He and It Chapter 190: Inquire Here (18)

Chapter 190: Inquire Here (18)

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: GaeaTiamat

 

Yan Huan was too excited to control himself. Ever since Liu Fuguang returned, his mind couldn’t hold anything else until someone else pointed it out. Only then did Yan Huan remember that he, too, had a trump card.

He paused briefly at the palace gate, roughly straightened his clothes, then hurriedly stepped inside to present his treasure to Liu Fuguang.

“Fuguang!” he called out loudly, as he ran eagerly to the bedside. “I have something for you. I guarantee you’ll like it and be happy. Come with me, will you?”

Liu Fuguang was a bit surprised. According to the usual rules, Yan Huan should have stayed far away and not disturbed him again. However, he didn’t want to get up and was too tired to deal with Yan Huan’s sudden enthusiasm. 

When he saw Liu Fuguang’s half-closing eyes, and unwillingness to respond, Yan Huan didn’t get discouraged. He hesitated for a moment, thought for a while, and then took a seal-like object out from his bosom. It looked like an old item with quite a bit of history.

Since he feared he might increase Liu Fuguang’s displeasure, he couldn’t just take Liu Fuguang’s hand and force the seal into it. So, Yan Huan placed it gently at the bedside and said softly, “Look, I’m putting it here.”

Liu Fuguang wearily opened his eyes a crack and glanced at the seal on the bedside. His brow furrowed, and then he froze in shock. The seal was carved with a red gem, a golden crow and the inscription “Zhuo Lang.” That object was none other than the first private seal his parents had given him when he turned one year old.

How did it end up in Yan Huan’s hands?!

Liu Fuguang suddenly raised his head, his eyes filled with shock, anger, and various negative suspicions, and were sharp arrows that pierced Yan Huan’s heart, and caused a dull, painful ache. Yan Huan gathered his spirits then quickly and gently explained, “Don’t be afraid, Qing…uh, don’t be afraid. Come with me, and I’ll show you where this seal came from.”

Liu Fuguang remained silent for a while, then struggled to sit up. Yan Huan quickly summoned a fragrant, soft silky cloud, to gently support Liu Fuguang. As they left the palace gate, the cloud grew in the wind, and transformed into a delicate sedan chair. Yan Huan led the way, and they smoothly traveled to their destination.

Without a word along the way, Yan Huan guided him deep into the dragon palace, to the treasure vault he used for his real collection. Compared to this place, the grand halls where he randomly placed the two miniature immortal gates were like messy storerooms. This place housed all the rare treasures he had carefully collected as a young dragon. However, as he became increasingly lost in his dreams, and longed for Liu Fuguang day and night, the place also fell into silence until he rebuilt the dragon palace nest, so it had been unopened for thousands of years.

The sedan stopped. Liu Fuguang, clutching his private seal, refused Yan Huan’s help and stumbled to the ground. His gaze swept over the towering mountains and vast sea of treasures, and gradually stopped at the very center.

On a golden platform as tall as a person stood a square miniature landscape that resembled a chessboard. The mountains and rivers were clear, the seas like jade, and scattered cities were vaguely visible. The largest and most magnificent royal city stood at the highest point of the entire landscape. The red flowers had withered, and the once prosperous city was now covered in mournful white, which fluttered in every corner of the palace.

…Eastern Swamp.

Yan Huan had used a bottling technique to solidify the entire Eastern Swamp nation here…so now six thousand years later, after he woke up in his coffin, he was once more standing before his homeland, with a scarred body and a dazed feeling as if it were a lifetime ago.

Liu Fuguang slowly walked over, completely speechless, without daring to touch any part of the miniature landscape, because the size difference between him and his homeland was so vast that even a slight breath could cause severe damage to Eastern Swamp.

“…Madman,” he gritted his teeth, trembling. “You are truly…a madman…”

No matter what he said, at least Fuguang was finally speaking to him! Yan Huan first felt a sincere joy, then hurriedly defended himself in a panic, “No, no! Please listen to me. At that time, I was possessed and did something foolish. You were missing, and your parents and citizens were willing to risk their lives to fight me. I…what I thought then was, in your honor, I didn’t want to kill them or destroy your homeland, so I put them all here.”

After a pause, he continued, “But now that you’re back, I will return them to you so you can reunite with your family. Look, everyone and everything inside hasn’t changed. This is still the Eastern Swamp you know…”

That’s right, he was absolutely right. From a certain perspective, Liu Fuguang should even thank him. Thousands of years had passed like water, and everything in the mortal world had changed, yet he’d used his dragon god’s power to freeze a nation on the day he had just passed away. If Liu Fuguang went back, in the eyes of his parents and friends, he would have been gone for only a brief moment…

Unfortunately, such things clearly reminded him of what kind of inhuman existence Yan Huan truly was.

