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âI submit my soul to the disaster of loving you.â
á´/É´ â ÉŞ'á´ á´ á´ Ęɪɢ á´á´ęąá´ á´á´á´á´ĘĘá´á´Ą, ÉŞá´ ęąá´Ęá´ęąęąá´á´
á´á´á´ ÉŞ á´Ąá´É´É´á´ ęąá´Ęá´á´á´ á´Ę Ęá´á´Ęá´ á´á´á´ á´É´á´
á´ĘĘ á´É´á´ÉŞĘ á´Ę Ęá´É´É˘ęą ɢᴠɴá´á´Ę. á´É´Ęá´Ąá´Ę, ÉŞ á´ĄĘá´á´á´ á´ĘÉŞęą á´á´ Ęá´Ęá´ á´á´ á´á´Ęá´ á´ę° á´
á´á´ĄÉ´, á´Ęęą á´
á´É´'á´ Ęá´á´á´ ę°á´Ęá´Ąá´Ęá´
á´á´ á´ĘÉŞęą. ÉŞá´ ÉŞÉ´á´á´É´ęąÉŞęąá´á´É´á´ á´ĄÉŞá´Ę á´á´á´
á´á´á´ęą.
á´Ęęą É´á´á´á´ á´Ęá´á´ á´ĘÉŞęą ÉŞęą á´ Ęá´á´ĘÉŞá´É´ x á´Ęɪɢɪɴá´Ę á´Ęá´Ęá´á´á´á´Ę. ÉŞ á´ĘĘá´á´Ą Ęá´á´á´
á´Ęęą á´á´ á´ęąá´ á´Ęá´ÉŞĘ á´á´ĄÉ´ É´á´á´á´ęą, á´É´á´
á´ĄÉŞĘĘ á´ĄĘÉŞá´á´ á´ĘÉŞęą ę°Ęá´á´ á´ ęąá´á´á´É´á´
á´á´Ęęąá´É´ á´á´á´ ęąÉŞÉ´á´á´ á´Ę á´Ęá´Ęá´á´á´á´Ę Ęá´ęąÉ´'á´ Ęá´á´É´ É´á´á´á´á´
. á´É´á´á´Ę!
Had you not slipped and nearly fallen to your death while picking fruit by the stream that day, you might never have crossed paths with the misfortune god, Xie Lian.
From that moment on, you followed him faithfully, never once straying from his side.
He is remarkably humble, perhaps the most humble person you will ever meet. The thought that he might be a god never occurred to you, not until his sudden determination to build a temple in honor of a long-forgotten prince. Or perhaps it was the black ink etched deep into his skin, circling his neck like a collar, revealing itself in a glimpse of a moment.
And though you had only known him for a short time, there was an undeniable sense of familiarity between you.
When you first laid eyes on the temple, âdilapidatedâ wasnât quite the word you were looking for. Still, with patience and effort, the two of you transformed it into a place that could, at the very least, be called home.
He is as kind and gentle as everâyour great savior. Having lived with him for so long, youâd like to think you know him well enough to predict his thoughts and actions. Apparently, you don't.
It all started when you were at Puqi Temple, cleaning up and preparing dinner, when Xie Lian suddenly walked in with an unfamiliar man. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest. The cutlery in your hand slipped through your fingers, clattering loudly against the floor.
For a brief moment, your mind stuttered, struggling to process what you were seeing. Your vision felt too bright, your body frozen in place while your thoughts scrambled to catch up. Xie Lian let out a small, guilty sigh. He couldn't see your face, but the way you had gone stiff as a statue told him everything he needed to know.
You reluctantly invited the man, who introduced himself as San Lang, to join you both for dinner. A flicker of doubt surfaced in your heart, but you pushed it asideâafter all, it didnât seem fair to be suspicious of someone who had done nothing to harm you.
Relief washed over you when San Lang showed no intention of staying the night. With only a single straw mat, a long altar table, two small stools, and a house without a door, there was hardly enough space for the two of you, let alone a guest. You werenât particularly proud of that last detail, though.
