The Jade Emperor stood, his emotions uncontrollable.
He ruled heaven. He was heaven himself. He was the one who judged the judges. He was supposed to see everything. But he had not seen this coming.
His face, which had not changed for a million years, was now full of rage and a hint of fear. The light in the hall dimmed. The ministers felt it. The Heavenly Censor felt it. Something had shifted. Something was wrong.
The Jade Emperor looked at the document again. The grandfather. The parents. The grandson. Three bodies in one grave. No rites. No tablet. No one to call the souls home.
For the second time, he said: "Damn. We are doomed. Heaven is doomed. We are going to die if this thing is not arranged properly."
Finally, he sat down slowly. His fingers pressed into the armrest of his throne. The jade did not crack. It never cracked. But for a moment, it almost did.
Then the Jade Emperor spoke. His voice was not the voice he used for court. It was the voice of heaven itself when heaven is angry.
"THE CURSE GRAVE."
The words fell like stones. The ministers did not move. The Heavenly Censor did not breathe.
The curse grave.
There was no official name for it in the texts. It was the grave where the rites were not performed. Where the tablet was never made. Where the souls could not ascend, could not descend, could not rest. The grave that should have been a passage became a prison. The souls that should have moved on became trapped. Bound together. By blood. By death. By the absence of ceremony.
A wound that was never closed. A debt that was never paid.
In the old stories, such graves did not stay quiet. The souls inside them did not accept their fate. They asked. They demanded. They cried out. They cried out for years. For decades. For centuries. Until something answered. Until something broke. Until the souls became something else. Something that could not be ignored.
The Jade Emperor had heard of such graves. He had read about them in the ancient tales before he ascended.
He had never seen one.
He was the Jade Emperor. He was supposed to see everything.
But he had not seen this coming.
He set the document down. He looked at the Heavenly Censor. He said: The black flag. Give it to them. Let them return. Let them have revenge. Let the curse grave be appeased.
The Heavenly Censor said: The Fifth Court handles the black flag. The Fifth Court is empty. The king is—
The Jade Emperor raised his hand.
The Heavenly Censor stopped speaking.
The Jade Emperor said: I know where the king is. I know what he has become. He is experiencing the mortal life as his final tribulation. Hopefully he can cross it.
He paused.
He said: Grant the flag. In my name.
He paused again. He looked at the document. The grandfather. The parents.
He said: Summon the old man and his son and his daughter-in-law.
The order was written. The seal was placed. The black flag was granted.
---
The souls were summoned.
The man and the woman came first. They had been waiting. They had been asking. No one had answered. Now someone had come for them. A messenger. Silent. Dressed in white. He did not speak. He only gestured: Follow.
They followed.
Behind them, an old man walked. His leg was still broken. He leaned on nothing. There was nothing to lean on. He walked anyway. His hands were empty. His face was pale. His eyes were the eyes of a man who had given everything and had nothing left to give.
They walked through a path that was not a path. There was no ground beneath their feet. There was no sky above their heads. There was only light. Thin. Pale. Coming from somewhere they could not see.
They walked for what felt like hours. Or days. Or nothing at all. Time did not move here the way it moved in the world. The woman held the man's hand. He held hers. They did not let go. The old man walked behind them.
He said slowly: "Son, is that you?"
The pair of husband and wife looked back. The husband said: "Father, what happened? Why are you here? Are you dead too?"
The wife said: "Father, what about Wen De?"
The messenger said: "Don't talk. Keep moving. We almost arrive."
At the far end of the hall, a figure sat on a throne.
The woman's hand tightened on the man's hand. The man's hand tightened on hers. The old man walked to the front and leaned on his son's arm.
The figure on the throne spoke. His voice was not loud. It did not need to be loud.
He said: I am the Jade Emperor. By some unforeseen hand, you three have become the most dreadful thing in this universe. There is no one who can help you. Solve it yourselves.
He raised his hand. A black flag appeared. It was dark. It was light. It was both. It was neither.
He said: This black flag. I grant it to you three. Use this to avenge yourselves. Remember: you three only have forty-nine days.
The woman felt something. Hope. She could go back. She could find her son.
"Send them away," the Jade Emperor said.
The words fell like stones. The ministers did not move. The Heavenly Censor did not breathe. The three souls stood before the throne. They had been summoned. They had been given the black flag. They had been told to solve the curse grave themselves. Now they were being sent away.
The messenger appeared. Silent. Dressed in white. He did not speak. He only gestured. Follow.
They followed.
The woman held the man's hand. The man held hers. The grandfather walked beside his son and leaned on him.
They walked through and stepped out of the hall. Behind them,The door closed slowly
The scenery change. All three of them, arrived in front of a tomb. And they suddenly realised this is their own tomb.
The three of them looked at each other's.
Then the grandfather speaks. He says: Let's find Wen De first.
The daughter in law looks at him. She says: How?
Her husband looks at the flag. He says: This is supposed to help us. But we dont even know how to use it.
The grandfather does not answer. He kneels at the grave. He places his hand on the earth. He listens. The blood calls. It is far and deep.
He says: He is there. I can feel him. But I cannot reach him.
The daughter in law holds the flag. It is dark. It is light. It is both. It is neither. She does not know what it is. She does not know what it does.
She says: The Jade Emperor said this would help us. He said we could have revenge. He said we could return. But we are here. At our own grave. And Wen De is not here.
The man takes the flag. He looks at it. He doesnt know what to do with it
He says: Maybe it does not work here. Maybe we need to go where he is.
The woman says: Where is he?
The grandfather says: let me think
The woman says: what should we do?
The grandfather says: let me think first
They stand in silence. The grave is quiet.
They have the flag. They dont even know how to use it.
The grandfather sitll knelt
He opened his eyes. He looked at the flag in his daughter-in-law's hand. He did not know what it was. He did not know what it did. But he knew what he had done. On the floor of his house. With a knife. With his wrist. With his blood flowing into his grandson's mouth. That had worked. That had kept the boy alive. That was the only thing that had ever worked.
He stood.
His leg was broken. It did not hold him. He held himself. He had been holding himself for a very long time.
He took the flag from his daughter-in-law's hand. She did not resist. She did not ask. She only watched.
He walked to the grave. The mound of earth. The place where his body was buried. Where his son's body was buried. Where his daughter-in-law's body was buried. Three bodies. One grave. Nine souls trapped inside.
He raised the flag. It was dark. It was light. It was both. It was neither. He did not know what it was. He did not know what it did. But he knew what he had done. He knew what worked.
He drove the flag into the earth.
The flag pierced the ground. It went deep. Deeper than a flag should go. Deeper than the grave. Deeper than the bodies. It stood upright. It did not move. It did not fall. It waited.
The grandfather looked around. His eyes searched the ground. The grave was bare. No grass. No flowers. Only earth. Dark earth. Old earth. He found a stone. Broken. Sharp. A piece of the grave. A piece of the earth that had swallowed them.
He picked it up.
He held it in his hand. The stone was cold. It was sharp. It was the edge of something that had been broken a long time ago.
He looked at his wrist. The same wrist. The same place. On the floor of his house, he had held his wrist to his grandson's mouth. He had slit it with a knife. His blood had flowed. His grandson had drunk. His grandson had lived.
He said: My blood kept him alive once. It will find him again.
He drew the stone across his wrist.