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Chapter 795 - 793: "I’m waiting for a spring (End)" (Alliance Hierarch "Jiaolong" added more)

Chapter 795: Chapter 793: "I’m waiting for a spring (End)" (Alliance Hierarch "Jiaolong" added more)

All his limbs were screaming with a searing pain.

Between the 0 and 1 data streams, the central tower collapsed amidst tremors. The sky cried out, the atmosphere cracked. Bricks and tiles of the building... scattered in the raging wind.

Su Ming’an was falling from a great height, the first streak of dawn spilling through a crevice into the City-State, like a dawn’s light rain in the daytime.

Cradling Lin Guang, he fell downwards as sunshine frantically rushed towards them, meticulously carving into their bloodstained clothes. Amidst the intense shaking, only inch by inch of sunlight penetrated his pupils.

He could not see the condition of the City-State, nor the bricks and stones splattering around him; the endless streams of 0 and 1 data around Lin Guang slowed their descent, as if they were floating in a babbling white river.

Lin Guang’s white hair floated, like liquid silver pouring down. Even the Hanfu robe he wore lifted upwards.

In his gaze at Su Ming’an, there was bewilderment and confusion, as if separated by a thin barrier. Helpless sorrow and regret blazed in his pale eyes like fireworks.

"Lewis..." Lin Guang called out softly, his voice brimming with an ocean’s worth of emotion.

Su Ming’an stared into Lin Guang’s eyes, reassessing the soul before him.

"’Love’ is... what?" Lin Guang’s eyes were almost pleading.

He placed a hand over his heart:

"Is love despair?"

Then touched the bandaged gunshot wound.

"Is love pain?"

And then his sorrowful eyes.

"Is love to die?"

Grief swept over him like a hurricane, yet he still could not understand. Although he had asked so many people, he still couldn’t find the answer.

He simply couldn’t sustain a person with complete logic. So he was strong and fragile, naive and cruel, sensitive and obtuse, like a tree growing in reverse.

When he saw Lewis elevated by the people to the sacrificial altar, all he could do was watch from afar in the City of Gods. When he saw Lewis silently bearing everyone’s wrath, how he wished...

—If only for a moment, he could stand by his side.

His white hair tangled in the wind, like the long night adrift in snow, eyes filled with a mist of sorrow that could not be dispelled. A tremble passed through Su Ming’an’s eyes and brows; suddenly, he knew how to answer Lin Guang. He replied—

"Lin Guang. What you’re doing now, that’s ’love’."

Lin Guang stared blankly at the brilliance in Su Ming’an’s eyes.

It was that sort of... extremely vivid expression, one he could not comprehend. He, a person born trapped in a black shell, could not touch that expression.

It reminded him of the first ray of sunshine he saw forty years ago when he stepped out of the garden villa.

It was warm, scorching, a spring he couldn’t touch, a sunlight he couldn’t bear to let go of.

There was an almost torturous pain on his body, not originating from the wounds, but from feeling he was actually being held, as if he was about to be scalded.

Growing hotter, he hugged his friend tighter, as if clinging to a blaze that might consume him entirely, like primitive humans’ yearning for fire.

His black Hanfu gradually stained with a viscous transparency, like a black rose wilting. His form began to fade, as if dissolving into the daylight.

The program’s mission was over, and he was disappearing.

"Lin Guang—wait, didn’t you say you wanted me to stay? Didn’t you say you were going to learn Dragon Country’s characters to show me? Didn’t you say you’d send me spring couplets every year? And the tea, you haven’t even tried using sulfuric acid, why have you stopped brewing it?" Su Ming’an noticed Lin Guang becoming transparent, even though they had just opened up in conversation: "Wait for me..."

But he had only just found out what Lin Guang had gone through in the past, sensed the kind of pain Lin Guang had endured, known how much Lin Guang craved friendship. Why was it all ending so quickly...

They had only just become friends a minute ago.

His eyes suddenly became very sore.

It was as if he saw a story truly reaching its end, the conclusion written.

If you want to wear Hanfu, just wear it. I won’t misrecognize it again.

