Chapter 137: Extra 2 The Strange Amnesiac Adventures of His Highness the Crown P

XIE LIAN’S EYES widened, his face a picture of disbelief.

“What’s wrong?” asked San Lang.

As if Xie Lian could utter a word. The deception, the mortification and frustration of being toyed with… His feelings of betrayal mixed with the hot blood rushing to his head.

He slapped the table and ground each word through his teeth. “So…it…was…you!”

The table couldn’t withstand his strike and splintered to pieces. Thankfully there was no one else on the second floor, otherwise they’d be sent scurrying in fright. Xie Lian had no weapons with him, so he struck out with his palm once more. Nonetheless, San Lang stayed in his seat and merely tilted his head to avoid the attack. The strike landed on the wall behind him instead, and debris crumbled down upon impact.

San Lang remained in place with his arms crossed. He looked up, lightly raising the curtain of his lashes. “Daozhang, what is the meaning of this?”

Xie Lian’s face was burning; he couldn’t imagine how red it’d gotten. He cracked the knuckles of his other hand and hissed, his voice filled with fury, “You…stop pretending. You know exactly…what you did to me.”

San Lang raised his gaze further. “Most unfortunate, but I really don’t know what I’ve done to make you so angry, Daozhang. Please enlighten me?”

“…”

This man dared to make him say it out loud while acting so innocent? How could he possibly say it? How could he talk about that in broad daylight?! Xie Lian had never encountered anyone like this before, and he was so angry that his whole body shook from his shoulders to deep inside his heart.

He spat an incoherent string of rebukes as his face grew redder and redder, “Silence! You… I-I’ll beat you to death, you shameless…perverted…dishonorable…you…”

San Lang sighed. “Daozhang, I never expected you to respond to my heartfelt sincerity this way. How am I shameless, perverted, and/or dishonorable?”

Xie Lian finally managed to regain himself somewhat. “Don’t you dare try to deceive me again! That red string on your hand proves that you’re that…that…”

“Oh?” Unflustered, San Lang raised his hand. “You mean this? Is there something wrong with this red string?”

The sight of the string in question felt like a stab. “I saw it,” Xie Lian said. “At that time, your…hand had a red string just like that…”

“What time?” San Lang asked.

“…”

At that moment, Xie Lian really wanted to beat the guy dead—asking him over and over like that, how absolutely abominable! But for some reason, no matter how angry he was, he couldn’t attack him. And he wasn’t being restrained by anything other than his own body!

Just then, several people ran up the stairs, their feet thumping on the floorboards.

“Dear customers, what are you doing?! Don’t randomly smash things!”

Xie Lian turned his head to exclaim, “It’s dangerous here! Go—”

Yet when he saw them, he was stunned again.

These people were all wearing red strings on their hands!

“What’s with all the red strings?” Xie Lian blurted.

“Red string?” one of them replied. “This red string’s just a red string; what’s so special about it? It’s nothing, quack—uh, it’s nothing, y’know.”

Now Xie Lian was confused—was tying a red string around one’s finger a normal fashion trend in these parts? He turned back to San Lang.

As if he’d seen what he was thinking, San Lang said, “You guessed right, Daozhang. It’s a local custom to tie a red string around one’s finger. If you don’t believe me, look at the crowd on the street below.”

Xie Lian’s eyes traveled downward, and sure enough, many of the people in the flowing crowd had red string tied around a finger. There were even some who had tied multiple knots.

“What custom is this?” he asked.

San Lang smiled. “Well, it’s related to Hua Cheng, now that we’re on the topic.”

“Huh?”

“He and his beloved have both tied red strings to their fingers, and many people have followed suit in the hope of finding their future spouse or as a symbol of love.”

Xie Lian was stunned to learn about this. “So you’re saying that…Hua Cheng is a formidable character? He’s so impressive that people are obsessed with imitating him…?”

“Well, whether he’s formidable depends on who you compare him to,” San Lang said. “By the way, Daozhang, you seem to have dropped something. May I pick it up?”

Xie Lian finally realized that he’d made another blunder, and his temper quickly dispersed. He had been maintaining an attacking stance, but now he quickly relaxed it.

“So sorry, San Lang, I was honestly… I’m really sorry. I got ahead of myself and misunderstood you again…”

San Lang had remained relaxed the entire time. He bent to pick something off the floor. “It’s fine. Daozhang, did you drop this?”

