WJ Chapter 102

Tu Yuan (4)

On the Wolong Platform, Ah Ku carried his lantern and came to stand beside Yun Changliu. Snowflakes drifted ceaselessly past, and when they swept by him through the lantern light, they turned the color of sparks.

He looked at the Young Sect Leader’s wretched state — face pale as paper, body dusted with snow — and couldn’t help but sigh, his head aching and his heart aching in equal measure.

The way he stood there at the cliff’s edge, utterly lost to the world — nine times out of ten, the poison had acted up again.

To think he had actually managed to find him… Otherwise, under the influence of Fengchun Sheng, even if this little Young Sect Leader truly managed to hold himself back from seeking death, he probably would have stood here until he had worn himself down into unconsciousness.

In weather like this, a child still carrying serious wounds — if he truly fainted on this mountain, how could he have survived?

Ah Ku sighed again, and helplessly raised his hand to brush the accumulated snow from Yun Changliu’s shoulders, then smoothed his hair to remove the snow caught there… and finally, unable to restrain himself any longer, he rose up on his toes and gave the Young Sect Leader’s head a vigorous rub.

Yun Changliu stood silently and let him do as he pleased, but cast a questioning glance his way and hesitantly said, “You… did you come looking for me?”

“Of course I did.” Ah Ku held the lantern forward against the wind and snow. He glanced at the sheer, illuminated cliff face and curved his lips at Yun Changliu. “Hah. It’s quite high up here, isn’t it.”

Far below the towering cliff, the cold wind carrying snow still howled. Even with the lantern raised, it could only illuminate a small circle of space; all beyond remained endless darkness.

Ah Ku gazed out into the lantern light for a moment, then suddenly said:

“Were you thinking of jumping just now?”

He asked it so casually, so naturally, as if the weight of those words did not carry the life of the Zhuyin Sect’s Young Sect Leader hanging upon them.

Yun Changliu lowered his head, not daring to meet his eyes, his expression full of guilt and self-reproach. “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

The Young Sect Leader truly was remorseful. He did not understand what had come over him. He had only felt unbearably restless inside, and had wanted to find a quiet place to settle himself.

He had thought that if he bore it silently as he always had — gritted his teeth and endured — he could push through the torment pressing down on his heart. Even if the pain was like having a layer of skin stripped raw, once the pain passed, numbness would follow.

And once he was numb, the chaotic turmoil in his heart would settle, and he would naturally return.

…And yet, for reasons he could not explain, when he climbed up to Wolong Platform, he truly began to think of death — and had already gone so far as to stand at the cliff’s edge.

If he had irresponsibly closed his eyes and jumped, then setting aside everyone else — just Ah Ku alone, standing here before him — would he not have truly been ruined by him?

Fortunately, he still clearly knew that he could not die. Yet he still deserved to reproach himself, for he had shamefully entertained such a thought — a wicked notion so harmful to others, one he should never have harbored, should never even have entertained. Was that not so?

But Ah Ku’s expression did not change at all upon hearing this. Instead, he nodded gently. “Mm. I know.”

He stood shoulder to shoulder with the Young Sect Leader but did not look at Yun Changliu. Instead, he gazed steadily at the edge of the cliff and said slowly, “Fengchun Sheng, when it acts up, affects the mind. This is not your fault. You had no intention of seeking death… I know.”

“But if there were no such thoughts within your heart, Fengchun Sheng would have had nothing to draw to the surface.”

Ah Ku stared long and deep into that expanse of darkness, then after a long while quietly asked:

“Do you truly want to die?”

His voice was nearly swallowed by the wind, yet Yun Changliu still heard him clearly. The Young Sect Leader lowered his eyes and answered indifferently, “No. I cannot die.”

“I’m not asking about can or cannot. I’m asking whether you want to.”

Ah Ku turned and looked at Yun Changliu. The lantern light illuminated his cheek with a warm orange-yellow glow. “Do you?”

This time, Yun Changliu did not answer immediately. The Young Sect Leader turned his head hesitantly and fell into genuinely serious thought for a long while.

At last, he nodded — then shook his head — and said quietly:

“At first… very much.”

“But then I thought of the peach blossoms you promised to pick for me next spring, and I found I didn’t quite want to anymore.”

“I had just thought of you, and when I turned around, there you truly were.”

“I feel… very… very…”

Perhaps directly expressing emotion was simply too rare and too difficult for the Young Sect Leader. Yun Changliu furrowed his brow and hesitated, saying, “I…”

He paused there for a long while before managing to continue. “I feel… very good.”

Wolong Platform was desolate and empty of people. Yun Changliu leaned a little closer and gently took hold of Ah Ku’s wrist, saying in a somewhat dazed murmur, “The feeling of not wanting to die… it’s so strange.”

Ah Ku looked down at the wrist now held in another’s grip, pressed his lips together, and called out softly, “Young Sect Leader.”

Yun Changliu’s once pale and slender fingers were covered in fresh wounds — marks left from harming himself when he could no longer endure the poison’s flaring.

Those fingers, bearing such wounds, held his wrist, and Ah Ku felt as though it was not his wrist that had been caught, but his heart. That organ began to ache from deep within, fine and dense, the ache traveling all the way up until even its beating became labored.

Then, suddenly, Ah Ku set the lantern down on the ground.

He drew a quiet breath of the cold mountain air, closed his eyes, and lurched forward two steps — pulling Yun Changliu abruptly into a full embrace.

Yun Changliu’s eyes flew wide in shock. Pushed back a step by the force of it, he cried out the little medicine person’s name instinctively. “Ah Ku!”

His cold body was pulled into Ah Ku’s arms. The little medicine person pressed close beside his face as he spoke, his voice trembling right at his ear, his very lips brushing against his earlobe.

