Chapter Seventy-Eight: Tear of the World, Awakening the Beauty

For reasons unknown, everyone felt that the scene before them was beautifully poetic, yet suffused with poignant sorrow. Lan Bingxian sat quietly by the sea, his head bowed as he gazed at Meng Youyuan, whose eyes remained tightly closed. His gaze was full of tenderness and compassion. Though none could find the slightest trace of grief in his eyes, perhaps because he feared that if Meng Youyuan awoke, the first thing she would see would be him—and he did not wish his own sorrow to cloud her heart with discomfort. Yet, no matter how he tried to hide his true feelings, those around him still sensed the sorrow emanating from the depths of his soul.

Lan Bingxian’s hand trembled slightly, but even so, he continued to gently caress Meng Youyuan’s pale cheek. His movements were ever so soft, as if afraid that the slightest carelessness might cause her pain. But Meng Youyuan merely lay silently in his arms, motionless; not even the faintest sound of breathing could be heard. Her body remained as cold as ice, devoid of warmth, and no matter how tightly Lan Bingxian held her to his chest in hopes of warming her, it was futile. It turned out that in this world, besides the human heart, there was something else that could never be warmed—no matter if you threw her into a blazing furnace, you could not chase the chill from her lifeless body.

“Did you not say that her fate had not yet come and she would not die so easily? Then why, even now, has she not awoken?” Lan Bingxian suddenly looked up and addressed Xun Mishuang, who stood nearby, his tone full of quiet reproach. It was as if he were accusing her of giving him false hope at his most helpless, only to cruelly shatter it when he finally began to recover. If, in the beginning, this hope had only been offered to comfort him, then it was not a kindness, but a torment. Do you know how it feels? Watching something you have always believed in, something you thought truly existed, revealed as nothing but a lie before your very eyes—the disappointment and pain of knowing the truth, how many can truly understand?

“Don’t look at me with those eyes. Anyone would think I had done you some great wrong. This is the last time I’ll answer you: Yuanyuan absolutely will not die like this. As to why she has not yet regained consciousness, I do not know the true reason. But I suspect that the phantom woman who appeared earlier entered her body, leaving her own will weakened. Moreover, the dominant consciousness of that woman was so strong that it completely suppressed and buried Yuanyuan’s own will. This, I believe, is the only explanation for why she has not awakened. But it is merely my conjecture—you mustn’t take it as absolute truth.” Xun Mishuang had not wished to say more; after all, she had already said far too much today, fearing that to speak further might bring unnecessary trouble. Yet, seeing Lan Bingxian’s overwhelming sorrow and Meng Youyuan’s lifeless state, she could not harden her heart to remain silent. Thus, she voiced all her suspicions, hoping they might offer some help.

“So, by your reasoning, it is only that Yuanyuan’s will is sealed away, making it seem as though she has departed. We need only find a way to awaken her spirit. But I think, Brother Lan, that this task falls to you alone. After all, in Yuanyuan’s heart, you are the one she cannot let go.” Yushang patted Lan Bingxian gently on the shoulder as he spoke. He had always believed Yuanyuan would not die so easily; at the very least, fate, which had always toyed with her, would not let her go. Besides, Yushang had a premonition that this little girl’s future would be limitless—just by virtue of her being the descendant of the Demon King, her life was sure to be filled with color and wonder. And since fate so loved to torment and toy with mortals, how could it let her depart so easily? At the very least, it would wait until it tired of playing with her.

“That’s right, Senior Brother. Yuanyuan loves you the most. No matter how many words the rest of us say, they cannot match a single word from you. I believe that, as long as you summon her sleeping will with your love, she will surely awaken and stand before us once more, the gentle, pure-hearted girl she has always been.” Yin Boxuan strove to suppress his own sorrow as he spoke. He admitted that his heart was filled with pain and jealousy. He ached for Yuanyuan—so kind and always thinking of others—who had ended up in such a tragic, unconscious state. But what he envied was that, in her hour of greatest need, it was not he who stood by her side, not he who could truly awaken her.

Lan Bingxian lifted his head to look at those around him, then turned to the girl in his arms and spoke softly: “Yuanyuan, do you remember what you once said to me? You said that when you no longer wished to linger in this noisy world, we would find a secluded paradise, hidden from the world, to live in seclusion—dancing and singing only for the birds in the forest and the fish in the stream. When hungry, we would eat wild vegetables from our own garden; when thirsty, drink from mountain springs. In short, you wished for nothing more than a life of peaceful simplicity by my side.”

For some reason, as Lan Bingxian reached this point, his voice caught in his throat. He gazed out at the vast sea before him and continued, “But you know, my heart has never been satisfied with tranquility. Though I do not disdain a quiet life, I have always yearned for freedom. I love the feeling of traveling through strange mountains and rivers, of reaching every corner of the earth. Yet, you do not know that, ever since I fell in love with you, I have come to cherish stability. Perhaps, at times, my heart is still restless, but if you truly asked me to choose, I would not take you wandering the world—I would gladly settle down to a life of warmth and peace with you. So, Yuanyuan, can you wake up? Give me a chance to spend the rest of my days by your side, living the life you so long for.” As he spoke, Lan Bingxian’s voice trembled, and a single tear slipped from his eye, sparkling as it fell upon Meng Youyuan’s face.

