In a haze, I felt a frigid dampness creep from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head, seeping inch by inch into the depths of my marrow. Even within the dream, I could not stop shivering from the bone-chilling cold.
Unconsciously, I wrapped my arms tightly around myself and forced my eyes open. Outside the grotto, a white curtain of rain still fell, as if the world had been a swirl of chaos since the dawn of time, never once ceasing.
The grotto was too small to offer true shelter. Even curled up, my legs were soaked by the rain, yet I lacked the strength to even shift my position. I lightly licked my lips; the parched, cracked skin seemed unable to bear even that gentle touch, erupting in a searing, stinging pain.
That searing heat radiated from my internal organs. I couldn't help but reach out to cup a handful of rainwater and bring it to my mouth. The icy sensation slid down my throat, but it did nothing to extinguish the fire burning within me; instead, it triggered needle-like tremors from deep inside my body.
For a moment, I felt cold to the bone.
Under the shroud of dense, dark clouds, it was impossible to tell the hour. It was likely past noon; by my count, I had been huddled in this cramped crevice for nearly an hour. I knew I had to leave immediately and continue retreating into the depths of the dense forest. If I could just cross this mountain, perhaps I would find those coming to meet me...
Struggling to sit up, waves of intense vertigo assailed me. I quickly reached out to steady myself against a nearby tree trunk. The icy rain lashed down upon me, and my vision blurred until I could see nothing. Yet, the instinct born of years spent in peril suddenly sparked a flicker of alertness in my heart. Using both hands and feet, I squeezed into a narrow fissure at the back of the grotto.
Above me, several tall ferns unfurled their feathery fronds, swaying gracefully in the rain. Though their tender branches could not stop the rain from dripping onto me, they were enough to shield me from any gaze directed upward from below. Before the dizziness could strike again, I pulled a cluster of dense ferns toward me, carefully concealing the entrance to the stone fissure.
Aside from the sound of rain, there was only more rain. After an unknown amount of time, I began to distinguish other sounds mixed within—though faint, they were impossible to ignore. It was the sound of something living approaching.
I crouched in the narrow gap, my burning cheek pressed against the cold, damp rock. I wanted to reach out and rub my throbbing temples, but I gritted my teeth and endured the waves of pain expanding through my brain. As my body temperature continued to rise, I could clearly feel my strength ebbing away minute by minute. If I had medicine—if only I could find the right herbs—perhaps the infection in my wounds could still be controlled...
From very close by came the sound of tumbling rocks, followed by a man’s cry of pain. My heart constricted. Before my eyes were layers of green foliage and a white curtain of rain; I still could see nothing. However, a strange voice grumbled nearby about the difficulty of the mountain path. Behind him, I heard the faint sound of many footsteps and voices intentionally kept low.
Someone began to mock the unlucky soul who had twisted his ankle. Others began to speculate on the route the "rebel leader" might have taken to escape. Then, a black scabbard casually brushed past the ferns I was using to hide the gap. The dense leaves swayed violently, only returning to stillness along with my racing heart.
I gripped the hilt of my blade. The hilt, which usually felt so right in my hand, now felt weak and inadequate. I couldn't help but sigh deeply in my heart. When had this lethal weapon been reduced to nothing more than a climbing staff?
The hand gripping the blade tensed, only to slowly relax against my will. Before the voices outside had even faded into the distance, I had already leaned against the stone wall and fallen into a deep sleep.
In my stupor, I felt alternating waves of heat and cold.
Suddenly, a shrill cry pierced the air near my ear, making me shudder involuntarily. I didn't know how long I had been unconscious, but the world around me was now filled with boundless silence and darkness. The rain had stopped at some point, and the air was thick with patches of damp, cold mist. Like ghosts haunting the night, they drifted silently through the heavy darkness.
I jumped up by reflex, reaching out instantly to feel for the Xuanwu Blade.
It was still there. I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. I pushed aside the ferns over my head and struggled out of the stone fissure. My fever hadn't broken, but perhaps because of the short nap, my mind was much clearer. The dizziness wasn't as intense, save for the rhythmic, throbbing ache in my head.
From the moment the shockwave from the Mountain God Temple explosion threw me down an unnamed cliff until tonight, two full days and nights had passed. There was no way to tell directions in the dense forest; I could only instinctively climb toward higher ground. I wondered how Feng Pu and the others were doing.
