Chapter 92: Penglai Has an Immortal Island (2)
Bai Chunsheng’s heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly in someone’s fist, twisted and crushed. From the depths of his very soul came a pain so sharp it made him tremble. In his fear, in his sorrow, he thought over and over—those words of “I like you” had not been meant for Bo Yan to hear. Bai Chunsheng had wanted to say them to Yan Yi, to Yan Jingqiu.
Yi Zhou shook her head and said, “I don’t know.”
Bai Chunsheng asked, “Can I go see Yan Yi?”
In truth, Bai Chunsheng was still just a prisoner of uncertain identity. Yi Zhou had no authority to allow him to walk freely within the supreme seat of power of the Water Abyss Realm. With hesitation written on her face, she shook her head.
Without being able to see Yan Yi, nothing held any meaning anymore.
And he wanted even less to see Bo Yan.
It was as if the bones had been pulled from his body all at once. Bai Chunsheng pulled the quilt over himself and naturally curled up on the bed beneath it, folding himself into a ball.
He sank into confusion, his heart aching with a terrible thought—what if everything had been just an illusion created by the Blue Seal Flower? What if from the very beginning, he had never once spoken with Yan Yi through the wall?
Then where was Yan Yi now?
He must still be alive. Yes, he had to still be alive.
Curled up, Bai Chunsheng thought with dread, shivering as he wondered where Yan Yi might be and whether he was safe. At the same time, he worried over what Bo Yan truly intended to do to him.
Before, he had not wanted Yan Yi to recover his memories. But now, Bai Chunsheng would rather Yan Jingqiu had remained the way he was, even if he did not like him.
Bai Chunsheng kept thinking: why had Yan Jingqiu become Yan Yi? How could he ever make Yan Yi become Yan Jingqiu again?
—It must have been because he was too useless.
Back in the Yan family, Yan Jingqiu had been a Sword Sovereign of brilliance unmatched through the ages. But when it came to him, he had been nothing more than a little sword cultivator.
Turning it over and over in his mind, Bai Chunsheng realized he should have long known he could never measure up to Yan Jingqiu.
It wasn’t even a matter of not measuring up—though they were about the same age, he could not even manage to watch Yan Jingqiu’s back from afar.
And as he thought, without realizing it, Bai Chunsheng drifted once more into a dream.
This dream was not unfamiliar. The world was shrouded in darkness, a night without moon or stars. Yet if one waited quietly and patiently for a while, faint green fireflies would come fluttering through, brightening the surroundings with a touch of light. It was summer now, so of course there would be fireflies.
Bai Chunsheng sat on the ground, the damp soil cool beneath his palms. The forest around him seemed as if it had just been washed by heavy rain.
A familiar voice said, “Sit here for now.”
As though he had repeated this countless times before in this dream, Bai Chunsheng instinctively answered from memory, “I’m not sitting here. Go somewhere farther away.”
The voice said nothing further.
With a “sizzle,” an orange flame suddenly flared. A pile of firewood had been set before him. The fire flickered, swayed by the wind but still steady enough. The person tossed the flame onto the wood, his tone casual and indifferent: “Three thousand years ago, the Human Emperor died at Lutai. In a secret realm of heaven and earth like this, without reaching the Mahayana stage, one can hardly use any spiritual power. You just took a beating—don’t act tough. Come closer. I can see you’re shivering badly.”
Bai Chunsheng’s lips trembled with anger. “Yan Jingqiu, don’t you dare push your luck. Who do you think landed me in such a mess in the first place? And you still have the face to talk?”
Yan Jingqiu gave a cold laugh. “You brought this on yourself, and you still dare blame me?”
Unable to out-argue him, Bai Chunsheng shut his mouth. He dared not glare at Yan Jingqiu, for fear the man would catch him at it. So instead, he stared fiercely at the campfire by his feet. The longer he stared, the more his thoughts wandered back to the Ten Thousand Demon Sect, to his grandmother Bai Jianghan, and he regretted ever involving himself in Yan Jingqiu’s damned business.
And as he thought, his tears slid down his cheeks without him even noticing.
Seeing him cry, Yan Jingqiu sneered. “Pathetic. With me here, what are you afraid of?”
That remark drew a furious glare from Bai Chunsheng, but it also worked wonders in forcing back his tears. He gritted out, “It’s all because of you!”
In a place like Lutai, where even storage pouches could not be opened, Yan Jingqiu had originally used his sword to cut off the sleeve of his outer robe. He was about to hand it to Bai Chunsheng, but when he noticed the grass stains clinging to the robe, he pulled his hand back.
Yan Jingqiu then tore off a large, clean piece of cloth from the lining of his inner sleeve and handed it over to Bai Chunsheng. “Wipe your face.”
