Heavy rain began falling outside.

A’Shui put away the bowls and utensils for the white fungus porridge and quietly withdrew. Liu Yan got down from the bed, leaning on his crutch as he walked to the window. He watched the heavy rain while holding a cup of already-cold tea. When a person is very weary yet has no desire to sleep, they develop unusual patience to savor the taste of a cup of water. He felt the tea was very cold, bland upon entering his mouth, with almost no tea fragrance left to taste.

Someone came splashing through the door outside. Liu Yan was slightly startled—the sound was like someone pouring a ladle of water onto the ground. The person entering was Fang Pingzhai, carrying a large drum in each hand, soaked through from head to toe, his clothes dripping water everywhere. “Oh! Master, you actually got up! I thought you planned to lie on that bed for the rest of your life, never leaving it until mountains crumbled and seas dried up. Ten thousand years later, people would see white bones on that bed and wouldn’t even be able to lift them down…”

“Are you drunk?” Liu Yan stared at him. Fang Pingzhai had a wine gourd tied at his waist, and despite being completely soaked, he could still smell a faint alcoholic scent. Fang Pingzhai set down the two large drums and sighed, “I already jumped in the river and soaked for half an hour. Not being able to drink is not being able to drink—no matter what I do, I can’t hide it…” His complexion was originally ruddy, so the flush from alcohol wasn’t very noticeable, and his demeanor didn’t seem wrong either, but Liu Yan could still tell.

“Where did you get the wine?” Liu Yan asked indifferently. Fang Pingzhai removed his heavy water-soaked outer garment, “Bad origins—if you knew clearly, you’d regret it.” Liu Yan seemed to smile slightly, “It doesn’t matter. I’ve always been regretting.” Fang Pingzhai laughed heartily, “True enough. Let me ask you a question—answer me seriously, alright?” Liu Yan poured him a cup of cold tea, “Speak.”

“Suppose you had a family estate, extremely glorious, unparalleled in the world. Your father and mother loved you very much. Not only that, but your brothers and sisters, sisters-in-law and nephews, even servants and maids, including the young fellows who swept floors and old men who watched gates, all loved you very much and were willing to live and die for you. Suddenly one day your father and mother died, your family estate was seized by others. In a single day your family was ruined—eldest brother died for no reason, second brother acknowledged thieves as father, fourth brother became displaced and homeless. Twenty years later, you grew up and mastered martial arts. What would you do?” Fang Pingzhai asked, his tone still frivolous.

Liu Yan’s brow furrowed slightly, “What would I do?” Fang Pingzhai smiled bitterly, “Yes, what would you do? Would you seek revenge? Would you take back everything?” Liu Yan said, “I don’t know.” Fang Pingzhai patted his forehead, “I knew asking you was a complete waste of my saliva. Good master, your mind is very poor and muddled…” Liu Yan interrupted him, saying indifferently, “But I know that if it were Tang Lici, he would definitely take back everything.” Fang Pingzhai was stunned, “Huh?” Liu Yan said, “Losing everything—would you be willing to accept it? That wasn’t your fault, but others’ fault. Those who do wrong must pay the price. Tang Lici never lets things slide.” He smiled slightly, “As for me, I don’t know what I would do, but if I did nothing, I definitely wouldn’t be at peace.”

“Haha, really? If one day you discovered that the servants and maids who saved you were killed by others, and suddenly you became completely alone, what should you do then?” Fang Pingzhai laughed, “After becoming completely alone, no one would expect you to seek revenge anymore. No one would know what you once possessed. The past would be like a phantom dream. If you wished, you could pretend you never possessed anything.”

“That would be self-deception.” Liu Yan glanced at him, “Why did you choose to give up?” Fang Pingzhai was unconcerned. Who he really wanted to ask this question was something they both understood. Hearing this, he smiled and replied, “Because choosing revenge is tiring. You have to bear many responsibilities, kill many people—perhaps mountains of corpses and rivers of blood. To kill thousands and tens of thousands for the sake of my one family’s loss—is it necessary?” Liu Yan said indifferently, “Such questions cannot be asked of others.”

“Sigh… wasting words, wasting spirit, wasting mental energy, and wasting my emotions…” Fang Pingzhai sighed, pulled out his dripping wet fan from his chest, waved it twice, and slowly walked toward his room. Liu Yan watched his retreating figure, “Fang Pingzhai.”

This was the first time he had called this shameless, persistently pestering disciple by name. Fang Pingzhai made an “oh” sound and turned back. Liu Yan said, “You can do whatever you want to do.” He shook his head and said slowly, “But you cannot not think about it.”

Fang Pingzhai stiffened slightly. After a while, he laughed heartily, “Master, that statement of yours is really…” He choked up, turned away, and without finishing his words, walked straight back to his room.

Liu Yan’s bright eyes stared at Fang Pingzhai’s door.

Fang Pingzhai had obviously encountered enormous trouble, but the problem wasn’t the problem itself—it was that he was avoiding it. He didn’t want to choose, so he came to ask him, but—

But no one could make such decisions for someone else. He was always having others make such decisions for him, which was why he had come to this point, wasn’t it?

What were Fang Pingzhai’s true thoughts?

What would he choose? Or would he continue avoiding?

No matter what he chose, it wouldn’t be more painful than avoiding.

That night and continuing until the next morning, Fang Pingzhai didn’t appear. When A’Shui opened his room, she found it completely empty—he had somehow vanished without a trace.