How far have you learned the Dragon Country script? Will there be pages of typos again? I haven’t seen it yet.

Didn’t you say you developed fried strawberries? Although they don’t sound very appetizing, I might try them.

I promised to be your friend, Lin Guang. I promised.

You’re not Lv Shu, really.

You are Lin Guang, the unique Lin Guang.

Although it’s already too late.

Layouts that can’t be spoken, wall-facing sentinels who hold their tongue, programs that cannot comprehend love, and the twisted nature of 0321 by deities...

This friendship has come too late.

The air was dyed a light grey with black specks, their reflections in the neon lights of the tall buildings flickered like pearlescent shells.

Among the flying bricks and tiles, Lin Guang’s embrace was very tight, as if to embed the force into his ribs, his ten fingers gripped like steel hoops. Even the hug was aggressive.

"[I offer you the loyalty of a person who has never had faith.]" he said softly:

"[I give you the core of myself that I managed to preserve—free from coining phrases, free from trading with dreams, untouched by time, joy, and adversity.]"

"[I give you the interpretation of your life, the theories about yourself, your true and astounding existence. I give you my loneliness, my darkness, the hunger of my heart.]"

"[I tried to touch you with confusion, danger, failure.]"

"Lewis, I’m just a program."

"I know." Su Ming’an’s voice was laced with bitterness, "I know."

"But Lewis, if I had been the coldest program from the start, devoid of self-thought, without curiosity, unable to perceive emotions—"

"If I could have responded perfectly according to the program from the beginning, instead of being such an almost-human work-in-progress—"

"One that could fail, get hurt, be moved, accumulate mire-like emotions, imperfect, incomplete, regretful, like a mirage...

Lin Guang’s voice trembled:

"—If I had been a perfect trap program from the start, without the memories and flaws of ’Lin Guang’ and ’Lv Shu’ like now..."

There was an almost shattered struggle in his eyes:

"—would I not feel as reluctant as I do now?"

From the past to the present, from the present to the future. So many Lantern Bearers had walked towards Su Ming’an. Some became the high-flying white birds on the clock tower, some turned into monuments, some slept under the lotus pool, some leaped off the cliff for him, some blossomed into ice-blue Manjushages...

And what would he become?

Just a piece of data that leaves nothing behind?

"You were never him," Su Ming’an said with a trembling voice, "Even without his memories, you are you."

"Is he really that good?" Lin Guang understood, even without saying who "he" was.

Su Ming’an nodded.

"I’m fine too," Lin Guang said.

Su Ming’an nodded again.

You certainly are fine.

Among the crumbling bricks, their black and white hair rose high, like the fluttering shadows of butterflies. The newborn dawn spilled through the cracks between bricks, pouring into the pupils of every City-State inhabitant.

Their Hanfu and blood-stained robes rubbed against each other, like a pair of butterflies interweaving and dancing in the air, their bodies bathed in sunlight, even in descent, as if they were coexisting with the dawn.

They were slowly falling through the long river of 0s and 1s, as if swimming through the cyclical path of time.

"Am I your friend?"

—And Lin Guang said this in Su Ming’an’s ear:

"The friend you don’t regret?"

Perhaps a long time passed, or maybe it was just an instant.

Su Ming’an replied in a low voice:

"Yes."

On Lin Guang’s stiff face, a slight smile appeared:

"Thank you."

"Although I still don’t understand...what ’love’ is."

"I feel like crying."

"If I had met you first, if there were no ’faction BOSS’ warning on me, if I hadn’t been twisted into this by a deity, is there a slight chance that we could have become friends earlier?"

"..."

Su Ming’an’s eyes trembled.

Then he replied firmly:

"Yes."

You, uncontaminated by shadows, you, without mire in your eyes.

You, who would learn the art of tea, Dragon Country characters, painting, and bamboo flute music for decades—for a friend’s sake—the you who was that resolute, who craved friendship that much, who was so pure and untouched.

If at the beginning, I had truly met that version of you.

I definitely would have become friends with you.

...But there are no ’ifs’.

