Are you a hero?

Someone asked.

Li Chi thought about it for a long time and didn’t know how to answer — or perhaps it wasn’t that he didn’t know, but that he was a little embarrassed to answer. Though his skin was thick, he did occasionally feel embarrassed.

But in the end, he answered.

I am.

Yes, I am a hero. I am a hero. A hero rare under all of heaven.

The person who had asked the question seemed to smile, though it was unclear why they were smiling, and it was impossible to tell from the sound alone what the smile meant — whether it was admiration or mockery.

You are not a hero.

That person told him: heroes are filled with sorrow and tragedy, but you are not sorrowful or tragic, so you are not a hero.

Li Chi thought about it, and this time answered quickly.

He said… you’re talking nonsense. I am a hero. I am a joyful hero.

Li Chi opened his eyes. He didn’t know why he would suddenly have such a dream — who was the person asking him questions in the dream? Why were they asking him these things?

He slowly sat up. It was already the height of summer. The night before, when he had gone to bed, Li Chi had deliberately left the window open, hoping the gentle night breeze would let him sleep more comfortably.

Because he needed to rest well now. He only had four days left to rest… no, three days.

The new day began with brilliant sunlight. In order to rest properly, Li Chi — who had woken in the dark of early morning — forced himself to sleep a little longer.

Without realizing it, the sun had already climbed high, though it hadn’t risen too hastily, as if it too were curious: why had the one who greeted it first every day not yet appeared today?

Li Chi walked to the window and waved at the sun. The sunlight fell across his body, as if applying medicine to his wounds.

The sunlight on him seemed doubly bright, as if the sun were telling him: every day, I give you more than I give anyone else — not a single ray less will do.

Li Chi saw Old Zhang Zhenren standing in the courtyard. He didn’t know how long the old man had been there, but he had clearly not wanted to disturb Li Chi’s sleep.

Li Chi straightened his clothes and stepped quickly out the door. When Old Zhang Zhenren turned to look at him, his expression was somewhat complex.

“What I ought to be doing is not what I am about to do right now.”

Old Zhang Zhenren spoke to Li Chi. In his hands were two very small jade vials — one ink-black, one white.

The ink-black was dark as night. The white was translucent and pure.

“What are these?”

Li Chi asked.

“Medicine.”

When Old Zhang Zhenren answered, his tone was even more complex than his expression.

“Inside the white jade vial is a small black pill called the Life-Preserver.”

Old Zhang Zhenren said: “If a person’s injuries are very severe, they can swallow this pill, which is said to extend one’s life for a while — how long of a while, I don’t know, because no one has ever used it. But I figure that even extending life for a few breaths must be good. What if those few breaths are exactly when someone arrives to treat you?”

Li Chi nodded: “A fine thing.”

He looked at the ink-black vial: “And this one?”

Old Zhang Zhenren said: “This one also holds a small pill — black in color, called the Risk-Taker. Likewise, no one has ever used it. The purpose of the Risk-Taker is this: when a person bears severe wounds but must still keep fighting, swallowing the pill will, for a very short period of time, eliminate all sense of pain and allow them to continue charging into battle. Like the Life-Preserver, the Risk-Taker has also never been used.”

Old Zhang Zhenren explained that these two pills had been passed down from his master’s master. His master’s master had said that these two little things were extraordinarily remarkable.

They had been sealed in wax all this time, so their efficacy should still be intact.

“I know no one can talk you out of this. Behind the smile you show everyone lies the weight of tens of thousands of wronged souls from Jizhou — souls who cry out to you day and night… Prince Ning, you must avenge us.”

After hearing these words from Old Zhang Zhenren, Li Chi drew a long, involuntary breath.

No one else could hear them. Only he could.

He also heard the cries of children, the cries of women, heard the desperate cries of people in their final moments — the hopeless screams of men.