What he’d fumbled out of the mess on the floor was a single piece of gold foil—it had probably slipped out of Xie Lian’s sleeve when he attacked earlier. Xie Lian was just about to answer when San Lang brought the foil close and squinted at it.

“Hmm? This gold foil looks rather familiar.”

Then, he unhurriedly took something from a pouch at his waist—another piece of gold foil.

Two matching pieces of gold foil!

“So it was yours?” Xie Lian blurted.

“Mmm, I certainly did drop some money, which was why I went back to look for it…” replied San Lang.

Terrified he was going to misunderstand, Xie Lian said hastily, “San Lang, let me explain…”

“No need to be nervous,” San Lang said. “Of course I’ll listen to your explanation, Daozhang.”

Xie Lian breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s like this,” he began. “I picked that gold foil up on the road earlier. I wanted to wait for the rightful owner to come back so I could return it, but I waited for over two hours and no one came. And I was just so…”

He hung his head, feeling a little ashamed, and his voice turned small.

“So I…I borrowed a bit of it to buy something to eat. It was that steamed bun… I planned to return the borrowed money multiplied many times over. But regardless of the reason, I still used it without asking. Forgive me.”

San Lang was still full of smiles as he listened. “There’s no need to be like this, Daozhang,” he assured him. “It’s only natural for a person to act that way. And aside from the fact that I already intended to invite you for a drink, wasn’t I the one who ate the steamed bun in the end? Don’t get hung up on little things. But it’s quite amazing, don’t you think? What a coincidence that you would be the one to find what I lost—truly, this is destiny.”

Seeing how understanding he was being, Xie Lian relaxed.

“But, San Lang, you have to be more careful,” he chided. “It was gleaming so brightly on the side of the road; how did you miss it? Don’t be so careless next time.”

The waiter, who had been cowering to the side, spoke up. “Sirs, have you calmed down, quack? If so, let’s settle the cost for breaking the table, quack!”

“…”

Xie Lian was silent. In his normal life, paying compensation would be nothing to him, no matter how expensive it was. But right now, he couldn’t even afford a single steamed bun.

“It’s fine. Put it all on my tab,” said San Lang.

He was going to voluntarily pay for the damage Xie Lian had inflicted, even though Xie Lian had clearly attacked him first. Xie Lian was so moved by the sweetness and consideration that he was rendered speechless.

He swallowed. “You…”

There was something wrong with the waiter too, looking so cheery when they’d smashed up the place—he even gave them a new, more magnificent table. The two sat back down, and Xie Lian couldn’t help but feel bad, but also grateful.

“Daozhang, from what you said earlier, it seems there’s a backstory. What’s going on? Did someone harm you?” asked a concerned San Lang.

But how could Xie Lian speak of such things? His face flushed in embarrassment again despite having just calmed down, and he replied haltingly, “…It’s nothing…nothing much.”

Yet San Lang pushed, “Won’t you tell me about it? Maybe San Lang can help somehow.”

He might have been coming from a place of goodwill, but Xie Lian felt like his questions were pushing him into a corner, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“It really was nothing…” he said helplessly. “San Lang, can you…not ask anymore…?”

It was so hard to speak of it.

At his request, San Lang didn’t force the issue. “All right. Where were we, then? You wanted to meet Hua Cheng, right?”

Xie Lian regained himself and straightened his expression. “Yes. Does San Lang know a way?”

“Of course,” San Lang said. “But it’s not easy to see him these days.”

“Why is that?”

San Lang pushed the veggies on his plate into a big smiling face with his chopsticks. “He must accompany his beloved, who has apparently fallen unwell recently. He has no time for anything else.”

Just as he thought, this Hua Cheng was a sentimental man too—he placed high importance on his feelings. Xie Lian admired him even more.

“I see. Then how long will I have to wait to meet him?”

“At least three days, at most five,” said San Lang. “I suggest you try to relax, Daozhang. Why don’t you find a place to rest while you wait?”

But I have nowhere to stay, he thought, but San Lang continued speaking.

“If you have no place to stay, why not come to my place? My house is big, and there aren’t many people living in it.”

Unable to resist any longer, Xie Lian said softly, “San Lang, you’re so… You’re such a good person.”

This was the first time he’d ever complimented someone so bluntly, and he felt a little bashful for it—but he honestly couldn’t think of any words that described him better.

