“My senior brother is teaching me?”
Gu Mang suddenly opened his eyes. His deep blue eyes shone with a moist glow in the darkness.
The tent was silent. His chest rose and fell violently, and his back was soaked with hot sweat. He could hear his own heart pounding, its thudding echoing loudly in the still night.
He swallowed hard—what had he just dreamed about?
The final image was of Mo Xi pressing down on him, sucking on his lips. The scorching heat stood in stark contrast to the man’s usual cool demeanor; he could almost feel that overwhelming emotion pouring out of the dream, engulfing him and obliterating him.
But what was this emotion? He didn’t understand. He only felt that it possessed an astonishing intensity and a terrifying tenacity—one that could bridge the gap between wakefulness and dreams, making his heart race uncontrollably and his blood boil ceaselessly.
Too sweet, and too dangerous.
Gu Mang instinctively raised his hand to touch his lips, then rolled over.
He saw Mo Xi sitting in the chair by his bed, asleep with his face turned to the side; that face was now clearly different from the young man in his dream.
No longer so youthful. No longer so reckless.
And perhaps, no longer so sincere.
Time hadn’t taken away the handsome, delicate features of his face, but it had stripped away all that youthful recklessness, innocence, and straightforwardness. Gu Mang looked at him and recalled what he’d said when they first met: “We’ve met before.”
Gu Mang hadn’t taken those words seriously before, but at that moment, a sudden wave of confusion washed over him—had they really known each other before?
It felt so intimate—they’d hug each other and laugh, roll around on the same bed. Back then, Mo Xi was just like Fan Dou; he didn’t mind at all that Gu Mang was dirty.
Was any of that real…
And then there was that final moment—the intimacy of their lips touching.
He didn’t know what it meant, but just thinking about that sensation made his heart burn with heat, even though that heat was tinged with pain. Yet he was truly curious about what that feeling was—and what would happen next after their lips touched.
He longed to know, but the dream had ended, and he could no longer remember.
Gu Mang blinked his clear, moist blue eyes; he simply couldn’t make sense of such delicate matters. Finally, he reached out and leaned forward from the bed.
He hesitated for a moment, but curiosity got the better of him, and he touched Mo Xi’s pale lips with his fingertip.
How strange—why were they so cool, not nearly as warm as in his dream?
Or perhaps the dream was a lie?
Before he could finish this thought, he saw that, by the light of the dying candle, Mo Xi had been roused by his touch. Mo Xi’s eyelashes trembled slightly, and his eyelids parted ever so slightly.
Mo Xi must still have been deep in sleep; his eyes were unfocused for a moment. He gazed hazily at Gu Mang for a while, then lowered his gaze to see Gu Mang touching his lips—which only made him feel even more certain that he was still dreaming.
With an almost sorrowful sigh, he gently took Gu Mang’s hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it lightly.
“Senior Brother… I dreamed of you again…”
“It’s only in my dreams that you don’t get angry with me, that you stay by my side so obediently…”
As her soft, slightly cool lips brushed against the back of his hand, Mo Xi lowered his head, his voice seeming to catch in his throat.
Gu Mang stared at him blankly. Ever since they’d met, he’d never seen this man so vulnerable and tender. Seeing him like this, for some reason, a sudden pang of sadness welled up in Gu Mang’s heart.
Why does it hurt so much?
After all, this was the same person who had hit him just yesterday, chased him away, and called him filthy.
Yet something just didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like this was how their true feelings for each other were supposed to be. The two of them… shouldn’t… shouldn’t be like this…
Gu Mang hesitated for a moment before whispering, “I dreamed about you.”
“……” Mo Xi paused, then slowly raised his eyes.
The haze cast by the candles and the long night was fading; focus gradually returned to Mo Xi’s dazed, dark eyes, and his gaze grew clear.
Gu Mang watched almost in real time as the confusion and tenderness in his eyes receded, revealing vast swaths of astonishment and pain.
He abruptly let go of Gu Mang’s hand.
Mo Xi had come to his senses.
He sprang to his feet and stared at Gu Mang for a moment, his expression a kaleidoscope of emotions. But he didn’t speak right away. He pressed his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes, taking a long moment to compose himself before finally saying through gritted teeth, “I’m sorry. Don’t take it seriously. I wasn’t thinking straight just now. I…”
Gu Mang cut him off: “I dreamed about you.”