Old Zhang Zhenren looked at Li Chi and said: “Every person capable of shouldering the fate of a nation will hear sounds others cannot hear, and see things others cannot see. And so… how lonely you must be.”

Li Chi smiled: “When someone knows my loneliness, I am no longer lonely.”

Old Zhang Zhenren made a sound of acknowledgment and smiled as well: “They all know. Every person at your side knows. And so they have all slowly come to resemble you — because they fear you would be lonely.”

Li Chi tucked the two small vials away safely, then cupped his fists toward Old Zhang Zhenren: “Thank you, Elder Zhenren.”

Old Zhang Zhenren said: “If you don’t use them, you’ll have to return them to me.”

Li Chi said: “The Elder Zhenren still doesn’t know me well.”

Old Zhang Zhenren paused, then laughed again: “True enough. Once something has gone into your pocket, who could ever take it back?”

So he looked at Li Chi and said in all seriousness: “In that case — if you don’t use them, pay me for them. They’re quite expensive.”

Li Chi: “Quite expensive?”

Old Zhang Zhenren froze: “I… did I say something wrong?”

Li Chi smiled: “No. I already know these two pills are quite expensive.”

—

At the same time, in a different place — inside a private residence in Wulai City.

Yuan Jianli stood in the courtyard with his head tilted back, watching the sky. A layer of white cloud drifted slowly past and covered the sun, which made him feel considerably more at ease.

One and the same thing, at different times, will be beloved or despised — the sun, for instance.

In winter, when there is warm sunlight, the heart feels especially warm. But when that same blazing sun shines down in the heat of summer, one only feels irritation.

“Senior Uncle.”

A disciple of the Sacred Blade Sect came running over quickly and bowed: “The Slayer King’s army is going house to house searching. They’re almost to this side.”

Yuan Jianli did not respond. He still had his head tilted back, watching that white cloud, thinking how delightful and beautiful it would be if one could beckon clouds with a wave and disperse them with a gesture.

After a long while, Yuan Jianli said softly: “Scatter, each of you. Those who can leave the city, leave. When you return, report to my senior brother that I will most likely not be coming back.”

Everyone stood frozen. Someone dropped to their knees with a thud and begged: “Senior Uncle, if we charge through the city gate now, no one can stop us. It’s time to go.”

Yuan Jianli tilted his head back once more toward that cloud, and murmured as if speaking to himself: “If clouds could become blades, my will would shatter the heavens.”

After saying these words, without any visible movement, he had already risen effortlessly into the air and drifted out beyond the courtyard wall.

The disciples of the Sacred Blade Sect rushed to the gate, but where was any trace of their Senior Uncle?

—

At the same time, on Cloud-Concealing Mountain.

Master Li watched the young man named Cao Lie feeding the pigs. He watched for a long while, feeling somewhat displeased.

It wasn’t that he was displeased with the person — it was that he was displeased with his pigs. They were this friendly with an outsider too. Whoever fed them, they would eat. Not the slightest bit of dignity.

No upbringing whatsoever.

Cao Lie looked back, noticed Master Li watching him, smiled, and then looked toward another spot.

Li Shangong was also feeding pigs — but the pigs he was feeding ignored him. Not only would they not eat, they wouldn’t even come near.

Master Li looked over as well. Seeing Li Shangong looking somewhat deflated, he thought: this fellow is my descendant, isn’t he?

Ah… I really am a deplorable man.

Master Li let out a soft sigh.

In this life, he had had many, many love stories. If none of those love stories had produced any offspring, that would have been a tremendous tragedy.

Yet it also didn’t seem entirely fair — because someone like him, who had always been in hiding, could never be an ordinary father and care for a child properly.

But he wasn’t even certain whether Li Shangong was his son or his grandson, or perhaps his son’s grandson or his grandson’s son.

Having lived this long, and still hiding and concealing himself.

It wasn’t that he had always been afraid. This kind of choice was also a form of resistance — because he refused to be controlled by something.

