He and It Chapter 65: A God’s Marriage (36)

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Chapter 65: A God’s Marriage (36)

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: GaeaTiamat

 

The long winter, the snowy season that had lasted thousands of years, finally came to an end.

At first, the clouds lifted, and the snowflakes stopped flying daily. One day, two days, one month, two months… 

By the time the creatures of the earth reacted with surprise, the screeching winter winds had long since died down, leaving only the sun, twice as powerful, to shine in the sky with all its heat and splendor.

The snow slowly melted, the ice slowly cracked, and the earth was filled with a small creaking sound, as if it were a bit slow and stiff, but finally beginning to stretch.

Then came the gurgling brooks that ran across the mountains and plains, then gradually grew into rivers and raging waterfalls. The sea of ice, like a glass bottle of frozen cola, melted to the point where fine ice particles floated above and below. As large schools of fish come to the surface, and with the unprecedented harvest season, the fishermen at the waterfront begin to encounter a new crisis – the same ferocious predators that used to be under the ice were now able to emerge from the surface and eye their boats.

For many days and nights, Yun Chi watched the birds return from the sky to the land with heartfelt joy.

“Spring is coming,” he said to Sa’gya. “It’s strange, I can smell it…”

Sa’gya asked, “What smell?”

“The smell of trees!” Yun Chi replied, sniffing the air. “And…and the smell of earth, and the damp smell of grass, and the warm stench of animal fur, and…”

He sniffed and whiffed, and Sa’gya found it so funny that he couldn’t help but move his face over and ask, “And what else?”

“And…” Yun Chi turned his head, and his lips were pressed solidly to Sa’gya’s cheek. “Ooh!”

“Oh.” Sa’gya covered his face, and accused him without any sincerity, “Why are you kissing me all of a sudden?”

Looking at the exasperated, blushing Yun Chi, he followed up with a snarky, “Mn, then I have to kiss you back to make it right.”

He cupped Yun Chi’s face and received a long kiss by the window. The taste of the lips meeting was sticky and sweet, like fiery honey, and Sa’gya sucked hungrily at his lover’s lips and tongue. The starry light of the god’s eyes darted out so that his drooping lashes glistened, and Yun Chi’s fingers couldn’t help but bury themselves in his thick white hair. In between kisses, he heard Sa’gya call his name in a low and passionate voice…

“Chii.” The little sea otters lined up in neat rows, as they peeked from the window, poked their heads in, bit their paws curiously, and watched their oblivious parents intently.

Yun Chi stiffened.

It must be said again that the little sea otter that had stayed on the island with him that day was not alone; little sea otters at that age were just the most mischievous!

Sa’gya leaned against Yun Chi’s forehead and sighed drearily.

“Too many heirs.” He let out a disgruntled purr, which sent the little sea otters scattering, as they wriggled their butts, and fled faster than a gust of wind.

After Sa’gya recovered from his injuries, Yun Chi brushed him twice more, yet the newborn god-children continued to fall off. The island, once cold and quiet, was now noisy as hell, full of little mochi who were eager to woo cats and dogs, and when they got into trouble, they cried and cried and arched their backs into Yun Chi’s place to escape their father’s punishment.

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t a human child…” Yun Chi wiped his sweat thankfully. “If they were all human children, I really would divorce you immediately…”

Sa’gya’s purr changed to horror as he hurriedly hugged Yun Chi and whimpered sadly against his face, “No! Don’t divorce me!”

All in all, since it was spring, for Yun Chi, the picnic season had arrived.

After the previous two incidents, Sa’gya no longer dared to leave anyone on the island, so Yun Chi packed up his picnic box and prepared to drift out to sea with Sa’gya, wherever he could.

The sea otter lay on his back like a conspicuous snow-white island, so Yun Chi spread the food box on his belly and took out the omelet mixed with meat flakes, and divided them into one for each of them.

As they drifted out into the middle of the ocean, Sa’gya dunked his paw down and probed, grabbed a raw fish, scraped it clean of its scales, scooped out its innards, and quickly shaved a filet out of it.

“Huh?” Yun Chi chewed on the filet and looked out into the distance. “The ice is melting away after all. Fishing boats can sail here now.”

Sa’gya cradled his omelet and ate with concentration. He gazed intently at Yun Chi and ignored any news of fishing boats.

“Look,” exclaimed the man on the boat. “There’s a man floating on the water!”

Sa’gya puffed out a displeased breath, and the sea was suddenly thick with fog. A long wind blew the sails of several of the two-masted vessels, causing them to sail in an entirely opposite direction.

“We shall not be disturbed,” Sa’gya said. “Pesky ships.”

Four months later came the warm, dancing summer.

Of all Sa’gya’s heirs, Summer was the liveliest and most powerful little sea otter, and Yun Chi could feel his breath burning unbearably hot when he held him in his arms, while his limbs were sturdy, and his heart beat strongly. As it rolled excitedly over the hillocks and across the boundless wilderness, summer descended on the land of Kaleva.

The sun favors summer just as the moon favors fall. The rolling heat caused the water gods everywhere to do their best to contain the plagues that snowmelt could cause. Snowy mountains and glaciers and verdant trees and grasses shared a sky that could only be found in the height of summer on that world.

