Alt. Title: "The Friendship that Never Was"
"Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart."
-Anne Frank
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Before Li-Hong ascended, he met Yize three times. The first was in their youth, the second preceded war, and the last was moments before Li-Hong became a god.
And each time they encountered one another, Yize said the same thing.
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His bones ached, and his brown eyes blurred, but the pulsing in his heart continued to swell. It didn't matter how many times he was kicked or how tightly he curled into himself; the burning in his chest could never be extinguished.
His parents often said he'd been upset with the world since the day he was born. But this wasn't entirely accurate. It all started when he was two and had been given a wooden panda to play with. Not long after receiving the toy, a neighborhood kid took it from him and never gave it back.
Minuscule as it might be, this singular moment altered Li-Hong's perception of the world. Although he wasn't old enough to form the correct words, he came up with his first general conclusion:
Society is inherently selfish.
After this life-altering realization, Li-Hong approached people differently. He didn't make any friends, he always had something negative to say, and he'd lash out at anyone who ruffled his feathers.
Once he grew into a teenager, he decided to broaden his perspective and observe everyday interactions.
Li-Hong was born into a wealthy family and wasn't allowed to leave the house without supervision. So, during the times he was supposed to meditate, he'd sporadically sneak out of his privileged home to watch from the streets as husbands publicly shamed their wives, aunties chastised scandalous women, pickpockets stole from the less fortunate, and butchers beat starving children. And with each act of kindness, which he witnessed on occasion, there were at least three more deeds of selfishness.
Everything he saw validated his belief, which led him to his second conclusion:
In a world full of hate, it is impossible to be content.
During the beating, Li-Hong covered his head as he pondered all that he could've done to piss off the ingrates. He concluded that the children must've been from the neighboring city.
The two communities had been at odds for many years, and it had reached the point where citizens were lashing out at each other. But Li-Hong didn't care enough to think about it or involve himself in it. The only two things on his mind were pain and how the kick to his stomach reminded him that he skipped lunch.
A roar broke across the air as the alley fell into silence. Li-Hong didn't know where it came from, but it sounded like a ferocious animal. The other children must've drawn the same conclusion, because they high-tailed out of the alley a moment later.
He tried to bite back, call them cowards, or say something he'd eventually regret, but Li-Hong was too tired to even get a word out as the group disappeared and left him with whatever beast found its way into the crevice.
Near-black strands of hair clung to the sweat on his forehead as he shut his brown eyes and took a stuttering breath.
A few minutes passed as he lay against the cold, dirty cobbled floor, twitching as the pain crept up his spine and seeped into his skin. No further noises could be heard, and Li-Hong thought for a moment that maybe the animal had moved on. That was until he felt the sensation of something watching him.
Li-Hong's body flinched before he could stop it, though he tried to mask the reaction as nothing more than a shiver while his gaze slid toward the mouth of the alley.
There, with the sun glowing behind him, was the silhouette of a boy about his age, one Li-Hong had never seen before within his community.
Li-Hong didn't know many swear words, but what he did know flashed through his brain as his muscles squeezed in preparation for a vicious kick.
His steps were as light as a feather, flying in on winged feet as each footfall tapped gracefully against the cobble floor and echoed across the still alley air. Li-Hong's intimidated mind interpreted the passive gait as claps of thunder with each passing step ricocheting across his skull. They sounded ominous, or maybe Li-Hong was just misinterpreting.
As soon as it started, it stopped, and Li-Hong opened his frightened eyes after realizing they were squeezed shut.
Above him was nothing short of an angel, and he rationalized for a moment that maybe the gods had taken pity on him. The divine being was sure to be benevolent, gracious, and able to take him far away from this malicious world.
The one above him was void of any bodily expression, looming over his beaten and bloodied form with indifference. The sun, still casting a shadow over the newcomer's face, formed a sort of halo around his head.
For a fraction of a second, Li-Hong forgot about the selfish nature of humanity as he looked at the art above him.
A small glint of a necklace caught Li-Hong's eyes as it hung around the young boy's neck. A longevity lock, much nicer than the one that hung around Li-Hong's own neck.
Then the shadow moved, and Li-Hong flinched despite himself. The figure looming above subsequently froze in response. When Li-Hong tilted his head back to the individual, all he saw was an outstretched hand.
"Are you okay?"
Everything hurt, his clothes were disgusting, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to make it home before sundown.
