Tang Lici did not respond. Wan Yu Yuedan's eyes curved into crescents as he smiled expansively, "I aim to be a king, but not necessarily a strong one. Young Master Tang... you don't have to be a king, but you must become strong." He spoke slowly, "To be strong... one's heart must be as hard as stone. If you cannot endure the suffering of others, your weaknesses will be exposed too easily. The martial world is turbulent, and you are a crucial figure..."
Tang Lici lifted his gaze with a smile. The sky appeared pale gray, desolate and vast, like a handful of fine sand blown into the air by a fierce wind—scattering and drifting, yet rising higher and higher, never falling.
At that moment, a distant "boom" resounded. In Tang Lici's vision, a plume of black smoke rose from the direction of Wangting Manor, followed by towering flames that reached halfway to the sky. Needless to say, the intricate, tunnel-laden estate had once again vanished amid gunpowder and fire. The outcome of Zhu Yan and Yu Konghou's battle remained unknown, and the fate of the men and women hidden within Wangting Manor would now become another mystery.
They surely had another stronghold, but even if Zhu Yan and Yu Konghou had wounded each other gravely, the remaining forces of the Dissolute Shop were still formidable—pursuit was unwise. Tang Lici stared unblinkingly at the intensifying blaze. If only he were stronger, if he had allies like Zhu Yan, last night would have been the perfect opportunity to kill Yu Konghou.
Allies like Zhu Yan...
The shadow of Fu Zhumei flashed through his mind. The rosy hue of Tang Lici's delicate complexion suddenly paled slightly, and a faint dizziness washed over him. Tang Yingdi's words—"He is better than you"—and A Shui's echoing "He is better than you" overlapped in his ears like lingering ghosts. His eyes narrowed slightly as Wan Yu Yuedan beside him looked up, "Young Master Tang?"
"I'm tired," Tang Lici said. Wan Yu Yuedan exhaled softly and sat down on the ground. Unconcerned whether it was mud or weeds beneath him, he brushed his hand across the damp, withered grass and then simply lay back, resting his head on his arms as he gazed at the sky.
He couldn't see the sky, but he was happy.
Tang Lici sat down beside him. Wan Yu Yuedan tugged at his sleeve, "If you're tired, lie down. The ground may be cold, but it won't freeze us to death." Tang Lici lay down as well, resting his head on his arms and looking up at the sky.
The sky remained hazy. A few withered, misshapen leaves drifted in the wind, rising and falling unpredictably, yet moving freely. Wan Yu Yuedan plucked a dry blade of grass, "Can you sing?" Tang Lici kept his eyes fixed on the leaves dancing in the wind, "Sing?" Wan Yu Yuedan ran his nimble fingers along the blade of grass, carefully tracing its shape, "When lying on the ground, don't you feel like singing? I want to hear someone sing."
Watching him toy with the grass, Tang Lici gradually relaxed. The tightly wound tension of recent days slowly eased, and as it did, his expression lost its calm elegance, revealing a faint sneer, "There's a song called 'Weakling.'"
"'Weakling'?" Wan Yu Yuedan blinked, "What a strange name. Sing it for me."Tang Lici sprawled carelessly on the withered grass. "Over there, the lights of the encampment flicker, endless troops sleep by the river under a crescent moon, long grass blankets the slopes. Over there, many dreams are dreamt, counting one two three four, hazier than the stars. Over there, tiny insects glow faintly, wandering silently at midnight; here, fragile insects beat their wings, soaring as strong foes approach. How many ghosts line the riverbanks, holding spears under the cover of night... Whose night dream sees the frail insects drifting lightly, troops drawing near? Whose night dream sees the frail insects dying softly, falling like leaves to the ground? Whose war boots tread upon them, unaware of their dreams, mistaking them for mere dirt, oh—mistaking them for mere dirt—the crescent moon flickers coldly, shining, shining endlessly upon how many frail insects die alone tonight..." He wasn't singing, merely reciting the words.
Wan Yu Yuedan listened intently. "'Troops drawing near'—that line feels abrupt." Tang Lici gazed at the sky. "That's a dual harmony." Wan Yu Yuedan added, "'Falling like leaves to the ground' also..." Tang Lici interrupted, "That's also a dual harmony." Wan Yu Yuedan didn't understand what "dual harmony" meant and plucked at the withered grass in his hand regretfully. "Why don't you sing it?"
"Sing?" Tang Lici grabbed a handful of dry grass from the ground and tossed it into the air, watching it scatter in the wind. "Who knows... Go ask Fu Zhumei to sing it for you. I can only sing 'troops drawing near' and 'falling like leaves to the ground.'"
Wan Yu Yuedan was puzzled. "Why?"
Tang Lici looked up at the sky, where the grass he had thrown was no longer visible. "Because... that's just how it's set."
Wan Yu Yuedan fell silent. "Who set it?"
Tang Lici raised his hand, spreading his fingers to peer at the sky through the gaps. The sky remained vast, but through his fingers, it seemed narrow. "Everyone... absolutely everyone."
When he said "everyone... absolutely everyone," Tang Lici's tone was childlike. Wan Yu Yuedan smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Then I'll sing for you instead."
Tang Lici laughed. "You?" His voice was dismissive but not forbidding. "Go ahead."
Wan Yu Yuedan lay on the ground and began singing. He sang casually, humming childhood tunes, filling in forgotten words with whatever came to mind or making them up entirely when he couldn't remember—after all, Tang Lici wouldn't know what he was singing anyway.
The winter wind was cold. After listening to Wan Yu Yuedan's aimless singing for a while, Tang Lici's red lips curled slightly. "You... sometimes remind me of someone." Wan Yu Yuedan stopped singing. "Who?" The curve of Tang Lici's lips deepened faintly. "You're missing him." Wan Yu Yuedan pressed, "Who?" Tang Lici replied, "You know very well who." Wan Yu Yuedan sighed. "Hmm... How do you know him? Where is he?" Tang Lici smirked. "He's in a place... very, very far away."
"Is he well?" Wan Yu Yuedan didn't ask where "he" was—he knew Tang Lici wouldn't say.
"Not very." Tang Lici closed his eyes. "Or rather... not at all."
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