Chapter 221.2: Beginning of Spring
After being driven out again by Doctor Chen while carrying the bundle of dried branches, Xie Chongyi’s expression remained relatively calm. He slowly walked home, taking most of the day to do so. His steps paused briefly when he passed an entire street blooming with poppy flowers before he continued onward.
Wu Dian and Ginger followed behind him the whole time, neither too close nor too far.
Ginger looked worried. “Do you think he might commit s**cide?”
“You’re overthinking it,” Wu Dian replied flatly.
“But something’s wrong with him.”
“He knows what he’s doing. And he knows what Wu Heng would want him to do.”
“And what does Wu Heng want him to do?”
“Live.”
—
The house was in complete disarray. Fallen leaves covered every corner in thick layers. After returning home, Xie Chongyi found a vase, filled it one-third full with water, and placed all the dried branches inside before carrying them upstairs to the bedroom.
After setting the vase on the bedside table, he lay down on the bed.
The dried leaves beneath him cracked sharply, making crisp crunching sounds.
He closed his eyes.
After falling asleep, Xie Chongyi dreamed constantly. Two-thirds of those dreams were scenes of Wu Heng. The dying flashbacks that should have appeared back then came belatedly, replaying over and over through his mind.
Even in his dreams, the events that had already happened in reality remained painfully clear to him, so throughout it all, Xie Chongyi was acutely aware that the person he was looking at was his lover—the one who had already vanished forever.
As a result, that stretch of sleep was agony for him, both physically and mentally.
When he woke again, he no longer knew how many days had passed, nor what time it was. Xie Chongyi turned over and saw that the sky outside the window was dark. Several stars clustered together, giving off faint light. He stared at them for a long time, until his vision blurred.
Then, near his feet, something furry suddenly moved.
Xie Chongyi had no choice but to sit up. Meeting the worried gazes of the dog and the bird, he finally got out of bed. His overgrown bangs now covered his brows and eyes completely; whenever he lowered his head, his entire face disappeared into shadow.
“Hungry?” he asked hoarsely.
Someone had cleaned the house. Everything had been wiped spotless. Fresh food sat on the dining table, along with a note.
Just looking at notes now made Xie Chongyi’s temples ache.
[Take your time adjusting. We all believe in you.]
There was no signature.
After reading it, Xie Chongyi set it aside. He picked out some meat and vegetables from the bags and walked into the kitchen, appearing outwardly calm as he prepared a meal for the dog and bird.
X displayed a level of dependence on Xie Chongyi completely unlike its usual self, sticking close to his every movement without leaving his side for even a moment. It was also the skinniest it had looked since reaching adulthood.
When the food was finished, however, X refused to eat. It turned around and began biting at the feathers on its own back. Xie Chongyi raised a hand to stop it.
“You should eat something.”
Shukui took a few bites by his feet, then stopped eating as well, quietly lying beside the food bowl.
The house was unbearably quiet.
Actually, even when Wu Heng had been there, it had often been this quiet. Wu Heng disliked noisy environments. But there were many kinds of silence.
When Wu Heng was around, the silence had been peaceful, overflowing with happiness.
Now, it was the silence of death.
Xie Chongyi sat expressionlessly for a long time while X perched on the dining table across from him.
After who knew how much time had passed, Xie Chongyi let out a long sigh and told a lie that even he himself did not truly believe.
“If you starve yourselves to death, how will you wait for Wu Heng to come back?”
Whether they believed it or not, X and Shukui finally became willing to eat a little.
Still, X’s appetite was nowhere near what it used to be. After eating only half, it stopped, hopped to the doorway, and apparently assumed that what Xie Chongyi meant was that if it ate, Wu Heng would return.
When Wu Heng failed to appear, X realized it had been tricked. Furious, it chirped and grumbled angrily before jumping onto Xie Chongyi’s lap to peck at him.
Xie Chongyi restrained it and raised a finger.
“You have to keep eating for one hundred days first.”
X stopped struggling. Somewhat dejected, it looked at the human before it.
Perhaps it understood something after all.
It quietly leaned into Xie Chongyi’s embrace on its own.
As for everything that had happened, Xie Chongyi never blamed anyone, nor did he pour his anger and grief onto others.
He spent a period of time shut away indoors. During those days, he and the two mutated creatures lived with strict routines—regular sleep, regular meals—until one day, an envelope was slipped beneath the back door downstairs.
The young man opened it.
Inside were several photographs.
All of them were of Wu Heng. Some were solo pictures, while others were group photos with several different people. Among them was a middle-aged couple whom Xie Chongyi had once seen in Shenjian.
In the photographs, Wu Heng wore his usual cool, distant expression. Dew still clung to his clothes, and his amber-green eyes seemed faintly displeased at having been candidly photographed.
Lowering his eyes, Xie Chongyi turned the envelope upside down. No more photographs fell out, but a note slipped free instead.
[Hello, I am Liu Dongfan. These photographs were taken by my partner and me when we were at the foot of the mountain in Shenjian together with the Lord and his friends. They were only developed this morning. Considering your current state of mind, I immediately delivered all of the photos to your home. I hope they can bring you at least a little comfort.]
After becoming a vessel and gradually losing his vital signs, Xie Chongyi had no longer needed food or even air.
Now that he had come alive again, the very first thing he was forced to taste was Wu Heng’s death.
During this period, his heart had become numb, his spirit withered beyond even the reach of memory. Yet the moment he saw Wu Heng’s photographs, his heart suddenly began beating again.
