Xie Lian was silent for a long time before he mumbled, “Why…have I suddenly forgotten everything that happened over the last eight hundred years?”
“It was my fault,” San Lang replied. “Two evenings ago, you suddenly received a prayer in the middle of the night. You left in such a hurry that I hadn’t had a chance to restore your spiritual power, nor warn you that your memories would be devoured if that monster bit you.”
“That’s not your fault at all. I was the one who screwed up,” Xie Lian said.
“Your Highness will never be a screw-up,” San Lang said.
Xie Lian gave an arduous smile before saying dejectedly, “Then, San Lang, how did I…let the Kingdom of Xianle be destroyed?”
He so clearly loved his people—he once even had the lofty ambition of making Xianle last for another thousand years.
San Lang hugged him tighter and said firmly, “It isn’t your fault.”
“How did I fail? How did I become this way?” Xie Lian mumbled.
Who didn’t want to undertake a grand enterprise that would shake the world and leave their mark on history? Maybe not one in a million could accomplish such a feat, but Xie Lian had always firmly believed he’d be that one. Perhaps that was why San Lang hadn’t allowed him to realize that he was eight hundred years in the future.
“You didn’t fail,” San Lang repeated.
Xie Lian shook his head. “But I don’t have any devotees anymore.”
“You do.”
Just the thought of it made Xie Lian sad. “I’m the Scrap Immortal, a collector of trash. I have no devotees, and no one takes me for a god. Who would respect a god who collects scraps?”
It was completely different from the vision he’d once had.
“Didn’t I tell you? You have one devotee,” San Lang insisted.
When Xie Lian looked up, San Lang smiled at him. “Your Highness, I told you that you would be able to meet Hua Cheng soon. And now, you’ve met him.”
“…”
Xie Lian gazed at his face, scrutinizing him, then asked with a trace of bemusement in his voice, “San Lang, you… When did you first meet me?”
“A long, long time ago, before your ascension,” Hua Cheng answered.
Xie Lian blinked slowly.
“Your Highness, perhaps the you of right now considers the you of eight hundred years later a failure. Maybe you’re disappointed and can’t accept it,” Hua Cheng said. “But please believe me when I say that’s not true.”
His bright left eye gazed at Xie Lian, and the light there was just as soft as his voice.
“You saved me. I’ve always watched you.
“There are countless people who have seen more success than you, but none of them saved me the way you did, and none of them could possibly accomplish all that you have.
“You have no idea how much courage you’ve given me, or how you allowed me to become who I am today.
“In my heart, you are the only god.”
“And you will forever be my most devoted believer,” Xie Lian said.
It was a long while before Xie Lian took the monster’s budaoweng doll out of his sleeve. It seemed like he made up his mind about something.
“Was this the monster that swallowed my memories?”
Hua Cheng took it from his hands. “So it was Your Highness who busted into its new lair.”
Xie Lian nodded. “We’ll have to start here if I want my memories restored, won’t we?”
Sitting in Hua Cheng’s palm, the budaoweng doll opened its mouth wide. A scatter of sparkles flew from the opening like fireflies, dancing as they fluttered around Xie Lian.
“Your Highness, if you touch them, you can retrieve your memory of the past eight hundred years,” Hua Cheng said.
Xie Lian reached toward the sparkling lights. Yet right before his hand could touch them, he paused.
Restoring eight hundred years of memories would be like traveling through them all, like reliving everything—the agony of his heart being pierced a hundred times, the humiliation of utter defeat, the fury of powerlessness.
Although he knew the journey would span only a fleeting instant, his fingertips still trembled.
Hua Cheng stood behind him. It made Xie Lian feel like he was leaning against a solid, supportive wall.
“Don’t be scared, Your Highness,” Hua Cheng said from above him.
Xie Lian tilted his head, and Hua Cheng’s arm wrapped around his waist.
“No matter how long it takes, I will always wait for you. We will meet again. Believe me.”
Yeah. They would meet again.
Xie Lian once again reached toward those sparkles. Dots of twinkling light melted into the tips of his fingers. Brightness slowly enveloped his vision, as if something hot was approaching.
Before the light reached him, however, Xie Lian said to Hua Cheng, “I’m so happy I met you.”
The sparkles entered his body and vanished. Xie Lian fell forward slowly, and Hua Cheng caught him.
It was a while before Xie Lian regained consciousness.
As soon as he opened his eyes, Hua Cheng asked quietly, “Gege?”
A warm smile gradually bloomed on Xie Lian’s face, and he reached out to cup Hua Cheng’s cheek. “…We meet again.”
Hua Cheng smiled too. “I did say that you should believe me.”
Xie Lian sighed. “Does this count as waiting for each other another eight hundred years?”
“Didn’t I say that I will always wait for you, no matter how long it takes? But…”
Hua Cheng pulled Xie Lian to his feet. As the two stood face-to-face, Hua Cheng squeezed his hands and smiled.
“Right now, I never want to be separated again—not for another minute.”
The past couldn’t be changed.
Eight hundred years ago, the seventeen-year-old Xie Lian, darling of the heavens, didn’t know what the future had in store for him. Fate had given him two doors, and he opened them both—the awe-inspiring first impression upon the Grand Avenue of Divine Might, and the meeting of the evil and the divine at Yinian Bridge.
After that, he would be alone and powerless in the roaring waves of desperate times and struggle through long, tortuous centuries. Pain, anger, disappointment, hatred, despair, madness. His heart would become dead as ashes.
And then, it would be rekindled.
But that, of course, was all in the past.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Welcome back, gege.”
“Mmm…”
“See? I told you we would meet again. I didn’t lie to you.”
Xie Lian shot Hua Cheng a look. “Oh, really?”
“Of course,” Hua Cheng assured with a smile. “When have I ever lied to Your Highness? After all, as your gege—”
Xie Lian reached into Hua Cheng’s robes and pulled out a sheet of paper. “‘Lian has no way of repaying San Lang-gege for his care,’” he read aloud. “‘Thus, I am willing to do everything within my meager power to alleviate my gege’s worries. I will take a temporary leave. Do not worry, San Lang-gege. Lian will return soon.’”
Hua Cheng quirked an eyebrow, not saying a word as he stood with his hands folded behind his back. Once Xie Lian finished reading, he quirked an eyebrow too in imitation of him.
“San Lang-gege, good gege—oh you’re good, aren’t you?”
Hua Cheng burst out laughing. “Isn’t gege already aware of just how good I am?”
Xie Lian flushed a little. “I…don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied vaguely. “Anyway, you’ve crossed the line over the last couple of days. Reflect on your behavior.”
“Gege, you can’t be like this,” Hua Cheng said in a stern tone. “I’ve been nothing but courteous for the past forty-eight hours. It’s been very hard holding myself back.”
“How were you courteous?” Xie Lian countered. “You were clearly…clearly…”
Clearly having a great time messing with him. When he remembered how he’d spent the last two days—regressed into an innocent, naive, foolish, spoiled, pampered little seventeen-year-old idiot who got played by Hua Cheng over and over—Xie Lian could barely face himself. He groaned, putting a hand over his forehead.
In a serious tone, Hua Cheng added, “It’s true. Even if he got yelled at by gege and called a despicable, shameless, perverted jerk, San Lang has no complaints and no regrets.”
“…”
“Gege, if you’re unhappy, you can yell at him again—San Lang doesn’t mind.”
Xie Lian couldn’t bear to listen anymore. He began to creep away, his hand still over his forehead, and by the time Hua Cheng turned back to him, he was gone.
“Gege? Don’t run away. All right, I screwed up. Gege!”
Stop with the “gege,” already! Jeez!