As they dissolved away, the two landed. Amidst the cracking of the earth and the scattering of tiles, Lin Guang shakily took out a bamboo flute.

The serene notes of the flute left his lips, and he thought of all his experiences with Lewis. He didn’t have time to play the flute pieces he had written over forty years for Lewis, so he only played that very first one, "The Missing."

Back then, at the garden villa of Zone Eleven, the white-haired Agent stood at the door, the bright daylight enclosed by the white fence, shining upon the clear water flow, making it glitter brilliantly, like a long bridge of water and light.

The Agent’s white hair fluttered with the breeze as if it were millennia-old frost and snow.

A gust of wind passed.

The two from forty years ago exchanged a glance.

—It felt like eternity.

Su Ming’an let out a trembling laugh.

Lin Guang smiled faintly, like the spring breeze beneath the snow.

His form became more and more translucent, like a bubble about to burst and fade away, including that pale face, those flowing white hairs... all irrepressibly dissipating, like a butterfly slowly shattering.

He played the flute, his sound getting softer and softer, but his eyes held a joy that almost seemed to ignite someone—

Lewis.

—I learned how to make friends using Lv Shu’s approach, expressing joy at the prospect of friendship from the moment we met, hoping you would become the light of my life.

—I confronted your enemies with Lv Shu’s tone of voice, cursing those who hated you.

—I interacted with you using Lv Shu’s tea-making skills, Lv Shu’s favorite pets.

—I faced this cruel world with Lv Shu’s hair color, a figure similar to Lv Shu, and Lv Shu’s perplexity and obsession. It was even just because of my similarity to Lv Shu that you noticed me.

But I am not Lv Shu, nor am I part of life itself. I hate being mistaken most, yet ironically, everything about me is based on being mistaken.

Without a direction or baseline to stick to, I am a blank slate without life.

Just as now I don’t understand why you are so sad.

...As if about to cry.

"...You won’t be alone anymore."

Lin Guang’s flute playing paused, his voice turning tearful. He clung closer to Su Ming’an, as if this would make him into a real living being:

"...Someone is holding me now."

"Whoo-who-who—" The last note came from the flute.

Then with a clatter, the bamboo flute rolled away.

Su Ming’an felt a lightness in his arms, and a small butterfly that appeared to be made of flame fluttered beside him, lovingly circling him, like a tender fire.

He wasn’t sure if it was a hallucination or an afterimage, but instead of falling bricks above, he saw falling ginkgo leaves. The morning light filtered through the shadows of the trees casting soft, golden, red patterns of light. The leaves broke through the light, and the light merged with the leaves, inch by inch, licking his robe, the light so warm, it was dizzying.

Then, he saw a very large Samoyed.

The big dog with pure white fur stood under the ginkgo tree, surrounded by the red butterfly dancing lightly, the magenta from the sky kissing its fluffy fur, as if stained by sunlight.

It looked up proudly, like a lone wolf watching the dawn, maintaining its unchanging pose, forever waiting under the tree, its eyes bright as if waiting for someone.

It had waited a very long time... through the long-standing hatred, fear, and sorrow of the populace, enduring two thousand three hundred simulations of despair, confusion, and loneliness, possessing the highest loyalty and persistence.

When Su Ming’an’s gaze met its own, their intersecting looks were locked by the night breeze, it gazed at him intently.

"Woof."

It woofed at him.

As if calling out to Lewis.

The dawn rose from afar, showcasing the miracle of night turning into day, faint sounds of rooster crowing emerging in the distance, harmonious and echoing. Wisps and strands of warm light slid across the horizon bit by bit, illuminating all the darkness around the Samoyed. The dry grass, the unopened buds, and the small lives in the soil... they slowly broke through the earth to greet the beauty of the dawn, reveling in the abundant spring light.

The Samoyed, which had shielded them from a night of cold rain, finally at the arrival of sunlight, welcomed the new beginning, exuding spring vibrance.

And the Samoyed that had shielded against the cold rain all night, shook off the heavy raindrops from its body and slowly lowered its head.

Its frail body bit by bit collapsed, its faded eyes bit by bit closed, its fur, shining like sunlight solidified, fluttered in the wind.