Violently.
Each beat struck him like a heavy hammer blow after another. The grief he had barely been holding back shattered through the fragile barrier restraining it. Clutching the photographs tightly in his hand, he slid down against the cabinet and collapsed onto the floor.
Ten minutes later, Xie Chongyi was rushed to the hospital by the guards who had been stationed around the house after his heart suddenly stopped.
Inside the private hospital room, some people sat while others stood.
No one spoke.
Lin Mengzhi had just finished training and was drenched in sweat. The moment he rushed into the room, he headed straight for the bedside. Only after confirming that Xie Chongyi was alright did he grab X from the foot of the bed and hug it tightly, taking a fierce breath against its feathers.
“It’s been so long—did you miss me or not?!”
Shukui circled excitedly around Lin Mengzhi, wanting a hug too.
Wu Zhi called Shukui over to her side and stroked its head.
“Class Monitor is really about to die from sadness,” she said softly. “Me too.”
There had simply been too many things to deal with. Everyone had no choice but to carry their grief forward and keep walking.
Only Xie Chongyi remained behind, still waiting in place.
The people visiting the hospital room changed batch after batch. Flowers piled up until they filled the entire room. Every day old bouquets were thrown away, and every day new ones arrived.
Xie Chongyi stayed hospitalized for about a week. After waking up, he acted as though nothing had happened—eating when he should eat, smiling when he should smile.
The others found it terrifying to watch.
It was as though he had deliberately chosen the day to wake up.
The day after he regained consciousness was the Beginning of Spring—Wu Heng’s birthday, and also the memorial day chosen through a citywide vote in Suyou City: a day to mourn all those who had died in the disaster before.
—
Early that morning, Xie Chongyi cut his hair, which had grown down to the bridge of his nose, back to just above his forehead. He changed into a brand-new black uniform.
At first glance, he looked much the same as before—handsome, refined, tall and straight-backed.
Yet everyone felt that he was now wrapped in a sorrow that could never be erased, while a dark, oppressive edge quietly took root within him, impossible to ignore.
And if the old Xie Chongyi’s smiles had often been fake smiles—the kind that meant he was scheming something bad—then the current Xie Chongyi hardly smiled at all anymore.
Dozens of kilometers outside Suyou City stretched a vast cemetery packed tightly with rows upon rows of gravestones. Some graves had not even a name, let alone a photograph. Yet every single tombstone had been treated equally, each one adorned with a bouquet of fresh flowers.
A handful of graves had even more flowers than the others, because more people remembered those buried there.
For example, the former Lord’s grave had practically been submerged beneath flowers and offerings of food.
Only a few thousand people had come personally to the cemetery to mourn; the rest held memorials inside the city.
Xie Chongyi stood at the very front. He did not hear a single word of whatever Rui En was muttering during the ceremony. He simply stared blankly at Wu Heng’s gravestone before him.
Behind him stood the people closest to both him and Wu Heng.
Even Xue Qi had come despite being confined to a wheelchair.
Lin Mengzhi was crying loudly and uncontrollably. Wu Zhi was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. X, meanwhile, kept making sniffling, hiccuping noises nonstop.
It almost made Xie Chongyi want to laugh.
But he truly couldn’t.
As long as any part of him moved even slightly, it tugged at his eyes, and tears threatened to burst free like a collapsed dam.
“Pfft.”
Just because the people in front couldn’t laugh didn’t mean the people in back couldn’t.
The figures standing at the front noticeably stiffened for a moment, but none of them had the energy to care right now.
Wu Zhi turned back and glared fiercely at the offender.
She would settle the score with him later.
But the laughter only became more blatant. The man kept snickering and chuckling for quite a while. Someone beside him tried to stop him, and he lowered his voice in defense.
“No, it’s just… whenever I’m at this kind of event, I can’t help it. Besides, don’t you think that bird looks ridiculously funny? Hahaha…”
Lin Mengzhi’s veins bulged on his neck. He clenched his fists and was about to turn around when a figure in front of him shot past from his side.
The laughing person was grabbed precisely by the back of his collar. Screams and pleas erupted. A wave of commotion broke out among the crowd.
But Xie Chongyi was unaffected. With one hand, he dragged the man toward the gravestone. His movements were light, almost elegant.
The crowd assumed he was simply going to make the young man kowtow and apologize. That was reasonable—it was, after all, such a solemn occasion. But they could not see any hesitation in his steps.
Xie Chongyi kept dragging him forward, all the way up the concrete steps. Then, with a forceful twist of his wrist—
Bang.
The man’s head was slammed into the cold, hard stone of the gravestone.
After a single cry of pain, there was no more sound. Blood trickled down the engraved characters on the stone and along the man’s face.
But one impact was not enough.
The young man struck him over and over again—more than ten times—before finally throwing him aside like a corpse.
He shook his wrist, then turned around and looked down at everyone present, his gaze calm and unhurried.
“Anyone else feel like laughing?” he asked softly. “I can help you fix that problem.”
He tilted his lips slightly, as if being considerate. “Free of charge.”
The thousands in attendance fell completely silent.
Xie Chongyi gave a cold snort.
When he turned back, the contempt in his eyes had been replaced with gentle calm. He took a piece of silk cloth from his pocket, knelt down in front of the gravestone, and carefully wiped away the blood staining it.
Then, under everyone’s gaze, he leaned forward and kissed the black-and-white photograph on the stone.