This time, when Gu Mang collapsed, he remained in a dazed unconsciousness for a full five or six days before waking. During those five or six days, he vaguely sensed that sometimes he was lying inside a carriage, with daylight filtering through the pale-blue curtains, while Mo Xi kept watch beside him, looking exhausted.
At other times, fragments of memories surfaced in disarray. Some were connected to Mo Xi, while others were vague faces from the army. They were laughing and making merry, cups and bowls clinking together, wine splashing everywhere.
From time to time, a voice would suddenly ring out in his mind, calling, “Marshal Gu,” while at other times he would hear Mo Xi’s soft sigh, calling him “Senior Brother.”
And in his deep dreams, that soul-summoning sacrificial song sung during the Nuo ritual floated about like scattered strands of grass, refusing to disperse—
Once, young men went forth with swords in hand,
Their green blood sank into the sand, their bones unable to return.
These remains still bore youthful faces last year,
These bodies were still laughing and talking just last night…
Yes. Those bones along the Unfixed River seemed as though they had only yesterday surrounded him, watching him point out the course of the world, listening to his impassioned speeches, listening as he said that even those who had been slaves could have ambitions and could possess a future.
Those faces, full of reverence, fervor, and trust… How could he have forgotten them?
Those names he had once painstakingly memorized from the registers, engraving them into his heart—names that no one would notice if they were thrown into the sea of humanity. How could he no longer remember them?
He had forgotten everything.
But the guilt refused to leave him, nearly draining his heart dry.
You left behind your loyal hearts, and I will honor them.
You left behind your noble spirit, and I will pass it on.
The day your heroic souls return to their homeland…
He did not dare listen any further.
The day your heroic souls return to their homeland… But his people could not return. His brothers could not return. They were nameless wandering ghosts, beheaded and bleeding, unable even to find the road home.
His chest hurt terribly, so badly that he could barely breathe. Those comrades and brothers he had once desperately tried to remember crowded inside his heart. His heart was about to be torn apart. He was almost driven mad by them.
He was like a man on the verge of drowning in a sea of the dead. He curled into himself, choking back sobs.
Don’t hate me… I did my best… I really… I really did my best…
Please.
Please forgive me… Please, in your next life, don’t join the army. I hope you are born into the household of some noble prince, and spend your whole life cockfighting and riding horses… Please, in your next life, don’t serve under a general like me… I’m useless, too naive, too foolish. I’m truly too foolish. I was the one who caused your unjust deaths. I wasn’t strong enough, and that is why you lost your lives… Please…
Please.
He wept bitterly at the shifting shadows in his dream. Amid those shadows, he suddenly saw the figure of someone.
Tall, flamboyant, arrogant and unrestrained, forever brilliant.
He turned his head and smiled at him.
Gu Mang’s heart suddenly burned. A forgotten name abruptly rose from his throat. Kneeling within the dream beneath heaven and earth, he cried out toward that dead brother—
“Zhan Xing!”
Lu Zhanxing smiled. He said nothing, merely winked at him once before turning and disappearing into the rushing tide of people.
Gu Mang wanted to chase after him. He wanted to grab him. He wanted to tell him so, so many things.
But like every other departed soul, Lu Zhanxing eventually disappeared as well.
A vast expanse of somber darkness poured down. Within this all-encompassing long night, Chonghua’s soul-summoning song softly sang, mourning those souls that could never return.
Once, young men went forth with swords in hand,
Their green blood sank into the sand, their bones unable to return.
These remains still bore youthful faces last year,
These bodies were still laughing and talking just last night…
In his own dream, Gu Mang knelt and collapsed onto the ground, curled into a ball, hoarse and indistinct cries escaping from his throat.
He was calling for his friends, his army, the stubbornness and passion with which he had recklessly staked everything when he was young.
In a daze, someone took hold of his hand, stroked his hair, and softly sighed as they comforted him, whispering beside his ear, “Don’t cry anymore, Gu Mang. Don’t cry.”