"...I know the terrain here like the back of my hand..." Those were the words he said before he left. I hoped that this time, he wasn't just boasting.
A faint, hazy light began to bleed through the darkness.
Mist swirled in the forest, and the cries of birds echoed from near and far. The morning breeze carried the unique freshness of a mountain forest after the rain. If I weren't a fugitive with an empty stomach, if my clothes weren't soaked and clinging to my wounds, and if I weren't shivering uncontrollably—the world before me would have been a perfect picture.
It was actually a sunny day. The temperature in the forest seemed to be rising slowly.
Something behind me made a rustling, flapping sound. I took a deep breath, gripped my blade hilt, and struck out.
A hoarse cry came from the grass, followed by the frantic flapping of wings. Parting the grass, I saw a colorful wild pheasant.
I gripped the pheasant's twitching wings and legs, forcing myself to drink every drop of the hot, metallic blood.
The irony taste spreading in my mouth stirred a distant memory, making me think of the very beginning when I first arrived in this world—the round-eyed little boy I saw when I first opened my eyes. I had been wandering in a desolate, uninhabited forest then as well, but the stars had shifted and the world had turned; everything was different now...
If I opened my eyes and saw Hu Zi’s round eyes, would I still have the courage to let all of this happen again?
I shook my head, casting all such absurd thoughts from my mind.
Perhaps because the pheasant's blood provided me with enough energy, I managed to climb all the way to a protruding rock at the highest point of my vision before stopping to rest. When I turned around, I was instantly turned to stone.
From here, I could see the fields in the far, far distance...
Golden fields. They seemed to spread wantonly from behind the treetops to the very edge of the horizon. Shades of yellow, carrying a proud sense of abundance, revealed themselves so suddenly before my eyes. For a moment, it nearly forced tears from me.
Something surged in my chest that I couldn't identify—like a searing gas, or like surging hot blood—expanding constantly within my heart as if it were about to burst from my body. Even my frame began to tremble uncontrollably.
I knew that the scenery before me was like a perfect seal, branded deep into my soul. For the rest of my life, I would never forget it.
In the end... I still have to leave...
Because of the brief loss of consciousness after the temple explosion, I had completely veered off my planned route.
As the sunlight vanished, my mind became increasingly heavy. Strange images began to leap before my eyes in fragments. One moment, I saw myself wandering the bustling streets of Zhongjing, surrounded by elegant figures and throngs of people; the next, I was in the middle of the vast sea of flowers in the Valley of Ten Thousand Poisons, where the blossoms were as bright as brocade under the fierce sun, their fragrance mingling with the scent of herbs, intoxicatingly thick...
...
The pitch-black curtain of night descended, and the mountain wind grew biting. The sound of wind through the pines surged in my ears, interspersed with the cold, sharp cries of night birds, as if they were unwilling to accept their fate of only appearing in the dark, yet lacked the strength to struggle...
The clothes on my body seemed to have lost all moisture, becoming as stiff as dry wooden boards. They rubbed against the wounds on my body, but the sensation of pain was gone...
...
...The bright grasslands were like a piece of green silk suddenly unfurled toward the sun, boundless. *Love You Ten Thousand Years* swept past my eyes like a gust of wind, followed by the slightly smaller *Little White Dragon*. The two steeds chased each other, galloping together up a distant grassy slope...
...
The thick darkness dispersed, once again revealing the pale light of dawn. Everything in the mountain forest had come back to life, showing vibrant vitality.
A gray rabbit hopped past me, glancing at me suspiciously with its head tilted. I wanted to catch it, with my blade or a stone... but it only hopped playfully, its pom-pom tail bobbing as it disappeared nimbly into the thick grass...
Faint human voices came from the distance. I struggled to my feet. In the thin morning light, a distant cliff was faintly visible. That seemed like a good place to make a stand...
...
I saw the back garden of the Ji Manor again. Min Zhi and I were holding iron shovels, planting a Pink Bell tree. It must have been spring, and we were both dressed as children. Min Zhi’s handsome brows were furrowed; his small face was flushed red, though whether from the heat or the exertion, I couldn't tell. Behind him stood Wu Xiu, her hair in twin buns. She watched our busy work quietly, a peaceful smile hanging on her sweet face...
