The air was acrid. Chenggong Soh knew that it shouldn't be, it was almost certainly just the same evening air that it had always been. But it felt acrid, a slight sting at the tip of his tongue. Was it unease, fear? Or was it just his mind playing tricks on him because it knew what sort of tumultuous time the world was entering? Even the night sky felt dar…
"Glanpa?"
A squeak of a voice dragged Chenggong's mind back to reality, his faded blue eyes blinking rapidly twice before he turned his head down. His neck ached slightly at the motion, the usual warning sign that he had moved too fast. Standing there, barely reaching his knee, was the cute little Chenggong Aoba, his adorable little grandson who couldn't even properly enunciate the word grandpa yet. The face of the young boy was just barely illuminated by the lantern they had placed at the side of the wagon, the flickering flame dancing as it was reflected in the boy's bright blue eyes.
Innocence. Chenggong could think of no better word than that to describe the light in the child's eyes. It was different from his own faded eyes, eaten away by time and hardship to the point where he couldn't see anything beyond the tiny range of their lantern after the sun set. The boy did not know. The boy had not lived. Thus, the boy was innocence.
"It's nothing, Little Baba, glanpa just wanted to gaze upon the moon for a bit."
Chenggong placed his hand on the boy's head, his elbow creaking slightly. An aged hand, covered in minor scars from years of physical labor. How proud he had been of these hands once, how he glowed as he gazed upon what they had built when he was still strong. But eventually, time will rob you of everything. He feared that it would not be long before even rubbing the hair of his youngest grandson would be too strenuous a task for him.
"Go sit in the wagon and wait, Baba. If you sit in the front then you can talk with the moo-moo."
But so be it. That was just life, Chenggong did not begrudge the wear that the passage of time had left on him. He watched that cute little blob leave the range of the lantern with giggling glee, dashing for the front of the wagon where the cow was tied up. He couldn't see the child once it left the range of the light, but he could hear the clattering of wood as he moved up the make-shift steps that Chenggong had built many years ago for one of his other grandsons. The soft mooing of the cow that followed ensured him that the child had reached his seat.
His dry lips cracked into a smile as he listened to the sound that echoed through the night. One day his body would ache too much to properly ruffle that young child's hair, and he'd be damned if he didn't do his best to ensure that both he and the young child would get to see that day. So he turned his body again, his feet shuffling and slightly dragging along the ground as he moved towards another one of the boxes he had packed. All that his youngest daughter owned, packed in a couple of boxes to be loaded on a lone wagon. He was already abandoning her home with her son, he could not bear to also abandon all that she owned. What would she do if she came here once this damned war was over and all that she owned was reduced to mere rubble, if everything she had built up through her life was reduced to ash?
So despite the strain, despite the aching of his lower back, he bent down to lift a crate. She had entrusted him with this place before she went off to war, so he'd be damned if he didn't keep it safe, in one way or the other. His back and knees groaned from the motion, his arms trembling as he painfully slowly straightened his back again. It felt like just yesterday that he could lift crates like these with just one arm, but now each movement reminded him of the cruelty of time. It was worst when his mind and body were desynched, his mind still believing him to be young while his body told him the truth. But Chenggong had no choice but to tough it out. That was, until…
"That looks a bit too heavy for you. Would you mind if I offer a hand?"
A voice reached him from the darkness, if his memory still served him enough then it should have come from the street that led to the baker that his oldest son used to buy bread from. He turned his head despite knowing that he probably wouldn't be able to see the speaker for a few more seconds, when they stepped into the range of his lantern, but there they were.
It was the strangest thing. He could tell that they were beyond the range of the lantern, still a decent distance away. But he could see them as clear as day, as if they were right in front of him, it was as if they were glowing. They looked to be a family of three. The mother was young, she looked to be barely in her twenties and had smooth features, with cyan hair tied into a neat braid and sapphire eyes that not even the darkness of the night could hide. Next to her, holding on to her mother and father's hand, was a cute little girl with slightly chubby cheeks and cute dimples. Her snow-white hair, forming a stark contrast to the night, was tied into a braid that matched her mother, and she had a lively pair of sky-blue eyes that were almost turned up into crescents from her smile as she swung her arms.
