Sweet Wife in My Arms

She hurried to the small supermarket near their apartment, bought some snacks, and then dashed back into the elevator. It was 8:28pm when she returned to the apartment. Two minutes left.

She patted her chest, relieved to know that she was just in time. She poured herself another glass of water and sat on the sofa in front of the TV.

"It's on, it's on."

Yi Ling quickly stuffed her mouth with snacks. She stared at the TV screen, unwilling to blink and miss even a second of Yan Huan's screen time.

The opening sequence had been rendered in the style of a traditional Chinese ink painting, to a spectacular effect. It was beautiful; the combination of live action and Chinese ink paintings was something that had never been done in Wuxia or Xianxia shows before this.

The male and female leads were naturally the first to appear in the opening sequence. Close-up shots of the characters transitioned into freeze frames, and then into beautiful painted portraits, with the names of the actors and characters underneath.

Liang Chen, as Guan Yuexin.

Liang Chen was already 32 years old, but she was still pretty enough to act as a 16-year-old girl and get away with it. Her cheeks were still full and glowing with youth, and there was an innocent twinkle in her eyes. She was the very picture of a pure, naive girl, a sheet of white paper that had not been tainted in any way.

Yan Boxuan was next. He stood underneath a flying sword, his hands clasped behind his back and a small smile on his lips. The enigmatic smile on his noble face was enough to cast a spell on most of the female viewers.

The music mellowed as the scene transitioned into a pair of exquisite legs gently kicking back and forth in a pool of water. The camera panned upwards to reveal a girl in white robes, one cheek cupped in a hand as she toyed with an origami paper crane. She blew at the paper crane, sending it gliding through the air.

The girl turned to look straight into the camera; she did not smile, but her eyes twinkled as though filled with star dust. At that very moment, the paper crane glid back into view.

Freeze frame; transition into faded ink painting.

Yan Huan, as Qing Yao.

It was the start of the show.

Yan Huan was feeling just the tiniest bit upset. Yi Ling had previously told her that Guan Yuexin's first appearance was in episode 5, which meant that Qing Yao, who appeared in the first episode, would have the advantage of a massive head start in terms of popularity and screen time. In fact, Qing Yao was virtually the female lead for the first four episodes. But the show's investors had found the delayed introduction of the actual heroine to be too unconventional for their tastes, and had asked for the script to be rewritten.

Both Liang Chen and Yan Huan would be making their first appearances in the same episode after the rewrite. But Yan Huan would still be appearing a little earlier than Liang Chen. Her spirits lifted slightly when she remembered this, and she decided to stop being so petty. She had no reason to be upset.

The opening sequence ended, and the screen was now filled with the bright blue of a clear sky. The camera panned downwards to a layer of clouds, and then further downwards to a thick, white fog, which dissipated to reveal a beautiful heavenly palace.

This was Green Mountain, a place teeming with harmonious spiritual energy and life. The earth's natural energy nourished the land and the people living on it.

All of a sudden, a flying sword spiraled upwards to hover above the mountain. A slender girl in white robes was standing calmly on the sword, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. She was exceedingly beautiful, and her beauty was further magnified by her otherworldly aura. Her hair fluttered in the wind; every wayward strand seemed to reach into the hearts of the viewers to hold them captive.

Suddenly, another sword flew towards her. The young girl immediately bent over backwards to evade it, and then performed a full 360 degree loop with her flying sword.

"You're very good, Junior Sister."

A young man dressed in similar white robes walked into view, cradling a sword in his arms. He was not only handsome and elegant, but also easygoing and friendly. His eyes twinkled merrily as a genuine smile spread across his face.

The girl leaped from her flying sword to the ground. She suddenly turned; her proud and noble face was hauntingly beautiful, like the ethereal halo around a bright moon during a cloudy night.

Her long lashes fluttered close. A moment later, she opened her eyes and lifted her hand: the flying sword that had been hovering in mid-air immediately dropped into her waiting grasp. She took a step backward, and then turned abruptly to leave.

The man rubbed his nose awkwardly. He was left with no option but to follow her.

They entered a massive hall. A man with white hair sat in the middle of the stage, surrounded by three incense candles that had been lit. His hair, eyebrows, and beard were white, but it was clear from his face and body that he was not actually as old as the color of his facial hair suggested. He opened his eyes to reveal the profound wisdom in it, the knowledge that had accumulated over the ages.

All the disciples below the stage sat cross-legged as they listened carefully to the teachings of their master:

"The path of the mortal is nebulous and full of uncertainties. The path of the immortal is bright, but overwhelming. The path of the demon is one of unchecked temptation and desire. Mortals should think about how to get through life safely. Immortals should think about how to help others. Demons should think about how to bring an end to their misery. Immortals are always fortunate. Demons are always unfortunate. Noble minds have beautiful hearts. Sing not sorrowful laments; pray instead that mortals stay true to the path of righteousness, and do not destroy the natural balance of the world for the sake of their desires. The nether world is filled with demons who want only to end the lives of mortals. There are those who can summon demons from hell, but punish them only if they have sinned. Look up at the infinite heavens, and see how far we have come on our journey to immortality!"

Everyone else was listening to the lecture with their full, undivided attention. But not the girl in the white robes—she had cupped her cheeks in her hands, and was now gazing into the far distance with dreamy, unfocused eyes. An enigmatic flicker emerged from the depths of her eyes to fill her azure irides.

There was no concept of time, up on the mountain. It took many, many moons to reach immortality, and the days were long and boring. She could not help wondering what the mortal realm her father had mentioned was like. Was it full of life? Death? Riches? Poverty?

She sighed softly. Suddenly, her smile turned into one of loneliness. The camera zoomed in on her, into the reflection in her eyes: beyond the fairy mountain was the hustle and bustle of the mortal realm. And the mortal realm was exactly as she had guessed it to be—full of senseless life and death.

The fairy mountain neighbored on the mortal realm, but there was a clear distinction between the mortal humans who lived below the mountain, and the immortal fairies who lived above them.

Humans were ordinary creatures who worshiped power and money. They were capable of cruel, unspeakable acts.

"Father, Mother, I'm home." A man in shabby, patched clothes walked into a rickety grass hut. He set the bamboo basket he was carrying on the floor; the grass hut was empty, save for a worn down table and several battered chairs.

"Father, Mother…"

The man waited for a reply, but none came. He opened the curtains separating the living room from the inner rooms. The color drained from his face: a middle-aged couple lay on the floor, their limbs already stiff with death.

"Father, Mother…" His lips trembled. He refused to believe what he was seeing. He shuffled forward slowly, uncertainly; when he finally reached his parents, his knees buckled and he knelt heavily before them.

"No…" Suddenly, he lifted his face and began screaming like a wild, mindless animal. His scream pierced the heavens; a short distance away, clouds began to turn an ominous dark gray.

Two coffins. One mourning garment, for the son left behind.

Yan Boxuan had lost both parents at the same time. He realized now that he was all alone. The basket he had brought home that day was filled with wild vegetables he had diligently dug up for his parents—vegetables that had turned yellow and inedible.