116 - Dungeon Growth Log

The illusion dissolved, giving way to a sea of fog, boundless with no beginning or end in sight. Xia Ge stood still, staring vacantly into the endless clouds, lost in thought. Chu Yi's silver butterfly took flight. Though she couldn't see Xia Ge, she felt the presence beneath her—this person physically here, yet whose soul had drifted elsewhere. She disliked this feeling. As if this person might leave at any moment, slipping away without a second thought, without a trace of hesitation. Perhaps that was the nature of it. Like the wind—untouchable, ungraspable. Yet so gentle. "Do the winds feel pain?" Chu Yi mused, "If the wind hurts, would it pause ever so slightly?" —I care for you so much. And yet, you cast me aside as if I meant nothing. Whether the wind felt pain, Chu Yi didn't know. But she knew this: If the wind were to leave, she would hurt. Xia Ge, unaware of Chu Yi's feelings, stood motionless. As the illusion faded, her thoughts returned to that rainy night in the Rain God Temple. The Rain God Temple. After Dou Dou's death, it was just one of many refuges she found while wandering in destitution after leaving Nanming Village. At that time, burdened with Dou Dou's death and the promise to keep living, she existed in numb agony. It seemed it didn't matter how she turned out. As long as she lived on. She lacked the capability, nor did she wish to become anyone's faith. Xia Wu Yin was just Xia Wu Yin. Wretched, restless, suffering, yet striving to live on. Those dim years of wandering—facing scorn, disdain, pathetic struggles for food with dogs, suffering bites till she was covered in wounds, feverish, pained, half-believing she might die, and still, she survived—wretchedly. She didn't have to live so painfully, so exhausting. Perhaps she could have found work, earned some money for sustenance. She had arms, legs, and wasn't foolish; she could've lived respectably. But then, she'd have nightmares. Only by being a bit more pained, a bit more bitter, fatigued, humiliated. Could she stop thinking about Dou Dou—the child who lost an eye and a life for her. Why should Dou Dou have died so painfully for her, while she lived joyously? Why?! Would Dou Dou find peace? No, probably not. —Therefore, she couldn't. She mustn't. She had to keep living. Every day, every minute, every second. No matter what, please let it hurt a little more. She could bear it. "...Are there gods in this world?" Rain poured down relentlessly. Then, huddled under the eaves of the Rain God Temple, she watched the flowing water, dazedly wondering, "If not, Marx would do too, Engels wouldn't matter..." Under impenetrable dark clouds, no sunlight for miles. "Please, tell me why living is so exhausting..." She saw no light. The path she chose grew darker with every step—what was to be done? Xia Ge never knew a person could be that lonely. That helpless. Could anyone save her? Could anyone offer her a glimmer of hope? If gods existed, could they? In a gray world devoid of warmth, without direction, only boundless loneliness prevailed. So tired, really so tired. She stumbled into the temple, looking up at the neglected god, overlooked and weathered. Forgotten by the world, the Rain God resided in a leaking ruin, much like herself. Raindrops trickled through roof holes, yet the Rain God smiled. Xia Ge wondered if the Rain God, forgotten by people, would feel sorrow. The statue kept its smile. Or perhaps the heavy rain was the god's tears? Suddenly, Xia Ge no longer understood. But she lacked the energy to ponder. Eventually, she crawled beneath the offering table—the driest spot there. Raindrops fell on the statue, a rhythmic ticking, accompanying the storm outside like a lullaby. That night, she dreamt. Dou Dou kissed her forehead, gentle eyes gazing at her. "...Live well," he whispered. When the dream ended, she awoke to find herself before a table laden with offerings, under the benevolent gaze of the Rain God. As if bestowed by the divine. "Live...well." She murmured to herself, then wept at the feet of the Rain God statue, like a child suffering a world's worth of grievances. So bitter. So weary. But after crying. The sun rose. A new day began anew. "...It won't get worse than this," Xia Ge choked out, "Won't get harder than this." “I will keep moving forward.” “Xia Wu Yin...won't cry again.” If Dou Dou gave her a reason to live, that night at the Rain God Temple gave Xia Ge the courage to continue in this world. After some time. Xia Ge wiped her tears, swallowed hard, and composed herself. "Taking without asking is stealing," she spoke with effort, eyes red, attempting a solemn prayer, "This little thief has nothing, my home bare...meaning poorer than you." "Now I've taken your offerings." "They're mine now." She grabbed three steamed buns, bowed again, "Alright, aside from these three buns, everything else is my offering to you." As if borrowing flowers to present, she shamelessly justified herself. Xia Ge exited the Rain God Temple, taking a bite of a bun, finding it sweet and soft. Post-rain, everything was fresh with a few unnamed pink flowers gleaming