Yet, in the days that followed, San Lang began lingering at the temple longer until, before you knew it, he was staying the night as well. It was as if he had quietly claimed the place as his second home.
âThank you for making dinner, my friend. I apologize for not telling you about the situation sooner,â Xie Lian said, offering a sheepish smile.
You waved off his apology with a simple gesture, signaling that it was fine.
Approaching the long altar, you set down a single bowl of stir-fried bok choy with tofu puffs. A twinge of embarrassment crept into your mind; of all nights to have a guest, it had to be when the meal was this simple.
Compared to Xie Lian, whose terrible luck followed him no matter where he went or what he did, you had a bit more fortune on your side. That morning, after helping a Puqi villager build a new chicken coop, you were given some eggs as a reward. Thanks to that, you had at least been able to prepare a dish of egg soupâone small effort to preserve what little dignity the two of you had left.
As you ate your portion, Xie Lian and the young man, San Lang, conversed freely, paying little mind to your presence. That, however, did nothing to stop the sensation of a burning gaze drilling a hole into you. More specifically, into the cloth that concealed your face.
You winced slightly at the unsettling atmosphere, lowering your head as you chewed the last of your food. You werenât used to being the focus of someoneâs attention, it always felt unnerving, even when it happened by chance. After finishing your meal, you quietly excused yourself, cleaning your bowl before retreating to bed.
âIf the young one wishes, he can sleep here,â you said, your voice smooth and beautiful, like a delicate symphonyâclear and deliberate, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
To say that Xie Lian was caught off guard by your words would be an understatement.
You barely spoke; so rarely, in fact, that Xie Lian could count the number of times on his fingers and still have a few left over.
At first, he had even wondered if you were incapable of speech. It wasnât until one day, when he unknowingly served you the same dish for the third week in a row and you quietly declined, that he realized there was more to your silence than he had assumed.
On the other hand, you knew that sharing a single mat between three people would be cramped and incommodious. Resolving to weave another one first thing in the morning, you told yourself you just had to hang in there for tonight.
You had no way of knowing if your uninvited guest would stay another night, but it never hurt to be prepared.
Most people would struggle to keep their composure when a stranger suddenly appeared in their home. Instinct often urged caution, a heightened awareness at the first sign of potential danger.
Choosing subtlety over confrontation, you pretended to be asleep, quietly eavesdropping on their conversation while keeping a close eye on San Lang. If he showed even the slightest hint of malice toward Xie Lian, you wouldnât hesitate to act.
You stared at him in quiet wonder. It was almost unbelievable how effortlessly he became acquainted with Xie Lian. San Lang was so well-spoken that every time he quipped a joke, Xie Lianâs face would light up with a smile.
You couldnât say for certain whether you had ever met him before, however the way he radiated warmth and admiration toward Xie Lian made it seem as if he had known him forever.
Then, like an arrow laced with poison, an uneasy feeling struck you.
Is this what you call jealousy? But why would you be jealous of San Lang?
Xie Lian was a friend, a companion. He had saved your life, and for that, you should only feel gratitude.
You quickly swallowed the unseemly feeling rising in your throat, pushing it down before it could take root.
Trying to distract yourself, you focused on anything but the unease stirring inside you. Little by little, your thoughts blurred, and before you knew it, you had drifted off to sleep.
âGÄgÄ, aren't you missing something in this temple?â San Lang asked curiously, glancing around.
Xie Lian had just finished sweeping and was kneeling on the cushion when he heard the question. Dusting off the altar table, he replied, âThe only thing I can think of that's missing is the worshippers. Is there anything else?â
San Lang bent down beside him, resting his chin on one hand. A playful glint flickered in his eyes as he mused, âShouldn't every temple have a divine statue of its god?â
A temple without an idol is hardly a temple.