Mo Xi probably assumed she was talking about some random, nonsensical dream, so he didn’t pay it much mind. But seeing that she insisted on bringing it up, he asked, “…What did you dream about me?”
Gu Mang sat up, kneeling on the bed as she looked up at the man standing before her, who towered over her. His gaze roamed unabashedly over Mo Xi’s lips before finally settling on his eyes.
“I dreamed you were warm, and that you smiled.”
“……”
“I dreamed you weren’t as sad as you are now.”
“……”
“You called me ‘Senior Brother.’”
Mo Xi’s pupils suddenly contracted. The tips of his fingers were trembling. He grabbed the back of Gu Mang’s head, forcing him to keep his head still, forcing him to look at him like this, forcing him to lay bare every expression in his eyes.
Mo Xi’s voice trembled violently: “ “What… did you say?”
“You’re still young. I’m young, too. Let’s be together—in the tent.” Gu Mang paused for a moment, then said softly, “You’ve reached the age of twenty; I’ll be with you.”
Mo Xi’s face turned an eerie shade of white.
Gu Mang softly murmured the line he’d recalled: “I’ll be with you through your reckless youth, and I’ll be with you when you come of age.”
Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, his entire body trembled. Blood seemed to rush to his head all at once; the surge caused his vision to darken in waves, while his limbs grew ice-cold. Mo Xi’s eyes shone with a terrifying intensity, yet his expression was equally terrifyingly somber—he looked as if he were about to be torn into contradictory shards by a torrent too violent to withstand.
Had Gu Mang remembered? Was this the very first memory to return to him?
He recalled that night of his coming-of-age ceremony, when they had defied convention and done such a thing.
“I’ll be with you.”
Mo Xi took a step back. The emotion he should have felt was shock—or perhaps relief. But he never expected to hear those tender, affectionate words from all those years ago so suddenly and without warning.
He had thought he would never hear them again in his lifetime… He had thought he would never hear them again for the rest of his life! He was about to rely on those few pitiful memories to quell the agony he had longed for but could never attain.
Why on earth did Gu Mang say that?
Those sweet, honeyed words from the past struck him like a sledgehammer, causing such excruciating pain in his chest that he almost instinctively doubled over. This unbreakable man was utterly shattered by that offhand remark, unable to stand any longer. He sank back into his chair and buried his face deep in his palms. He couldn’t utter a single word.
Earlier, he had slapped Gu Mang across the face, yet Gu Mang’s single remark was enough to shatter his heart.
Gu Mang looked at him. Originally, he had wanted to ask, “Was that really a dream? Or have I finally recalled a bit of the past?” But seeing Mo Xi’s current state, even someone as callous as him understood—
It was real.
They really had gone through that period of their lives together; it had simply been cast aside into a time when they were both young and fearless.
That night, Mo Xi had fled the tent in a panic, as if escaping.
And for the next two days, Mo Xi seemed to be deliberately avoiding him.
Before, his face had been full of disgust; now, however, it was as if he didn’t know how to face him calmly. Gu Mang stammered several times, wanting to ask, but Mo Xi refused to be alone with him; whenever he saw Gu Mang, he would walk away from a distance.
Mo Xi truly didn’t know how to face Gu Mang—he wasn’t sure exactly how much Gu Mang remembered. Had he only recalled the first half of the night of his coming-of-age ceremony, or had he also remembered all the outrageous events that followed? He wanted to ask, but he didn’t dare.
Besides, what was the point of asking?
Their relationship had already been torn apart to this extent; there was no way to mend it. Why bother piecing together those fragments of tenderness, only to add to his own heartache? He was still wearing the mourning sash of the martyred Crown Prince—how could he possibly forget the blood feud between Gu Mang and Chonghua?
They traveled in silence all the way, and on the third day, they finally reached the Abyss of Soul-Calling.
It was a chasm torn from the earth, its beginning and end invisible to the eye. At the bottom of the abyss, a torrential current surged mightily from east to west. The army arrived at dawn, just as the rising sun pierced the darkness, rising majestically from the horizon and showering the Nine Provinces with a dazzling yet gentle golden light.
The Sovereign, mounted on a snow-white, golden-winged steed with golden stirrups and clad in a long robe as white as snow, rode forth from the ranks of the royal army. Behind him, all the noble escorts dismounted one after another. The morning sun illuminated the golden trim on their sleeves; they were indeed descendants of the imperial line, exuding a majestic presence.