brightly. She paused, plucked three flowers, then returned to the temple, placing them on the plate from which she took the buns. There had been six buns; with three gone, she stacked them in a tower and placed the flowers beside. The snow-white buns made a pleasing sight, and the delicate pink flowers glistening with dew bloomed brightly. Overhead, the Rain God, clad in a rain cape, eyes gentle, smiled softly. “…Thank you.” Xia Ge bowed low, her voice barely audible, "A small thief presents you a table of offerings." “Xia Wu Yin is poor, so three flowers will do.” Thank you. At least for letting her see. The future still held a shred of hope. Dou Dou's whispers lingered from her dream. —"Live well." Surviving comes easy; living well, however, is hard. But...if Dou Dou said it, she'd try. Try to forget the pain, try to see hope. Xia Wu Yin lifted her head, pressed her palms together, and closed her eyes, "You are not a forgotten god." At the very least, I will always remember you. Leaving the Rain God Temple, the skies cleared, and amidst this radiant scene, a wanderer sang softly. Xia Ge murmured, “Dou Dou...” Though a bit late. But if you were alive. Xia Ge quietly spoke. “I would be your eyes.” To see the world clearly. Xia Ge resumed her aimless wanderings. Her life unchanged—begging, competing for food, still disheveled. But now, hope took root in her heart. A light glimmered in her eyes. Wandering life was harsh. Xia Ge came across a bustling little town. She managed to beg a bun. Food was hard to come by, and her stomach growled with hunger. Xia Ge had no intention of being choosy, planning to gulp it down. But she couldn't bring herself to bite into it. She squatted at the mouth of an alley, staring blankly at the bun. A white bun with eight pleats. ...A bun stained with blood. And Dou Dou. She felt reluctant to eat. Lost in thought, her hand suddenly felt light. A shadow flashed, and by the time Xia Ge realized, the bun had vanished like a mirage. Her hand was empty. This situation...commonly known as being robbed. "?!" Her grumbling stomach reminded her to eat, but the bun thief was swift— Even if the bun was hard to eat, that didn't mean it was up for grabs! "Stop right there!" The thief hadn't gone far, and Xia Ge took off in pursuit. In the bustling town, the chase added two more figures moving in tandem. Xia Ge wasn't fast, her weakened body failed her, and in a blink, the thief was out of sight. She didn't catch him, but Xia Ge's sharp eyes noted his filthy black clothes, a stature around five-foot-two, his face indistinct... "...Damn." Catching her breath, she wiped her sweat, glanced around, and found herself at an unfamiliar alley. Well...wherever she went, it was all unfamiliar. Beg for a bun and just eat it, forget the fuss, forget being pretentious. Now that the bun was gone, even the chance of pretentiousness was gone. Feeling dejected, Xia Ge squatted for a while, eventually deciding she couldn't do nothing. She stood, bracing herself on a wall, hoping against hope to find the little thief, following the path he'd taken. Turning a corner, she saw a little youth in filthy black attire, squatting and staring at the bun. What the...?! Heavens above, Fortune smiles upon me! Eyes glaring, Xia Ge hurled herself at the boy, landing a punch on his face— "You rascal! Return my bun!" "Thud!" Having finally learned the art of begging like the old beggars taught him, selling smiles for a single steamed bun, Young Master Ye Ze was suddenly punched in the face. Before he could make sense of what happened, his hand came up empty—the bun was gone. Facing him was a scruffy figure whose gender was indiscernible—a small beggar who refused to stop after landing a punch. The beggar grabbed his collar with one hand, the other holding the bun, face twisted in ferocity. "You little thief, how dare you steal my bun? Today, I'm going to teach you a lesson!" Who stole your bun?! —You snatch my bun and then dare lecture me?! Even a clay Buddha might get angry. Despite his long days of hunger and homelessness, Young Master Ye Ze had never encountered such audacity. Fury welled up within him: "Who are you?! Give me back my bun!" Xia Ge, who'd just had her bun snatched, was already a bundle of anger, itching for a fight. Seeing this cheeky brat denying stealing her bun, she sneered, "Yours? How dare you claim it's yours? It's mine! Eight perfect pleats—I counted them clearly. Alright, you say it's yours, but does it answer when you call it?" Infuriated, Ye Ze exploded: "Eight pleats make it yours?! There are countless buns in the world with eight pleats—are they all yours?! It wouldn't answer you either!" Xia Ge took a bold bite, lifting the now-bitten bun triumphantly, her shame nonexistent. "Now it responds!" She was dead set on driving this bun thief crazy! Watching the fruit of his hard day's work get defiled by this rascal, Ye Ze's eyes reddened with rage. He swung a wild punch, "You bastard!" Xia Ge laughed through her anger. He stole a bun and now had the nerve to fight back?! Even if she didn't want the bun, she was determined to teach him a lesson!