In the darkness, Yuan Yuan remained silent for a very, very long time.
It was so long that when everyone began to think that it might have failed, the tiny shadow finally started to move.
It very slowly and tentatively wriggled out from the gap.
The dim yellow light barely illuminated it.
It was a translucent spirit, in the form of a seven - or eight - year - old child. Its face was covered with tear stains, and its eyes were swollen and red. It was looking timidly yet with a glimmer of unbelievable hope at Zhong Shengwan and the outstretched hand of his.
Unexpectedly, Yuan Yuan didn't question Zhong Shengwan about why he had come so late, nor did he complain about the long wait and grievances.
A child's emotional world was as pure as a blank sheet of paper. Hatred and forgiveness came directly.
He just wiped his eyes forcefully with the back of his hand to dry the tears, and then carefully and seriously sized up the familiar yet strange young man in front of him.
Finally, Yuan Yuan stretched out his cold, nearly transparent little hand and gently placed it on the tip of Zhong Shengwan's finger.
In his simple mind, holding hands meant making up.
All the past grievances and waiting seemed to have vanished without a trace at this moment.
"A Wan," he said in a small voice with a bit of a nasal twang, "you've grown taller and thinner."
Yuan Yuan looked down at his own body that was forever frozen at the age of seven. There was a faint trace of loneliness and understanding in his tone. "I thought... we would grow up together. It turns out I can't grow up."
Zhong Shengwan only felt as if an invisible hand was tightly squeezing his heart. A surge of sourness and pain welled up, and warm liquid unexpectedly rolled down from his eyes, sliding across his pale cheeks.
Yuan Yuan stared blankly at Zhong Shengwan's tears. Learning from the paper figure that had wiped his tears in the mental prison, he also stretched out his cold little hand to wipe Zhong Shengwan's tears.
But the more he wiped, the faster Zhong Shengwan's tears fell. They just wouldn't stop.
Everyone silently looked at Zhong Shengwan, feeling a bit bitter in their hearts.
The teachers at the Myriad Phenomena Academy all said that Zhong Shengwan was a natural heir to the esoteric arts, because he had an indifferent, almost cold temperament and could regard life and death as ordinary things.
This was an inborn advantage for a celestial master, but for a flesh - and - blood person, it was almost heartless.
In everyone's impression, Zhong Shengwan rarely cried. Even when he was so scared of ghosts that his face turned deathly pale, he would just bite his lips and remain silent.
Shen Cuiyu once asked Zhong Shengwan the reason for his fear of ghosts. It wasn't just because ghosts had hideous appearances, but also because in his inherent perception, ghosts were not of his kind. Their minds were tricky and hard to fathom.
However, it was only at this moment that Zhong Shengwan truly understood that the "ghosts" he feared and wanted to drive away might be the "people" that others yearned for day and night but couldn't have.
As a human being, one had to learn to say goodbye, but understanding and bearing it were two different things.
At this moment, the emotions that had been suppressed for too long burst out like a broken dam. Zhong Shengwan shook his head, his throat choking so that he couldn't make any sound.
Yuan Yuan looked up helplessly at Shen Cuiyu, who had been standing quietly beside them, and asked in a small voice, "Sister, why is A Wan still crying?"
He didn't understand. Since they had already made up, why was A Wan still crying?
Shen Cuiyu squatted in front of Yuan Yuan, looking him in the eye, and gently stroked the top of Yuan Yuan's head. She explained softly:
"Because A Wan is sad."
Yuan Yuan was even more confused. He looked at Zhong Shengwan seriously: "He has found Xiao Yuan. Why is he still sad?"
Shen Cuiyu was silent for a moment. She carefully organized her words, trying to tell the truth in a way that a child could understand:
"You and A Wan are like two people who are very cold in the snow, hugging each other for warmth. This is a really good thing. But after all, you come from different worlds... You've tried very hard to hold on for a very long time because you can't bear to part with each other. But anything that goes against the laws of nature requires a corresponding price. A Wan is now paying the price of heartache for his past forgetfulness and separation."
