CHAPTER 35 — The Memory Trial (Part Two)
Rain fell steadily, cold as judgment.
The ancient city around them blurred beneath the downpour, yet she stood untouched by the heaviness of the world, holding her umbrella like it was a harmless thing.
Zheng Wen Te—no, the younger him—stared as if seeing a ghost.
His voice trembled.
"…Who are you?"
The girl smiled softly.
"You really don't remember?"
She stepped closer, barefoot on wet stone.
Each step made no sound.
"I asked you that same question once."
Zheng Wen Te's brows furrowed.
"I have never met you."
Her smile did not fade.
"That is what you told me too."
She lifted a hand, gentle, almost teasing, and tapped his chest.
"Then you looked at me like this…"
"…like Heaven itself had made a mistake."
The younger Zheng Wen Te's breath hitched.
His heart reacted before his mind.
A familiarity.
A warmth.
A danger.
He swallowed hard.
"This is a heart illusion."
She tilted her head.
"No."
Her voice softened.
"This is a memory."
Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating her face.
In that brief moment, Zheng Wen Te saw it clearly—
She was not an immortal.
Not a demon.
Not a sect disciple.
Just a girl.
Standing alone beneath Heaven's cruelty.
"You were the one who saved me," she whispered.
Zheng Wen Te blinked.
"I… saved you?"
She nodded.
"From cultivators."
His expression tightened.
"That's impossible. I am a disciple of the Upper Heaven Sect. We do not harm mortals."
Her eyes darkened slightly.
"That is what you believed."
Rain slid down her lashes like tears she refused to shed.
"They said my blood was impure."
Zheng Wen Te's fists clenched.
"They wanted to refine me into a pill."
His breath stopped.
Refinement.
That word carried the stink of righteous cruelty.
The girl continued softly:
"You drew your sword."
"You stood between me and them."
"And you said…"
Her voice became almost reverent, as if repeating scripture.
"Heaven is not allowed to take what it does not understand."
Zheng Wen Te's body trembled.
He could hear himself saying it.
He could feel the weight of that moment.
His younger self whispered:
"…I said that?"
She smiled, and it was heartbreakingly real.
"You did."
A long silence stretched between them, filled only with rain.
Then she stepped closer, closing the distance until the umbrella covered them both.
Her voice lowered.
"Do you know what I thought then?"
Zheng Wen Te's throat tightened.
"What?"
"I thought…"
"…perhaps Heaven was not as cold as everyone said."
Her fingers brushed his sleeve.
A small gesture.
Yet it carried the intimacy of fate.
"You asked my name," she murmured.
"And I told you…"
The world trembled.
The memory resisted.
Her name was buried deep.
Zheng Wen Te strained, desperate.
But the sound would not come.
Instead, she whispered:
"You promised me something that day."
The rain seemed to pause.
The sky held its breath.
Zheng Wen Te's younger self asked, quietly:
"…What did I promise?"
Her eyes lifted to his.
Shining.
Vulnerable.
And she said:
"You promised…"
"…you would never leave me alone beneath Heaven again."