And then there was the father. He was… strange. Yes, that was the first word that popped into Chenggong's mind as he looked at him. He looked as young as the woman he was walking with, barely in his twenties, and had a mixture of sharp yet delicate features. But his slightly unruly hair was a dull silvery-grey, and his eyes a piercing gold. It was the man's eyes that drew most of Chenggon's attention. He shouldn't even be able to see the man at this distance, let alone this, but he could actually see the small traces of dark bags that were forming under the man's eyes. And his eyes were a piercing golden, they almost seemed to be glowing at a glance, but they also felt a little sunken in. The man's eyes looked weary, heavy.
The man was smiling softly, gently even. But the weight in his eyes gave his every move a somber mood, it felt as if he was standing at a funeral and had the sole duty of lowering the casket. A strange sensation, a strange man. But oddly enough, looking at him, Chenggong felt… comforted, safe. He was struck with the feeling that if this man was the one who had to lower his casket that final time then it wouldn't be so bad. A strange sensation, a strange man.
"May I?"
And that strange man stretched out his hand, gesturing towards the crates placed a bit away from the wagon.
"Ah, please. A touch of assistance would be greatly appreciated."
Chenggong tried to shuffle slightly to open a path to the boxes, but the man had reached him before his feet managed to move even slightly. It felt like a blank spot in his memories, the strange man crossing the last bit of distance. One moment he was over there, and the next they were right in front of him. Another thing that the cruelty of time had robbed him of, he could scarcely even trust his own memory.
"Let me take this one first."
The strange man took the crate out of Chenggong's arms and then gestured towards the open back of the wagon with his chin, silently asking if this was the correct place. With just a nod of Chenggong, the man placed the crate into the wagon, sliding it forward to make space for the other crates.
"Glanpa? Visit?"
That lovely squeak of a voice came from the front of the wagon, quickly followed by little Aoba trotting over. He had a hand raised to his face, a finger resting on his lips as he looked questioningly at the visitors. Chenggong was momentarily worried that the child would be a little afraid of the strangers, he would often get shy around new people after all. Luckily, it didn't seem to happen this time, as the boy just strode up to the strange man and craned his head to look up at him.
"Ah, that's my grandson, Aoba. Oh, right, forgive me, I'm Chenggong Soh, forgive me for the late introduction."
Chenggong shuffled over to his grandson, ruffling his hair while lowering his own head in greeting. The strange man returned the greeting with a nod of his own, the one who was presumably his wife crouching down to chatter and play with Aoba.
"We're the ones who initiated the conversation so we're the ones who should have introduced ourselves first, so no need to apologize. I'm Liang Chen. This is my wife, Yan Ling, and our daughter, Lan Yun."
They were names that Chenggong had no recollection of, be it surname or given name, so he didn't think that they were from this area. Then again, he couldn't really call himself confident in his own memory so he should probably not put too much confidence in that thought of his.
"This seems like a job that's a bit too heavy for just the two of you, was there no one that could lend a hand?"
While carrying the crates, the strange man, Liang Chen as he introduced himself, made a bit of small talk. It was an understandable question, it was indeed rather strange for a lone old man and young boy to be packing a wagon full of heavy crates this late.
"I'm afraid we were left with little choice. The young and the able all went off to take part in the war, so only us old folk and the nascent next generation are left. Speaking of, I take it you're heading to Crescent Lake to join up for the war?"
Chenggong shook his head as he spoke. All others in his family had gone off to join the war, only he and Little Aoba were left, too old and too young to fight. The old generation and the next, one was too useless to protect what had to be protected, and the other was one of the things that needed to be protected.
"I'll probably stop by Crescent Lake before long yeah, but it's not to join up for the war. I'm more of a wanderer, popping up here and there where I'm needed."
A small smile played at the corners of Liang Chen's lips as he responded, leading to Chenggong letting loose a little chuckle.
"Then I'm afraid you're in the wrong place, young man."
This city of old and young, what could they possibly need for a such a young drifter to make their way to them?
"Not at all. I was needed to help you load the wagon, wasn't I?"
Once again, Liang Chen responded lightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The weariness in his eyes, the somber weight that bore down on him, it might just be a misconception, but Chenggong could swear that it seemed to have lessened slightly. But there was no need to mention any of that, so he simply responded with another light chuckle.
"You've got a glib tongue, your wife must hate you."
"Ah, if only you knew the truth."