"Woof."

It gave a feeble woof toward Su Ming’an.

As if saying farewell to him.

When it collapsed, the surroundings were serene and solemn.

The mist dispersed, and in its eyes seemed to converge all the rivers.

—Under the dawn, the Samoyed died in the rain, while the beings it blessed lived eternally in the sunlight.

"Woo woo woo—"

The sound of the flute ceased.

Su Ming’an still held his embrace, as if cradling the sunshine of an entire city-state.

Specks of white light gently scattered from his cheeks, arms, and chest, like pure white butterflies. The robe embroidered with pine and bamboo, the fluttering white hair, those light-colored eyes that were intently gazing at him... all had vanished.

His throat choked up, no longer able to see the Samoyed in the illusion, nor the white-haired youth in reality.

His hands unconsciously tightened forward, but could not touch any warmth.

"Lin Guang...?" he whispered softly, as if afraid to shatter something.

He lowered his head, looked into his embrace, and saw nothing.

Lin Guang was gone. Only the fluttering, butterfly-like white light, kissing his hair and robe.

"Clang—!"

A bamboo flute rolled to his feet, engraved with the crooked Dragon Country characters "A gift for Lewis."

"Lin Guang?"

Su Ming’an called out once more, his lips soaked with bitterness:

"Lin Guang...?"

No response came.

Nothing but flying bricks and stones before his eyes.

His new friend had dissipated.

His vision began to blur, tears uncontrollably welling up in his eyes, with only a piercing white left in his sight, like a ray of light in deep fog.

Sharp pain and a sense of loss spread from his vitals, he covered his face, sorrow filling his skull as if a hand clutched his heart, his eyes inundated with resonant illusions and double images.

"Lin..."

He uttered a syllable, and gasped heavily. His throat was sticky, and blood spilled from his mouth, his head aching as if cleaved by a knife.

Only a silver-white pistol, engraved with lilies and butterflies, lay on the ground before him. As if a pair of light-colored eyes were watching him.

...

[Lewis, come take a walk with me.]

...

[Lewis, I want to be your friend. I’ve learned a new song, I want to play it for you.]

...

[Lewis, because I knew you were coming, I made every flower in the garden stay at their most beautiful moment. Spring is here, look! Spring has come, this is the spring I’ve prepared for you!]

...

[Lewis, once the war is over, I must become friends with you.]

...

[Lewis, the lilies are blooming beautifully today, I want to give them to you.]

...

[Lewis...]

...

[Lewis...]

...

[Lewis.]

[What is love?]

...

...

Love is the courage to die for someone, something, or even a world.

Even though that person has no name, no appearance, no love. The friendship he yearned for, the care from Lewis, human emotions, and smiles did not belong to him. The whole world including the gods treated him with malice.

But in the end, he chose love.

Quiet yet heroic, romantic yet desperate.

...

What is love?

...

—There’s no need to ask anymore.

...

...

That day, it rained all night in Two Dimensions, stopping at the moment the bells tolled.

That day, a beautiful, elfin roseblood butterfly streaked across the night sky, splitting the darkness like a rift, carrying the fairy that brought spring.

People awoke from the resonance, lifted their heads, embraced each other, and stepped forward.

Only one person remained in place.

In this world, there was no longer a white-haired youth who would call him "Lewis," no more Dragon Country characters he hadn’t learned, his over a thousand sketches, his unfinished drafts, the flute music he had not played, nor the tea he had not perfected.

His 40 years of waiting had ended, having written 12398 ginkgo leaf diaries, learned 6537 Dragon Country characters, brewed 3628 cups of tea, read 2298 poems, drawn 1267 paintings related to Lewis, made 287 braids...

This is all he left behind.

The summer insect cannot speak of ice.

Survive.

With his memories, survive as dawn approaches.

In doing so, he has never truly died. As a friend, he wholeheartedly wishes him eternal happiness.

What is love?

There’s no need to ask.

...

...

After the white-haired youth disappeared, the buildings around lost their support, and bricks and tiles pressed down towards Su Ming’an.

