Volume One: Youths Meeting in Times of Hardship Chapter Fourteen: The Moon That Year Was Truly Large and Round

The fire consumed everything swiftly, and before long, Li Yu’s grandmother vanished from the world. Li Yu carefully collected her ashes, placing them bit by bit into the container he had prepared in advance and set it in the main hall. Originally, he had hoped that Lu Ming and the others would take the ashes and bury them somewhere where peach blossoms grew, but upon reflection, he decided against it. If his grandmother’s spirit lingered, she would surely prefer to remain in the place she had lived for so many years. Besides, Red Spring Mountain was in such a state now that there was little meaning in finding a burial spot at random.

Shui Linglong and Lie Yankong found a quiet place to meditate and recover. Lu Ming intended to stay by Li Yu’s side, but Li Yu gently refused him. He understood that they would leave tomorrow. They had done everything they could, and there was no need for them to linger any longer.

After tidying up, Li Yu glanced at the sky—dawn would soon break. He didn’t lie down to rest or sit idly; instead, he took out the paper and string he had brought from the town, went outside to gather some sturdy bamboo strips, and began to work skillfully and diligently. Following the steps his grandmother had taught him, Li Yu combined them carefully and precisely into the shapes he desired.

As he worked, memories of the time spent with his grandmother flooded his mind. Those days, before disaster struck, were difficult, but his grandmother’s care made them happy nonetheless.

He remembered last year’s Mid-Autumn Festival, when the moon was large and bright in the sky. His grandmother had used the last bit of white flour to make a modest mooncake, filled with peanuts, almonds, sesame seeds, and sugar. He had tasted mooncakes before, but never celebrated the festival with anyone. The mooncakes he’d eaten were leftovers that others didn’t want.

Those cakes were more exquisite, with rarer fillings, but when he tasted the one his grandmother made especially for him, he felt it was the best mooncake he’d ever eaten. Even the rarest delicacies from before could not compare.

In his eyes, everything his grandmother made was the most delicious in the world—even dishes made from wild vegetables were unmatched in their flavor.

He remembered how his grandmother held him in her arms that day, as he broke off pieces of the mooncake, taking turns with her—one bite for him, one for her.

The two looked up at the bright moon, their faces radiant with happiness and contentment.

Later, Li Yu saw a bright lantern rising into the sky, floating slowly into the night. He asked, “Grandma, what is that flying in the sky?”

She replied, “It’s a sky lantern.”

Li Yu asked, “A sky lantern? What’s it for?”

She explained, “Legend has it that if you write your wishes on a sky lantern, it will carry them up to Heaven.”

Li Yu pondered, “Does it really work?”

His grandmother didn’t answer immediately, instead asking with a smile, “Do you have a wish, Yu?”

Li Yu lowered his head and thought seriously for a moment, then looked up. “I used to wish for a better life, without anyone bullying me. That wish came true, but then I ended up wandering, hungry and thirsty, with nowhere to go. Then I wished to have food and drink, and that led me to you, Grandma. Now I feel very satisfied and happy, but I’m a little scared.”

His grandmother was curious about what such a young child could wish for, but hearing his lengthy response surprised her. She continued, “What are you afraid of?”

Li Yu replied, “I’m afraid that when I gain something, I’ll lose something else. It seems like whenever we make a wish, once it comes true, something else is taken away.”

His grandmother understood. She hadn’t expected Li Yu to think so deeply, but soon realized that nothing was truly strange when it happened to him.

After spending time with Li Yu, she sensed that although he was only three years old, he was exceptionally intelligent—his thoughts and experience far exceeded most people’s.

She never asked about his past, believing that any child so different and so good, yet separated from his family, must have suffered greatly.

After thinking for a while, she stroked Li Yu’s head and said, “You’re not wrong, Yu. Heaven is fair. For everything we have, there’s something we don’t. No one’s life is perfect and without regrets. Life is long, and we can’t know how it will unfold. All we can do is live in the moment and try not to leave regrets behind. Wishes aren’t just hopes—they’re our beautiful expectations for the future. Life is full of hardship; giving ourselves a little sweetness is better than soaking in bitterness every day, don’t you agree?”

Li Yu nodded thoughtfully and asked, “Grandma, do you have any wishes?”

His grandmother held him, gazing blankly for a moment before replying slowly, “I used to have many wishes. I hoped my husband would come back, that my child hadn’t died, that life could be a little easier, with food and less illness, and that when I died, it wouldn’t be painful.”

Then she looked down, smiling at Li Yu with gentle affection. “But after I met you, I didn’t need so many wishes. With you, I am satisfied and happy.”

She continued, “What about you, Yu? Do you feel happy living with Grandma?”

Li Yu nodded vigorously, laughing loudly, “I’m very happy, extremely happy, so very happy!”

Their joy was witnessed only by the moon above, and neither knew then how brief those beautiful, happy days would be.

Later, his grandmother asked, “Yu, do you want to release a sky lantern?”

Li Yu nodded, so she brought out bamboo strips, paper, and lamp oil, and made a sky lantern for him.

Li Yu helped, listening carefully as his grandmother taught him how to make it, memorizing each step. Then she gave him a brush and asked, “Yu, what do you wish for?”

He thought for a while, then said, “I want to be with Grandma for a long, long time.”

