Chapter 47: Thunder in the night, relying on each other for survival
Late at night, everything is silent except for the sound of the wind outside the window, which brings with it the dull feeling of impending rain.
Inside the Lotus Tower, the candles had long since gone out, leaving only the occasional flash of lightning outside the window, briefly illuminating the room. Li Lianhua curled up on the inside of her bed, her sleep restless, her brows slightly furrowed, her breathing shallow.
Di Feisheng lay on the outside, fully clothed, not asleep, but resting with his eyes closed. However, his mind was always on the person beside him. This had been his habit for many days, fearing that Li Lianhua would wake up or feel unwell during the night.
“Boom!”
A dull thunder suddenly exploded, as if rolling over the roof! Immediately afterwards, heavy rain poured down, and dense raindrops hit the tiles, making a crackling sound.
The person on the bed trembled suddenly and woke up instantly!
"Ah!" A short, terrified scream rang out. Li Lianhua sat up abruptly, hands clutching tightly at his ears. His body trembled violently, like a frightened animal, his eyes filled with fear and helplessness. The thunder roared incessantly, each one making him tremble even more violently, and a suppressed sob escaped his throat.
"Don't be afraid!" Di Feisheng stood up almost the moment the thunder sounded. He immediately reached out and gently pressed on Li Lianhua's trembling shoulder. His voice was low and quick to soothe her. "It's just thunder. It's okay. I'm here."
His touch made Li Lianhua even more panicked. She suddenly shook his hand away, curled up into a ball, and desperately hid in the corner of the bed, crying incoherently: "Go away...it's loud...I'm afraid...it hurts..."
Di Feisheng's hands froze in mid-air, his heart tightening as he stared at the man's face, pale with fear, listening to his broken sobs. His brow furrowed further with each clap of thunder.
He stopped trying to touch her, and quickly got out of bed and lit the candlestick by the bed. The soft light dispelled some of the darkness, but it couldn't dispel the fear in the man's eyes.
He brought a chair, placed it a few steps away from the bed, and sat down quietly. He said nothing more, just stood there silently, his eyes fixed on the trembling figure, using his stable presence to silently resist the storm outside the window.
Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed.
At first, Li Lianhua simply covered his ears tightly, buried his face in his knees, and trembled violently. After a long moment, perhaps because of the brief lull between thunderclaps, perhaps because of the faint sense of security brought by the candlelight, or perhaps because of the silent yet resolute gaze not far away… he carefully and very slowly raised his head, and through tearful eyes he looked towards Di Feisheng, who sat there.
Di Feisheng immediately caught his gaze, slowed down all his expressions, and even tried his best to pull out an extremely stiff but gentle arc, gently shook his head at him, signaling him not to be afraid.
Another dazzling flash of lightning flashed across the sky, followed by an even louder thunder!
"Ah!" Li Lianhua shrank back suddenly in fear, and subconsciously did not hide in the deeper corner of the bed, but shrank towards the direction of the flute sound.
This extremely subtle movement made Di Feisheng's heart jump! He almost held his breath, restraining all impulses, and still sat quietly.
After the thunder, Li Lianhua seemed to be stunned for a moment. She glanced at Di Feisheng timidly, then quickly lowered her head, but her body was no longer shaking so violently.
The sound of rain became heavier and the intervals between thunders became longer, but every time it sounded, it still startled the person on the couch.
Di Feisheng remained in that position, motionless, like a silent mountain. His eyes were gentle yet firm, silently conveying the message, "Don't be afraid, I'm here."
After an unknown amount of time, perhaps from genuine exhaustion, or perhaps from the silent protection taking effect, Li Lianhua's tense body gradually relaxed. He still hugged his knees, but his head dozed off again and again, his eyelids drooping heavily. After a particularly loud clap of thunder, he shuddered with startle, and unconsciously reached out a hand toward the flute's sound, his fingertips slightly curled, as if trying to grasp something.
Di Feisheng's breathing stagnated. He reached out his hand very slowly and tentatively, and gently held the slightly cold and trembling hand.
Li Lianhua's hand struggled subconsciously, but she did not try to shake it off. Instead, like a drowning man grabbing a piece of driftwood, she tightly grasped his two fingers with her backhand, with such force that it almost cut into his flesh.
Di Feisheng let him hold her, and the slight pain from his fingertips made a sour warm current surge in his heart.
He sat on the chair in this somewhat awkward posture, letting Li Lianhua hold his hand, and gradually fell into an uneasy dream that eventually led to sleep.
Outside the window, the thunder faded away and the sound of rain turned into hypnotic white noise.
The flickering candlelight cast the figures of two people, one sitting and one lying, holding hands, on the wall, interweaving into a quiet and dependent silhouette.
Di Feisheng stared at the pale face, which was still slightly frowning in his sleep but no longer frightened. His other free hand gently and almost reverently brushed away the sweaty white hair on his forehead.
A sleepless night, guarding until dawn.
