Chapter 169
Su Zhelan gasped sharply, the air thick with the smells of scorched earth, decay, and the bloody stench from the depths of his memory, making his lungs ache.
His body swayed violently, his face turned ashen, and fine beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead. He dug his fingertips deep into his palms, using the sharp pain to force himself to stand firm and to breathe.
The back of my clothes was soaked with cold sweat, clinging to my skin and sending a chill down my spine.
The satisfaction of revenge failed to fill the void; instead, it made facing the situation even more difficult—because he had personally ended the feud. Now, all that remained was naked, unplaceable grief.
Each step he took landed on the charred rubble and soft ashes, producing a faint, unsettling rustling sound. His gaze, like the most precise instrument, sharply and coldly swept over every inch of the courtyard, leaving no possible trace unchecked.
He didn't speak, nor did he look at Sheng Xuan and Xiao Qiyun behind him, but his focused, almost obsessive search was itself a silent command.
Sheng Xuan and Xiao Qiyun immediately understood his intention. Sheng Xuan took a deep breath, suppressed the bitterness in his heart, and stepped forward without hesitation, carefully moving aside the larger, charred pieces of wood and stones.
His movements were very gentle, with an unprecedented solemnity, as if he were afraid of disturbing the souls of the dead who were sleeping there.
Xiao Qiyun silently surveyed the courtyard layout, his gaze calmly assessing potential locations. Unlike Sheng Xuan, he didn't immediately begin clearing the area. Instead, he moved to Su Zhelan's side and behind, his eyes following her gaze while vigilantly monitoring the stability of the surrounding environment to prevent a secondary collapse.
Su Zhelan moved slowly through the courtyard, eventually stopping in a relatively open corner near the base of the wall. The soil there seemed darker than the surrounding area, and scattered among it were fragments of weathered, whitish bones, unlike the building materials.
He slowly crouched down, extending slightly trembling fingers to gently brush away the surface dirt and ash. More bone fragments were revealed, scattered haphazardly, no longer able to be pieced together into a complete shape. Among them, he touched a small piece of half-melted, twisted metal, vaguely recognizable as the blade of a hoe…
Su Zhelan's fingers suddenly clenched, his fingertips instantly turning icy cold. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, all that remained in his eyes was an almost numb, bottomless sorrow.
He didn't shed a tear or make a sound; he simply collected, very slowly and carefully, the fragments of his father's bones and the shard of the hoe that he could find, piece by piece. With each piece he picked up, his movements were as gentle as if he were touching a fragile dream.
Sheng Xuan silently handed over a clean, dark-colored cloth that had been prepared in advance. Su Zhelan took it and carefully wrapped the collected remains and fragments layer by layer, her movements slow and focused.
After wrapping it up, he held the small cloth bag tightly in his hand, stood up, and looked at the "door" that had long since collapsed and was now just a twisted frame.
He walked step by step toward the entrance that had once been called "home." Each step felt like stepping on a knife's edge.
Beyond the threshold of the ruins, the scene inside was even more horrific. The roof had completely collapsed, with only a few charred beams leaning precariously, and the ground was covered with a thick layer of rubble and ashes.
His gaze almost immediately locked onto an area not far from the inside of the door.
There, a relatively intact female skeleton lay curled up on the ground, its posture conveying a sense of desperate struggle. On the skeleton lay some charred pieces of cloth, and scattered on the ground were several cheap, warped copper hairpins…
Su Zhelan staggered, almost losing his balance. Xiao Qiyun, who was behind him, instinctively stepped forward to support him.
Su Zhelan steadied himself. He stood there, gazing silently at the skeleton for a very long time. Time seemed to freeze once more.
Then, he slowly knelt down again, reached out his hand, and this time, his fingertips trembled even more violently. He began to gather his mother's remains with extreme gentleness, as if afraid of waking her from her slumber. From the slender finger bones to the broken skull, to the scattered hairpins... he gathered them with extraordinary slowness and meticulousness, as if trying to piece together his mother's image from his mind.
Sheng Xuan silently handed over another clean cloth. Xiao Qiyun, meanwhile, found a small, relatively intact pottery jar from somewhere and silently placed it beside Su Zhelan.
Su Zhelan carefully and systematically placed his mother's remains into the earthenware jar, finally gently placing the hairpins on top. Then, he sealed the jar's mouth with a cloth and carefully tied it tightly with a thin rope.