San Lang seemed very pleased. “It’s because it feels like we’ve already known each other forever, Daozhang,” he said, smiling cheerily. “Oh yes, there is another thing I forgot to ask; how old are you?”

“I’m seventeen,” Xie Lian replied.

“Ah, seventeen. Younger than me,” San Lang said.

He did look around twenty or so.

Seemingly casually, San Lang continued, “Then that means Daozhang should call me ‘gege.’”

Xie Lian was royalty, a crown prince who commanded the utmost respect. He shouldn’t act so familiar with anyone, much less agree to address this man like a brother. Yet San Lang made him so comfortable and happy, plus he’d never addressed anyone as an elder brother before—it was a novel idea.

“I see. So it’s San Lang-gege,” Xie Lian said with a smile.

“…”

Maybe it was just Xie Lian’s imagination, but San Lang’s smile turned a little peculiar when he called him “gege.” It was rather hard to describe, but it was as if San Lang’s left eye had been set alight—and its blazing gaze was so ardent that Xie Lian could almost feel his skin burn.

He blinked. “What’s wrong?”

The horrifying, searing heat subsided in an instant, and San Lang returned to normal. “It’s nothing; I was just happy,” he said with a chuckle. “There’s no one younger than me at home, so I’ve never heard anyone call me that before.”

“Then, if San Lang doesn’t mind…I’ll continue to address you that way?” Xie Lian said.

San Lang smiled so wide his eye sparkled, yet his lips still demurred. “Oh, of course I certainly don’t mind. It depends on whether you do, Daozhang.”

“Not at all; of course not,” Xie Lian said. “San Lang-gege, shall we go to your house now, then? Or later…?”

San Lang put down his chopsticks. “Let’s go now. Come with me.”

***

San Lang’s residence was an extremely spacious, extravagant mansion. When Xie Lian entered, he thought it was almost the equal of some of the garden palaces within the greater imperial palace of Xianle, which only further cemented the fact that San Lang was no ordinary man.

As Xie Lian lay alone in bed that night, he tossed and turned. He was mired in a storm of outrageous, hazy dreams. He wanted to move, but someone was pinning him firmly down. The voice that whispered in his ear was sometimes a man’s, sometimes a boy’s. Sometimes it called him “Gege, gege,” and sometimes it called him “Your Highness” as it coaxed him, “Don’t be afraid, Your Highness.”

It was intensely gentle, intensely evil—and all throughout, he felt intensely cherished by the one he was with.

Xie Lian woke with a start, his clothes completely soaked with sweat. He clenched his fists and panted. Feeling both furious and powerless, he punched the bed violently and tangled his fingers in his slightly damp hair.

When will I be able to forget about this?! Just wait. When I catch that shameless jerk, I’ll definitely…

He noticed then that there was a set of clothing laid next to his pillow that he’d never seen before—robes in his favored white color, and they were even in the style he preferred. Greatly relieved, Xie Lian hurried to the back of the room to take a quick bath.

Stripped and soaking in the water, he discovered that he had a fine, thin silver chain around his neck. A crystal-clear ring hung at the end of it. He didn’t know how long he’d been wearing it, but he hadn’t noticed it at all.

Do I have a pendant like this? he wondered. The ring was genuinely so beautiful that he stared at it, mesmerized—but that didn’t mean he dropped his guard.

A silver glint flashed by.

“Who’s there?!” Xie Lian shouted.

He struck the water and sent forth a splash that scattered like iron pellets, hitting the wall with resounding rat-a-tat bangs. Yet his attack didn’t reveal a person but…a scimitar?!

He held the sturdy blade up to inspect it, incredibly confused. Suddenly, a silver line on the hilt opened like an eyelid, and the eyeball beneath started spinning.

This shocked Xie Lian even further. What was this strange thing?!

The scimitar had a long, slender body, and it seemed almost alive—it enthusiastically tried to throw itself into Xie Lian’s arms over and over. Caught off guard, Xie Lian let it succeed in its endeavor, yelping and shuddering at the cold metal pressed against him.

Perhaps it was because he didn’t sense any killing intent, but Xie Lian’s instincts told him that this scimitar posed no danger. He didn’t want to react harshly toward it, send it beyond the clouds with a slap or anything like that, but this reluctance left him constantly—and arduously—trying to push it away.