The response from Liang Chen was swift, almost sounding a touch aggrieved as he looked over at his wife, who was keeping Aoba busy by playing with him along with their daughter. Looking at how she acted, she clearly had a bit of experience with children, she probably had a few siblings. She'd make a fine mother, Chenggong mused to himself. And looking at the soft and gentle smile on Liang Chen's face, Chenggong mused to himself that he would make a good husband.
A good man too, if he was honest. After all, wasn't he here in the dead of night, helping an old man pack a wagon to flee? And then, just as that thought struck Chenggong, Liang Chen opened his mouth again.
"In all honesty, old man, I'm partly helping you here for myself."
"Hm?"
Chenggong cocked his head slightly, offering Liang Chen the only thing he could, his attention. He did not pose any questions, allowing Liang Chen a brief moment to formulate his words properly.
"Consider it a stop, a little break. Believe it or not, my life is really damn hectic, always hopping from one thing to another. Always one big thing after another. It can get… tiresome. So from time to time, it's nice to stop and slow down like this, to remind myself that it's not always the big things, the big fights. It's not always a battle, sometimes all I need to do is lift a few crates, and that'll be good enough."
Liang Chen's words were accompanied by a chuckle so soft that it may as well not be there, tinged with a hint of self-deprecation when he spoke about how busy his life was. As he spoke, he lifted another crate and slid it into the wagon, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly once again.
"You've had it rough, haven't you, young man?"
The words slipped out of Chenggong before he even realized it. The slight bags under his eyes, the weariness, the weight. Chenggong didn't know what caused them, nor could he possibly know what Liang Chen had gone through in his life. But he could feel it, the weight, the burden. Life had been rough for this strange man who shone in the night, the light in his eyes had been tempered by the fires of misfortune. Looking at a young man like that, how could Chenggong not be filled with the urge to help him, to give him a bit of advice, as unwelcome as it may be?
"Things can get rough, young man, and things can get heavy. Take it from an old timer like me, sometimes life can push so much weight onto your plate that it just feels unfair, to the point where you'll just feel like running away. You know what you do in those times?"
Chenggong shuffled forward as he spoke, inching closer to Liang Chen so that he could stretch out a hand. He wanted to pat Liang Chen on the back, but the best he could do was place his hand on it gently.
"You put on a good pair of shoes and do just that. Run away."
It was advice he had given to his sons and daughter in the past, it was advice he had been given by his teacher when he still held vain dreams of being a cultivator. His life had been very uneventful so he couldn't claim to be filled with great wisdom, but this one piece of advice he dared to be confident in.
"At the time, we always look at it as a horrible option, as a cowardly thing to do. But when we get older and look back, we're either always glad that we ran away, or regret that we didn't. We're just people, we ain't gotta take everything that gets thrown at us, it's fine to just run from it all, or to hit back. All's that matters is that we remain standing at the end, otherwise we ain't gonna be able to keep moving forward."
Chenggong put a touch of strength into his arm. Well, as much strength as he could muster actually, and forced his wrinkled hand to pat Liang Chen on the back, ignoring the slight ache in his wrist.
"And you're standing right now, aren't you? That's more than good enough."
His lips twisted into a wide and comforting smile. The lad had lived a heavy and rough life, but he was still standing. He'd remained standing, so he got the chance to cobble together a family he could call his own, and he looked damn happy as he gazed upon them. That's why it was fine to run away sometimes, so that you had the chance to cobble together things like this.
"Not exactly what I was going for, but thank you all the same, old man."
There was a slight smile on Liang Chen's face as he looked at Chenggong, giving a slight shake of his head. Chenggong couldn't help but tilt his head slightly, had he misunderstood what the young man meant? If that was the case then he would certainly be a touch embarrassed right now. But whatever the truth was, Chenggong was doomed to be unable to find out.
All of a sudden, a slight creaking sound tore through the night. For a brief moment, the world seemed to shimmer, and then something appeared in the air, illuminated only by the light of the moon. It was a large ship flying in the air, shaped like a giant mechanical whale. It hovered in the air, making it clear that it wasn't a creature.
"…No…"
Chenggong's words almost caught in his throat, his mouth suddenly so dry that he felt as if he had swallowed sand. His children and grandchildren had gone off to join the war, and those who had done so first had sent him back little tidbits of information. So he knew, he knew that ships like these were what the enemies used. It was because he had received word that a ship like this had been spotted in the area that he decided to flee with his last grandson despite the late hour.