Bai Chunsheng slapped away Yan Jingqiu’s hand. “I don’t want your filthy things.”
He had no desire to humiliate himself in front of Yan Jingqiu. Gritting his teeth, he used the back of his hand to wipe away his tears, spending the rest of the time thinking about nothing else—only seething with hatred toward Yan Jingqiu.
Suddenly, Yan Jingqiu asked, “Do you really hate me?”
From this point on, Bai Chunsheng’s clear awareness seemed to drift far, far away. His consciousness detached from his body, and he stood at a distance, watching his former self leap up in a rage and shout at Yan Jingqiu: “Of course! Did you really think I would like you?”
“Why?” Yan Jingqiu asked.
Bai Chunsheng snapped, “Why? Do I need a reason not to like you? Why are you being hunted? Why are you hated by your own clan? Why do you have so many enemies? Yan Jingqiu, enemy of thousands—don’t you have even the slightest self-awareness?”
Yan Jingqiu looked at Bai Chunsheng, then suddenly smiled. “I’m hunted because I’m too strong, and they fear me. I’m hated because my talent outshines the rest, and they’re jealous of me. As for why I’m the enemy of thousands, it’s only natural—because I stand unmatched beneath the heavens.”
“And what about you?” Yan Jingqiu asked. “Why is it that you fear me, dread me, and tremble before me?” This scene had surfaced countless times in Bai Chunsheng’s dreams late at night. No one remembered more clearly than he did how he had answered that question from Yan Jingqiu.
The present Bai Chunsheng stood just behind his former self, watching his own panic and disarray under Yan Jingqiu’s relentless questioning, leaving him with nowhere to hide.
Then—
In his panic, Bai Chunsheng slapped Yan Jingqiu across the face.
For some reason, Yan Jingqiu had not dodged. Everything had happened so fast back then. Bai Chunsheng, nearly hysterical, shouted at him, “Get lost! Stay away from me!”
But dreams, in the end, were only dreams. Even if he rewrote them, gratifying himself with different outcomes, the past remained unchanged. Bai Chunsheng’s emotions were tangled as he watched the dream replay faithfully, like a straight line that stretched endlessly, continuing steadfastly into the future.
Bai Chunsheng was a despicable kind of demon—conceited yet deeply insecure.
This was why he had wished Yan Jingqiu buried forever in the ground. This was why he had never wanted Yan Yi to recall the past. This was why he always awoke from nightmares in the dead of night. He refused to admit Yan Jingqiu’s strength and brilliance. And he refused even more to admit that beneath his extreme hostility toward Yan Jingqiu lay a twisted, inexpressible sense of worship.
Everyone else could shamelessly come forward to offer their congratulations when Yan Jingqiu surpassed the Mahayana stage, shattered the Ten Thousand Demon Cavern with a single sword, and became the Sword Sovereign, unrivaled under heaven in every sense.
But Bai Chunsheng could not.
Even though Yan Jingqiu never said anything. Even though, after leaving Lutai, the two of them had no further interactions, as if nothing had ever happened.
After Lutai, when Yan Jingqiu shut himself away in a life-and-death seclusion, the letters Bai Chunsheng sent were no longer the same challenges he used to write.
They were letters of apology.
It was said that more than a century ago, during Yan Jingqiu’s seclusion, the Demonic Realm fell into chaos. At that critical moment, the Tai Xu Sect begged the Sword Sovereign to fight. Forced out of seclusion, the Yan family’s Sword Sovereign struck a single blow that pierced through the Ten Thousand Demon Cavern, annihilated half of the Demonic Realm, and established his unrivaled prestige.
Yan Jingqiu had indeed been right. The world feared him, dreaded him, and trembled before him. Bai Chunsheng was nothing more than one of the countless weaklings who fawned on power and recoiled from strength—the most cowardly and timid of them all. To the Sword Sovereign, he was no different from a self-deluded clown leaping about in vain.
Taking advantage of the fact that no one noticed, Bai Chunsheng secretly visited the Yan estate.
He gathered up all the letters he had written over the years during Yan Jingqiu’s seclusion—letters Yan Jingqiu had never read—and brought them back to the Star-Plucking Pavilion.
He knew full well that Yan Jingqiu would never want to read them, so he spared himself the humiliation.
Through the flickering, orange firelight, Yan Jingqiu’s figure loomed and faded. It felt as though he was staring straight at Bai Chunsheng.
—Staring at Bai Chunsheng’s small, pitiful soul.
Author’s note: Of course, the reason Bai Chunsheng had rushed into Lutai and ended up trapped was, deep down, because he had wanted to help Yan Jingqiu.
Don’t learn from him—saying one thing while meaning another.
Still, when cats admit their mistakes, they roll onto their backs and show their bellies. I wonder if ducks would do the same?
Huge shoutout to @_nyanmaru_ on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.