One could argue that the god himself was present, but he couldnât very well sit on the altar all day, every day. Xie Lian pondered for a moment before offering a solution. âI bought some paper and ink today. I'll paint a portrait tomorrow.â
A ray of excitement shone on San Lang's face. âA portrait? I know how to paint one. Want me to help?â
Xie Lian was briefly taken aback, nearly chuckling at the unexpected offer. âThank you, but I'm afraid you don't know how to paint the Prince of Xianle.â
The image of the Prince of Xianle had long been erased from history; his portraits burned, his likeness reduced to nothing more than whispers in time. Eight hundred years had passed, and few, if any, had seen what remained.
Yet, without hesitation, San Lang replied, âOf course I do. Didn't we talk about him earlier in the cart?â
Xie Lian blinked, caught off guard. He recalled their conversationâhe had said, "You've probably never heard of him before." But at the time, San Lang had remained silent. Now, hearing him speak so assuredly, Xie Lian couldnât help but be startled.
âSan Lang, don't tell me you actually know of him?â
âAs a matter of fact, I do,â San Lang said smoothly, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
âLike you said, I know a lot.â
âLet me tell you another thing, I've heard an old tale from Xiangzhu,â San Lang whispered, his voice laced with amusement, that ever-present cheeky grin tugging at his lips.
Xie Lian found San Langâs way of speaking quite fascinating. He was always smiling, always laughingâbut whether that smile was genuine or laced with mockery, one could never truly tell. Was he merely entertained, or was he subtly teasing, testing how gullible his audience might be?
Having listened to him chatter the entire way home, Xie Lian had to admit, he was rather curious about the story San Lang was about to share.
âThousands of years ago, there was a beast abhorred by the three realms,â San Lang began, his voice taking on a lilting, almost teasing cadence.
âIt was born an eyesore with one horn and a fearsome face. It was said to lived a secluded life at the bottom of a lake on Mount JinyuÄn.â
Xie Lian listened in quiet contemplation as San Lang continued. âOne day, it took in an injured mortal and nursed him back to health. In gratitude, the man brought the beast to his village, intending to return the kindness.â
âBut when the villagers saw the ugly creature, they were horrified, and they drove it away.â
Xie Lian's brows knitted together at the conclusion of the tale. He couldn't decide what unsettled him moreâthe beast's cruel fate or the mortalâs well-intentioned but disastrous mistake. Was it the creature he pitied, cast aside despite its kindness? Or the man, whose sincerity had only brought about more suffering?
San Lang continued, âIt was told that its scales can be used to create a cure, but its blood curses a person with an incurable disease.â
âNo one should have to suffer such a fate simply for having an unsightly appearance,â Xie Lian murmured.
San Lang tilted his head, a glint of interest in his eyes. âDo you feel sorry for the beast, GÄgÄ?â
Xie Lian turned to him, contemplating the question. San Langâs tone held no aversion toward the creature, nor did he speak with sympathy. He was merely askingâcalm, inquisitive, as if gauging Xie Lianâs thoughts rather than forming his own opinion.
âMistreatment is a terrible thing for anyone, whether man or beast. You should treat everyone with kindness, expecting nothing in return. A good heart finds happiness in that alone,â Xie Lian answered.
As he spoke, he absently patted the bedding, only then realizing that the straw mat was far too small to comfortably fit three people. He didnât have the heart to wake you just to adjust the sleeping space. You, on the other hand, seemed to have already settled in the middle, leaving San Lang with his back against the wall.
âAre you doing alright, San Lang? I'm sorry, it's a bit cramped,â Xie Lian murmured apologetically.
San Lang lay on his side, his gaze fixed on the sleeping figure beside him.
"I'm fine, Gege," he murmured, his voice light and unbothered.
A faint smile flickered across his lips, hidden in the shadows behind your unconscious form. Even in sleep, you had unknowingly positioned yourself as a barrier between the two of themâa quiet, unintentional wall of separation.
What a troublesome person you are. The thought drifted through San Lang's mind, quiet and amused, as he observed you in the dim light.
âââââââââââââââââââââ
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