Just then, a red shadow flashed in and snatched up the scimitar.

“So this is where you were…”

Xie Lian looked up to see that San Lang was standing next to the bathing pool with the scimitar choked in his hold. Although a smile still hung upon his face, faint veins had surfaced on his forehead.

He gave the scimitar a hard smack. “Didn’t I say you’re not allowed to be in here right now?” he admonished.

“San Lang, is that scimitar…your spiritual weapon?” Xie Lian asked.

San Lang turned toward him, the veins on his forehead disappearing in an instant and his calm, composed demeanor regained.

“It’s nothing but a worthless piece of scrap,” San Lang said. “Gege…your gege made a fool of himself. Please excuse me.”

Xie Lian, however, looked at him with bright eyes and immense respect. Catching the hem of San Lang’s red robe, he exclaimed, “No, no, no. San Lang-gege, you’re amazing! I can’t believe you forged a spiritual weapon like this, one that possesses its own consciousness!”

The scimitar’s eye had scrunched up after San Lang had smacked it, its grievance plain to see, but it was set happily spinning once more by Xie Lian’s praise. It tried again to sidle toward him, but San Lang coldly gave it another smack—and it simply would not have it. It collapsed to the floor with a thud and started rolling back and forth, looking for all the world like a small child bawling after being spanked by an adult. Xie Lian could almost hear its loud crying voice, and he felt a little sorry for it. He quickly stood up.

“Wait, San Lang! Let it go—don’t hit it anymore. I’m sure it was just being a little mischievous as it paid me a friendly visit. There’s no need to be so hard on it.”

It was only after he emerged from the bathwater that he remembered he was naked. His face turned intensely red again, and he sank back down awkwardly. However, San Lang had already turned around with artless ease and left.

Xie Lian quickly climbed out of the water and changed into the new robes. He was even more grateful when he felt the superbly fine material of the underclothes—at last, he wouldn’t feel so chafed anymore.

When he left his room and went to the receiving hall, San Lang was already at the head seat waiting for him.

Xie Lian didn’t know how San Lang had disciplined his scimitar, but it was behaving as it hung at his waist. When it wasn’t moving, it had a surprisingly cold and murderous appearance—it was hard to imagine that it had just been rolling on the ground making a scene.

San Lang smiled when he saw Xie Lian. “You’re up? Did you sleep well last night?”

“I don’t know why I was disturbed by dreams for the first half of the night…but the second half was fine,” Xie Lian answered honestly.

“Maybe you were too tired,” San Lang replied.

The two made idle chitchat and sparred for a few easy rounds; that was how they spent the whole day. He expected that they’d pass the time this way until Hua Cheng was available to meet him.

However, when Xie Lian lay alone in bed that night, he once again had that heated, restless dream.

He tossed and turned this way and that, and after he’d had enough, he jolted awake completely drenched with sweat once again. Angry and helpless, he had to get up for some fresh air. He wanted to take a stroll to calm down, but then he suddenly heard voices coming from a house at the far side of the complex.

It was San Lang’s master residence. The sound insulation of the house was excellent and the voices were quiet, but Xie Lian had keen senses and caught the noise. He held his breath and went over silently.

Peering through the crack of the door, he saw San Lang sitting in the head seat inside. He held a brush and seemed to be writing—his expression was cold, completely different than it was when he was with Xie Lian. Beside him, there was a black-clad man wearing a ghost mask who bent at the waist as he made a report in a low voice.

Xie Lian didn’t know why, but the man in the ghost mask had barely any presence—he could easily go completely unnoticed if one wasn’t careful. The man in the ghost mask had already mostly finished his report when Xie Lian began listening, so he only caught some scattered words here and there: “That monster has been causing trouble for a long time,” “He might’ve gotten into an accident when he went out to handle prayers,” “This is the location I’ve pinpointed,” and other such things.

He was still trying to process what he’d learned when he heard San Lang say, “I need to attend to him right now and can’t leave. Catch that monster before tomorrow night and bring it to me.”

“Yes, sir. Shall I leave it one last breath?” the man in the ghost mask asked quietly.

San Lang put down his brush and glanced at what he’d written, which he then crumpled up and tossed away, apparently dissatisfied.

“Leave it a few. Make it spit out what it swallowed, then crush its worthless head to dust. Make it slow and painful.”