His pride told him to say yes, but he shook his head no.
The boy delicately sat down next to Li-Hong and made himself comfortable. Once situated, he reached a hand into the wide blue sleeves of his hanfu robes and pulled out a baozi. The cold, and perhaps stale, bun smelled like starch as it was presented to the horizontal Li-Hong. Just the sight of the stuffed dough made him salivate.
"They were hurting you, and all I did was watch. I couldn't even come up with a solution until you were already thrown to the ground," the squeaky voice said, sounding remorseful. "I apologize."
Li-Hong remained silent and still, disheartened as the snack was removed from his line of sight.
The boy continued. "I can't fight; I'd end up like you if I jumped in."
That statement left Li-Hong astonished. This person was selfish, and he was aware of his selfishness. Just the notion of someone being self-aware enough to recognize their faults struck a chord with Li-Hong. This boy was already more mindful than any adult he'd ever encountered, and in his mind, that was worthy of some fragment of respect.
Wordlessly, Li-Hong pushed himself into a sitting position and looked at his lap. Then he stuck out an expecting hand.
The boy, as perceptive as before, began to hand Li-Hong the baozi but faltered.
To the surprise of Li-Hong, he watched as the gentle and tan fingers of the stranger brushed against his pale and dirty palm.
Now facing the sun, Li-Hong could clearly see the boy's soft complexion. It looked untainted by the world's cruelties yet carried wisdom beyond his years. His hair framed his face, its shade nearly matching the depth of his dark eyes. Everything about this stranger contrasted with Li-Hong, who was rough around the edges and had long accepted that the harsh realities of the world needed to be accepted early on.
Li-Hong's lips parted in awe as he watched the boy finish brushing off the alley's dust before finally releasing the baozi into his grasp. Gazing at the humble bun, Li-Hong tried to take in the figure before him—outwardly kind, perhaps inwardly selfish, yet angelic all the same. He had never met such a being, and with every passing second, his carefully guarded perception of the world drained away as the calming aura this boy radiated rolled across Li-Hong's skin. Li-Hong wanted to be angry for the sake of being angry, but any anger towards the boy fizzled out like a small flame in the rain.
Shaking the awestruck feeling away, Li-Hong asked, "What's your name?"
"Yize. May I know yours?"
"Li-Hong."
Yize nodded in acknowledgment and took a bite from an identical bun, slipping it from the same sleeve as before.
Li-Hong followed Yize's lead and discovered that the bun was filled with pork and cabbage. He wasn't a fan of cabbage, but he was hungry enough to not care.
Swallowing his bite, he asked, "Do you often show up to save people?"
"No, there's not much saving I can do."
A beat of silence passed before Yize added, "But I can try to help."
The two sat in silence while eating their food until both were left satisfied.
As time continued forward, the ache in his muscles intensified and amplified with each shift Li-Hong made. Yize made no move to leave his side and seemed to be staying for the sake of offering company. Eventually, Li-Hong broke the ice.
"Why are you helping me?"
Yize smiled. "I want to be a doctor when I grow up, so that I can help people."
"I don't think I'm worth helping." Li-Hong looked down before faintly smiling back. "But I hope to one day repay your kindness."
"Don't bother," Yize laughed. "Between your attitude and my aversion to conflict, I think we'd both end up beaten up."
Yize's laugh was contagious as Li-Hong tried to hide his chuckle. A raw part of Li-Hong told him to be mad at the poke, but when Yize was around, he found it was easier to smile than it was to hate.
As they laughed, Li-Hong was thrown off when Yize made a random comment.
"I like your smile."
Something about the statement warmed Li-Hong's heart. It was the idea that someone he barely knew cared enough to compliment him on something so inconsequential, when not even those close to him could find the time to care.
It almost made him want to give a compliment in return.
"In fact," Yize giggled. "Your smile is so bright, this gloomy alley is now bathed in a light that could rival the sun!"
He emphasized his declaration by pointing to the sun, just peeking over the horizon.
Li-Hong covered his mouth, trying to hide his chuckle again. But the remark was so crazy, he couldn't help bursting into a fit of laughter.
The two laughed until their lungs burned, stopping only to catch their breath.
The sun that Yize pointed at moments before grazed where land met sky, and the solemn realization made Li-Hong somber.
"I have to go," Li-Hong began. "I'm supposed to be home by sundown."
