Gu MANG REMAINED unconscious for almost a week. During this time, he dimly sensed that he was lying in a carriage. Sunlight streamed through the pale curtains, and Mo Xi sat wearily by his side.
Now and again he'd recall some fragmented and disorganized scenes, some involving Mo Xi, some full of the indistinct faces of soldiers. They were laughing and joking, wine splashing as their cups clinked. At times, the sound of someone calling him "General Gu" would flash through his mind, or Mo Xi's soft murmur of "Shixiong."
In his dreams, that sacrificial soul-calling song hung in the air like willow fuzz, never dissipating. Our sons went forth with swords held brave, their blood and bones in distant grave. Last year this self was yet intact, last night this body spoke and laughed...
It seemed as if those men whose bones had long been lost had surrounded him just yesterday, watching him hold forth on worldly ideals, listening to him expound passionately on how even slaves could have ambition, could have a future. Those admiring, enthusiastic, faithful faces... Why couldn't he remember them? Those names he had carved into his heart by reading the slave registry, those names that no one would spare a second glance amid the sea of people—why couldn't he remember them?
He had forgotten everything. But the shame remained, tormenting him beyond endurance.
Your loyalty I safely keep, your valiant deeds I freely speak...
He didn't dare keep listening.
For when these heroes' souls come home... But his people couldn't return, his brothers couldn't return; they were nameless, lonely souls and wild ghosts, bleeding and decapitated. They couldn't find their way home. His heart hurt fiercely; he couldn't breathe. The names of his fellow soldiers that he once strove to memorize crowded into his chest. They were about to tear his heart apart, about to drive him insane. As if he were about to drown beneath that pile of dead souls, he cowered, sobbing.
Don't hate me... I tried... I really... I really did try...
Please. Please forgive me... Please, don't enlist in your next life. I hope you'll be born into nobility and enjoy a lifetime of gambling and games... I'm begging you, in the next life, please don't serve under a general like me... I'm no use, I'm too naive, I'm too stupid—I was really too stupid. I was the one who caused you all to die in vain, I was the one who wasn't strong enough and doomed every last one of you... Please...
Please.
Gu Mang sobbed before this horde of shadows in his dream. He suddenly caught sight of someone's silhouette in the crowd. Someone tall and brash, boldly arrogant and forever brilliant. This man turned back to smile at him. Gu Mang's heart burned, and a forgotten name emerged from somewhere deep within. He knelt in the dreamscape, a cry tearing itself from his throat: "Zhanxing!"
Lu Zhanxing grinned, but he didn't say a word; he only blinked before turning away to vanish among the coursing tide of souls. Gu Mang wanted to chase after him, wanted to grab him and hold him back, wanted to say many things to him. But like every other dead soul, Lu Zhanxing, too, disappeared in the end. A vast darkness descended like a torrential rain. In this unending night, Chonghua's soul-calling song was a soft, lilting refrain, mourning the souls who could never return.
Our sons went forth with swords held brave, their blood and bones in distant grave. Last year this self was yet intact, last night this body spoke and laughed...
Within the dreamscape, Gu Mang fell to his knees and curled into a ball. Hoarse, garbled cries issued from his throat; he was calling for his friends, his soldiers, the perseverance and passion he'd risked everything for. In the fog of remembrance, someone took his hand and stroked his hair, trying to console him in soft whispers. "Don't cry," they murmured. "Gu Mang, don't cry."
He didn't know who this person was. He only felt that their hand was so warm, and so strong. They held onto his hand like they were trying to drag him ashore out of that sea of dead souls. Gu Mang sobbed. He grabbed that hand, vaguely recognizing from the faint scent of their skin that this was someone safe to trust. He held it in a death grip, fastening his fingers around theirs with all his might. "They can't come back," he wailed. "None of them can come back."
All because of his birth, his people, his soldiers, would never get to hear—
For when these heroes' souls come home, throughout the land shall peace be known.
None of them could return.
"Why was I the only one left behind..." Gu Mang wept desperately, clutching that hand as if grasping at straws, barely able to form words. "Why'd you have to push me so far... Why... Why..."
Amid the turmoil, that person tightly held his hand—so tightly, so forcefully, as if with this kind of strength, he could say the quiet words he could never again voice.
I'm still here. You still have me.
I'll stay with you.
Gu Mang remained in this unconscious stupor until the fifth day. Only then did he finally struggle free of that dream and into wakefulness. Lashes quivering, he slowly opened his eyes.
They had long returned from the Soul-Calling Abyss. The memorial ceremony was over. He lay on a spacious bed covered in a thick fox-fur blanket. A thin cloud-patterned curtain the color of ink hung around him, and through it, he could see the luxuriant light beyond the window and the crackling fire within the room.
This was Xihe Manor. He had returned to Xihe Manor.
Gu Mang pulled himself up and reached out to draw the curtains aside. He sat on the big bed gathering himself for a while. He was drenched in sweat, the terror and grief of his dream still fresh. He stared blankly into the burning coals, mumbling the name he had remembered.
Zhanxing.
Lu Zhanxing.