He did not know who that person was. He only felt that the hand was so warm, so strong.
Holding him as though it intended to lead him ashore from the Dead Sea of his soul.
Gu Mang choked with sobs. He held onto that hand, vaguely feeling that the faint, clean scent coming from its skin was so familiar, familiar enough for him to trust completely.
So he held that hand desperately, tightly locking his fingers around those five fingers, crying out, “They can’t come back. None of them can come back.”
Because of his birth.
His people, his soldiers, in the end, could not even wait to hear a single line—
The day your heroic souls return to their homeland,
There will be green mountains everywhere beneath the living sky.
None of them could come back.
“Why did you have to leave me alone…” Gu Mang cried out in anguish. Clutching that hand as though it were a life-saving blade of grass, he sobbed uncontrollably. “Why did you have to force me this far… Why… Why…”
In his daze, that person also tightly held his hand.
So tightly, with such force.
As though using that strength to express the words he could never bring himself to say aloud.
And me.
You still have me…
I’ll stay with you.
He remained in that hazy state until the fifth day, when Gu Mang finally struggled awake from his damp, sorrowful dreams.
His eyelashes trembled as he slowly opened his eyes. They had already returned from the Soul-Calling Abyss, and the final ritual had ended.
He was lying on a large bed covered with a thick fox-fur blanket. Through a layer of thin, ink-colored gauze curtains patterned with clouds, he could see the abundant daylight outside and the crackling charcoal fire inside the room.
It was Xihe Residence.
He had already returned to Xihe Residence.
Gu Mang sat up, raised his hand, and lifted the curtain. He sat on the large bed in a daze for a while.
He had sweated all over. The trembling sorrow from his dream had not yet faded. His eyes stared blankly at the burning charcoal as he murmured the name he had remembered.
Zhan Xing.
Lu Zhanxing.
He remembered that he was his brother, but aside from that, he could not remember anything more.
For example, how they had met.
For example, how Lu Zhanxing had ultimately left.
His mind was like cotton gauze wrung completely dry of water, unable to squeeze out even the slightest bit more.
And then there were those figures in his dream.
His army.
He had once had an army, hadn’t he?
Gu Mang hugged his broken head and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling so lost and frustrated for the first time.
As he sat there in a daze, the door to the side room suddenly creaked open.
Li Wei walked in carrying medicine and snacks. Seeing him sitting there with his head in his hands, he exclaimed in surprise, “Oh my, you’re awake.”
Gu Mang gave a low “Mm.”
“Since you’re awake, drink your medicine.” Li Wei carried the wooden tray over to him. “Here. Two bowls. One is for bringing down the fever, and the other is to calm the heart.”
Gu Mang listlessly glanced at the two bowls of thick medicinal liquid, but his attention was drawn to a small celadon dish beside them.
Two flower cakes rested inside the porcelain dish, their color a delicate, translucent pink. The skin, made from rose-infused glutinous rice flour, was crystalline and soft, wrapping around the faintly visible red-bean paste filling inside.
Seeing him staring at the two flower cakes, Li Wei smiled. “The Lord ordered these prepared for you. You’ve been too weak these past few days, and every time you drink medicine, you become so nauseated that you vomit. Eating a flower cake to get rid of the bitterness lets you drink it down.”
“The Lord?” Gu Mang was stunned for a moment. “…Mo Xi?”
Li Wei’s smile disappeared. He glared at him. “Have you no manners? How can you call the Lord by his name?” Then he said, “Come, drink your medicine.”
Gu Mang had no strength to bargain with him. Besides, the remnants of his dream had not yet faded, and his heart was already in turmoil. So he obediently took the medicinal liquid.
One bowl was incredibly bitter, the other incredibly spicy. Pinching his nose, he gulped both down, then smacked his lips before picking up a flower cake and stuffing it into his mouth.