Li-Hong used to be able to stay out past dark, but there have been reports of locals being jumped by the residents of the neighboring village, so it's safer for him to get home before getting hurt more than he already was.
"Oh," Yize murmured.
The boy got up, and Li-Hong tried to follow, but was unable to do so on his own until Yize offered his hand. With some struggle, the two ended up finding themselves face to face.
Yize offered, "Do you want help walking home?"
Li-Hong declined his offer, and after walking to the entrance of the alley together, it appeared the two were going in opposite directions.
Having realized this, the boys were at an impasse.
Li-Hong didn't want to depart from the only person who had ever struck a chord with him, but if he stayed any longer, he'd risk his family finding out about what he actually did during meditation.
"I'm sure we'll meet again," Yize comforted.
As Yize turned to walk away, Li-Hong replied.
"You couldn't save me, so you helped me instead," he began with a grin. "One day, I hope to do for you what you couldn't do for me."
Although Li-Hong couldn't see the smile on the boy's face, he noticed Yize's ears perk up as he turned and walked away. A sparkle flickered alongside him as the golden longevity lock, engraved with a lotus flower, caught the sun's light with each step.
As he watched him go, Li-Hong swore an oath to himself:
I will save you.
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At the age of 22, Li-Hong had a loving wife, three rambunctious children, and was bestowed the title of general. He was given this title due to his family's standing and superb performance across all ranks. The increased responsibility granted him a camp near enemy territory, waiting for the time to strike.
The two neighboring cities finally had enough and decided it was best to settle their difference by pledging themselves to opposing political schisms, which fanned the fire of hatred in Li-Hong's chest—a sensation that had been steadily rising as he grew older and discovered the greater evils of the world. This all led Li-Hong to his current situation.
Barely an hour earlier, he had set off into the woodland, hoping to quiet the once-dormant hostility gnawing at him, as well as the burden of leading countless men toward what he could only hope would not be their deaths.
So lost in thought, he didn't notice the forest had slipped into shadows. Time had betrayed him—for when he first set out, he had believed sundown was still far off
The current predicament said otherwise.
Li-Hong, who slipped back into his childish ways of sneaking out, expected himself to be back by nightfall. He didn't bother to bring anything other than a sword in case an animal couldn't keep to itself. That choice had consequences as he found himself surrounded in darkness with little idea of how to make his way back.
This didn't trouble Li-Hong. At worst, he would spend the night on the forest floor and find his way back at sunrise, then face the inevitable backlash for missing a strategy meeting.
In the ways that fate typically works, Li-Hong's worst-case scenario was redefined as he found himself several meters away from someone wearing a tunic of the enemy.
Cold beads of sweat trickled down Li-Hong's face and into his long lashes as the humid evening darkened into night. Each hitched breath could be heard, and he feared the malicious foe would pounce at any moment. The air around them constricted like a snake as each man tried to distinguish the intentions of the other. Something like a simple 'hello' was inappropriate, but no other words would be a good fit.
In one hand of the rival, a lantern cast a wavering glow, throwing his features into restless shadow. In the other, an edged sword caught the light, its steel glinting as it shifted in his ill-intentioned grip.
"I have no intention of harming you."
Li-Hong scoffed, "Right. And I have no intention of breathing."
The interplay of darkness and distance kept Li-Hong from making out the man's face, yet something yellow on his chest shimmered in the lamplight, sending a ripple of déjà vu beneath Li-Hong's skin.
"My name is Officer Wang. I was just out for a stroll."
It was unwise to underestimate an opponent, but Li-Hong could make out that this Officer held a tighter grip on the lantern than he did on the sword. Of course, a good fighter doesn't have an iron grip on his weapon. This had to have been a diversion to confuse Li-Hong, therefore allowing Wang the optimal time to strike.
But nothing had happened.
"As was I," Li-Hong replied, subconsciously clenching his hand against his own blade.
Wang chuckled, "A bit unprepared, it would seem."
Li-Hong was sure his glare could be felt as he took wary glances at the blade.
The two stood like stones as they drifted into silence. Li-Hong couldn't risk taking his eyes off the Captain, but his brain was ringing as his peripheral vision kept catching shifts in the shadows of the night. He didn't feel anyone watching them, but he couldn't let his guard down.