He slowly stood up, holding the heavy earthenware jar in both hands. In his arms was the bundle of his father's broken bones, and in his hands was the urn containing his mother's ashes. He stood there, head bowed, stray hairs falling across his forehead, obscuring all his expressions. Only his taut jawline and slightly trembling shoulders betrayed the immense weight weighing on his heart, a weight that threatened to crush him.
Throughout the entire process, he didn't shed a single tear, nor utter a single sob. The deathly silence was more suffocating than any loud wailing.
In the ruins of the courtyard, only the whistling of the wind blowing through the broken walls and the heavy, suppressed breathing of the three people remained.
The grief was silent, yet deafening.
Holding her parents' remains, Su Zhelan turned around and looked toward the path behind the courtyard, almost completely swallowed by weeds—the path leading to the corner of the woodshed deep in her memory.
He didn't speak, but simply started walking, his steps heavier than before, yet carrying an undeniable resolve.
Sheng Xuan and Xiao Qiyun immediately followed. Sheng Xuan looked at Su Zhelan's tense profile and her eyes fixed on the overgrown road ahead. He understood what was going on. His throat tightened, and he wanted to say something to comfort her, but he found that any words would be pale and powerless at this moment. He could only pay more attention to Su Zhelan's condition and the road under her feet.
Xiao Qiyun's gaze followed Su Zhelan's as she swept across the area, a subtle hint of gravity creeping into his usually composed eyes. He understood better than Sheng Xuan that Su Zhelan was searching for a sliver of hope that was far more cruel than confirmation of death.
Following the direction he remembered, Su Zhelan slowly pushed aside the waist-high, thorny, withered grass stalks. His steps faltered, sometimes he hesitated, sometimes he paused, his brow furrowed as he struggled to discern the landscape, now unrecognizable. His childhood memories, eroded by immense trauma and the passage of time, had become fragmented.
"Is this the place..." he murmured softly, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible. He stopped in a corner filled with broken bricks and tiles, a hint of confusion and anxiety flashing in his eyes.
Sheng Xuan immediately stepped forward and, using both hands and feet, quickly and carefully cleared away the debris on the surface, revealing a half-rotten wooden stake and a few scattered stones underneath, with no trace of the rice jar.
Su Zhelan's lips tightened, and his eyes dimmed for a moment. He didn't give up, continuing to move along the route he remembered, his gaze meticulously combing through every inch of land.
Time slipped away in the silent, oppressive search. Each misidentification chilled the air around Su Zhelan. Hope flickered like a candle in the wind.
Finally, near the base of a half-collapsed mud wall completely entangled with wild vines, Su Zhelan abruptly stopped in her tracks!
His gaze was fixed on a mound in the corner, almost completely buried by thick layers of mud, rotting leaves, and collapsed rubble. The shape of the mound, vaguely discernible, was that of a large, inverted, circular arc…
Su Zhelan's body stiffened instantly, and his breathing stopped abruptly. He unconsciously gripped the urn and cloth bag in his arms tightly.
Sheng Xuan and Xiao Qiyun immediately noticed that spot as well. Sheng Xuan's heart leaped into her throat, and she almost held her breath. Xiao Qiyun's eyes sharpened instantly, and he took a half step forward, standing slightly behind Su Zhelan to provide silent support.
As if guided by invisible threads, Su Zhelan moved extremely slowly, step by step, to the raised area. He slowly squatted down, stretched out his trembling hands, and without even looking for tools, began to dig with his bare hands!
Su Zhelan's movements were slow and gentle at first, as if afraid of disturbing something. But as the covering was gradually removed, the outline of the overturned rice jar became clearer and clearer, and his movements became faster and more urgent, even taking on a frantic quality!
Seeing this, Sheng Xuan immediately stepped forward to help, quickly clearing away the surrounding debris with his small knife and his hands. Xiao Qiyun also squatted down, using even more steady strength to clear away the pile of debris on the other side.
Finally, most of the huge, coarse pottery rice jar was revealed. It was upside down on the ground, its body covered in cracks and moss. One side appeared to have been struck by a heavy object, collapsing and forming a sizable gap. The gap was completely filled with mud and gravel.
Su Zhelan's hand abruptly stopped in front of the gap, his fingertips icy cold and trembling uncontrollably. He stared intently at the dark, bottomless gap, as if he could see through time to the small, terrified figure inside.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. A fierce battle raged within him, a mixture of overwhelming fear and a sliver of hope, threatening to tear him apart.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, all that remained in his eyes was a desperate, almost reckless courage. He reached out, his hands trembling, and little by little, pried away the cold mud and rubble blocking the opening…
Sheng Xuan and Xiao Qiyun both stopped what they were doing and watched intently, holding their breath. A suffocating tension filled the air.