...
Someone was approaching me cautiously. I swung my blade, but it only caused a blurred commotion. Someone shouted loudly in my ear, but I couldn't understand a single word. Darkness surged again, quietly sweeping away all my consciousness.
In the state between waking and sleeping, I felt as though I were in a small room. Looking around, I saw cold, blue-gray stone walls, with only a dim oil lamp burning on a small windowsill. The scene felt both illusory and real, but it flashed by in an instant, and I fell back into an endless slumber.
However, deep within my consciousness, a frustrating realization surfaced: I seemed to have been thrown into a dungeon.
When the fourth physician finally fled my cell, letting out a shriek like a stuck pig, a familiar figure finally appeared behind the bars that were as thick as a man's arm.
Silver armor, silver helmet. A red scarf tucked around the neck. The attire was so familiar, but the person hidden within the armor radiated a completely different kind of cold severity.
I leaned back against the straw mat and simply closed my eyes. Because I had chased the physicians out, several of the bandaged wounds on my body had torn open again. Heavy iron shackles bound my hands and feet; though they didn't hurt, they were very uncomfortable. I couldn't help but frown.
A long, low sigh echoed in my ears. "Why must you be like this?"
My eyelids twitched uncontrollably. I almost opened my eyes to see what kind of expression he wore. But I forced myself to endure, merely turning my cheek to the side.
"Why suffer so? They are all famous physicians from Bingzhou," Ming Shao’s voice was as clear as ever, but it carried a faint, heavy gloom. "You know your own injuries. How long can you hold out without treatment?"
In the end, I couldn't hold back. I opened my eyes and looked directly at the clear, cold eyes outside the bars. "How can my wounds be healed by a mere physician?"
Ming Shao lowered his gaze. A sliver of light from the small skylight fell upon his eyes, his thick lashes casting two blurred, smoky shadows on his cheeks.
Dust motes tumbled silently up and down within the beam of light. For a quiet moment, it reminded me of snowflakes falling soundlessly in winter...
"I will find another physician." His voice sounded with a low sense of exhaustion, yet he spoke each word clearly, striking them into my heart. "Do not think of seeking death—the news of your imprisonment in the Bingzhou dungeon has already been released. I imagine your comrades are already on their way."
I bolted upright on the straw mat. My temples throbbed violently, and my hands gripped the iron chains beside me. I gripped them so hard they nearly pierced into my palms.
Ming Shao’s eyes merely flickered with a somber light as he gazed at me silently.
I slowly lay back down on the straw and closed my eyes again. Would they come? How would they come? How could I stop them from coming? Heavens, if those fellows are truly so disobedient, I swear I will...
I will... do what to them?
I missed them. I missed every single one of them. But I absolutely did not want to see them here...
I could feel that he hadn't left. That heavy sense of presence remained within my perception. He was so clearly familiar, yet it felt as if we were separated by past and present lives, so distant that I couldn't grasp even a trace of him...
He was sighing again. I never knew he loved to sigh so much. I only knew he must have more questions to ask.
As expected...
"Please tell me... tell me... where did you put the child..." He spoke urgently, yet stopped hesitantly. Like a child who hasn't grown up, knowing full well he cannot have something, yet unable to resist the temptation to ask. Such a naive display made me unable to endure any longer, and I let out a laugh.
"I had two children," my laughter was buried beneath the bitterness of my words. "They were twin brothers. They looked exactly the same, even the way they pursed their lips..."
"Xi Xia!" Ming Shao interrupted me sharply. "You cannot protect him now..."
"Can you?" I opened my eyes and asked him back with a quiet, mocking smile. "Little Prince, do you truly believe you can?!"
Ming Shao’s hands gripped the bars, his face turning as white as paper in an instant.
Every expression this man showed me now was entirely foreign. This sense of strangeness made me turn cold from the bottom of my heart, bit by bit.
"If life were only as the first meeting, why would the autumn wind grieve for the painted fan? So easily do the hearts of old friends change, yet they claim it is the heart that is fickle..." I smiled indifferently, a deep mockery rising from my soul.
"Ming Shao, tell me, is it you who changed? Is it I? Or..."
Or... was that bright first encounter wrong from the very beginning?
***