His grandmother smiled warmly, told him to write his wish, then lit the lantern. Their sky lantern slowly rose into the air, higher and higher.

In that moment, Li Yu felt truly happy.

He once believed he would spend many years with his grandmother, free from suffering, separation, or death.

But good things rarely last—clouds disperse, glass shatters, dreams slip away.

Those joyful days lasted only two years, vanishing like flowers in a mirror, moon in water.

As Li Yu crafted the lanterns, grief clogged his chest; he wanted to cry, but the tears would not come.

Perhaps it was his intelligence, or perhaps his grandmother’s spirit was guiding him, but his hands grew faster and faster. By the time Lu Ming and the others awoke, Li Yu had made over twenty sky lanterns, each as large as a water bucket.

Lu Ming approached and asked, “You didn’t sleep at all? You spent the night making these?”

Li Yu, eyes red, smiled faintly. “Yes, Grandma and I always loved releasing sky lanterns. She said they represented our hopes and wishes for life.”

Shui Linglong and Lie Yankong, raised in their sects from childhood, had only read about sky lanterns in books—never seen one in real life, nor knew their purpose. Seeing them, they couldn’t help but ask questions.

Li Yu explained patiently, and after hearing his words, Shui Linglong sighed, “So this is how mortals live—bitter yet sweet.”

Lie Yankong agreed, “Indeed. To find joy in hardship, such a mindset surpasses most cultivators.”

Lu Ming said nothing about the lanterns, but addressed Li Yu, “I know losing your grandmother hurts, but you must look forward. Dwelling on the past isn’t what she would want. If her spirit watches over you, she’d wish for you to let go and live well.”

His words were somewhat strange, confusing Shui Linglong and Lie Yankong—they didn’t understand why Lu Ming spoke so severely to Li Yu.

Shui Linglong, feeling both pity and indignation, protested, “Lu Ming, don’t be so harsh. He’s only five, and his only family just passed. It’s natural for him to grieve!”

Lie Yankong, though puzzled, trusted that Lu Ming was not being unreasonable. He considered Li Yu’s actions and words, and suddenly realized the clues they had overlooked—only Lu Ming had noticed.

Li Yu, it turned out, had already resolved to die.

Lu Ming ignored Shui Linglong, keeping his gaze fixed on Li Yu, creating a sense of pressure. Shui Linglong, seeing herself ignored, grew annoyed—not only for herself but for Li Yu, thinking it cruel to treat a grieving five-year-old so harshly.

She was about to speak again when Lie Yankong quickly stopped her, whispering, “Don’t be hasty, Shui Linglong. Lu Ming isn’t doing this without reason. Haven’t you noticed Li Yu has given up on life? Lu Ming’s severity is meant to stir his will to live; otherwise, no matter who takes him away, he won’t last long.”

Shui Linglong, not entirely impulsive, reconsidered. Many of Li Yu’s actions and words seemed to come from not wanting to owe anyone, but from another angle, they were preparations for his own passing.

Yesterday, at his grandmother’s memorial, his words sounded like reluctance to part, but weren’t they more about wanting to follow her?

Yes, everything made sense now.

From the beginning, he had prepared to go with his grandmother.

Li Yu asked Lu Ming, “Lu Ming, you guessed it all along, didn’t you?”

Lu Ming said nothing.

Li Yu continued, “Actually, I knew my grandmother wouldn’t last these two days. When I met you in the town, I was planning to settle all my debts so I could leave with her, free of attachments.”

“But then I met you all. You went to Red Spring Mountain to fight the monster, and I hoped you could defeat it and avenge Grandma. But it was so strong—I don’t blame Heaven, nor you. All I can do now is go with Grandma.”

Lu Ming stepped forward, gripping Li Yu’s shoulders, speaking with frustration, “I know you’re in pain, but have you forgotten your grandmother’s last words? She told you to live well. Is this how you live? Throwing away her last wishes, destroying yourself immediately after her death?”

Li Yu looked into Lu Ming’s eyes, smiling as if freed from attachments. “Only Grandma was good to me in this world. I don’t want to live anymore; it’s too exhausting. I’m five, and only these past two years have been happy—all because of Grandma. Wherever she goes, I’ll follow.”

Unable to hold back, Shui Linglong shouted, “Li Yu, don’t be foolish! When someone dies, everything ends. Only living brings infinite possibilities and new joys.”

Lie Yankong also advised, “Yes, Li Yu, don’t do anything rash. We may not have avenged your grandmother, but don’t you want revenge yourself? Don’t you want to destroy the mountain demon and the phantom demon?”

He knew that rather than persuading someone to live, it was better to give them a reason—even if it was vengeance, it was better than despair.

Shui Linglong quickly added, “That’s right, Li Yu. Though we failed, our sects are strong. If you come with us, whichever one you join, we’ll train you to be a powerful cultivator. You’ll achieve great things, and perhaps you’ll succeed where we failed.”

Lie Yankong echoed, “No matter where you go, we’ll do everything to nurture you.”

Lu Ming agreed, “They’re right. You have great talent for cultivation. With diligence, you’ll one day avenge your grandmother yourself.”

Li Yu looked at the three, giving a bitter, sorrowful smile. “Haven’t you noticed? I actually can’t cultivate.”