“If you don’t want to die, then don’t die… don’t die!”

Ah Ku held him carefully, avoiding the wounds on Yun Changliu’s body from memory, eyes squeezed shut, his voice hoarse yet forceful. “Young Sect Leader, if you live on… there will be more good things ahead, better things!”

Yun Changliu blinked, and wrapped his arms around Ah Ku’s waist in return. Gazing out at the layers of gray-dark mountains overlapping at the horizon, he rested his chin on the shoulder before him and quietly asked, “…Is that true?”

“It’s true!”

Ah Ku steadied Yun Changliu by both shoulders and turned him to face him, his voice urgent, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Yun Changliu’s face. “Trust me. I will show you more good things, better things!”

“In spring I’ll accompany you to admire flowers and pick them; in summer I’ll keep you company practicing swordsmanship and learning the qin; in autumn when the mountains turn red I’ll brew tea for you; in winter when the snow falls I’ll light the lantern for you.”

“I will accompany you. I will always accompany you… we will live well together!”

Yun Changliu held his breath, stunned by Ah Ku’s words, his eyes widening slightly.

Then Ah Ku suddenly stepped back several paces. He swept aside the hem of his pale blue robe — and knelt down before Yun Changliu, right there at the edge of that mountain cliff.

The Young Sect Leader started in alarm and moved to help him up. But Ah Ku raised an eyebrow and immediately called out loudly, “Don’t move. Young Sect Leader, don’t move! You just stand there. Look at me. Listen to what I have to say!”

Yun Changliu froze helplessly where he stood. Across those few paces of distance, he watched as the young boy in blue had his dark hair tossed by the swirling snow, his gaze burning bright. When he spoke, every word rang out clear and resolute as an oath, every syllable falling like iron:

“From now on, I am not some medicine-slave of the Zhuyin Sect. I kneel for you alone. I serve as your medicine alone!”

“If you are ill for a lifetime, I will be your medicine for a lifetime.”

“I live when you live. I die when you die.”

“You must protect me for a lifetime; even after you become Sect Leader, you must cherish me, forever indulge me, forever yield to me. See to it that no one in this world dares bully me. Let my blood be shed only for you. Let any wound upon me fall only upon my wrists!”

With that, Ah Ku raised his right hand to his lips. He lowered his head and bit down hard on his index finger with his teeth. A bead of vivid red blood slowly welled from that delicate fingertip.

The blue-robed boy on his knees slowly extended his right hand toward Yun Changliu. His eyes were bright and clear as stars, and he said solemnly, “Young Sect Leader. Take me.”

A thread of gentle wind stirred the Young Sect Leader’s wide sleeves and white robes.

Yun Changliu had long since lost himself completely and utterly. He stood there gazing at Ah Ku, unable to move, unable to speak.

He was truly at a loss — wholly at a loss — at a complete loss for what to do. Having lived all these years in pain and in solitude, when had he ever encountered anything like this?

Countless people within the Zhuyin Sect had knelt before him, yet who among them had ever knelt with such radiance and spirit, with such defiant ease? Who among them had ever knelt before him and yet, in the same breath, laid out conditions for him to abide by, one by one?

Who had ever counted out the four seasons’ scenery for him?

Who had ever wished to make a lifetime vow with him?

Such a thing — such a thing —

Ah Ku held his gaze, steady and unwavering, his right hand still raised. “Don’t be afraid, Young Sect Leader.”

Yun Changliu still did not move, still did not speak. His breath was disordered, his heart was racing, and a thousand shades of grief and joy shifted through his eyes as he stared blankly at Ah Ku.

Ah Ku tilted his face up and smiled, then continued to call out in encouragement:

“Don’t be afraid. Try coming over. Young Sect Leader, come. Come on — boldly take this medicine of yours. We will live well together!”

The young boy’s voice echoed across Wolong Platform, lingering long before it gradually faded.

The wind had already stilled.

The snowflakes, now turned faint and fine, drifted down from the sky soft as gauze, settling unhurried upon the peak of Mount Shenlie, settling upon Wolong Platform, settling into the space between Yun Changliu and Ah Ku.

After some unknown stretch of time, Yun Changliu at last took his first step forward.

He walked across the dark, hard rock beneath his feet, slowly, and with each step across the open expanse of Wolong Platform, a soft sound fell.

It was only a few paces to begin with. In an instant, Yun Changliu was standing before Ah Ku once more.

The little Young Sect Leader bent down and extended both hands, and — as if receiving some precious treasure — lifted Ah Ku’s hand with the utmost gentleness. He looked at Ah Ku, his emotions shifting like tides.

The wind and snow gradually stilled. Night gave way to dawn.

Far beyond the mountains, a pale wash of light began to show. The light of breaking day rose from beneath the two children — one standing, one kneeling — casting their shadows intertwined and overlapping on the ground below them.

Yun Changliu lowered his head, and his pale lips, tender with care, closed over the tip of Ah Ku’s index finger. He gently drew away that one bead of blood, and then let his soft tongue emerge to carefully tend to the small bite wound.

“That tickles — don’t lick me.” Ah Ku couldn’t help a soft laugh, his fine brows curving gently as he said, “Little Young Sect Leader, are you going to take me or not?”

At some point, Yun Changliu had already closed his eyes.

The Young Sect Leader’s refined and beautiful features were traced by the morning light into clear contrast of light and shadow — like an ink-wash painting in black and white, pure and transcendent.

Those long lashes — each individual one illuminated distinct by the morning light. A tiny, glittering drop clung to them, though whether it was a teardrop or a melted snowflake, one could not say.

“…All right.”

At last, Yun Changliu spoke, his voice trembling.

“I’ll take you.”