His tone and his expression were both quite frightening, yet Xie Lian didn’t find him repulsive or alarming.

The man in the ghost mask acknowledged San Lang’s order and was about to take his leave, so Xie Lian quickly dodged away and hid.

When he made it back to his room, Xie Lian was even more wide awake than before. He paced back and forth, wondering, Who exactly is San Lang? What is that monster he spoke of?

It sounded as though some monster that had been causing havoc for a long time had swallowed something important, and San Lang was very angry about it—but he couldn’t head out and smash the monster’s head in because he had to stay with Xie Lian.

That thought made Xie Lian feel awful. San Lang was truly treating him with the utmost courtesy.

Suddenly, a light turned on in his head—why did he have to just sit around? There was no meeting Hua Cheng for a while, and he’d been wanting to do something for San Lang, his good gege. Why not go seize that monster for him?

His mind made up, Xie Lian got started immediately. He left behind a letter that said “Do not worry, San Lang-gege. Lian will be back soon,” and other such things. Then he leapt out and silently left the magnificent mansion behind.

The location the man in the ghost mask reported wasn’t difficult to find. It was many kilometers south, inside a particular cave within a particular mountain. Xie Lian was confident that no ordinary human could match his speed, so he would definitely reach it faster than San Lang’s subordinate.

Sure enough, two hours later, he arrived at the mountain in question and charged right up, smashing and punching wildly at random, leaving wailing ghosts and spirits in his wake until he finally found the cave he was looking for.

Although the monster put on quite the show by having three or four hundred minions guarding its door, against Xie Lian, there might as well have only been three or four. He didn’t act recklessly at first because he was worried that the opponent was formidable, but after patiently watching the cave from nearby, Xie Lian learned from the gossiping minions that the monster had been having a rough couple of days too.

“Yeah, yeah, Shanzhu went through a lot of trouble escaping from the hands of a foul cultivator—he was scared half to death! He was injured and went back to his old cave, but he fled as soon as he got there, scared shitless. Then he came here.”

“I see! I was gonna ask why he called everyone out here. So it’s because he’s scared of that cultivator coming after him for revenge!”

“But he shouldn’t be, you know? Shanzhu took a few big bites out of the guy, so he must be completely lost even if he did manage to wake up.”

“How could he not be scared? Shanzhu is a great, renowned yao, centuries old, but apparently that cultivator popped up out of nowhere and smacked him silly with only a couple strikes. If the cultivator hadn’t been injured somehow and given him an opening, Shanzhu would probably be lost to us today.”

“Holy… Where’d that random cultivator come from? How’s he so strong?!”

At that point, Xie Lian felt it was time. He emerged and strolled up to them, fully at ease, and greeted them with an amiable, “Hello.”

The minions jumped.

“Who are you?!”

“Where’d this little pretty boy come from?”

Xie Lian gave them a smile. He didn’t bother explaining before he went straight for the kill, moving toward the cave as he did. Even without spiritual power, he caught many of them in simple, casual grabs, and they were tossed hundreds of meters away with equally casual throws. The minions were reduced to screaming, terrified wrecks.

“What’s with that pretty boy?! He looks so gentle, so how is he such a brute?!”

Like he was pulling weeds along the road, Xie Lian stepped into the cave without a single obstruction. He had been prepared for a huge battle with a renowned yao, yet when he went inside the cave, all he saw was a monster in human form rolling around on the ground, groaning and crying in pain while clutching its stomach.

At first, Xie Lian thought it was only faking it, but a closer look proved otherwise—its stomach was massively distended as if it’d swallowed something horrific.

Xie Lian crouched next to it. “What’s wrong?”

The monster was probably too far gone from the pain. As soon as it saw Xie Lian, it shouted, “You! Perfect timing! I don’t want to eat it anymore; I don’t dare to! I’ll never do it again! I’ll return what I’ve swallowed to you! I can’t digest it—it can’t be digested!”

“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” Xie Lian said. “You didn’t swallow anything of mine, so what would you be returning?”

But the monster only writhed in agony, unable to answer. Puzzled, Xie Lian absentmindedly wrote out a talisman, thinking it’d be best to capture and seal the monster first—but when he slapped the talisman onto the creature, to his amazement, it transformed into a ridiculous-looking round budaoweng with a belly much bigger than any normal doll’s.