Breaking Li-Hong from his wandering thoughts, he watched as Wang moved to set his sword down onto the grass, then took two steps forward.
His mind screamed at him to fight, to take advantage of the situation and rid the world of another useless ingrate. He'd kill them or maybe kidnap them and bring them to base for questioning. Either way, Wang could not be allowed to go back.
Hardening his glare and tightening his grip, Li-Hong prepared himself to attack as he ignored the off-putting serenity that crashed into his heart.
Before Li-Hong made his move, Wang tentatively asked, "May I know your name?"
Wang was scared; that much was obvious by the tremble in his voice. Li-Hong was glad to strike fear into his enemy; it reassured him of victory.
In an attempt to get the Captain to drop his guard, Li-Hong answered the question sincerely.
"General Jin."
Wang took another naïve step into the claws of the dragon while Li-Hong mentally cheered about the definite outcome of this endeavor. That must be why his heart feels calm; triumph was guaranteed, so what was there to worry about?
It was after Wang took another small, insignificant step that Li-Hong froze all thought. The Captain's gaze lingered on Li-Hong's face, but Li-Hong found his attention pulled elsewhere.
That golden flicker he'd caught glimpse of earlier revealed itself to be a longevity lock, its polished surface glinting in the soft light etched with markings too faint to decipher.
The sight made his heart squeeze, though Li-Hong wasn't sure what the muscle was trying to tell him.
It was all familiar. Not just the pendant, but the presence of Wang himself. The peace he felt was recognizable and something he hadn't handled in a long time. It was familiar in a way Li-Hong couldn't name, as if some part of him already knew this man yet couldn't place where.
"Forgive this one for the informalities, General Jin," Wang smiled timidly, in such a way that could melt snow.
The tension in Li-Hong's shoulders faltered at the low tone of Wang's voice. Whatever hate that buzzed in his heart was being drowned out by the low tune of soft-spoken words.
"Unneeded. We are of opposing forces; there is no reason to address me with such deference."
Wang shook his head. "Nonsense, you're a general. That alone must mean you are far wiser than I."
The way he spoke was endearing, and it made Li-Hong feel like he could blabber for hours, and Wang wouldn't have the heart to judge.
"Is that so?" Li-Hong's question was phrased more as a comment.
He hummed, "Indeed. This one gained status through frivolous means and should be held lower than many."
Tilting his head, Li-Hong urged Wang to continue, so he did.
The next 30 minutes passed faster than Li-Hong would've liked, and he learned more about Wang than he knew of his lieutenant. Granted, his subordinate isn't nearly as interesting as Officer Wang.
During this time, Li-Hong learned that Wang's current position was not his desire. Wang wanted nothing more than to be a physician, but his commander wouldn't even allow him to be a medic. Moreover, his title of officer wasn't even appropriately awarded. It was thanks to Wang's family status that when the war began, he was given the high-ranking position—and the company under his command resented him for it.
In addition to the undesirable occupation, Wang admitted that he had no desire to hurt people. Thankfully, the moment has yet to arise where he'll need to choose between his life and his morals. To that, Wang admitted he was unsure which path he would take, but hoped that when the moment came, it would reveal the answer to him.
"I want to be a doctor so that I can help people, not kill them," Wang emphasized. "How could I kill people? I can't fight, much less lead others to do what I myself am unwilling to do."
Above all the discomfort and strain, Wang was certain of one thing: no matter how this war ended, he would not survive it.
His words left Li-Hong unsettled. The convictions this Officer spoke of echoed those of a child Li-Hong had met long ago. Yet Wang was the enemy. By all logic, Li-Hong should have been filled with relief—one less threat to watch out for. But if this was relief, it carried the same weight as despair.
Yielding to the open atmosphere, Li-Hong admitted his beliefs on the war: he saw no meaning in it at all. It was a confession he had long kept secured, yet within the span of an incense time, he found himself voicing a secret that could brand him as a traitor. Not that this chance meeting would do anything to ease such an accusation.
It was at this point in the conversation that the two came to the consensus that it was time to leave. Both were probably being searched for, and making either side aware of their run-in would be best avoided.
This left Li-Hong in a bit of a predicament, for he still had no light nor direction to guide him.
Not a second after the realization had crossed his mind, he heard fabric ripping. When he turned to the source, Wang was holding a piece of his cloth armor while walking off to find a stick to wrap it around.