"If we are from two different worlds, why did we meet?" Yuan Yuan asked stubbornly.
"Because you two are fated."
Yuan Yuan suddenly fell silent. After a long time, he looked up and stared carefully at Zhong Shengwan for a moment, then asked:
"What price will A Wan pay?"
Shen Cuiyu glanced at Zhong Shengwan's pale face. Facing Yuan Yuan, she still chose to be straightforward.
Yuan Yuan's world was too lonely. It was so lonely that he might easily drag his only playmate into that world. He had to learn to let go.
"A Wan's health is already a bit poor now. If things continue like this, he might... die."
Yuan Yuan was completely stunned. He pouted and suddenly burst into tears: "I don't want that! I don't want A Wan to die!"
Over the years, only Zhong Shengwan was willing to play with him. The two of them had accompanied each other for a full seven years.
Yuan Yuan had only lived in this world for seven years in total. Zhong Shengwan's importance in his heart was self - evident.
Shen Cuiyu couldn't help but recall the small figure in Yuan Yuan's mental prison, hugging a toy and crying alone, afraid of death.
Her voice carried a guiding tone as she asked softly, "Xiao Yuan, do you now... know what 'death' really is?"
Yuan Yuan sobbed and answered intermittently: "Death means... not being able to hear, not being able to see, not being able to speak, not being able to move... and never being able to see the people you like again... always being alone..."
Shen Cuiyu felt a pang of bitterness in her heart, but her tone became even more gentle:
"Actually, 'death' isn't that scary. It's just like 'life', meaning the start of a new journey. In the future, Xiao Yuan will also meet many little friends and see many beautiful sceneries." She paused for a moment and continued in the softest voice, "Moreover, it's not necessarily true that you'll never see the people you like again after death. 'Fate' is a very magical and powerful thing. It can cross mountains and rivers, and it can... transcend the cycle of life and death. As long as the fate is deep enough, one day, you'll reunite in another way."
After she finished speaking, she looked at Yuan Yuan hesitantly, wondering if this seven - year - old child could understand this heavy topic about life and fate.
But she could clearly sense that the heavy and cold sense of loneliness in the study was quickly dissipating.
It was as if a long - lasting dream had finally come to an end, and now the dream was about to wake up.
Yuan Yuan stared blankly at the sobbing Zhong Shengwan for a long time. Then he slowly withdrew his hand from Zhong Shengwan's and murmured:
"Sister, I want to go home."
Washing hands, burning incense, and chanting scriptures to offer salvation.
The smoke from the burning incense gently surrounded Yuan Yuan, cleansing his spirit and revealing its original purity and transparency.
Yuan Yuan took another careful look at Zhong Shengwan in the halo. He stepped forward and, with all his strength, gently and faintly hugged the still - sobbing young man.
"A Wan, you have to take good care of yourself." His voice became ethereal and distant. "We... will meet again if fate allows."
Zhong Shengwan hugged Yuan Yuan, but he felt his embrace becoming emptier and emptier.
Until the voice gradually faded away in the air, along with Yuan Yuan's figure, turning into little glows of light and finally disappearing completely.
The illusion began to dissipate rapidly like an ebbing tide. The surrounding scenery became blurred and transparent.
When the four of them could see clearly again, they were already standing steadily in the courtyard of the Zhong Mansion in reality. The night dew was slightly cool, and the sky was full of stars.
The mental prison, this time, was truly broken.
In the dead silence, only the gentle rustling of the evening wind blowing through the leaves could be heard.
Zhong Shengwan stood there blankly, with the tear stains still on his face.
He subconsciously reached out his hand and felt into his pocket. His fingertips seemed to touch something.
He slowly took it out.
It was a slightly yellowed piece of paper with a rough edge. There were two little figures holding hands drawn on it with clumsy and childish strokes. The painting style was exactly the same as that of the paper figures in the mental prison.
Only there was a crooked line of small words written at the bottom:
"A Wan and Xiao Yuan will always be good friends."