He didn’t speak, only trembled and panted. Yan Huan couldn’t fathom his silence. The dragon god cautiously asked, “Shall I…restore them for you?”

Yan Huan tentatively reached out a finger, as his nine eyes spun, while he tried to gauge Liu Fuguang’s expression. He gently touched the edge of the miniature landscape, and, when he saw Liu Fuguang remain still, took that as acquiescence. In an instant, the chessboard disappeared from his hand, and the ground of Tang Valley resounded with a thunderous roar, reminiscent of the world’s creation.

Mountains rose, rivers gathered, and the empty Tang Valley, which had been vacant for six thousand years, finally welcomed back its original inhabitants. Yan Huan raised his left hand, and the terrain altered by the passage of time returned to its original state. He then pressed his right hand down, and the landscapes that had formed into peaks over the years instantly moved tens of thousands of miles away, making space for the Eastern Swamp.

With everything prepared, Yan Huan withdrew his hands and looked timidly at Liu Fuguang.

“Fuguang? It’s done,” he said ingratiatingly. “Go and see. You’ll definitely like it…”

Is this a matter of whether I like it or not?

Liu Fuguang really wanted to ask him that, but he had long lost the strength to argue with Yan Huan. Therefore, he didn’t say anything, just continued to sit in the cloud chariot, and let Yan Huan take him down.

Stepping once again onto the land of his homeland, he felt as if he were in a dream. He pushed away Yan Huan’s attempt to assist him, and Liu Fuguang walked slowly on the jade floor of the palace. He still remembered everything there; it just took some time to recall. He struggled to dig out the old memories in his mind, and laid them out carefully in the dim light; treasuring them one by one.

Behind the Qingliang Hall, the red maple trees grew lush. Without the need for autumn, red leaves flew all year round. As a child, he loved to step on the leaves and play there. The green lotus leaves in Yaoguang Lake bloomed with white lotus flowers. Every summer, he would row a boat to the center of the lake to pick the large, full lotus pods. The lotus seeds there had no bitter cores and were the sweetest. He would hum softly while eating the lotus seeds, “Paddling through the bright brocade of the pond, luring mandarin ducks to play in the water. In the evening, plucking flowers with laughter, guarding the lamp wicks with dark gauze…” As he thought back on it now, it really felt like a lovely time from a previous life.

As he turned with the winding corridor, Liu Fuguang looked up at the white mourning banners that fluttered all over the city, like long trails of tears swaying in the silent wind.

He lowered his head, and passed by a maid still asleep, frozen in time by Yan Huan. Restoring everything completely would still take some time.

When he got tired of walking, he would sit down to rest, and once he’d rested enough, he would get up and continue walking. His feet led him to the back palace of the royal city, his former residence, and his parents’ as well.

He passed through one palace gate after another, and saw more and more cultivators fallen in the roadside flower beds; fully armed iron guards sleeping soundly under the trees. The vast steps were also filled with soldiers lying around in disarray. Considering Yan Huan’s earlier words, it wasn’t hard to see that this was a scene from the moment when the Eastern Swamp was mobilizing for battle.

To avenge their youngest son who died tragically on Zhong Mountain, his parents were prepared to risk everything against the most evil dragon god. However, before the battle even started, the country had been shrunk to the size of a palm by Yan Huan and sealed away.

Liu Fuguang’s face turned pale as he walked up the jade steps and entered the palace hall. Everything seemed as if it was yesterday. The familiar yet unfamiliar furnishings in the hall stung his eyes.

He stumbled over to a jade chess set he’d used frequently; the pieces were still scattered on the board. A painting he and his brother had drawn together lay half-rolled between the table and the couch. The ink on the inkstone hadn’t dried, and the brush was still resting on the mountain-shaped brush holder.

Liu Fuguang extended a finger to the inkstone, feeling the wet touch at his fingertip. He lifted his wrist, and a drop of ink dripped down.

After all these years, even the ink here still retained its fluid form…

Tears welled up in his eyes. For some reason, this detail broke him. Leaning on the table corner, his long-held calm shattered like thin ice in spring. Liu Fuguang’s shoulders shook wildly, and he was sobbing and crying so suddenly that he bent over in pain, and the veins on his hand pressed the table bulged thinly.

