Duan Xu seemed to have regained his energy, his tired face showing signs of vitality. He patted the space beside the bed and said to He Jia Feng Yi: “Your Eminence, why not sit down and chat?”
He Jia Feng Yi looked warily at Duan Xu, reluctantly sitting down at his bedside.
For more than a year, He Simu had always remained by Duan Xu’s side. Although she didn’t sleep at night, she wouldn’t leave either. Recently, with the war situation stabilized, Duan Xu was curious about what He Simu did while he slept. After pretending to sleep for a few days, he discovered that after he fell asleep, He Simu would begin writing in her diary.
What she used was exactly what He Jia Feng Yi had mentioned to him—the journal that had stopped three hundred years ago. At some point, she had resumed recording the mundane aspects of daily life, those small ordinary details that carefully depicted every aspect of the person named “Duan Xu” between the lines.
“She wants to remember me,” Duan Xu told He Jia Feng Yi about this. He frowned slightly and said very honestly: “I also know my body is in poor condition. I can’t go anywhere and will probably have to lie in bed and rest every day from now on. If that’s the case, what can she record each day? I hope that the journal can contain more beautiful memories. This world is a gift to me, and I want to pass this gift to her.”
He Jia Feng Yi silently looked at Duan Xu, thinking that he truly was a restless soul who would cause trouble until his dying moment.
If not for such a person, how could he have stirred up the stagnant waters of the ancestor’s life so completely?
“You already have little time left. If you truly transfer all five senses to Simu at once, it would only be for an hour. After the transfer, it’s hard to say whether you could even survive a day.”
Duan Xu nodded as if he had expected this: “I know.”
“This can be done, but only with the ancestor’s consent. General Duan, you may die without regrets, but I still need to live,” He Jia Feng Yi said bluntly, spreading his hands.
Duan Xu smiled, his eyes curved with a hint of craftiness: “Good, I’ll persuade Simu. She has become increasingly indulgent toward me lately. She will agree.”
He Jia Feng Yi narrowed his eyes as he looked at Duan Xu. Back in the Southern Capital, Duan Xu had been the one longing unrequitedly, but now he had the ancestor completely wrapped around his finger.
“Duan Xun Xi, you’re about to die, about to leave the ancestor. Aren’t you sad?”
Duan Xu’s eyes flickered, his smile fading as he said: “In this life, from the moment I felt love until my death, I’ve loved only this one girl. I consider myself very fortunate. At this point, I don’t want my final days to be filled with sadness.”
“However, perhaps when I finally die, I’ll clutch her and cry.”
The sound of rain continued steadily. Duan Xu was like a flower about to be blown away by wind and rain. Yet even at such a moment, he remained that light-hearted, smiling youth who spoke of everything casually.
He Jia Feng Yi closed the door and looked at Zi Ji, who was standing guard outside. Zi Ji stood quietly holding an umbrella. Seeing him emerge, she raised her deep black eyes, silently walked toward him, and opened the umbrella.
He Jia Feng Yi turned and walked down the steps into the courtyard drizzling with spring rain, with Zi Ji’s umbrella steadily sheltering him.
His cane made crisp tapping sounds on the ground, like leisurely heartbeats. Feng Yi suddenly turned his head to look at Zi Ji beside him.
“When I die, will you be sad? Will you clutch me and cry too?”
Zi Ji was startled. She bit her lip lightly, seeming unwilling to answer.
He Jia Feng Yi couldn’t help but sneer. After so many years, she still avoided discussing his death—truly absurd.
“What are you avoiding? Aren’t you, the planners of the destiny of the Mars Star clan’s short lifespan, the very ones responsible?”
After a pause, he added: “Divine One.”
Zi Ji’s steps faltered.
The Mars Disaster Star lineage was born rebellious yet naturally talented, and He Jia Feng Yi had been particularly defiant in his youth. Suffering from illness since childhood and haunted by prophecies of early death, at fifteen he used the Mars bloodline and ancestral methods to open the gates of heaven and confront the divine.
He pointed at those deities who established the various orders of the world and berated them, saying they had no right to control the human realm if they never came to earth and knew nothing of human suffering. He had gone with a mindset prepared for death, but unexpectedly, after his tirade, amid that dazzling white light, a voice truly said it would descend with him to observe human emotions.
Now He Jia Feng Yi looked at the beautiful woman before him, taciturn with eyes like the deep night sky, as if seeing the day she had stepped out from that light.
He said: “Do you think you were wrong?”
Zi Ji stepped over the threshold, supporting Feng Yi’s hand. She raised her eyes to look at him: “The divine is never wrong. Even the concept of ‘right and wrong’ in the human world was established by the divine.”
Feng Yi also crossed the threshold. He chuckled softly and said: “Yes, how marvelous indeed. Then what was the original intention behind creating this system?”
“For the world to operate smoothly, for the happiness of the majority.”
“So you exploit our kindness? Zi Ji, we maintained the happiness of the majority, yet had no choice but to be unhappy because of it. Don’t you find it too arrogant to torment us under such noble pretexts?”
Zi Ji looked at him earnestly and calmly said: “That is the reason I am here.”
He Jia Feng Yi gazed at her for a moment, then smiled noncommittally: “If you never felt you were wrong, why didn’t you return? To be honest, Zi Ji, I’m tired of this game.”
He suddenly walked out from under the umbrella into the drizzling rain. His hair and clothes quickly became soaked, clinging to his chronically ill, emaciated body, making him look even more gaunt.
Zi Ji’s calm expression turned to panic. She said: “You… you’ll fall ill like this!”
She took a few steps forward, but He Jia Feng Yi raised his hand to stop her. Smiling, he retreated step by step, and behind him at the end of the stone steps was a cliff.
“Zi Ji, you arranged for me to die early, arranged for my life to be plagued by illness, inescapable. So today I want to die—falling from this cliff shouldn’t be too painful.”
He Jia Feng Yi was already standing at the edge of the cliff. The ground was slippery with moss, and he staggered. Zi Ji immediately threw down the umbrella and rushed toward him.
“Zi Ji!” He Jia Feng Yi shouted to stop her, his gaze intense as he pointed at her and said: “You are divine, you are the divine monitor of this millennium. Human strategies come from you and are monitored by you. Think carefully—if you interfere in human affairs, there’s no going back. If you save me now, you’re admitting you were wrong.”
Zi Ji halted her steps, standing in place, saying angrily: “He Jia Feng Yi, stop this nonsense!”
He Jia Feng Yi looked at Zi Ji’s expression and suddenly burst into laughter: “Divine Monitor, so you can get angry too? I thought after you ascended to divinity, you no longer had a human heart.”
“But I am human, Divine Monitor. I am not your order. I breathe, have a heartbeat, and can be joyful and sad. I am human, look at me, I am alive.”
He Jia Feng Yi retreated another half step, almost suspended at the cliff’s edge. The hand that had been pointing at Zi Ji slowly relaxed, palm upward, as if reaching out for her to grab him.
“After ten years together, it has come to this day. Divine Monitor, will you save me?”
Zi Ji stood in place, clenching her fists. The rain had soaked her beautiful features and clothes. In the misty dampness, she said softly: “Stop this nonsense.”
It was almost a plea.
He Jia Feng Yi began to laugh: “Would you also be reluctant to lose an insignificant nail in your perfect order, Zi Ji?”
He saw Zi Ji’s pupils contract when he called her “Zi Ji.” He Jia Feng Yi smiled and closed his eyes, leaning backward. In the rain falling on his upturned face, he felt his body slipping beyond his control, about to fall.