The Creatures that We Are

Qing Ling paused, unconsciously brushing her hair back. “How did you recognize me?”

Your sister wouldn't ask permission—she'd simply sit.

Gao Yang didn’t explain. “Sit.”

Little Qing Ling settled next to him, shifting and patting the sofa. “Hm, it looks old, but it’s quite comfortable. This is a good pick.”

Gao Yang put on a relaxed smile. “You need something?”

“Why, can’t I seek you out when I don’t need anything?” Little Qing Ling shot back.

“That’s not the case, of course.”

Little Qing Ling sighed and spoke in a more serious tone. “There’s still time, Gao Yang. You have to rest. You can’t go on like this.”

“I did rest.”

“Don’t lie to me. Nine Frost said that you haven’t slept for days. He asked Sister to seek you out.” Little Qing Ling smiled bitterly. “And she leaves it to me.”

Gao Yang lowered his eyes.

“Gao Yang.” Little Qing Ling’s tone softened. “I can tell that this isn’t just about Zhong He and Vermilion Bird, or any of the others. Did something else happen?”

The question struck Gao Yang like a physical blow.

He hadn't told anyone about Fresh Snow, not even Wang Zikai. They thought she had left with White Dew.

Gao Yang couldn't find the words, didn't dare speak them. Speaking would make Fresh Snow's absence real...

He had wondered why people lie to themselves. He had thought he wouldn't have done the same. But he was no different.

However, he wasn't just Gao Yang now. He was the leader of the Nine Scions. Everyone turned to him.

Fresh Snow's departure was his burden to bear alone, not a piece of bad news that should weigh everyone down further.

Little Qing Ling sighed softly. “If you don’t want to say it, you don’t have to. Just tell me if there’s something else.”

Gao Yang was silent for a long while. Then, like a stubborn kid finally admitting his fault, he slowly nodded.

Strange, the simple admission seemed to have melted some of his sadness and guilt. While they still occupied the same space in his heart, they didn't press as sharply against his chest. ℟аꞐＯ𐌱ΕＳ

“Good.” Little Qing Ling was satisfied. “Then I’ll ask you something else.”

Gao Yang didn’t respond.

Little Qing Ling put on a nonchalant smile. “Don’t worry. If you don’t say anything, I can’t carve your heart out and see for myself, can I?”

Gao Yang could tell that Little Qing Ling was trying to coax an answer out of him, but it didn’t bother him.

“Go on.”

“Why can’t you sleep?” Little Qing Ling asked. “No matter how much you’re weighed down, you should get some sleep after going without for so long. And don’t you meditate? You also have Psychic Armor.”

Gao Yang stared into the wavering bonfire with tired eyes. The exhaustion pressed down on him like an ocean of gloom.

After thirty seconds, when Little Qing Ling thought he wouldn't answer, he spoke.

“Because I’m scared.”

“Really? Don’t let the others hear you, or morale will suffer.” Little Qing Ling smiled. Her tone softened. “Something that scares the Divine Scion must be something great.”

Gao Yang was silent for another moment. Then he named something that didn’t actually exist. “Air fish.”

Little Qing Ling blinked. “Air fish?”

“They have no shape, or they change forms. They are usually invisible, hiding in the air. They love darkness…”

Gao Yang looked down at his hands. “I can see air fish, many of them. They swim around us, hiding in plain sight and waiting for me to fall asleep. If I close my eyes and let my guard down, they’ll immediately swarm up to me and eat me bit by bit. I’ll have nothing left when I wake up.”

Little Qing Ling parted her lips, understanding hitting her with surprising force. Yet this understanding left her unsure how to respond.

She couldn't maintain her nonchalant facade. Her eyes were prickling.

Something about Gao Yang's sunken, pale profile made her want to burst into tears.

She took a deep breath and pinched her thigh, forcing herself to brighten. A smile returned to her face as she adjusted her posture and picked up a pillow, fluffing it. “Here, Gao Yang. Lie down for a while.”

“I’m fine.”

“I told you to lie down!” Little Qing Ling pressed.

“I’m not sleepy.”

“Do you know how many depend on you tonight, Gao Yang? How many lives are you responsible for? Even if you don’t want to take care of yourself, think about them.”

Gao Yang fell silent.

Little Qing Ling lowered the pillow and patted it. “Here, lie down. Try it. We’ll forget about it if it doesn’t work.”

Tension drained from Gao Yang. “Thank you.”

He lay on his side, head resting on the pillow.

“Don’t lie on your side. Face up and sleep on your back.”

Gao Yang did as she instructed, laying his legs on the sofa and sleeping on his back, just like how he used to sleep in the past—it had been a long while since Gao Yang fell asleep in this posture.

“Close your eyes,” Little Qing Ling said.