That thing was invisible and intangible, but Master Li knew it absolutely existed. And the fact that he had lived this long was the most powerful proof of its existence.

His own descendant, and yet less capable of raising pigs than an outsider?

Master Li shook his head. His heart grew increasingly vexed. Ah… family tradition.

Why was he so fixated on raising pigs?

Because he didn’t want to forget who he was. It was also a form of resistance — where did I come from, what was I originally doing, and who am I?

It…

Had always been trying to erase traces. Master Li’s traces.

As if toying with Master Li, it told him plainly: I won’t erase you — but I will erase every trace you leave behind.

Your descendants and your descendants’ descendants — not one of them can match your intelligence and wisdom. None of them can learn anything of yours.

They are all of ordinary talent, and can’t even understand the things you say, because they know they are people of this age — while you refuse to accept it.

Master Li let out a heavy breath.

If this had been several decades ago, he would have raised a middle finger at the sky. If this had been a hundred years ago, he would have hurled a string of curses at the heavens.

But now, he no longer had even a trace of that kind of desire.

“Master.”

Li Shangong called out to him: “The pigs won’t listen.”

Master Li smiled bitterly, thinking to himself: someone has tampered with your lineage. Otherwise, how could pigs possibly refuse to listen to a descendant of Li?

But even if Master Li said such things aloud, his descendants wouldn’t be able to understand — as if someone had blocked off a certain part of their intelligence and capacity for understanding, making it impossible to grasp what Master Li said.

And so, from a long time ago, Master Li had not allowed himself to have any more love stories.

It was also because of this that after returning to the medicine valley on Cloud-Concealing Mountain, he had placed a sign at the valley entrance declaring that women were not permitted inside.

“Master.”

Cao Lie asked: “Is there any way to treat resentment?”

“Resentment?”

Master Li repeated the word, thinking to himself: if I knew how to treat resentment, my life over all these years would surely have been countless times more carefree than it is now.

“It cannot be treated.”

Master Li answered.

Cao Lie did not pursue the topic further. He asked something else: “Before I came, Shangong told me that Master doesn’t enjoy talking to people — or even having dealings with people. Yet you’ve been reasonably good to me. Is it because you find me agreeable to look at?”

Master Li answered: “Because you are a supporting character.”

Cao Lie was taken aback: “A supporting character? What is a supporting character?”

Master Li said: “A foil. An accessory.”

Cao Lie was taken aback again.

Master Li said: “I talk a few more words with you not because you’re particularly important, but because you are completely unimportant — here or gone, it makes no difference. So there’s no threat. In this world, no supporting character can take me down.”

The second half of that sentence contained an enormous amount of weight, but Master Li couldn’t be bothered to explain further.

In this world, no matter how many years passed, no supporting character had ever been able to take him down — because he was the king of supporting characters.

A title Master Li had bestowed upon himself.

Master Li said: “Let’s look at how many kinds of resentment there are. Your abilities fall short of another person’s — you resent it. Your life isn’t as good as another person’s — you resent it. You don’t look as handsome as another person — you resent it. This kind of thing is most obvious among people you know well. The degree to which you envy a stranger will never reach the degree to which you envy an acquaintance.”

Cao Lie felt he somewhat understood. He glanced at Li Shangong, only to find Li Shangong wearing an expression of complete bewilderment.

Cao Lie asked: “Then what if one lets it go?”

Master Li shot back: “Are you talking nonsense?”

Cao Lie’s eyes widened. He didn’t understand why Master Li would say that.

Master Li said: “No one can let it go. Not in the past, not now, not in the future. Not in career, not in love, not in life and death.”

He looked at the sky: “Even I have never let it go. Under all of heaven, who else could?”

Cao Lie asked: “What is it that Master cannot let go of?”

Master Li did not answer.

Li Shangong thought for a moment and asked: “Master, what if you could let it go?”

This time, Master Li answered.

“Then I would finally be the protagonist.”

—