Although Xie Lian was surprised, he also found it hilarious. He looked at the talisman that he had written, confused as to how the spell turned out this way. Had he made a mistake? But it wasn’t a problem; the battle had been a cakewalk, and Xie Lian left the deep mountains with the early morning sunlight overhead. He tucked the budaoweng doll in his sleeve and hurried back toward the city.

He had finally managed to do something for San Lang. In a cheerful mood, Xie Lian was already thinking about how he would show off the monster he’d captured to San Lang—he told himself to tamp down on his pleased expression if he wanted San Lang to be surprised.

After an entire night of toil, his feet were tired, so Xie Lian found a random stall to sit in and got himself a bowl of free tea water.

As he drank, he heard someone behind him call, “Xie Lian!”

Xie Lian immediately put down the tea bowl. Who was so audacious as to call his name out directly in public? There were very few who could act so disrespectfully, even among the members of the royal family. Who was it who did not address him with the full awe, reverence, and respect due to him as His Royal Highness the Crown Prince?

When he looked back, he was surprised to see that the speaker was a commoner; he was walking with long strides and carrying a large wooden chest.

“Wait! Hold up!” he shouted. “You forgot Xie Lian! Take him with you too!”

So the man wasn’t calling to him, but someone with the same name—but now Xie Lian was even more puzzled. Even though he’d never care about royal naming taboos or any of that, he was still shocked that someone dared to have the same name as him.

But he soon learned that the “Xie Lian” the man spoke of wasn’t a person.

There was a burly man sitting near Xie Lian, and the man with the chest went to sit down beside him.

“I brought Xie Lian over,” he said, patting the chest. “Remember to bring it to the other half you worship in your house—today! Don’t dismiss it as a superstition; it’ll spell great misfortune if they aren’t placed together!”

“Of course, of course—I know that…”

Xie Lian couldn’t hold back anymore. “Excuse me…” The two men looked at him, and he continued, “Pardon my forwardness, but may I ask what’s in the chest?”

“Didn’t I already say? It’s Xie Lian,” said the man.

Xie Lian was confused. “But…isn’t Xie Lian His Highness the Crown Prince?”

The two seemed to find him funny. “No one said he’s not the crown prince; of course he is,” the man replied. “See?”

He opened the chest, and Xie Lian’s eyes bulged. There was a small shrine within, and a dusty divine statue was venerated inside it—a cultivator dressed in white, wearing a bamboo hat on his back.

He didn’t recognize this idol. Xie Lian couldn’t understand it at all.

“…Are you saying that this divine statue is the Crown Prince of Xianle, Xie Lian?”

“Who else would it be?”

A crowd began to surround them; half had been attracted by what a novelty he was. “What a strange young man. You look like you’re a cultivator too—how do you not know something so simple?”

The other half of the crowd had come to check out the divine statue.

“Wow! That’s a pretty decent Scrap Immortal! Looks sufficiently depressing.”

“Yeah! Look how woeful and dejected it is. That’s obviously the face of bad luck!”

“Very good, excellent! The worse it looks now, the better it’ll look when the other one helps it break free! You’ll see the results in eight days, tops.”

Xie Lian was completely lost. “…Scrap Immortal? What do you mean, he’s a Scrap Immortal?”

“Daozhang, you really are strange!” the crowd replied. “Xie Lian was originally a scrap collector, you know!”

“…”

Xie Lian wasn’t someone who got angry easily, but right now, he was starting to feel a little vexed. No one wanted to hear others say they were a lowly collector of junk. He shot to his feet and said darkly, “Do you have something against the royal family of Xianle? Even if you do, it doesn’t seem very proper to insult the crown prince this way, does it?”

The crowd exchanged looks of dismay, then laughed.

“What are you saying? Proper by which country’s standards? Xianle fell over eight hundred years ago!”

***

Two hours later, Xie Lian’s mind was still spinning as he walked down the street.

It was too much. Everything he’d just learned was too frightening for him.

How could the Kingdom of Xianle have been destroyed? Father and Mother are perfectly well. And how can they say I was the one who destroyed it? I lost a war? I destroyed my own kingdom? I was banished twice? I became a scrap collector?

He went through it again and again, and told himself over and over: Impossible. Impossible. Absolutely impossible!