Noel, standing not far away, saw Su Ming’an, motionless between layers of buildings.

"—Su Ming’an! Get out of the way!!" Noel shouted.

It was as if everything suddenly slowed down, and in Noel’s vision, Su Ming’an slowly, slowly fell forward, accompanied by the rising dawn.

Su Ming’an’s gaze paused for a moment in the distance of the morning light, as if to eternally freeze this morning in his retina, then his vision quickly blurred, lightly brushing against Noel.

His eyes gradually became void-like, as if suddenly drained of color, falling into an endless abyss of nothingness.

Noel’s breath halted for a moment, and he almost thought he would drown in that look.

...Why did he feel

...as if he might lose Su Ming’an at any moment?

With a "plop", Su Ming’an fell into the rain, the water spreading over his ears, his complexion deathly pale, like a body shrouded in ash-gray. If he ever did die, this must be what it would look like.

The invasion of Roseblood, the constant Whispering of Ta Wei, the abuse of Mentality Stability Elixir, the repeated self-harm for Emotional Resonance, the tight mental pressure. Layer upon layer of negative effects compounded to suffocation.

He kept falling in his grogginess, like sinking into the deep sea.

...

While unconscious, Su Ming’an had a dream.

In the dream, a white-haired youth was waiting for him in the rain, holding an umbrella.

The rain dripped down from the oiled paper umbrella, and Su Ming’an stepped forward to stand beside the white-haired youth, looking at the distant ginkgo trees.

The silky spring rain fell on the leaves, stirring up a sky full of golden yellow, like countless golden butterflies dancing in the wind. Perhaps too tired, Su Ming’an’s thoughts were somewhat blurry. He didn’t know who the white-haired youth was, nor why he dreamt of him.

"What’s your name?" Su Ming’an asked.

"..." The white-haired youth responded.

"What’s your name?" Su Ming’an didn’t hear it clearly and asked again.

"..." The white-haired youth responded, the same answer as before.

"I’ve asked you twice, each time right after you say your name, and I forget it." Su Ming’an was somewhat frustrated.

He suddenly felt a sourness in his nose. It seemed very unfortunate that the white-haired youth had no name.

The white-haired youth looked surprised but then lifted his lips, smiling slightly.

He had pale-colored pupils, white hair like flowing quicksilver, a gentle and pure demeanor, like a smiling Samoyed angel unstained by mud:

"It’s alright, I don’t have a name, and that’s okay."

"As long as you’re my friend, that’s enough."

He came closer, touching his forehead to Su Ming’an’s, as if offering comfort.

Although Su Ming’an didn’t know the youth’s name, he thought the youth must have a very nice name.

He and the white-haired youth stood shoulder to shoulder in the rain, gazing at the endless downpour. The rain plummeted from the sky, wetting the green grass around them, scattering a carpet of ginkgo leaves everywhere.

The ground was covered with rainwater, gathering and dispersing, like blooming white flowers.

They waited a very long time, until Su Ming’an forgot why he was standing there.

Until the white-haired youth took out a bamboo flute and softly began to play a tune Su Ming’an had never heard before, a sound crisp and pleasant.

...

So Su Ming’an asked the white-haired youth:

"What are you waiting for?"

Upon hearing this, the white-haired youth lifted his head, the moonlight spilling on his flowing white hair, like the perpetual snow melting on mountain peaks.

Between the deep green mountains, a lone wild goose was fluttering across the sky. Flying towards the warm south.

When the first ray of sunlight fell on the white-haired youth’s shoulder, his figure began to fade, like a burst bubble.

The white-haired youth smiled gently, and as he was vanishing, he touched Su Ming’an’s forehead with his own one last time, the smile pure, as if a simple happiness—

Only the dawn’s breaking light could be seen, like daytime meteor.

"As for me," he said before disappearing:

"I’m waiting for a spring..."

...

...

[Meeting you was such a blessing, Lewis.]

...

[Let’s be friends, Lewis.]

...

[Let’s be friends, Lewis.]

...

[Friend.]

...

[Friend.]

...

[Love.]

[Love?]

...

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