The soil fell in a soft rustling sound.
The opening was gradually widened, and the dark interior was slowly revealed...
Su Zhelan's movements suddenly stopped! His pupils contracted to their maximum size!
Through the widened opening, in the dim light, one could clearly see—
At the bottom of the jar, curled up, was a small, completely skeletal skeleton.
The skeleton remained in an extremely curled-up position, its skull drooping, its small jaw slightly open, and its slender finger bones crossed over its mouth and nose...
Time seemed to freeze completely at that moment.
Su Zhelan stood frozen in place, motionless, as if he had turned into a stone statue. All the blood in his body seemed to rush to his head, only to recede completely in an instant, leaving his face a deathly, transparent pale. His usually cold eyes now stared blankly at the small skeleton, all the light and emotion within them extinguished, shattered, and turned into a cold, endless nothingness in an instant.
He maintained that outstretched gesture, his fingertips only inches from the skeleton, yet it seemed as if there was an abyss of despair that could never be crossed.
The world lost all sound, leaving only the frantic and futile beating of his own heart in the empty cavity, thump...thump...thump... Each sound made his soul tremble, yet he felt no pain, only boundless, cold numbness.
"Uh..." A suppressed sob, as if forced out from the deepest part of the chest, broke out.
He could no longer hold on, his knees buckled, and he collapsed heavily onto the cold, damp earth and ruins! The urn and cloth bag in his arms almost slipped from his grasp, but he instinctively clutched them tightly to his chest, as if they were the only tangible objects he could hold onto at that moment.
He abruptly raised his free hand and covered his face with it, trying to stop the overwhelming collapse, but to no avail. Hot tears instantly welled up from between his fingers, streaming down his pale hand and wrist, each drop landing on the scorched earth beneath him, leaving dark stains.
At first, there were only silent, violent tremors and suppressed gasps, his shoulders heaving violently, as if he were enduring unspeakable, immense pain.
Xiao Qiyun, who had been keeping a close eye on him, bent down the moment he knelt down, without the slightest hesitation, and stretched out his arms to hug him tightly and steadily.
Almost simultaneously, Sheng Xuan, his eyes red-rimmed, suddenly knelt down, one hand urgently but gently patting Su Zhelan's violently trembling back, the other clumsily trying to steady the remains in his arms, his voice choked with sobs: "Su Zhelan... don't be like this... cry, crying will make you feel better..."
This careful touch and care was like opening the last floodgate.
Su Zhelan's hand, which had been covering his face, slipped limply, revealing a face streaked with tears and deathly pale. He tilted his head back, letting out a broken, guttural sound like that of a wounded beast, which finally erupted into a heart-wrenching, completely out-of-control wail!
"ah--!!!!!"
The pain, guilt, despair, and unspeakable sorrow that had been building up for over a decade erupted like a volcano at this moment! He could no longer maintain any composure or self-control, and burst into tears. His cries were shrill and desperate, echoing through the desolate ruins, heartbreaking to witness.
He cried until his body went limp, almost curling up, only supported by Xiao Qiyun's strong and powerful embrace from behind. Tears streamed down his face like a burst dam, blurring his vision, but he seemed oblivious, simply immersed in overwhelming grief.
“It was me… I killed him… I let him hide there…” he cried incoherently, his voice broken and filled with endless self-blame and remorse, “He was so obedient… He must have been waiting for me to come to him… How long did he wait… How scared he must have been…”
"Will he resent me... He must hate me to death... I killed him... It was me..." he questioned repeatedly, crying so hard he couldn't breathe, his body convulsing violently in Xiao Qiyun's arms.
Listening to his sobs and seeing his complete breakdown, Sheng Xuan couldn't help but shed tears as well. She patted his back even more gently, her voice choked with emotion as she tried to comfort him: "No... Su Zhelan... it wasn't your fault... you were just a child back then... you did your best..."
Xiao Qiyun remained silent, holding him tightly, his jaw clenched, and complex emotions surging in his deep eyes. He didn't speak, but tightened his arms, using his steady heartbeat and body heat to silently convey support and a sense of presence, allowing Su Zhelan to vent all her pain and tears in his embrace.
At this moment, all words seem pale and powerless. Only this complete breakdown and wailing, along with the silent yet steadfast companionship of the two people beside him, can slightly wash away the despair and grief that has seeped into his bones.
