Han Zhong kept his word.
He built a small, rough hut beside Zi Yu's tomb with simple wood and dry straw. It was not comfortable, but it was enough for him. Every morning, he knelt in front of the cold tombstone and talked to her softly, telling her about the sunrise, the breeze, and the small things around him. Every night, he sat quietly by the tomb, waiting patiently for her to appear when the moon rose high.
At first, the nearby villagers whispered and stared. They thought he had gone mad, wasting his whole life waiting for a dead princess. Some even crossed the road to avoid him, worried that the ghostly love between them would bring bad luck to their families.
But Han Zhong paid no attention to any of them.
He only cared about Zi Yu.
When the moonlight covered the tomb like a thin silver blanket, Zi Yu would step out slowly from the shadow of the stone. Her figure was pale and soft, her long black hair flowing gently, and her voice was as quiet as wind passing through bamboo leaves. They would sit side by side on the grass, chatting about their old secret meetings, the sweet memories they shared, and the happy life they had once dreamed of living together.
One quiet night, Zi Yu looked up at the round moon, her eyes filled with gentle sorrow.
"You are wasting your best years here," she said in a soft, low voice. "You can still marry a living girl, start a family, and live a normal, happy life. You don't have to stay with a ghost forever."
Han Zhong held her cool, ghostly hand tightly, his eyes firm and full of love.
"This is where I want to be," he said seriously. "I am already happy just being with you. You are my whole world, Zi Yu. I have nothing without you."
A sad but warm smile spread across her face.
"You are too loyal to me," she whispered. "I am just a ghost, not worthy of such deep love."
He shook his head gently and leaned closer, his forehead touching hers softly.
"You are not just a ghost," he said softly. "You are my princess, my only love, my everything."
As years went by, the villagers stopped whispering and fearing. They saw Han Zhong's unwavering devotion, his quiet and kind heart, and how he never left Zi Yu's side for a single day. Gradually, they started leaving small gifts for him by the hut: a bowl of warm rice, a bundle of fresh herbs, or a jar of mild wine. They no longer called him a madman—they called him a faithful and loyal man.
Zi Yu watched Han Zhong grow older day by day. A little gray hair appeared at his temples, and his hands became rough from doing daily chores. A deep, aching guilt filled her ghostly heart. She felt that she was trapping him in a lonely, half-lived life, stopping him from having a real, bright future.
One night, she pulled her hand away gently, her eyes shiny with silent, ghostly tears.
"I can't let you go on like this," she said, her voice trembling a little. "I will leave for the underworld. You will be free to live your own life again, forget me, and find happiness."
Han Zhong's face turned pale at once. He held her hand tightly again, his voice full of panic and desperation.
"No! Don't leave me! I don't want any freedom if you're not here! I only want you, nothing else!"
Zi Yu looked at him, her heart breaking with love and sadness. She had promised to stay with him, but she could not bear to watch him sacrifice his whole life for her.
"Then I will make a new vow to you," she said, her voice becoming steady and firm again. "When your time on earth comes to an end, I will wait for you in the underworld. We will be together in our next life, and every life after that. Death will never separate us again."
Han Zhong stared at her, his eyes filled with endless love and new hope.
"Promise?" he whispered softly.
"I promise," she said, pressing her cool, soft lips to his forehead gently. "A vow that goes beyond death. A love that lasts beyond time."
The moon hung low in the dark sky, casting a quiet silver light over the old tomb and the small hut. Han Zhong held Zi Yu close in his arms, knowing deeply that their love was never bound by life or death.
It was eternal.