The Master of Ceremonies announced, “Present the sacrificial lotus—”
The attendants of each noble family presented a lantern shaped like a lotus flower, illuminated by an eternal lamp burning whale oil, and handed it to their respective masters. Each of these lanterns represented the heroic martyrs sacrificed by that family; held with both hands by the head of the household, they accompanied the Sovereign to the banks of the Soul-Calling Abyss.
Murong Lian, Yue Juntian, Mo Xi… the heads of these Chonghua noble houses stepped forward one by one, clad in royal-blue robes embroidered with bat motifs, snow-white robes with axe-tooth patterns, and jet-black robes adorned with soaring serpent designs…
Each head of household’s ceremonial robe was the epitome of opulence and solemnity; even a single type of the hidden totem embroidered on the back was enough to inspire awe and reverence—let alone the sight of these families, wielding supreme power, lined up in a row, their wide-sleeved robes fluttering in the wind. The gold trim along the cuffs shimmered with magnificent radiance.
A commanding presence without a trace of anger.
The Master of Ceremonies declared, “Kneel—!”
The entourage knelt behind them like a tidal wave, forming a sea of golden light in varying hues.
“Lower the lanterns—!”
Mo Xi and the others set the flower lanterns down at the edge of the abyss. Enchanted with the Light Feather Spell, the lanterns, their flames flickering brightly, descended slowly, sinking gently into the waters of the abyss.
Light pierced through the darkness, and the heavens and earth shone in splendor.
The heads of the clans also knelt on one knee one after another, and the ritual chants of the Great Na ceremony echoed faintly through this vast, desolate expanse: “Long ago, a young warrior set forth with his sword; his blood stained the sand, his bones never to return. Last year, his remains still bore a jade-like countenance; last night, this very body laughed and chatted. Your loyal heart illuminates mine; your noble spirit I shall carry on. On the day your heroic soul returns to its homeland, every corner of the mortal world shall be green as the mountains.”
As the ritual song echoed endlessly, countless crystalline specks rose from the Soul-Summoning Abyss—the remnants of the departed’s consciousness said to linger in the mortal world.
Amid the tributes to the departed, they soared toward the ten-thousand-zhang golden light.
Gu Mang watched this scene, listening to the unceasing, majestic hymns. He watched the lanterns bearing names and surnames sink into the light—the souls of the Yue family, the Mo family, the Murong family… They were all remembered; their names were repeatedly invoked in the soul-summoning melody and etched into people’s hearts.
Yet what weighed heavily on his heart seemed to be a different set of bleak, chilling names.
He could not recall them, but at that moment they washed over his heart like a tide—those names, most of them unattractive and simple, some consisting of nothing more than a surname followed by a number, exuding an air of lowliness from the very moment they were spoken.
There were so many of them, lingering mournfully in his ears. Like nameless, fallen foot soldiers, they called out to him from the depths of the abyss, rebuking him, reproaching him.
General Gu, General Gu.
You promised that if we called you “General Gu,” you would lead us out of hell.
You would take us home… …and give us a name…
But you lied.
Even you don’t remember our names anymore; even you don’t remember who we are… Our severed limbs have rotted, our crimson blood has dried… Nothing remains.
Is there a soul lamp for nameless heroes? To guide us back to the land we once defended, to see where our loved ones lie, amidst the mountains and rivers.
General Gu… General Gu…
My name is… My name is…
A buzzing filled his ears, and his eyes stung with tears. Gu Mang could hardly breathe; in a daze, he saw countless dead crawling out of the abyss, their blurred faces surging toward him.
“Gu Mang?” His final memory was the low gasp of surprise from the captain of his guard standing beside him.
He wanted to answer, but his throat was so constricted he couldn’t make a sound—all those names he couldn’t recall were stuck there, choking him, demanding his life.
In a daze, he distinctly heard a deafening roar—his own voice, tearing through the air from the thick smoke of battle in some distant year—
“Move!! Anyone still alive, get to your feet!!!”
“Call me General Gu! For those who’ve died, I’ll erect a monument for you; for those still alive, I’ll lead you home!! !”
“Move!!!”
That voice, drenched in blood, pierced deep into his heart. He felt guilt and agony. He was filled with the sorrow and resentment of a promise he could not fulfill.
Gu Mang raised his hand to press against his temple in agony. A buzzing filled his ears, and then, with a splitting headache, he collapsed, falling into the dust.