Anjou imitated his friend’s laughter and looked up at the sky, illuminated by artificial light. “In the end, it was him who died, and I lived.”
“When I first went to Cambridge, I was on a scholarship and didn’t have much money. If I had money, I’d order some nice clothes to attract the girls, but I’d often go hungry. Manecke, who was my senior, would always invite me to eat at his place. He was great at cooking foie gras and would often cook himself. I’d sip red wine while watching him work. I said, ‘Manecke, you’re amazing.’ He said, ‘You don’t need to thank me. You can cook for your juniors in the future. And if they cook for their juniors, then that would be fantastic… hahaha.’ Manecke loved to laugh,” Anjou smiled. “You have no idea how much he loved to laugh.”
“I was joking just now,” Anjou turned to look at Lu Mingfei, “I won’t live out my days here. I’ve already lived as the ‘last one standing’ once, and that was enough.”
Lu Mingfei remained silent for a long time, staring upward. A black iron container was being transported to the depths on suspended tracks. “Do we really have a chance?”
“I don’t know,” Anjou shrugged. “Remember what I told you in Chicago? Those are all I have left, and for them, I’m willing to pay any price.”
He glanced at the black iron container mid-air. “That’s the bones of Dragon King Constantine, currently the only confirmed ‘Dragonbone Cross’ in the world. It was originally in the alchemy lab for analysis, but we had to move it to the deepest place to bury it. Too many people are interested in it.”
Chu Zihang slowly opened his eyes, seeing pure white—everything was blurry. He didn’t believe in God, nor did he believe in heaven, but the face leaning in close was pure and flawless, tinged with a warm glow, like an angel bowing down to kiss the forehead of a sinner.
For a moment, he felt disoriented and tried to lean forward to see the face more clearly. He could smell the warm, moist scent on the angel, reminiscent of the fragrance of leaves after the rain.
“Brother, are you being a pervert right after waking up?” The person spoke slowly just as he was about to lean his entire face in.
“Xia Mi?” Chu Zihang’s vision gradually cleared. He was lying in an intensive care unit, sunlight filtering through white curtains. His whole body was covered in tubes and wires, and doctors and nurses bustled around.
“Right! Not some angelic sister, just your junior. You didn’t die, after all,” Xia Mi seemed to know what he was thinking.
“Not dead?” Chu Zihang tried moving his limbs; despite the pervasive soreness, all his bones were intact. It was unbelievable—he had fallen from the highest point of the track, and there were no safety cushions below. Regardless of how much he had strengthened his bloodline, his body was still human, made of calcium carbonate-based bones. It was impossible to survive a 200-meter fall without a scratch.
“Does your body hurt? That’s because the high-voltage current that passed through you caused full-body muscle spasms. You’ll be fine after some rest. You were lucky; if the current had gone through your heart, you’d really be meeting that angel sister by now.” Xia Mi rested her chin in her hand, tilting her head to look at him. “This is the college’s intensive care unit. You’ve been unconscious for ten days, living only on IV nutrition.”
“I actually… survived.” Chu Zihang said softly.
“Sounds like you regret it.” Xia Mi rolled her eyes. “Brother, you survived a brush with death! Can’t you at least try to look happy?”
Chu Zihang hesitated for a moment, then tugged at the corners of his mouth, offering a silent smile.
“That smile lacks any sincerity!” Xia Mi pouted. “A thank you is in order! You survived because of my incredible bravery. I ran up and held you!”
Chu Zihang rubbed his forehead. His memory was hazy, but in that long dream before waking, he vaguely remembered being held, a faint scent of plants surrounding him, allowing him to sleep peacefully.
“I used my Yanling, ‘Wind King’s Eyes.’” Xia Mi said.
Chu Zihang nodded. “So your Yanling is ‘Wind King’s Eyes.’ No wonder you weren’t scared on the roller coaster.”
Yanling: Wind King’s Eyes, Serial Number 74, allows the user to manipulate air currents to create vortices centered on themselves. If control is precise enough, the user can float in the air or even hover for short periods.
“No way, I was terrified back then, just didn’t want to admit it. Do you think ‘Wind King’s Eyes’ can work like wings? It can alter the trajectory of a fall, but a safe landing depends entirely on luck. We ended up in the deep-water section of the ‘Log Flume’ ride.” Xia Mi huffed. “You make it sound so easy, but I took a huge risk! If I could really fly, do you think I’d need to buy a plane ticket to get to America?”
Chu Zihang wasn’t in the mood to argue. He felt tired, his eyelids heavy, so he closed his eyes.
“Saving you was really unrewarding,” Xia Mi said, seemingly annoyed.
“Why?” Chu Zihang asked.
“I’ve never seen anyone who values their own life so little! If you think your life is worthless, why should I risk mine to save you?” Xia Mi said, fuming.
“I don’t want to die,” Chu Zihang replied, still with his eyes closed. “I just couldn’t think of another way.”
“So you just like cosplaying as a hero?”
“No. It’s because, once, someone died behind me, and I did nothing but keep driving away… By the time I realized I was a coward and tried to go back for him, I couldn’t find him anymore,” Chu Zihang said quietly. “Do you understand that feeling? If you still have life left to fight, don’t wait until you regret it to start fighting.”
“What feeling?” Xia Mi asked.
“The feeling of ‘I am a coward.’” Chu Zihang opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.
“You say ‘I am a coward’ while deep down thinking you’re great, believing that if there’s something you haven’t accomplished, it means you’ve made a mistake. Because you think you’re extraordinary, you can’t accept it when you fail where others fail. Risking your life seems like no big deal?” Xia Mi spoke with a disdainful tone. “Still showing off, huh? Just how full of yourself are you?”
“Yes, if I can’t do it, it’s my fault.” Chu Zihang said softly, his lips forming a cold, hard line.
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