Sa’gya’s isolated island had once again crossed paths with the land, and Yun Chi had traveled to a rebuilt and more prosperous city-state, where the people were holding a summer festival after a long absence. At the festival, they made offerings to the Gods of Summer and Sun, then prepared for the revival of spring and the harvest of fall.

This time, Yun Chi finally didn’t have to leave in a hurry. He blended in with the lively crowd, jumped around the huge bonfire, and saw a priest holding a torch blow the starry flame high into the night sky with a single breath. The grandiose sparks were like a rain of gold that fell to the ground, trailing down in a flurry of drumbeats and melodious singing.

Just as Yun Chi, wearing a mask of feathers, wandered aimlessly through the streets, he suddenly felt something and looked over toward the opposite side of the street.

Across the endless sea of people, across the songs and dances of the gods, across the fireworks in the sky, and across the children laughing and giggling through the streets and alleys, his eyes met with those of a tall, white-haired, brown-skinned man.

He wore dazzling white robes, and his eyes were as gorgeous as a river of stars, but except for Yun Chi, no one on the street could see him.

Yun Chi smiled.

“Come on, I’ll take you dancing!” He raised the smoldering stick in his hand, grabbed Sa’gya’s hand, and dashed into the pile of people near the bonfire. The oily aroma of roasting meat nourished and soaked their cuffs along with the fragrant scent of cider opening, then the God and the God’s Bride wandered the earth, as they reveled all night long without sleep.

“Fall! Fall is the best season!” Yun Chi slurred, struggling for emphasis.

Sa’gya said, “But you said just before that spring and summer are the best seasons.”

Yun Chi held up a finger and said, “Being a parent means being even-handed, you know?”

In the past spring and summer seasons, the animals, who had held their breath for too long, were encouraged by the power of the Gods of Spring and Summer to come out desperately to eat and drink, to prevent the return of the normal seasons from being a short-lived blip; the plants also frantically absorbed the nutrients from the streams and the soil, even though, after so many generations, there were no overly tall and strong individuals left in their midst.

So in the fall, both animals and plants were overweight, and Yun Chi, sitting in a restaurant, gobbled down an oversized plate of rich, greasily baked mince pies. First he bit into the sizzling, hot, oily meat pies and then blew cool mead into the bottle. He was so happy he was going to fly off the handle.

“It reminds me of the old days,” says Yun Chi. “When I was tired and didn’t want to cook, I’d order a bucket of fried chicken and two cans of ice-cold Coke. The older generation says it’s junk food, but how exorbitant is the value of a human being? We just want to draw junk joy from junk food!”

Sa’gya slowly sipped the mead from his glass and didn’t say anything, just counted the seconds in his mind.

Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight…

A minute later, Yun Chi pushed his plate toward him and belched with a full-bodied, booze-and meat-scented burp.

“Can’t eat, can’t eat anymore…” he said with difficulty. “This oil-heavy stuff is indeed too stuffed. I’m stuffed…”

Sa’gya shook his head, followed the small teeth marks where Yun Chi had bitten into it, and swallowed the rest of the pie in one gulp.

“Good boy,” he coaxed. “Don’t sit there. Let’s go for a walk outside to take the edge off. We ate so much and we must watch out for stomach aches at night.”

Yun Chi held his stomach and sighed as he came out of the tavern. They slowly wandered in the street that smelled of grain. After they skirted around it three times and seeing the bakery on the street, Yun Chi felt like he could do it again. He insisted on trying the freshly fried bread inside.

Sa’gya simply didn’t have the ability to defy him on such a small matter, and could only watch as Yun Chi grabbed the seasonal fresh fried bread and sent handfuls of it into his mouth.

“It’s so sweet and flavorful! Fresh is different!”

After a moment, Yun Chi silently lifted the bag and handed it to Sa’gya.

Sa’gya took it, poured it into his mouth, and swallowed it in one gulp.

After three more laps, Yun Chi saw a restaurant selling the legendary “horse milk tea,” went inside, and took out a small clay pot, and halfway through, Sa’gya took the whole thing, as usual.

As they kept skating around three times, Yun Chi was obsessed, and continued to rush to the rice cake restaurant they had passed, but just halfway to the road, Sa’gya stopped him by picking him up at the waist and forcibly escorting him back to the hostel.

Later that night, he did pay the price for his excessive overeating.

Yun Chi was tossing and turning, while Sa’gya rubbed his stomach as he said seriously, “Next time, you can’t eat like that! Of course, I’m at fault for not stopping you in time…”

Yun Chi was paralyzed in Sa’gya’s arms, justified and unrepentant, “I won’t! I’ll do it again!”

The year flew by and it was winter again.

“Winter…” Yun Chi mused.

“Winter,” Sa’gya mused.

As the vacant God Spectrum was slowly being filled, and there was no longer anything like one God reigning supreme, Yun Chi and Sa’gya stared out the window at the falling snow, each feeling very bored with the other.

“Hibernate.” Sa’gya suggested. “Let’s be quiet and warm and have a long, long sleep. What do you think?”

Yun Chi’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Let’s hibernate then!”

The fireplace’s flames of light pulsed as they lowered the bed curtains and rolled up the fluffy quilt and pillows. The big, soft white sea otter wrapped his arms around Yun Chi. His ears twitched slightly as he heard the drifting snow outside the house and the tiny crackle of the flames inside.

The god and his lost and found bride snuggled up to each other and fell into a deep sleep on a warm, spring-like winter day.