Everyone was stunned. The usually resolute, ever-smiling Lan Bingxian was crying. Though tears are not a sign of weakness, for a man, this was a rare thing indeed. Even Yin Boxuan, who loved Meng Youyuan so deeply, could not bring himself to cry, yet Lan Bingxian shed his precious tears without shame.

No one thought him weak for shedding tears in this moment. Instead, all present were moved by his deep affection, an emotion none could match. Even Yushang, who pined day and night for another woman, found himself feeling inferior—at least he could not let go of his pride as a man to weep for a woman. Yin Boxuan, too, was touched by Lan Bingxian’s devotion and finally understood why Meng Youyuan had given her heart so completely to this man. He was the one who loved her most, the one who could forsake all he had ever pursued for her, the one who could discard his so-called masculine pride for her, the one who could give up everything he had achieved, all for her. Because he loved her, he would sacrifice everything others would go mad for, without regret.

“You always say I’m silly and foolish, but aren’t you the same in the end? I was just tired and wanted to sleep a little longer. Why do you have to make it seem as if I’ll never wake again? And saying all those melodramatic, sappy things—now the others will surely laugh at me.” Meng Youyuan raised her hand to wipe the tears from Lan Bingxian’s face, her voice weak but full of tender reproach. Though her words were chiding, the love in them was unmistakable. Love truly is a wondrous thing—it can lead one to ruin, yet it can also call one back from the brink of death.

To tell the truth, it had been a close call—she had nearly failed to wake. She remembered that after falling from the sky, her will grew faint, her body weak, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep and leave the rest behind. But in that half-awake, half-dreaming state, she heard Lan Bingxian’s call and felt a scorching tear fall on her icy cheek—a tear full of love for her. Only then did she struggle to wake, forcing her eyes open. She knew that if she let herself go, someone else would suffer more than she ever could. She could not bear to make the one she loved endure such pain; they had promised to remain together for all their days, and she could not break that vow. At last, she conquered her fading will, made it heed her command, and survived this ordeal to open her eyes and see the one she could never let go.

“Yuanyuan, you’ve truly woken up! I’m not dreaming, am I?” Lan Bingxian stared at the beauty rising from his embrace, gripping her shoulders in excitement. If this were only a dream, he would rather never wake again—at least, in dreams, Yuanyuan would always be there, this girl so full of laughter and kindness, and that would be enough.

“You fool, shall I pinch you to prove you’re not dreaming?” Meng Youyuan threw herself into Lan Bingxian’s arms, giving him a fierce hug. Then, near his ear, she whispered, “As long as you are in this world, I cannot bear to leave.” Leaning her head against him, she cherished this close embrace. It was not only he who had feared she would never wake—she herself had been terribly afraid. During her long sleep, she had been so scared of never again feeling this warmth, of never again seeing the man who would weep for her. But, thankfully, she had truly awakened.

“You little rascal, do you know how close you came to scaring us all to death? I was just thinking, if you really didn’t wake up, should we drag your half-dead body on to the next trial, or just persuade the others to leave you here?” Yushang joked from the side at the affectionate couple, though he had always believed Yuanyuan would awaken, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement and joy at this moment.

“You’re really too much! I’ve just woken up and you can’t say something nice to comfort me? But if you really were so heartless as to leave me here, I’d come back to haunt you even as a ghost!” Meng Youyuan shook her little fist at Yushang, who grinned mischievously. Who knew whether it was because they had all become close enough to joke so freely, or if this was simply Yushang’s true nature, which they had only now discovered. In any case, the Yushang of the present spoke with a biting tongue and delighted in teasing them, often leaving them speechless in exasperation. Still, everyone preferred this lively Yushang to the cold, lifeless one he had been before; a timely jest lightened the mood far more than that glacial silence.

“Seeing this little rascal so full of spirit, it’s clear she’s fine now. You can rest easy. Just now, you nearly worried me to death!” Xiaoyin said softly, holding Lan Wu, who was now smiling through her tears. Lan Wu’s earlier state had truly startled him; he had never seen her so devastated, always crying and trembling, as if she might faint at any moment.

“You wicked Yuanyuan, do you know how close you came to not waking? If you hadn’t opened your eyes, I would have followed you to the other side!” Lan Wu choked out, tears streaming down her cheeks anew. She wasn’t just saying this for effect; only now did she realize how much she cared for Yuanyuan, how deep their sisterly bond ran. It felt as if someone had taken a knife to her heart, cutting deep and leaving the blood to flow—it really, truly hurt.