"You'll have to walk quickly," Wang said as he picked up a sturdy branch. "I don't have any fuel to enhance the duration of the flame."
Wang was tying the cloth around one end of the stick as he walked towards Li-Hong.
Whatever silent alliance they had moments before was being torn as Li-Hong watched the adversary approach him. Just as he was about to raise his sword, Wang paused and held out the makeshift torch.
Their eyes met, and Li-Hong scanned them for any malice before he hesitantly took the light.
"Thank you. For the light," Li-Hong said sincerely as he gave a small bow.
The captain smiled as he opened his lantern, "It's nothing. You listened to my woes, so it's the least I can do."
Someone like you shouldn't have any woes.
The subconscious voice left as soon as it came, giving Li-Hong whiplash from the strange thought.
"Besides," he continued while maneuvering his lamp to the unlit torch. "I have a feeling you'll share that light of yours with others."
As he finished, the torch grew bright as it was set ablaze, and Li-Hong was left confused on whether he was supposed to take that information literally or figuratively.
"Your camp should be that way," Captain Wang said as he pointed in a direction behind Li-Hong.
With nothing left to say, Wang closed the door to his lantern, gave a smile and a bow, and turned around to leave.
Li-Hong's hand twitched in the direction that Wang was walking off to, but his feet knew better.
Despite Wang's warning about the limited duration of his newly acquired torch, Li-Hong stood unmoving as he watched the acquaintance pick up his sword and disappear into the tree line.
Once out of view, he made his way back to base and, through some miracle, found his way back with a lighter heart.
By the end of that week, he gathered fellow strategists to arrange a compromise and end the battle between the opposing forces—his efforts were fruitless.
His heart became heavy again.
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Red oozed from his left arm as dust clogged his lungs. The area around him was the depiction of frantic bodies and glinting steel. Shouts and screams radiated across the plains, yet still, all that existed for Li-Hong in that moment was the beast of a man before him, one who could easily carry ten men.
Li-Hong wasn't stupid; he was going to die. And although others would try to find acceptance and peace, his mind was in turmoil. This was not how it was supposed to go.
One week into battle, they had gained ground faster than what was planned. At the rate they were going, they had expected to announce victory by the end of the third week.
By the second week, the opposing side gained an advantage when allies from another village provided additional manpower. This, of course, was a possibility that Li-Hong considered and had accounted for. The counter, which was similar in style to additional manpower supplied by allies, was behind schedule and wouldn't arrive until the third week.
Word got back to him that there was a hiccup in transportation through a notoriously difficult pass, and so all men, general or otherwise, were forced onto the line to hold it back while waiting for reinforcements.
It had been an exhausting few weeks, and Li-Hong was unsure if the expected victory would ever come.
He took several steps back until his head throbbed from hitting the dirt. Standing up or lying down, Li-Hong didn't stand a chance without his sword, which had been cast out of his hand just moments before.
Each breath lasted a second, and his heart was beating so fast that he might've been able to witness it jumping out of his chest if he had been able to focus. His eyes were zipping across every detail that surrounded him, yet not learning anything from it. Both his mind and body were failing, and therefore, he felt he was failing himself.
The sun did not rise that day; the clouds, in their grim compassion, shrouded the light from the gore of war, obscuring the violent display of rage from the gods. Behind their soft, impenetrable walls, perhaps the men in battle could feign ignorance before heaven for the blood on their hands.
However, Li-Hong wasn't concerned with pleading his case; instead, a deep sense of dread washed over him.
He was going to die with hatred in his heart, and that both reassured and tore him to pieces.
A glint of metal caught Li-Hong's eye. He drew a breath as he turned away, bracing for the end.
An instant later, metal tore through flesh. But it wasn't his.
Above him loomed the neckline of a battered chest plate, framing a golden pendant that dangled inches from his face with a lotus engraved at its center.
His gasp wasn't born with recognition, but instead of the hovering body suddenly pinning him down. Accompanying it was a pressure that molded into a burn as Li-Hong's skin and muscle parted to make room for the cold metal.
The narrow sword had skewered them both—one through the abdomen, the other through the chest. They fought to recover from the shock, but before the agony even began, the blade was gone, whisked away, and the soldier's footsteps faded into the distance.
The clothing he wore stuck against his skin as warm liquid pooled in the dip of his chest.
