Chapter 129#

Of Things Past · III#

Yu Feichen rarely thought about much of anything.

But in these recent days he had found himself often thinking about Anfei — and occasionally about himself.

Facing the vision of a god, the suffering seek release, and the guilty seek forgiveness. He was neither. He didn’t quite understand what he wanted from a god, but something had already taken root in his chest — a desire to be closer to Anfei.

He didn’t know where this feeling had come from, or when it had begun. By the time he noticed it, it had already become what it was now.

And so he kissed Anfei’s skin again and again, mouthing at his earlobe and the side of his neck — and because he was so intent on it, his manner bordered on reverent.

Anfei let him do as he wished; the rare resistance was only the slightest push, as if whatever he did was acceptable.

But their bodies no longer had the alpha and omega characteristics, and some things had become considerably more difficult. Anfei didn’t cry out in pain, but whenever he pressed his lips together slightly or closed his eyes, Yu Feichen would ease off again, touching the side of his face as if coaxing him.

By the time that soft, familiar warmth finally, slowly surfaced, a thin sheen of sweat had gathered at Anfei’s brow. He feebly tugged at Yu Feichen’s hand, sinking entirely into the bedding. Their eyes met, and both agreed that tonight had been genuinely arduous.

Anfei turned his head away. It took a long while before he adjusted; his breathing gradually grew quick and sweet.

The room held only the faint fragrance of the bouquet — no pheromones, the last layer of illusory gilding stripped away. Yu Feichen brushed back the tangled hair at Anfei’s forehead and looked clearly at his face in the lamplight: brow faintly creased, expression somewhere between pleasure and pain, slender fingers laced with his — gripping hard at times, then going slack and releasing.

Yu Feichen could not bring himself to be rough with Anfei like this. Anfei’s responses were nothing like an omega’s intensity, and yet somehow it felt more real for it — only now did he feel he was truly touching this person.

A body not long past coming of age, its stamina unable to keep pace with the demands placed on it. Yu Feichen didn’t ask for too much. By the time the sky had barely begun to lighten, Anfei was half-conscious — even a bath failed to clear his head — and he fell asleep just like that, pillow resting on Yu Feichen’s arm.

The longer he slept, the closer he drifted.

In the end he was pressed entirely against Yu Feichen’s chest.

This habit of gravitating toward him in sleep seemed to have started as far back as Rubbervale. It was a pity that back when this person was still called “Seven,” they had never shared a bed with their superior — there was no knowing whether it would have been the same then.

In any case, once this person had pressed close, the rest of the night became exceptionally still — barely any movement at all. It didn’t disturb Yu Feichen’s sleep in the least. If anything, holding him made sleep come even faster than usual.

Yolan was utterly silent.

That night, Yu Feichen dreamed again.

In the dream he was holding someone from behind — holding tight. That person’s body was supple but slight; through a layer of light armor he felt no warmth at all, only quick, uneven breathing that rose and fell in turns.

And motion — jolting. They were on the back of a galloping horse, or perhaps a unicorn, some hooved creature in any case. An ancient, howling gale tore past; his ears were full of the sound of arrows and blades cutting through the air, and beneath it all, a low chanting that clung to them like a shadow — those incantations were strange, severe, laden with resentment.

Where were they going?

He didn’t know. Only forward — always forward — all or nothing.

Behind them: armies beyond counting. Ahead: the same.

And beyond that?

— A sheer and boundless abyss.

Something deep within told him so.

What were they going there to do?

— To do the impossible.

Why?

— Because he needed to go.

Who was he?

— The one you will spend your life protecting.

In that dim, half-formed consciousness he reached out and touched the cheek of the person in his arms — wet, and cold, ice-cold. He didn’t know if it was tears or blood, and if blood, he couldn’t tell if it was his own or theirs.

In the dream he could see nothing. The roaring grew gradually sharper, more piercing, surging toward him on all sides. The sensation was not unfamiliar to Yu Feichen — it was the kind of hallucination that came at the threshold of death.

And sure enough, past a certain point, every sound receded like a tide pulling out, and his soul was flung high into empty air.

Yu Feichen’s eyes snapped open.

Anfei was still resting against his chest — shoulders and back supple and slight, very much like the person he had held in the dream.

But the Anfei before him now breathed long and evenly, face serene, clearly in the deep and dreamless sleep of someone resting well.

An odd hallucination. Yu Feichen settled on that definition for the dream. He pulled Anfei a little closer. The moment youth reclaimed him, this person had revealed his true nature as a hot water bottle — warm body, steady breath and heartbeat gradually filling the hollow feeling the dream had left behind.

By midday, Anfei finally stirred awake.

Yu Feichen fed him, but Anfei remained languorously draped across the bed, picking up a book about local customs to read through, entirely unwilling to get up.

Yu Feichen asked him how he felt.

“I wish I were an omega,” Anfei said. “Or that I were a few years older.”

His voice was a little hoarse, with a slightly nasal edge — soft and indolent, not far off from a complaint delivered with a pout, though Yu Feichen recognized it for the grievance it was.

Any words of comfort at a time like this would ring hollow. Yu Feichen leaned down and touched the corner of Anfei’s lips.

Toward evening, Xia Sen reached out via communication link. The others had tried to contact Yu Feichen while climbing the cliffs to see the petroglyphs but got no answer; now they were about to leave and still hadn’t seen him. Xia Sen urged them to regroup and move on to the next destination.

Yu Feichen glanced over at Anfei, who was lying against the headboard, engaged in a blank staring contest with the vine.

“Anfei likes it here,” he said. “We’re going to stay a few days. You all go ahead.”

The vine shook vigorously. Anfei bit back a smile and covered it with his palm, hiding it from Yu Feichen.