Perhaps because it was made so that he could swallow it even while half-conscious, the flower cake was extraordinarily soft, like snow. Once it entered his mouth, it melted away easily without needing much chewing.
Gu Mang ate one, licked his lips, and raised his head to ask, “Where is he?”
Li Wei froze. “Who?”
“Isn’t he here?”
Only then did Li Wei realize that Gu Mang was asking about Mo Xi’s whereabouts. He was both annoyed and amused. He lectured him, “What do you mean, ‘he’? Call him Lord, or call him Lord Xihe. How many times have I taught you the rules?”
After a pause, he asked curiously, “Why are you asking whether the Lord is here? Do you have something to tell him?”
Gu Mang nodded and said, “I’ll give him half of the flower cake.”
Li Wei laughed. “The Lord doesn’t even want to eat this kind of thing. Why are you giving him half?”
“I…” Gu Mang thought about it.
Ever since he had recalled the coming-of-age ceremony, whenever he thought of Mo Xi, some inexplicable emotions would always flutter and sway inside his heart.
Gu Mang said, “I’m staying at his place. I should give some to him.”
Li Wei rubbed his chin, quite interested as he muttered, “How strange. Could this be the pack hierarchy instinct at work? The subordinate wolf is trying to curry favor with the alpha wolf?”
Before he could finish muttering, a deep, cold voice came from behind him.
“What alpha wolf?”
Li Wei turned around.
Mo Xi, dressed in black military attire, had pushed the door open and walked inside.
Li Wei immediately became nervous. “Ah-ha, ah-hahaha, it’s nothing. Lord, you’re back from court? You’re early today.”
“New Year’s Eve is approaching, so things are relatively quiet.”
Mo Xi glanced at Gu Mang sitting on the edge of the bed, then said to Li Wei without turning his head, “Go out. I’ll speak with him alone for a while.”
The carved wooden door opened and closed, and Li Wei went out.
Mo Xi walked to Gu Mang’s bedside, pulled over a chair, and sat down.
Gu Mang hesitantly began, “You…”
Before he could finish, Mo Xi raised his hand and touched his forehead.
It was strange. Before this, physical contact with this man had certainly not been uncommon. He had grabbed his chin, pushed him against walls, shoved him onto the ground—there had been all sorts of contact. What did touching his head amount to?
Yet somehow, Gu Mang suddenly felt the organ inside his chest tremble violently.
He actually felt a little flustered.
“The fever’s gone.”
Mo Xi did not notice Gu Mang’s subtle reaction. He lowered his hand, his expression as cold and indifferent as before.
“Tell me. What else have you remembered these past few days?”
Gu Mang answered uncertainly, “I don’t…”
“You’d better not lie to me.”
Only then did Gu Mang notice the dark circles beneath Mo Xi’s eyes, clearly caused by staying awake for too long.
“I’ve been by your side almost this entire time these past few days. I’ve heard some of what you said in your sleep.”
“…”
After saying this, Mo Xi turned his cold, pale face slightly to the side, waiting for Gu Mang’s answer.
Gu Mang thought for a moment before saying, “I don’t know. They’re just fragments. Very scattered things.”
Mo Xi remained silent.
It seemed that he was desperately trying to restrain something, suppress something. But that restraint and suppression had reached a breaking point.
Suddenly, he could no longer hold it down.
He abruptly raised his eyes. His sharp gaze pierced straight into Gu Mang’s heart and lungs, as though he wanted to strip this man apart, flesh and bone, and lay everything inside him bare before his eyes.
He stared at Gu Mang like a predator for a while, then suddenly gritted his teeth and said,
“I heard you call his name.”
Gu Mang: “…”
The next words from Mo Xi were practically ground out from between his molars, carrying an indescribable unwillingness and hatred.
Even Gu Mang wondered whether it was merely his imagination, but there seemed to be a hint of sourness in them as well.
Mo Xi said darkly, “In the end, you still can’t forget him. You can’t forget Lu Zhanxing. Am I right?”