? His mark is about to manifest too. Maybe it influenced the soul.”

“Will hers manifest young as well?” Yulin wondered aloud, his desperation fading as quickly as it had come. The second soul had also been born, but the two had not met yet. “No, she is only three at the moment. She is far too young.”

“Perhaps. Qi is so interesting in your world, Yulin.” Xuangui let out a soft sound of laughter, but it sounded more like a breath moving through still water than anything resembling joy. “It does not breathe as freely as it did in mine, but it moves with such purpose I find enviable.”

Yulin paced the length of the chamber, each step crisp against the polished floor of the Remembering Shell’s domain. The walls around them shimmered with the slow pulse of memory, a reminder of what Xuangui valued. Lives, not concepts. People, not ideas. As quickly as his curiosity had come, it faded, and Yulin found himself focused on the newest development. 

“Qi marks those who can handle it, and his soul was always strong. I do agree the Shengluo’s boy awakening might have triggered his early.” Yulin answered, his pacing stopping as soon as it started. “We’ll have to wait. We can only manifest in water.”

“The lake would–”

“No, that place is special to him, somewhere neutral would be better,” Yulin interrupted, finally sitting beside Xuangui. The immortal next to him merely laughed and Yulin closed his eyes, his emotions settling completely. 

“I will never understand how Yuhe puts up with you. Your state of being changes faster than even I can follow.”

“She is used to me, and she chose me first.” Yulin huffed, but his annoyance passed almost instantly. It had been strange when he first arrived to the Margin, but he soon adjusted to the way his emotions passed through him. He was never able to commit to a single way of acting or emotion, and due to this new state, he was also able to quickly accept it. It was only through meditation that he could hold onto anything, and that was emptiness.

Xuangui shrugged, waving his hand over the pool next to him. “That soul seems quickly troubled by his marks manifesting this time.”

“He just learned about them. His parent this time is far removed from the Taiheng clan.” Yulin shrugged, remembering his daughter who had been its first leader. Jie reminded Yulin of her. “Those parents are always the best. It takes longer for his blood to be revealed when the parent truly embodies the risks.”

“True, and this mother is far better than the last he had fourteen reincarnation ago.” Xuangui agreed and Yulin leaned to glance into the pool. The boy, Yao was his name this time, was laughing with his friend, but his worry was obvious. Even at such a young age, even if his soul could not remember, he was never a child anymore. He never could be. “What number is this?”

“Three hundred and fifty-six.” Yulin answered, a weariness filling him. Too many times for a debt his descendants should have never built. “His mother’s garden has a pool.”

“Yes.”

“What fish are in it?”

“I’m not sure,” Xuangui admitted, closing his eyes completely as Yulin stood again. “My world had no such fish.”

“Describe it.”

Xuangui’s hand hovered over the surface of the memory bowl, its water flattening at once, reflecting no image but the pale shimmer of the chamber’s light. Silence gathered in the space between them, measured not by time but by the absence of any breath or thought worth disturbing. Yulin waited, not with patience, but with the practiced stillness that held no commitment to patience either. He was not eager to be a fish again. 

“A creature that moves like ink through silk,” Xuangui finally said, his voice softer than still water under snow. “It swims in a graceful way that makes it glide. Each motion is like a calligraphy stroke that never ends.”

Yulin tilted his head, considering. “Color?”

“Red… no. Red when seen in light, black when in shadow. Its scales are so fine they reflect nothing until it wishes to be seen. A temperamental creature. It does not like disturbance.”

“Ah.” Yulin’s gaze dropped into the now-still bowl, though he no longer saw Yao or the garden. His thoughts had left the boy behind, if only briefly and the distaste made his stomach churn. “A carp.”

“What a strange name,” Xuangui reopened his eyes to their usual half open state, and Yulin pouted. 

“A perfectly fine name for a perfectly fine creature,” Yulin insisted, resuming his pacing. “I have never taken the form of a carp and I barely remember what they look like.”

“Shall we ask Luming to paint one for you?”

“If he is willing, yes. It would help to restore my memory.” Yulin agreed, noticing as Xuangui finally stood. “Now?”

“Might as well. We need to be ready once he approaches the pool alone.” The immortal’s movements were slow and silent, but it only took him moments to be walking out of his realm at Yulin’s side. “Time passes far too quickly in the lower realms for us to wait too long.”

“Indeed,” Yulin agreed, his voice softening as they moved together through the flowing halls of the Celestial Margin. He said nothing more as they walked, his thoughts arriving and leaving as they walked. He had hoped the soul would not manifest its mark until he was a teenager, but as Xuangui had elegantly put it, qi in his world moved with purpose. It had marked him first, and then each of his children with their own unique expression. If only he hadn’t ascended when he did, he would have liked to understand the nature of qi better.

But that time had passed and his regret flowed away from him as they passed beneath an arch of flowering stone. They soon entered into a peaceful forest, and Yulin allowed Xuangui to take the lead. He was awful at finding Luming, as he was too easily distracted by the threads of the Deep Grove’s domain.

Luming was already painting when they entered, his hands moving not with haste, but with a deliberate kind of grace. “You are early.”

“The mark manifested early,” Xuangui answered softly and Luming merely nodded. Like Yuhe, he was soft spoken and perceptive, but he was far more active than she was. Whereas she preferred to observe, he liked to start ripples that would pay off years later. 

“I see. So what is it I need to paint?”

“A carp.” Yulin answered, watching as Luming smiled brightly. 

“Ah, so your world has them too. I loved carp in mine. Luminous. Graceful. Smart and powerful fish, always striving, enduring.” Luming spoke with a soft and loving tone, and Yulin felt a similar feeling pass through him as the immortal spoke. Luming’s words stirred at a memory, but Yulin couldn’t hold onto it as it faded away. “I will paint you a luminous carp to show to your soul, Yulin.”

“Thank you,” Yulin bowed, feeling antsy to return to his own realm to see what the soul was up to. Luming would bring the painting to him, just as he always did. “I await your artistry as always.”

“Likewise, Yulin.” With that, Yulin quickly turned and left, not walking to the edge before he left the domain. It only took him a moment to return to his own watery halls, and he quickly slipped into one of the largest pools. 

As soon as he did, he could see the soul again. Yao, right, that was the name this time, was saying goodbye to his friend and Yulin was pleased to see not too much time had passed. It was so hard to tell in the Margin, where decades could pass if one blinked without thinking. He knew Xuangui would also keep watch while they waited for the painting, as their intervention had to be perfectly timed. He did not want to descend, but if he was going to, it would be in his own way this time.

The debt had to be paid, and Yulin hoped it could be dealt with once and for all.