On the other end of the link, Xia Sen sounded skeptical.

“What’s going on?” The bald squad captain was baffled. “Really? There’s nothing to see in this backwater town.”

“Could it be Yu-ge’s killed someone and dumped the body in the forest? Honestly, his attitude this whole trip has been unhinged — it’s definitely a trap.”

“Shh, don’t let Yu-ge hear you — Xiao Xia, Xiao Xia, quick, get Anfei-didi to say something.”

“Alright then,” Xia Sen said. “Yu-ge, is Mr. Anfei with you?”

They’d known him less than a day, and already the whole group was worried about his safety.

Yu Feichen wasn’t sure whether it was because Anfei had worked his enchantment on them again, or because his own reputation in this group had sunk low enough that they pictured him as a murderer with ulterior motives.

He passed the communicator to Anfei.

“Xiao Xia, I’m here,” Anfei said — still without much energy in his voice, a soft, trailing note at the end.

“That’s a relief,” Xia Sen said warmly. “Wishing you and Yu-ge a lovely trip~”

“Oh, one more thing,” he added. “Looking at the season, I think Yolan’s ritual ceremony might be coming up soon. You’d probably be better off not staying in town when that happens.”

“Understood,” Anfei said. “Thank you.”

After the call ended, Xia Sen remarked: “Anfei sounds like he’s sick. Poor thing — Yu-ge has no idea how to look after people.”

The bald squad captain said quietly: “Does he? I believed that before. Now I’m not so sure.”

Teammates: “……”

Outside, the sky was nearing dusk. Butterflies drifted in clusters above the little town, and jellyfish-like magical creatures floated through the air.

Yu Feichen asked Anfei where he wanted to go that evening.

Anfei reached out and patted the pillow beside him, indicating he had no desire to go anywhere.

He did, however, put in a request for several specific things to eat — things he had spotted at the night market the evening before but hadn’t gotten around to buying.

“I’ll go get them,” Yu Feichen said. “But leaving you here alone—”

Anfei tapped the bed frame lightly with one finger. The heavy chandelier above them suddenly crashed down with a great racket, leaving a deep dent in the floor. He tapped again, and everything returned to normal.

Yu Feichen: “.”

Right. He’d forgotten.

This was Landenwollen. This person was the Eternal Day’s chief god, whose word was law.

It seemed his own safety was more worth worrying about.

The night market tonight was quieter than the night before; yesterday must have been some kind of festival.

Yu Feichen bought everything Anfei had asked for, and on a whim brought back another bouquet of flowers as well. Whatever the local custom attached to flowers, it didn’t matter. The innkeeper had said a person only had one chance to give flowers in their lifetime, but if Anfei liked them, there could be fresh ones every day.

Back in the top-floor room, a few snow-white butterflies had settled on yesterday’s bouquet, still in its glass vase. Yu Feichen put today’s flowers in a separate vase.

Anfei was bundled in the blanket, asleep again.

Awake for half a night, idling in standby for an entire day — had he really been too much? Yu Feichen found himself examining his own conduct with some unease.

On Anfei’s pillow lay the customs book, face-down, in an awkward position where a single roll would bring it straight into his head. Yu Feichen picked it up — and found the open page describing the custom of “giving flowers.”

According to local tradition, when a person of Yolan wished to establish a permanent, unbreakable bond with their beloved, they would present them with a bouquet. If the bouquet was accepted, the eternal vow was formed.

They would place the flowers on the windowsill of their home. If butterflies came to rest upon them, it meant the couple had received a blessing.

But the butterfly’s blessing was also a binding. Should either person betray the other in the future, a butterfly’s curse would be branded into their soul.

As for the nature of the curse — some said butterflies would dance silently outside the betrayer’s window every night for the rest of their life. Others said they would live out their remaining years in pain and remorse. Still others said they would never again find a love as genuine and pure as the one they had forsaken. Accounts varied and could not be verified.

What was certain was that the giving of flowers was among the most solemn of all ceremonies in Yolan.

Yu Feichen looked at the butterflies settled on their bouquet, then looked back at the description.

His gaze lingered there for a long time. But the words involved were ones so remote to him that they had never appeared in the grammar he habitually used. He closed the book and waited for Anfei to wake.

Food held its own persuasive power — Yu Feichen was certain of this. Because Anfei didn’t sleep long this time. They ate dinner together, then strolled for a while in the small garden behind the inn. The innkeeper spotted them and called out cheerfully: “Oh, good evening! Up and about. Your very first day together — treasure it!”

Anfei simply smiled and returned her greeting, complimenting the beauty of her garden, and received in return a basket of scones she had baked herself.

A basket was too much for two people to finish. The innkeeper said, naturally, they were meant to share with friends.

Xia Sen and the squad captain and the others had already moved on to the next destination. They had no friends here. Anfei stood in the garden and considered this for a moment, then took Yu Feichen by the hand and headed outside.

In the early-evening alleyways, there were few tourists, but many children playing.

Yu Feichen stood beneath a butterfly-wing tree and watched as Anfei gently patted one child on the head, handing over a scone. Before long, a cluster of children had gathered, and Anfei chatted with them while distributing the scones one by one.

The chatter and noise rose on all sides, and yet, unexpectedly, it felt pleasant.

Small children were easy to win over, especially with a teacher of Anfei’s caliber. Before long the basket was empty, but the children refused to let Anfei leave — they wanted him to stay and play.

Anfei said he still had to go play with the big brother over there. The children cast a jealous look at Yu Feichen under the tree, and at last dispersed.

Anfei walked back toward Yu Feichen. Halfway there, a child reached out and timidly caught the hem of his clothes.

Anfei looked down. Yu Feichen looked over too.

“The village chief says the festival day is almost here. Outsiders shouldn’t stay in town.”