Li-Hong's air supply suddenly felt limited, but that didn't stop him from pushing the other man off of him with his good arm, making a bloody mess of the ground as he did so.
A groan escaped the individual's mouth as he rolled next to Li-Hong onto the hard earth. Li-Hong didn't care about the distress in the croak; he was more worried about his own injuries as he shifted into a sitting position.
It was difficult to catch his breath, but not impossible. Based on where the wound was located, one of his lungs had been punctured.
Li-Hong's not sure he'll live, but he has enough will to find a way.
Coming so close to death made Li-Hong realize that the swell in his heart needed to be dispelled before he could ever rest in peace. People will never change, he knew this as a fact, but that doesn't mean he can't learn to accept the world for what it was.
Twisting his head to glare at the idiot who subsequently saved his life, Li-Hong's pupils shrank when he discovered it was none other than Officer Wang.
His enemy. A man he barely knows and hasn't seen in months.
Bafflement was the only emotion Li-Hong could process as he tried to rationalize why someone whom he had met only once would go out of his way to save Li-Hong, someone who fought on the opposite side of the war.
What Wang did was mass treason, and he'd be killed for it if his injuries didn't get to him first.
Wang's wound was that of a killing blow, so much so that an impending sense of foreboding scratched at the back of Li-Hong's brain as blood seeped into the dirt beneath them.
The beating of his heart had yet to cease, and it grew faster as Wang began to violently cough, and bubbles of crimson crept along the edges of his lips.
Quick to action, Li-Hong forced Wang to his side as he began to spit up blood. Wang hacked, and when he was eased back onto the dirt, every crevice of his face had some remnant of red.
Although some part of Li-Hong was grateful to the muddle-headed Captain, his face flushed with fury.
"What were you thinking!?" he tried to shout, but it sounded more like a hiss. "You hardly even know me!"
"I knew I recognized you," Wang smiled.
The grin on Wang's face wasn't supposed to be sinister, but between standing on death's door and the blood-stained teeth, he looked manic.
"I wanted to be a doctor," Wang replied, like it were the most sensible explanation. "And doctors help people."
"Help who? Sure as hell not me," he seethed. "We—" He let out a laugh, the kind born of sheer absurdity. "We've been over this. I'm not worth helping!"
That comment only made Wang smile wider.
"Ah," Yize panted. "And you recognize me."
Li-Hong tried to scoff, but it came out as a wheeze.
With a shaking hand, Li-Hong watched as Yize reached for his pendant and held onto it. Not a moment later, a droplet of rain fell onto that very fist and rolled off his skin, collecting dirt along with it.
Li-Hong looked up and noticed the storm clouds brewing.
He couldn't help but think this was a perfect moment for rain.
Continuing, Yize said, "Doctors don't care who... who they're helping, they just do."
Li-Hong looked back at Yize with one part disdain and two parts nostalgia as the reality of the situation gnawed at his hands and pressure built up behind his eyes. The only person in his life who has ever made a notable difference to his way of thinking—a person he might've spent only one hour with collectively—was dying because of him.
"I can't save you," he whispered, saying the only thing he knew with certainty.
Yize hummed, "But you have."
"...What?"
His eyes met Yize's deep brown ones.
Yize made a lighthearted attempt at shrugging, but it resulted in more of a squirm.
"I was going to—"
The captain's monologue was cut off by a coughing fit as speckles of maroon flew out of his mouth. Some flecks found themselves on the general's face, though he couldn't care less. Instead, Li-Hong was compelled to give him a pat on the back, but it would be redundant.
Swallowing the foam in his mouth, Yize carried on, "—going to die without reaching my dream. Yet here you are. Alive."
Yize paused and tried to catch the breath that would always be out of reach.
"I did that. I'm the reason you're alive." His grin persisted through the pain, as if he weren't feeling anything at all. But the twitch in his eyes told a different story. "And I hope that you repay my aid by—by spreading that light of yours tah others. 'Ike before, 'ike now."
A salty tear broke free from Yize's eye and ran down the side of his cheek, indiscernible from the beads of sweat littering his bruised face. Yize was obviously putting on a front to spare Li-Hong the heartache, but without words, Li-Hong could sense what Yize was thinking.
There were no words to say, so Li-Hong remained silent as he glared at his bloodied lap. This entire situation was his fault, and he couldn't shake the thought that it was he who should be in Yize's place. Li-Hong felt like a selfish wretch for being comforted by a dying man.