Gao Yang tried his best to close his eyes. He never thought such a simple act could become so difficult.

“Good.” Little Qing Ling’s voice filled his ears. “I know once you close your eyes, your head will be filled with many thoughts and images. It’ll be a mess. It’s okay. Let them surface. Just give me some of your attention and chat with me. You can do that much, right?”

“Running the programs in parallel?”

“Haha, good analogy.” Little Qing Ling’s laugh was followed by her cool, soft fingertips touching his temples.

“I’m giving you a head massage.”

She started from his temples and moved to his forehead, then brows, commenting as she worked. “How old are you again? Less than thirty, right? Yet you’re already getting wrinkles between your eyebrows from frowning so much. Will you smooth it out?”

She made lighthearted jabs at him while continuing with her massage. “That won’t do. You’ll age really quickly. You’ll get all wrinkly from around your mouth, across your forehead, at the tails of your eyes. You’ll be a little old man before you hit thirty, exceeding Dr. Jia…”

Gao Yang pictured that in his head, which amused him.

“Did you notice it, Gao Yang? My sister doesn’t stop Nainai from her chuuni antics now.”

“Seems that way.”

“Do you wanna know why?” Little Qing Ling played up the mystery.

“I do.”

In a light, engaging tone, Little Qing Ling told him the story of them cleaning up the laboratory in Ni Nation.

“That was hard on Nainai. She should be compensated…”

Gao Yang got surprisingly into the story. He even started feeling bad for Nainai.

He didn’t realize that the thoughts and images filling his head were fading.

Exhaustion swept over him like a tide, dragging him under. The chaos in his mind condensed into a constant, distant ring.

His body's fatigue ran deeper than what Talents and energy could offset.

Little Qing Ling kept up a conversation, and Gao Yang blearily answered.

Her fingers reached his earlobes and rubbed them. “Hm, nice shape. Not too big or small, and round and fleshy…”

“That so…?” Gao Yang’s voice became softer and softer.

“Earlobes like these are most auspicious. You’re in for a lifetime of good fortune,” Little Qing Ling said at a relaxed pace. “My aunt asked a master to tell her fortune from her face. The master said that her ears were the source of her misfortune…”

“Hm…”

Gao Yang responded absentmindedly, his breathing growing heavy and his facial muscles relaxing.

Little Qing Ling spoke less and less and softer and softer. She gently held her long hair in her right hand and looked down at Gao Yang carefully, with tender eyes.

At that moment, she really wanted to sneak a kiss.

But she wouldn’t and couldn’t. That would startle Gao Yang awake and even put him in conflict. It would be too selfish.

She could tell that Gao Yang wasn’t asleep yet. His mind was wandering between wakefulness and the dream realm.

She pictured a lamb. It was slim and weak, leg injured and lost in a dark wasteland. No stars or moon shone to guide it home. On its knees, it kept looking around, trembling. Blub, blub. Air fish traced the scent of blood, slowly swarming toward the injured lamb.

Little Qing Ling's heart clenched. She had to do something.

A few seconds later, she sang a classic song she loved.

“Look at the stars.”

“Look how they shine for you.”

“And everything you do.”

“Yeah, they were all yellow.”

“I came along.”

“I wrote a song for you.”

“And all the things you do.”

“And it was called ‘Yellow.’”

…

Little Qing Ling preferred a translated version she'd found online. The imagery was more beautiful to her. But she couldn't sing that version now—the more familiar language would wake him.

Gao Yang's breathing became long and drawn out, his body finally losing its stiffness.

Joy bloomed in a tender part of Little Qing Ling's heart.

In her imagination, the timid lamb heard the song and spotted a hint of light ahead. Gathering its courage, it staggered forward.

Finally, it found a safe, warm pen and dove through the wooden fence, collapsing onto hay lit by gas lamp. It curled into itself with folded ears, licking its wound. Gradually, it drifted to sleep in the warm orange light.

The air fish could only hover outside the pen before retreating into darkness.

The story ended alright.

Satisfied, Little Qing Ling let out a long breath.

Work’s over. Now’s my time.

Little Qing Ling was eager to count the eyelashes on Gao Yang’s left eye and see if the number was odd or even. She had been curious about the answer[1].

Then she stopped.

Tears brimmed and made Gao Yang’s dark lashes stick together. There was no counting them in this state.

Although he was asleep, his eyelids trembled as hot tears fell from the corners of his eyes to the pillow. His sadness burst forth like a fountain.

Little Qing Ling watched him quietly. She wanted to wipe his tears for him, but worried that it would wake him.

Her hand remained hanging in the air.

1. Way back in chapter 506, Little Qing Ling had tried to count his eyelashes because she read somewhere that those with even number of eyelashes on their left eye are more loyal in relationship. ☜

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