Yan Huan had never left, he’d followed Liu Fuguang and observed his every reaction. When he saw him suddenly crying so uncontrollably, Yan Huan was shocked and panicked, and almost wanted to slap himself.

Why was he suddenly crying like that!

His heart ached, but he couldn’t rush over to comfort Liu Fuguang, whether with words or actions. All he could do was watch from a distance, as he sweated and felt his heart burn with helplessness, and he tasted all the bitterness of the world.

However there was no need for his comfort. After he cried for a while, Liu Fuguang calmed down, wiped his tears, and continued walking with red eyes.

The palace gates were heavy, draped with thin veils like mist. Liu Fuguang pushed them aside, and behind all the obstacles and veils, he finally saw his mother, Queen Xi, Xi Ji.

She was dressed in pale mourning clothes. She was hunched over, her face dark and tired, as she sat by a couch as if weighed down by an invisible burden. Deep tear grooves extended from her eyes, which made it hard to see her once-renowned beauty.

She had aged. After having lost her youngest son, no matter how skilled she was in maintaining her appearance or how good her cultivation base was, excessive grief had caught up with her face and body. She clutched an old book, her eyes still fixed on its yellowed cover.

Liu Fuguang squatted down and gently pulled the book away, and saw “Miscellaneous Talks of Guangling” written on the cover.

His nose tingled, and his throat felt like it was blocked by something he couldn’t swallow or spit out.

“Mother,” Liu Fuguang called. “Mother…look at me. It’s me, I’m back.”

When she heard his voice, it was like a long-sealed memory being unlocked, and Xi Ji’s eyelashes fluttered. First, her breathing began to flow, then she blinked once, and again.

The room was very quiet. Liu Fuguang could hear his heartbeat, blood flow, and pulse. As he looked into his mother’s eyes, he felt like he had become the child who rolled on the floor and ran barefoot on the couch.

Xi Ji stared blankly at him, her gaze distant, like she was looking at a fish swimming in a river through a mirror.

When she finally spoke, her voice was low and indistinct, as if she were alone in the room, muttering to herself.

“Zhuo Lang…do you remember, when you were little, you liked to keep strange animals? Poisonous snakes, legless centipedes, blind earth dragons, short-lived katydids…?” Xi Ji smiled. “You kept them in little wooden boxes you made yourself. The maids, not knowing, would open them and almost faint from fright…When the word got out, ministers thought you were disobedient and mischievous, a naughty child, and all ran to advise your father to discipline the little prince.”

Liu Fuguang remembered. Of course, he remembered. It was just that after so long and so many experiences, many memories had blurred into indistinct shapes, which made it hard to recall the clear edges.

However, he could still remember the joy. The world had been so big, and he had been so small, while countless treasures were waiting for him to discover. In his childhood, every day was incredibly joyful. The only thing happier than today was the yet-to-come tomorrow.

“Your father was also puzzled,” Xi Ji said. “He came to your palace after court, held you on his lap, and asked what was going on. I was worried he might be influenced by the ministers and scold you indiscriminately, so I hurried over. I still remember how you responded.”

Xi Ji’s eyes sparkled, whether from tears or something else.

“You said, those legless, disabled insects and snakes, everyone wants to kill them. Isn’t that pitiful? If no one loves them, let me love them; if everyone despises and hurts them, at least I will be on their side.”

Xi Ji’s voice trembled, and Liu Fuguang’s throat tightened.

“After hearing that, your father and I didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh.” Xi Ji said softly. “Gradually, you grew up. Everyone knew your noble character. Ministers no longer questioned your actions. You…you also left us.”

“The things you used, your father and I kept them well, never discarding or damaging them, just in case one day, you would come back to live with us. You know, one day, your father suddenly asked me, ‘Do you still have Zhuolang’s little wooden boxes?’ I said, ‘Of course, I kept them, how could I throw them away?’ Then we searched everywhere…searched for a whole day but couldn’t find those little boxes from your childhood. It’s really strange, isn’t it? Where did they go?”

Xi Ji looked up, and her eyes met Liu Fuguang’s. A tear broke free from her eye, and fell on her chapped lips then onto her hand.

“I…I wiped the blood off you,” Xi Ji said, dazedly. “I took off your old clothes, I washed you, I held you, I…I wanted to sew up the wound on your stomach, but I couldn’t…it was too deep, too deep…”

Liu Fuguang clenched his teeth as tears streamed down his face. His throat was hoarse, unable to utter a word.

“Have you come back, Zhuolang?” Xi Ji asked softly. “Is it really you?”