"I'm afraid you truly were in the wrong place, Young man. If we're lucky then they won't notice us and just move on."
Chenggong would have grit his teeth if he still had any, but all he could do was utter a hopeless prayer and place his faith in something he didn't even believe in. His children had warned him of what the enemies did and their brutality, he knew what awaited them if that mechanical whale opened its maw. So he could only shuffle over to his confused grandson and hope.
"Old man, does that look like the ship of someone who hasn't noticed us?"
But as Liang Chen pointed at the whale, at the rows of lights that appeared along its side, the cruel reality of the world was all that greeted Chenggong. With each light that lit up, Chenggong's heart sank deeper. His poor grandson, tilting his head curiously as he reached for the light, too young to understand the situation.
"…Ha, the heavens really are indifferent to the point of cruelty."
Chenggong wanted to curse. It was fine if it was him. He was old, he had lived a long life. He had done things he was proud of and things he regretted even to this day. He had sired sons and daughters, he had held both grandchildren and even a great-granddaughter, who now luckily lived far away with her parents. He could welcome death, he could understand and accept it. But Little Aoba, that little boy who reached towards the distant lights with innocence and curiosity? How could he possibly deserve it, how could he possibly accept death? No, a child like him was too young to deserve anything like this, it went beyond indifference and reached cruelty.
And then the voice that reached him through the dark night to offer aid reached him once more.
"You know, old man, I once thought much the same. I wept at the heavens indifference, I cursed them for their cruelty, I hated them for their silence. But the heavens aren't indifferent old man, they're dead."
Chenggong had crouched to embrace Aoba, so he had to raise his head slightly to look at Liang Chen. The young man was standing there, eyes gazing up at the dark night sky and the illuminating ship that brought the end. Those piercing golden eyes were so still that it was almost eerie. If he had any time to think, perhaps he would have realized that it wasn't just the young man that was calm, his wife and their child were also entirely calm, practically unperturbed. But he didn't have the time to think, a cynical and defeated laugh escaping him.
"If that were the case, that'd be terrible in its own right, then I wouldn't even have anything to curse at."
At least he could curse at the heavens if they were just indifferent or cruel, even if it only made him feel better. But if they were dead? What could he blame then? There would be nothing, just a gaping emptiness.
Liang Chen's head lowered as Chenggong responded, the two locking eyes. Those piercing golden eyes, so eerily calm despite the horror that was about to descend. Looking into them, Chenggong almost felt as if they were drawing him in. The pupils, almost hidden within the piercing gold, seemed almost like a bottomless pit, a gaping emptiness that tugged at his soul.
"It's true, I've seen it. All that remained was dead curses and endless blood, a violence and thirst that could not be sated even by the end of all life. I've seen the throne of the heavens, old man, and it was empty."
The more Liang Chen spoke, the colder Chenggong's heart got. He spoke with such… Conviction, such confidence. It didn't matter if it was true or not, just the way he spoke about it made Chenggong feel as if it was true. And if that really was the truth, he could only mourn. For if the heavens were truly dead, then they had lost even the last thing they could pray to.
"But that's fine."
But then the voice reached him, cutting through the darkness once more, just as it did when he offered his hand. Liang Chen had turned his head away again, gazing up at he distant ship, barely illuminated by the moon and the lights at its side.
"It doesn't matter if there is nothing above us, if there is nothing to watch over us, if there is nothing to punish our sins."
There was a rumbling, a distant yet near rumbling. Like distant thunder, like an earthquake right beneath their feet. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, it seemed to blot out everything else. Everything except for that voice.
"It doesn't matter if the heavens are indifferent, if they are cruel, or if they are dead. For I am here."
As those last words fell, the sky split open. No, the sky was torn, rent in half without mercy by a bolt of lightning too great to be cast by mortal hands. That thing, that light, was an act of god.
It was a great golden light tinged with a touch of red, brighter than the moon, brighter than the lights on the ship, brighter than the stars. It bathed the world in its light, illuminating the city as if it was noon. And there, standing beneath the light, the only thing not overshadowed by it, was that young man with the piercing golden eyes.
"And I shall suffice."