He wanted to convince himself that none of it was true, that some evil mastermind must be orchestrating all this. But all the vague abnormalities—the odd dialects, the odd dress, the odd architecture, even the odd Feng Xin and Mu Qing—they were all telling him that this wasn’t a bad dream or some sort of illusion. There was no nefarious creature that could cast such a grand and realistic spell.

Eight hundred years really had passed.

How had eight hundred years passed?

How had he ended up like this after eight hundred years?

The Kingdom of Xianle had fallen, his parents were dead, Feng Xin and Mu Qing had ascended…and he’d become a scrap collector.

How had it turned out this way?

It couldn’t have. It shouldn’t have!

Xie Lian walked faster and faster until he broke out into a run, as if there were an infinite darkness on his tail about to devour him whole.

Suddenly, a red shadow appeared—and a tall, slender figure stopped in front of him.

“Daozhang, where are you going? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

It was San Lang. Forever smiling, he approached and tried to take his hand, but now the sight of him made Xie Lian’s hair stand on end.

“Don’t come near me!” he shouted.

San Lang faltered but retained his unbothered air. “What’s wrong?”

Clenching his hands into hard fists, Xie Lian asked coldly, “Who exactly are you? What do you want?”

“I thought we had a nice conversation yesterday and decided that those small details were no longer worth discussing?”

“You lied to me,” Xie Lian said.

After a brief silence, San Lang asked, “Have you already found out?”

“Yes,” Xie Lian said. “That the present time is…”

Eight hundred years later.

It shouldn’t have taken him this long to notice all the things that were wrong, but this man had been keeping him in the dark on purpose, which made him lose his bearings. Otherwise, how would it take him an entire day to discover the truth?

San Lan took a step forward. “Your Highness.”

Xie Lian backed many steps away. “Don’t get near me!” he barked. “Take one more step, and I’ll hit you!”

His voice and body were both shaking in terror. He wasn’t scared of some hellish ghost, nor was he afraid of this man who appeared both evil and divine—he was terrified of this entirely foreign world. In this world, he possessed neither pride and glory nor loyal subordinates, nor parents who loved him, nor his kingdom, nor devotees who adored him. He had nothing, nothing, nothing!

San Lang still took another step toward him. “Don’t be afraid, Your Highness.”

“…”

Xie Lian’s face changed when he heard him. He suddenly recalled the man in his fragmented dreams who had whispered next to his ear, “Don’t be afraid.”

How had he not realized it?

That tone and their voices were exactly the same!

Xie Lian was convulsing with anger. “It was you… It really was you…”

This man had deceived him and made him go around in circles, made him weep with gratitude, filled him with good feelings and had him call him “gege.” The mere thought of it sent an unstoppable rage surging through Xie Lian, and he struck out.

“You liar!”

His strike hit San Lang squarely in the chest. But as Xie Lian tried to strike again, he found that he couldn’t move a muscle—his own body had stopped him!

Xie Lian didn’t understand what was happening, and San Lang caught his hand amidst his confusion.

Startled, Xie Lian gritted out, “Do not touch me! You liar. You lied to me. I will never trust you again. You—”

“Your Highness, trust me,” San Lang said gravely.

Xie Lian was furious. “I won’t! I…!”

But in the same way he’d been unable to attack, the words “I don’t trust you” refused to pass his lips. The concern and pain in this man’s eye were real and true, without a doubt. No one who witnessed such an expression would question its sincerity.

As if to isolate Xie Lian from the foreign world he so feared, San Lang finally pulled him into his arms. He pressed his lips to his head to brush kisses through his hair as he whispered softly and gently, “Don’t be afraid, Your Highness. It’s all in the past. Your Highness, you’ve already made it through.”

“…”

It was a long time before Xie Lian ceased his resistance and went slack in his embrace.

Tossing aside his mortification, when Xie Lian really thought about it, the man’s voice that called to him in the fragmented dreams was always extremely gentle, without a shred of coercion. As for himself…although there had certainly been pleas and weeping, he could tell that he hadn’t been reluctant in the least.

The only reason he hadn’t noticed until now was that he simply hadn’t wanted to face it.

Xie Lian finally understood why he couldn’t help but want to trust this man at first sight. The relationship between San Lang and the him of eight hundred years later was probably…not so simple. He fully gave up on fighting his body and went along with what his heart wanted.

With his face buried in San Lang’s chest, his voice was muffled when he began to speak. “We’re…”

“Mmm,” San Lang replied.

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!

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