He remembered that Lu Zhanxing was his brother, but he couldn't recall anything else. He didn't know where they had met, or why Lu Zhanxing had left. His brain was like a wrung-out cotton cloth, and he was unable to squeeze even the slightest bit more from it.
There had also been those many silhouettes from the dream. His army. He used to have an army, didn't he? Gu Mang clutched his broken head as he sat on the edge of the bed. He had never before felt so bewildered and vexed.
The door to this side room suddenly creaked open. Li Wei walked in with sweets and medicine. At the sight of Gu Mang sitting up with his head in his hands, staring into space, he exclaimed, "Aiya, you're awake."
Gu Mang made a quiet noise of assent.
"Since you're awake, take your medicine." Li Wei placed the wooden tray beside him. "Look, two bowls: one for fever, one to calm the heart."
Gu Mang shot a weary glance at those two bowls of strong medicine, but his attention was drawn to a small celadon plate beside them. Upon this plate were two pale-pink flower cakes. Made of rose petals and glutinous rice flour, their skin was translucent and soft, the sweet red-bean filling faintly visible within.
Li Wei saw the direction of his glance and laughed. "The lord ordered these prepared for you. You've been very weak these past few days; every sip of medicine would make you throw up. But with the flower cakes to take away a little of the bitterness, at least you can still drink it."
"The lord?" Gu Mang blinked, pausing. "Mo Xi?"
Li Wei's smile became a glare. "Impudent. Is the lord's name something you can use? Come now," he continued, "take your medicine."
Gu Mang didn't have the energy to bicker with him. Besides, the lingering vestiges of that dream had left his mind a jumble. He obediently accepted the medicine. One bowl was unbearably bitter and the other was unbearably spicy. Holding his nose, Gu Mang gulped them both down. The instant he was done, he smacked his lips and shoved a flower cake into his mouth. It was especially soft, perhaps so he could swallow it even if unconscious. With only a few bites, it melted in his mouth like snow.
After eating one cake, Gu Mang looked up and licked his lips. "What about him?"
Li Wei stared at him. "Who?"
"Is he not here?"
Only then did Li Wei realize Gu Mang was asking about Mo Xi. With helpless amusement and exasperation, he admonished, "That's my lord or Xihe-jun to you. How many times have I taught you the rules?" He paused, a little curious. "Why are you asking after the lord? Is there something you need to discuss with him?"
Gu Mang nodded. "I'm giving him the other flower cake."
Li Wei stopped laughing. "Of course the lord wouldn't eat something like this. Why would you save it for him?"
"I..." Gu Mang thought it over. Ever since he remembered Mo Xi's coming of age, some indescribable emotion would flare and flutter in his heart whenever he thought of him. "I live in his territory, so I should give it to him."
Li Wei stroked his chin with interest and muttered, "Strange, is this about wolf pack ranking? Is the beta wolf trying to win favor with the alpha? He was interrupted by a deep, cold voice from behind him.
Li Wei turned to see Mo Xi striding into the room in a full set of black military robes. "Ah ha, ah ha ha—nothing," he said guiltily. "My lord is back from court? Why so early today?"
"It's almost the new year. Things have been fairly quiet." Mo Xi glanced at Gu Mang, who was still sitting up on the bed. Without turning to look at Li Wei, he said, "You may leave. I'll speak to him alone."
The carved wooden door opened and closed as Li Wei left. Mo Xi walked to the side of the bed and pulled up a chair.
"You..." Gu Mang hesitantly began.
Mo Xi reached out to feel his forehead before he could finish. This man had touched him plenty of times before: grabbing his chin, pushing him against walls, so on and so forth—so what was a mere touch on the head? Yet somehow, that organ in his ribcage seemed to skip a beat. He suddenly felt a little nervous.
"Your fever's gone." Mo Xi hadn't noticed the slight oddness in Gu Mang's manner. He lowered his hand, his features cool and indifferent as ever. "Tell me, then. What else have you remembered these past few days?"
Gu Mang wavered. "I haven't..."
"You'd best not lie to me." Mo Xi said. Only then did Gu Mang notice the dark smudges beneath Mo Xi's eyes, clearly the result of long nights spent without sleep. "I've been at your side nearly the entire time. I already heard most of what you said in your sleep."
Gu Mang fell silent. Mo Xi tilted his fair and elegant face, waiting expressionlessly for Gu Mang's response. He thought for a moment. "I don't know. It was just bits and pieces of things."
Mo Xi didn't reply. He seemed to be suppressing some emotion, but whatever it was broke past his restraint and could no longer be held back. His eyes flicked up, that knife-like gaze piercing right into Gu Mang's chest as if he wanted to flense him open, flesh to bone. As he fixed Gu Mang with a hunter's glare, Mo Xi ground his teeth and said, "I heard you call his name."
Gu Mang blinked.
Mo Xi's next words seemed to have been crushed between his teeth, carrying an indescribable burden of dissatisfaction and hatred. And though Gu Mang couldn't be sure, he thought he sensed a twinge of jealousy.
"You can't forget him after all," Mo Xi said stormily. "You can't forget Lu Zhanxing, can you?"