Emotional scenes and dramatic writing

If the part I love most in A Record of a Mortal’s Journey to Immortality is the emotional writing between Han Li and Mo Caihuan in “Farewell to Tiannan,”

then it is these lines:

“Big Brother Han, you are always like this. When you meet a question that is hard to answer, you just say nothing.”

“Without a spiritual root, can I really not become an immortal cultivator?”

“Big Brother Han, we will meet again, right?”

P.S. I did not expect someone else to feel exactly as I do. They edited together every one of these scenes, neither more nor less. There is less buildup and only the dialogue, though, so it does not hit as hard as the full version. “Big Brother Han, you are always like this. When you meet a question that is hard to answer, you just say nothing.” Why does the production team have to do this? Are they trying to make me cry?

But thinking about it now, it is even more about the acting through the eyes. The Mortal’s Journey animation differs from Tencent’s many other animations—such as Throne of Seal, Soul Land, Battle Through the Heavens, and Swallowed Star. Whatever their budgets, those series do not put much effort into the eyes. Sword Coming may be an exception. But the eyes in Mortal’s Journey feel very different to me. Every blink, or the exact point at which a character focuses their gaze, often conveys an emotion. What I feel most strongly is a kind of quiet grievance. One glance lasts a lifetime.

Why does Caihuan seem less pretty now?!

In most animated series, characters do not focus their eyes on the camera; they focus on other characters in the frame, usually turned sideways and striking a pose. Perhaps Mortal’s Journey captures faces more directly, so it feels as if the characters’ gaze is focused on the viewer. I think that feeling is rare, and it is one reason I like it. (Not every shot or character works that way—male characters almost never do—but I find the expressiveness in the female characters’ eyes hard to resist.)

And there is Chen Qiaoqian, the Forget-Worry Fairy. Across several meetings and partings, the relationship grows closer through all the secret doses of Forget-Worry pills.

And why can Han Li not stop for anyone, not even for a moment? After all, a mortal lifetime is only an instant to an immortal cultivator. What is a Dao heart? Why pursue the Dao?

Wang Lin’s understanding of the Dao heart in Renegade Immortal differs from Han Li’s. Wang Lin is more often unable to choose his own path: first for his parents, later for revenge, then to revive the woman he loves. Things keep dragging him forward, and there is nothing wrong with that. But I want to know what keeps Han Li moving onward.

The emotional writing for Wang Lin and Li Muwan is also a little thin; it did not shake me the way the ending of “Farewell to Tiannan” in Mortal’s Journey did. Perhaps I am simply getting older.

Yet while watching Renegade Immortal, I really wanted another stretch added to their relationship: when Wang Lin had just reached the Yuntian Sect to recover his cultivation and form his Nascent Soul. Was he not only at the beginning of the Qi Refinement stage then? In the animation, he learns that Li will be forced to become someone else’s dual-cultivation partner in three months. Forced into action, he reveals his identity and forms his Nascent Soul in those three months. Their relationship does not deepen further; it only revisits old dreams. But each time Han Li meets Senior Sister Chen or Mo Caihuan, the relationship actually advances, eventually becoming the kind of regret where a blue dress ruins a lifetime.

If I were adapting or writing it, I would lengthen that period. A Core Formation cultivator has no shortage of time; one or two years are no more than a retreat. Wang Lin’s master was in retreat then, so Wang Lin had no choice but to ask Patriarch Li for guidance. That would make sense. During that time, more could happen; more scenes could show Li Muwan quietly grieving from longing, and sensing that Wang Lin feels familiar. A little more buildup, a little more feeling, and then the reveal: that is the drama I wanted.

Wang Lin and Patriarch Li do not have enough emotional scenes. It is a sore point. Just think: what good material. Yang Guo and Little Dragon Girl had so much to work with, and these two are separated by a generation of kinship.

What a pity—one nearly recognized the other, while the other refused to take the initiative. Wang Lin would not even ask for help with alchemy.

Living as a mortal

But each story has its strengths.

A Record of a Mortal’s Journey to Immortality does better at emotional dramatic writing and irretrievable regret; Renegade Immortal does better at the realization gained by living as a mortal.

I remember that before Han Li went into retreat to form his Core, he once lived as an ordinary person, refining artifacts and drawing talismans for an entire lifetime. I have not had time to revisit it, so I may be missing or misremembering details.

In Renegade Immortal, before reaching the Spirit Transformation stage, Wang Lin becomes an ordinary young carpenter. He carves demon beasts, great cultivators, family, and friends, and lives out a whole life.

Both of them choose to hide in the marketplace. I am not sure whether I am using that phrase correctly.

From the people they meet, I remember Han Li encountering a Go player. The Go player’s story goes like this:

The Go player was exceptionally gifted from a young age; no peer or acquaintance could match his skill.

Then one day, an immortal passed by and found him. They made a wager: if the Go player could win one game against the immortal within three days, the immortal would teach him immortal arts and lead him into the immortal sect.

I have forgotten how that story ends. By the time the Go player faced Han Li, his hair was already white. I do not remember whether he had cultivation, but one line—“life is like Go; once a move is played, there is no regret”—left a deep impression on me. It also reflects Han Li’s choice. He chooses to pursue the Dao wholeheartedly, but can he truly have no regrets? Even if he has no family left and every beauty becomes dry bones? Even if no one ultimately reaches the so-called Great Dao of eternal life, can he still not regret the choice he made?

The Go player’s final answer was: winning and losing do not matter; once a move is played, there is no regret. He said it with great certainty, and it gave me the feeling that Han Li has the same attitude.

Mortal’s Journey expresses its mortal-life realization through the Go player’s experience. It is brief, powerful, and certain. Spring comes and autumn goes, but the answer does not change. It is only a sorting out and adjustment of the heart.

Wang Lin in Renegade Immortal, on the other hand, has far more mortal feeling than Han Li. If he could return to Wang Village and live with his parents, even if it meant giving up the Great Dao of eternal life, I do not think he would hesitate in the slightest. He feels deeply, honors loyalty and righteousness, and gives himself wholly to feeling—that is probably Wang Lin. He never seeks immortality or the immortal path for its own sake. He only wants to protect his people and his family. That is his Dao heart.

So the mortal-life writing in Renegade Immortal feels more like real everyday life. Across from him is the blacksmith’s family; he watches a child grow up and eventually become a father, and watches the original blacksmith slowly grow old and finally lie in a coffin.

Wang Lin’s Dao lies in a pot of homemade fruit wine every day (or perhaps some other wine?), in the Mid-Autumn Festival, Lantern Festival, Lunar New Year’s Eve, and Dragon Boat Festival that return each year. It lies in the care of others, and in finding the warmth of home in the blacksmith’s family.

But it also lies in everything passing away. So his Great Dao is both the extreme of life and the extreme of death: life and death transform into one another, while he remains. That is his Dao.

Overall, I prefer Renegade Immortal’s portrayal of living as a mortal, because that is my own temperament too. If I were ever to find a Great Dao of my own, it would probably come this way.

But compared with Wang Lin, I cannot even live as long as a Nascent Soul cultivator in the first place.