A constant shiver raked across Yize as his grip on the longevity lock loosened and eventually fell to his side.
For a moment, the captain closed his eyes, then they blew open again as he looked around, confused as if he'd forgotten where he was.
"Where—My... that amulet," he rasped.
Li-Hong's hand cupped the back of Yize's head and gently guided it onto his lap to imitate a sort of pillow. A last comfort, perhaps, or maybe a way for Li-Hong to feel less like scum on the top of a forgotten pond.
"The one on your chest plate?" he clarified while looking into Yize's dulling eyes.
From exhaustion alone, Yize's face aged a decade as a panicked fear consumed his gaze with an undertone of longing as he studied the clouds above. The gentle drizzle shifted into a light shower as raindrops fell onto his rosy skin and trickled off like shed tears.
Yize tried to nod but could only beg as he croaked, "Yes. Please, please."
"Please, what?"
"Hold..." Each labored breath was shallower than the next. "Hold it, for—for me?"
Instead of replying, Li-Hold wordlessly reached for the twisted string that tied the locket to Yize's armor. After a moment of fumbling, he successfully separated the two objects and looked at Yize as he asked:
"Now wh—"
Yize was dead.
His stare was empty as he looked at the sky, and no breath was caught in his throat. The rosiness that made up Yize's cheeks was now a smeared remnant of hacked blood, and his merciful heart stilled to lifeless jade.
Li-Hong's heart had been pierced by an invisible blade; even if the death had been expected, deep in his soul, he held a sliver of hope.
Something in his gut spoke in tongues, taunting him with the certainty that this was how it would always end. Yet, a far quieter voice whispered that this was only the beginning.
His concealed hate reemerged with purpose as the rain turned to a downpour, soaking him until rage dripped off his elbows. Each drop that struck his pruned skin was poison, filling his heart until it seeped through the cracks and leaked into his blood.
Li-Hong's mind battled between anger and confusion, a clash that left him trembling. This hate not only felt different, but it was organic. In the past, his mindset was shaped by the perceptions and ideologies that he learned to accept, but this feeling was of his own construction.
It was as raw as the meat in his body.
And it was with that enlightenment he realized the hate in his heart was no longer directed at the world—but at himself.
Taking a good look at the gold in his hands, he confirmed that it was identical to the necklace he had seen all those years ago. And just like before, accompanying it was the boy from Li-Hong's youth. Except the boy had become a man, and the man was now a corpse.
He clenched the amulet in a white-knuckled grip and seethed at the teeth.
"I am truly human," he whispered to himself with deliberate restraint. "The most selfish of creatures."
If the universe had intended everything so far as some grand lesson for Li-Hong, he got it. What he didn't understand was why it took the death of an equally selfish person to learn it. Yize, essentially a god amongst men, died because Li-Hong could not stop being himself.
But Li-Hong understood now. He knew what he needed to be, and he knew what had to change. He knew which parts of his heart needed to be carved out and molded with clay, and although it would hurt, the whole of it would need to be replaced.
Li-Hong would become everything he was not, simply because Yize had believed he could.
And for the first time, Li-Hong wanted to be something he was not.
"I promise…" he sobbed, each word sounding like a plea for mercy as he corrected his speech when speaking with the dead. "This lowly one promises to spread whatever light you thought I had."
His mind responded with a whisper:
I will save myself.
A boom, loud enough to make Li-Hong look up, transcended from above as a hole was punched through the clouds. Not a moment later, another sound of the same variety broke through and ripped another hole. Soon, a ceaseless stream of thumps rained from above as all the small holes formed into a giant ring.
Rays of light poured down over Li-Hong's pathetic display as his tired eyes widened in bewilderment. He looked around to see if anyone nearby was bearing witness to the shocking display and found that the sounds of war had fallen silent in awe.
As he looked back up to the sky, he felt the weight of Yize's head slip from his lap, and it wasn't until a few seconds later that he realized it was because he was beginning to float.
Drums continued to ring out like thunder while a guzheng began to thrum in harmony. Together, they formed a symphony Li-Hong would expect at a festival or some other high-energy occasion. Yet the drive of the display was for the sole purpose of one.
Beaten, bruised, and bloody, he could focus on nothing but the sky above as he rose through the white clouds, chasing joyous music that clashed with the heaviness of his heart.
