The Creatures that We Are

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"I remember," Gao Yang said quietly.

"Later, I took Little Tian there again, the night we decided to 'defect' to you." A smile touched Chen Ying's lips without her noticing. "Little Tian loved it."

Gao Yang stood silent, listening.

"So I asked the owner to teach me how to make the beef offal noodles. I wanted to make it for Little Tian later."

Her voice softened with the memory. "The owner said it wasn't difficult. He could teach me. But I wouldn't be able to replicate the taste. I felt underestimated. I said I would follow the recipe exactly. I would succeed."

"The owner told me that it wasn't a taste that could be replicated with the right recipe. The taste came from long years condensed into one dish. It's mysterious and cannot be explained. It's like a mom's cooking. She cooks every day every meal, and that's how the cooking tastes how it tastes. If you just cook every once in a while, the dish will still taste different even with the same recipe. The secret recipes of many old restaurants with over a century of history aren't about the method and skills alone, but also the accumulated time..."

"Then the owner started talking about life to me. He said that I looked like a successful career woman with little time to spend with my kid. I couldn't possibly cook beef offal noodles every day. If I wanted to have it, just took my kid to eat at his stand. Besides, would a child really like such a dish? What he liked was me having it with him."

The smile faded from Chen Ying's face. The silence stretched before she found her voice again. "When Little Tian passed away, I regretted so much. I regretted not taking him to the Di City Amusement Park, to fly a kite, to eat beef offal noodles... None of that mattered to Little Tian. He only wished for me to spend more time with him, to talk to him more. But I was always busy and I always left him on his own..."

"How did I not understand such a simple thing?" Tears traced silent paths down her cheeks, but her voice remained steady. She had learned White Rabbit's lesson—to accept what couldn't be changed.

Gao Yang settled beside her on the ground. "I have two tasks for you, Chen Ying."

Without wiping her tears, Chen Ying turned to face him. "Go on."

Gao Yang withdrew a novel from his coat's inner pocket. "First, use Psychometry on this book before the fight for me. If you get any clue, tell War Tiger and Nine Frost."

"Okay." Chen Ying accepted the book without question.

"Second, whether it's during tonight's fight or the subsequent battles, don't think about fighting to your death all the time. No matter what danger you face, do not give up until the last second."

His eyes held hers intently. "You owe your life to Little Tian. Don't make his effort go to waste. Don't break his heart."

Chen Ying's fingers tightened on the book as she lowered her head.

After a long moment, she looked up, meeting Gao Yang's gaze squarely. "Okay."

Footsteps approached from behind them. Gao Yang and Chen Ying stood up to find Nine Frost and Qing Ling.

"Captain, we're setting out," Nine Frost said.

Gao Yang nodded. "Yeah, I'll leave it to you and War Tiger."

"Is there anything you'd like to say to everyone? I can relay the message for you."

"None," Gao Yang replied with casual certainty.

Nine Frost's lips curved into a smile after a moment. He offered a wave before turning away. Chen Ying hurried after him, clutching the book.

Qing Ling remained motionless, her dark eyes fixed on Gao Yang.

His impassive expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Something on your mind?"

"You knew what it was," Qing Ling's voice was flat.

"You must go with War Tiger tonight, Qing Ling."

"Think carefully."

"I already did." Gao Yang's nod was firm. "They need you more."

Qing Ling accepted this without further argument. "Don't die, or Little Qing Ling will be sad."

"I won't. I promise."

"Your promise is bullshit." Qing Ling's pause carried weight before she added icily, "She said that."

Surprise flickered across Gao Yang's face, followed by a resigned smile. His gaze, however, remained determined. "Tell Little Qing Ling not to worry. I'll come back alive."

After two silent beats, he added, "You too."

Qing Ling turned sharply and walked away without looking back. Only as she reached the forest's edge did she raise her hand, forming an OK sign behind her back in silent acknowledgment.

...

Qingying Bridge, Li City, 11:55.

The night before Lunar New Year's Eve waned, yet the city pulsed with mounting celebration. Li City sparkled, windows blazing with light, neon signs painting the darkness, streams of cars flowing like luminous rivers through the streets. Music and laughter rose from every quarter, while fireworks bloomed against the night sky like stars.

The Li River, cutting through the heart of the city, reflected this brilliance like a ribbon of liquid gold—except for one dark segment that cleaved the light in two.

The Qingyang Bridge, connecting Shanqing District to Feiyang District, stood black and silent. Traffic barriers blocked all access, while "emergency construction" had plunged even the approaching riverbanks and streets into darkness. Residents turned away in confusion, while diverted drivers voiced their frustrations into the night.

The bridge hung suspended in shadow, like a necrotic vessel in the city's vibrant circulatory system.

As midnight approached, a cluster of vehicles materialized in the bridge's western half. Their occupants emerged silently, forming neat lines in the darkness.

Two figures commanded the front of the formation.

The man stood tall with a Black Gold cane, his brown coat cutting a severe line in the darkness. Though his features held a deceptive softness, his deep green eyes gleamed like frozen lakes under the moon. Brown curls, meticulously combed back, framed a face that radiated authority—not asking for respect, but expecting it as given.

Beside him, the woman sat composed in her wheelchair, wrapped in a simple gray wool coat and brown scarf. Her elegant updo and tortoiseshell glasses spoke of refinement, while the gentle creases at her eyes and the slight looseness of her skin betrayed her age. Yet time had been kind—her eyes remained sharp and bright, her bearing graceful despite the years' passage.

Behind Qilin and Surnamed Li stood Colorless, One Stone, Wandering Tune, and Amon. Beyond them stretched the full ranks of the Ocean River Union.

It seemed that even Xiao Xin had been brought forth in his coma—not by choice, but manipulated by Qilin's Puppeteer. His face was sickly, vacant eyes flickering with dim green light. On his neck was a green web-shaped brand that could be vaguely made out.

The Ocean River Union had committed everything. No power held in reserve, no cards left unplayed.

Ring—ring—ring—

Midnight arrived with the year's first bells, their invisible ripples washing over the assembled crowd. Wind whipped across the bridge, stirring everyone’s clothes and hair. They each had a different expression on their face. Some hoped for the enemies to show up soon, others wished that the enemies would never come; some had already picked their opponents, others were looking around for the most optimal escape routes.

The twelfth bell rang. A light bloomed at the bridge's eastern end.

From above, one would see it spread like a drop of molten gold, racing along the darkened bridge—like life flowing through a necrotic vessel, rushing toward the blockage at its heart.

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