The thunderstorm finally subsided, and the dawn broke. Li Lianhua awoke to the warm morning light, only to find himself clutching Di Feisheng's fingers tightly, having sat like that all night. He suddenly loosened his grip, as if scalded. A faint blush crept across his cheeks, and his eyes shifted, but instead of full-blown fear, they held a hint of a naive dependence, one he himself didn't understand.
Di Feisheng slowly withdrew his somewhat stiff hand, and looking at his rare blood color, the fatigue of the night seemed to disappear in an instant.
The barren and scorched earth in my heart seemed to have finally welcomed a glimmer of life.
Since the thunderstorm that night, the atmosphere in the Lotus Tower has quietly undergone subtle changes.
The barrier of fear that stood between Li Lianhua and the sound of the flute, as thin as a cicada's wing yet as hard as ice, seemed to have been quietly shattered by the thunder and silent protection that night.
In the early morning, when Di Feisheng entered the inner room carrying a bowl of warm rice porridge, he no longer needed to deliberately tread lightly. The white-haired man curled up on the couch by the window raised his head at the sound, his gaze no longer evasive in panic, but instead resting quietly on him with a hint of ignorant, timid inquiry.
Di Feisheng's heart felt as if it had been gently touched, a sour and tender sensation. He tried his best to maintain a straight face, placing the bowl of porridge on the small table and speaking softly, "It's time to eat."
Li Lianhua didn't immediately withdraw as usual, but continued to look at him. Even when he approached, her body tensed up for a barely perceptible moment before relaxing again. He obeyed, even with a subtle sense of dependence, and let Di Feisheng help him sit down and feed him porridge spoonful by spoonful.
His eyes would often follow Di Feisheng silently. When Di Feisheng was arranging the bookshelves in the house, he would hug his knees and quietly watch his tall back; when Di Feisheng sat by the window reading (even though his mind was not on the book), he would secretly glance at the man's cold but focused profile illuminated by the candlelight; when Di Feisheng stood up to pour tea, his eyes would follow him, and only when Di Feisheng sat down again would he lower his head again and unconsciously pick at the fluff on the blanket.
There was no fear in his eyes, replaced by a childlike, pure observation and a sense of peace that even he himself could not understand. It was as if the presence of the flute itself was an anchor that made him feel safe.
Di Feisheng was acutely aware of this change. He remained silent, but his actions became increasingly cautious, fearing that even a hint of recklessness would jeopardize this hard-earned intimacy. He no longer sat on a distant chair to keep watch. Instead, he moved a low couch to the bedside and slept fully clothed at night, ensuring he could reach out and touch the easily frightened person.
However, this newly budding dependence and peace of mind is extremely fragile and belongs only to Di Feisheng.
Whenever Wuyan or Shishui needed to report something to the inner chamber, Li Lianhua would immediately revert to his initial frightened expression. He would shrunk behind Di Feisheng, clutching a corner of his clothes tightly, burying his face in his hands, his body trembling uncontrollably and whimpering like a small animal, no matter how softly the visitor tried to lower their voice.
Once, the Medicine Demon had to come and take Li Lianhua's pulse again. Seeing the strange old man approach, Li Lianhua screamed in terror and desperately struggled to get into Di Feisheng's arms, clinging tightly to his neck, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Di Feisheng had no choice but to hold him tightly with one arm, using his broad back to block the Medicine Demon's view. With the other, he forcibly grabbed his wrist and handed it to him, commanding the Medicine Demon in a cold, hard voice, "Hurry up!"
From that day on, Di Feisheng completely forbade any outsiders from setting foot in the inner chamber. All matters were handled outside, and he personally brought in all the food and medicine.
His world seemed to have shrunk to this tiny space, and all his patience and tenderness were poured into this fragile person. He shielded him from all the external disturbances and fears, becoming the only and final barrier between him and the outside world.
In the afternoon, sunlight streamed through the window lattice, spilling onto the cushioned floor. Di Feisheng sat on the floor, a book resting on his lap, though he hadn't turned a page in a long while. His gaze fell on his side—Li Lianhua, leaning against his legs, cradled in her arms a simple wooden puppet Di Feisheng had carved for her, already asleep. Her white hair, like snow, lay scattered across Di Feisheng's robes. Her breathing was shallow, her brow relaxed, as if she were in a peaceful dream.
Di Feisheng stretched out his hand and lightly brushed the cold hair with his fingertips, his movements were incredibly gentle.
Occasionally, the sound of footsteps or whispers of disciples passing by in the building could be heard outside the window, and the person sleeping would frown uneasily and subconsciously move closer to his legs.
Di Feisheng would immediately raise his eyes and glance out the window with a cold gaze. He would not retract his gaze until the footsteps faded away and everything returned to silence. Then he would lower his head again and look intently at the defenseless sleeping face.
He was like a trapped beast guarding its only treasure, pointing all his claws and fangs towards the outside world, and covering all the remaining warmth and softness under his wings.
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