Su Zhelan's heart-wrenching cries raged like a storm through the desolate ruins for a long time before gradually turning into intermittent, exhausted sobs. He leaned weakly against Xiao Qiyun's chest, his body still trembling slightly uncontrollably. His tears seemed to have dried up, leaving only red eyes and a mess of tear stains mixed with dirt on his face.
Xiao Qiyun held him silently and firmly, bearing all his sorrow and weight. Sheng Xuan squatted beside him, her eyes red, her hand still gently patting his back, offering silent comfort.
Only when Su Zhelan's breathing became less rapid and her violent trembling gradually subsided, leaving only slight, uncontrollable physiological twitches, did Xiao Qiyun move slightly. He did not immediately loosen his embrace, but instead gestured to Sheng Xuan with his eyes.
Sheng Xuan immediately understood and carefully helped Xiao Qiyun. Together, they gently lifted the almost exhausted Su Zhelan from the cold ground and helped him sit against a relatively flat and slightly cleaner broken wall. Su Zhelan's body was limp and powerless, letting them do as they pleased. His eyes stared blankly ahead, as if all his emotions had been burned away, leaving only ashes.
Xiao Qiyun did not leave, but silently knelt on one knee in front of him, maintaining a protective posture with eye contact. Sheng Xuan also sat down close beside him, still anxiously watching Su Zhelan's condition.
Sheng Xuan felt a pang of heartache as he looked at the crisscrossing tear tracks and dust covering Su Zhelan's face. He quickly rummaged through his bag and found a clean, soft cloth. He then took out his water pouch, poured some water into it, soaked a corner of the cloth, and wrung it out. He leaned close to Su Zhelan and gently and carefully wiped her cheeks with the warm, damp cloth.
"Wash your face, it will feel better..." Sheng Xuan's voice was extremely soft, with a thick nasal tone, and his movements were as gentle as if he were wiping a rare treasure, afraid of hurting him.
The warm touch of the cloth on his cool face brought a slight sense of comfort. Su Zhelan's empty eyes twitched slightly, without resistance or response, simply letting Sheng Xuan do as he pleased. The damp cloth brushed across his swollen eyes, wiping away the dried tear stains and dirt, revealing his pale, almost transparent skin.
Time flowed slowly in the heavy silence. Only the faint rustling of Shengxuan wiping and the occasional, barely suppressed sobs of Su Zhelan broke the deathly stillness.
After a long while, Su Zhelan's empty eyes twitched slightly, as if he had regained a little consciousness. He took a very slow and labored breath, the sound of which still trembled at the end, as if even breathing itself had exhausted all his strength.
Just then, Xiao Qiyun silently handed over a water pouch filled with lukewarm water. He didn't speak, but simply held the pouch steadily within Su Zhelan's reach.
Su Zhelan's gaze slowly fell on the water pouch. After a few seconds of hesitation, he very slowly raised his still slightly trembling hand and took it. His fingers were icy cold, and he could barely hold it. Xiao Qiyun did not immediately withdraw his hand, but held it loosely below to ensure that the water pouch would not fall.
Su Zhelan brought the water pouch to his chapped lips and sipped it slowly. The cool water slid over his burning throat, bringing a slight soothing sensation and calming the overwhelming urge to sob. He drank very slowly, each swallow a struggle.
Sheng Xuan watched intently from the side. Seeing that Su Zhelan finally agreed to drink water, he breathed a slight sigh of relief, but the worry in his eyes did not diminish at all. He couldn't help but lower his voice and ask very gently, "Zhelan... are you feeling better? Is there anything else that's bothering you?"
Su Zhelan didn't answer, nor did he even look at Sheng Xuan. He simply continued sipping his water, his eyelashes drooping, concealing all the remaining emotions in his eyes. But his body no longer seemed as cold and stiff as before; it relaxed slightly, and the weight he was leaning against the broken wall lessened somewhat.
After taking a few sips of water, he gently shook his head and handed the water pouch back to Xiao Qiyun, his arm still feeling weak.
Xiao Qiyun took the water pouch, put it away, and his gaze remained calmly fixed on Su Zhelan.
Su Zhelan slowly closed his eyes, tilted his head back against the rough wall, his chest still rising and falling slightly with his still-unsettled breathing. The exhaustion brought on by the extreme emotional release swept over him like a tidal wave, leaving only a numb weariness and a kind of... calm that comes after the dust has settled, a calm tinged with a huge emptiness.
The ruins fell silent once more. But this silence was a temporary tranquility born of grief and exhaustion.
Sheng Xuan and Xiao Qiyun remained silent, simply staying by his side to give him time to catch his breath and recover.
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