Chapter 129
"They died, Ling Xu," Huan Zheng whispered.
His voice was no longer lazy, no longer flat, but broken, trembling, like the snapped string of a guqin in the middle of its most beautiful melody. And for the first time since he lost his family, for the first time since he had been sentenced to death by the Supreme Court of Humanity, for the first time since he decided to become a lazy man who cared about nothing, tears fell from his eyes.
Not ordinary tears, but tears born from regret, from guilt, from the realization that he had never been enough, that he could never give them what they wanted, that he could never become a good husband and father. And now, after everything that had happened, after everything he had sacrificed, they would never return. He would never be able to hold them again. He would never be able to tell them that he loved them, that he never intended to hurt them, that he was simply too lazy, too indifferent, too incapable of expressing what he truly felt.
"I could never protect them. I failed as a father."
Ling Xu said nothing.
She simply rose from the edge of the bed, walked toward Huan Zheng, who was still sitting on the old teakwood chair beside the window, and without hesitation, without shame, without overthinking, she embraced him.
Not an ordinary embrace that merely brushed against someone, but a tight, warm embrace that said she was here, that she would not leave, that she would always remain by his side no matter what happened, no matter how many dark and painful memories they would have to face together.
"I will never be able to replace them, Huan Zheng," Ling Xu whispered.
Her voice was no longer broken and trembling like when she witnessed the criminals' punishment, no longer firm and unwavering like when she decided their fate, but soft, incredibly soft, like a mother stroking the hair of her feverish child, like a nurse wrapping a patient's wounds with clean and warm cloth.
"I will never be able to fill the emptiness they left in your heart. But I can be your companion, Huan Zheng. I can be your lover. I can be your wife, if you wish. And I can promise you—I will never leave, Huan Zheng. I will never abandon you like they did. I will always stay beside you until death, and even after death, if you believe in reincarnation, I will search for you in the next life, and the next, and the next again, until you grow tired of my presence and ask me to leave."
And Huan Zheng—upon hearing those words, upon hearing that Ling Xu was willing to become his wife, upon hearing that she would never leave him, upon hearing that she would search for him in the next life, and the next, and the next again—felt his chest tighten.
Not because of cancer, for he did not suffer from it, but because of gratitude. A gratitude so immense, so deep, so absolute that he could not speak. He could only return Ling Xu's embrace, holding her tightly, burying his face within the white hair streaked with colored veins of the girl, and cry.
Cry for the first time in decades.
Cry because he realized that even though he had lost everything, even though he had been betrayed by the people he loved most, even though he had been sentenced to death, exiled, and forgotten, he still had Ling Xu. He still had someone willing to accept him as he was, with all his flaws, with all his laziness, with all the darkness and pain of his past.
Hooooh!!
The news that Ling Xu would marry Huan Zheng spread rapidly, like fire across a dry grassland, like an unstoppable plague, like a truth that could never remain hidden no matter how desperately one tried.
And when that news reached the ears of The Singer—the red-haired woman who had loved Huan Zheng for thousands of years, who had searched throughout the entire universe for thousands of years, who had waited, hoped, and prayed that one day Huan Zheng would realize she was the right woman for him—she did not cry. She did not become angry. She did not rage. She did nothing dramatic.
She merely walked into Huan Zheng's room, opened the door without knocking, stood before him with both hands on her hips, and spoke.
Her voice was no longer melodious, no longer beautiful, no longer filled with seductive whispers like when she licked Huan Zheng's ear within the artificial hell. Instead, it was firm and unwavering, like someone who had made a decision and would never retreat.
"Huan Zheng, I will not give my purity to anyone except you. If you marry Ling Xu, then you must marry me as well. There will be no negotiation. No compromise. No 'no' that you can say will ever change my mind. Because I have waited for you far too long, Huan Zheng. I have searched too far. I have sacrificed too much. And I will not allow another woman to take you away from me, no matter how kind-hearted she is, no matter how great her sacrifices are, no matter how desperately she holds you in the middle of the night."
And Huan Zheng—upon hearing that ultimatum, upon hearing that The Singer would never give up, upon hearing that he would have to marry two women if he wished to avoid a bloody conflict between two people he cared for equally—could only let out a sigh.
A sigh that sounded like someone who had just been informed that his favorite noodles were sold out and no one could buy them anymore. A sigh followed by subtle tremors throughout his body, tremors that suggested he would not be able to enjoy an afternoon nap today, tomorrow, and perhaps forever, because two women would continue fighting over him like two crows battling for a piece of rotten meat in the middle of the road.
"I need to discuss this with Ling Xu," he finally said.
His voice remained lazy, remained flat, but behind that laziness, something stirred. Something that people who still believed that sometimes accepting a fate you never wanted was the highest form of courage might call resignation.
"I have to hear her opinion. I can't decide this on my own."
The argument between Ling Xu and The Singer lasted for three days and three nights.
Not an argument filled with screams, curses, and insults, but one fought with words as sharp as daggers, with gazes as piercing as needles, with wounded hearts unwilling to admit their pain because both of them were too stubborn, too proud, too unwilling to appear weak before the woman they each considered a rival.
"You do not deserve to become his wife, The Singer," Ling Xu said one night as they sat upon the palace terrace beneath the pale and dim moonlight.
Her voice was no longer gentle like when she embraced Huan Zheng, no longer firm and unwavering like when she decided the criminals' punishment, but cold, incredibly cold, like ice that would never melt no matter how long the sun shone upon it day and night.
"You only want to take him away from me. You do not truly love him. You simply do not want to lose. You simply do not want to see me win. You only—"
"You're wrong, Ling Xu," The Singer interrupted.
Her voice was no longer melodious like when she sang within the bamboo pavilion, no longer firm and unwavering like when she gave Huan Zheng her ultimatum, but broken, trembling, like the snapped string of a guqin in the middle of its most beautiful melody, and for the first time during this argument, tears fell from her eyes.
To be continued….