Breaking through the barrier, he fell onto the sky's soft ground where a smiling face awaited him.
Li-Hong had no time to react before he was swept up in a greeting as enthusiastic as the tune, which had now softened into a gentle hum
"Welcome!" the woman beamed.
Before him stood a young woman, her features blurred and indistinct as he tried to fight against the blinding area. Li-Hong was unsure where the floating carried him, but he had a justified assumption that he was in the sun.
The woman continued. "I am pleased to be the first to congratulate you on your accession. We've been waiting for a very long time, Captain."
As he regained his vision, he was soon able to make out the cobbled floor beneath his shoes and a thick fog that kept its distance. Other than that, there wasn't any notable structure in sight.
He was completely perplexed and so bone-achingly overwhelmed, his face started to twitch.
"I see you're having some difficulty adjusting," she laughed. "Let me fix that."
Like a drop of water in a still lake, his mind cleared as his eyes focused—he could finally think.
The first thing he noticed was the absence of pain. The stab wound had been the worst, though far from his only injury, yet his nerves told him nothing was wrong.
With a flicker of dread, he wondered if his sense of touch had failed him, or if he was already dead. But when he dragged his hands over his clothes, he found not only could he feel, but his uniform—once torn and crusted with blood—was restored, as pristine as the day he first received it.
And as he took a deep breath, he wasn't met with any struggle.
"Feeling better?"
Li-Hong looked up at the woman and met eyes the color of lapis, framed by blonde hair as finely woven as silk. He had never seen anyone like her in his village, and his eyes widened further when he realized it probably had something to do with the wings tucked neatly behind her back.
"It's completely natural to be—"
"What did you call me?" Li-Hong interrupted with a voice far hoarser than he expected.
A startled noise left the lips of the angel, caught off guard by the harsh question. Nevertheless, she answered in high spirits.
"Well, Captain. Gods are referred to on a title basis here in—"
"I'm not a captain," Li-Hong stated, interrupting again.
"Oh," she paused. Then she chuckled, "Sorry, our mistake! What was your rank?"
"General."
"Got it. I apologize," she said. "We had you down as a captain, and rare as it might be, we're capable of mistakes. We were all human once!"
She laughed at a joke Li-Hong didn't understand.
Yize's smile suddenly surfaced in Li-Hong's mind, eyes blurring for a moment before he blinked away any trace of weakness from his face. If this place was what Li-Hong thought it was, then maybe there was a possibility that he could fix everything.
"Anywho, my name is Antonia and I'll—"
He cut in. "If I came up here, could he?"
Antonia's eye twitched. "Who?"
For a moment, Li-Hong had to remind himself that this woman wasn't who he should direct his anger towards. Even if her question came out sharp.
"My friend. The one who died on my lap," Li-Hong clarified.
"Oh! That's a no. You can't bring back the dead," she grinned. "If it consoles you any, his life may be over, but his soul will carry on."
The factual tone in her voice brought a moment of ease to his grief. "It will?"
"Oh, yes! Reincarnation is such a beautiful thing, don't you think?" Antonia clamped her hands together and held them up to her face, looking enamored by the very idea. Then a small pout graced her features as she continued. "Too bad they can't remember previous lives—can you imagine how fast society would progress? I get chills just thinking about it. See? Look!"
Antonia held out her arms for Li-Hong to spot, her pale skin prickling as golden hair stood on end.
Li-Hong didn't bother with a strained smile; this lady was already too chipper for his taste. "Yeah, okay."
Just as the last word left his lips, he froze, then berated himself.
If he wanted to be everything Yize thought he was, he'd need to start acting like it. Both inside and out.
Shaking his head of any resentment, he straightened his posture and tried to put on a convincing grin. "Why am I here again?"
Antonia looked up to read Li-Hong's face, and after finding what she was looking for, her cheeks pinched up as she gave a crescent-eyed smile.
"Oh, right!" Antonia gasped, spreading her arms wide in a way one would when introducing some grand act. "Congratulations, General!"
Li-Hong watched as she stomped her feet against the clouded ground to imitate the same drum that continued to play in the background. No sound could actually be heard, but he got the idea.
"By the divine deliberation of the grand universe, it has been decided that you are befitting to the position of a god. And that position is…"
Antonia paused her movements and waited for a dramatic effect.
Then she took a deep breath and shouted:
"The God of Light!"