Chapter 63: Flowers for a Lonely God

But since he didn’t want to say, Ming Kong didn’t press further, shifting his gaze away.

Pei Liu seized the opportunity to shake off the flower vine, taking a few steps to the side. To his surprise, he actually saw the flower vine droop down, the flowers on it wilting, looking exceptionally aggrieved.

A single flower vine could actually convey such a vivid emotion.

Amused, Pei Liu let out a helpless chuckle, reaching out to pat the vine. Just as it was about to wrap around him again, he immediately pulled his hand back, teasing it on purpose, unable to restrain a smile at its pitiful look.

The flower that had accidentally fallen into his clothes made him uncomfortable, and he desperately wanted to retrieve it. But this was inconvenient; at the very least, he would have to untie his sash and half-undress to get it out.

Pei Liu considered letting the flower vine help him retrieve it for a second, but on second thought, decided against it. He couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t play some other tricks, especially with Qin Wu and Ming Kong nearby.

For now, he could only ignore the flower, enduring the tickling sensation as he continued his stroll as if nothing were amiss.

The side room wasn’t very large. After a brief stroll, Pei Liu had nothing left to do. In the modern era, he could play on his phone or computer, or go out for a walk, but here, none of that was possible.

So, Pei Liu asked: “Are there books to read?”

Qin Wu was about to speak, but Ming Kong beat him to it: “We mostly have scriptures here. There are many books in the archive room of the main building; you can go there to have a look. But remember, you must first ask the deity for permission.”

Pei Liu thanked him and left.

Watching his retreating back vanish, Qin Wu immediately nudged Ming Kong’s arm: “We clearly have some books here we could have brought out for him to read. Why did you make him go disturb the deity?”

Ming Kong said calmly: “Don’t forget, he is the deity’s sacrifice. Just now, the deity ordered us to prepare food for him.”

A sacrifice naturally belonged by the deity’s side, not to mention this sacrifice was somewhat different.

***

Pei Liu returned to the main building. This was where he had first arrived, and the presence of Xie Wuyu’s deity statue made him feel instinctively close to it.

Sitting on the cushion, Pei Liu asked in a low voice: “Deity, I’d like to visit the archive room, is that alright?”

The deity gave no response.

Pei Liu stood up, walked to the shrine, and reached out, wanting to touch the carved, uneven patterns on the statue. But just as he was about to touch it, a voice suddenly echoed in his mind.

“Yes.”

It was just a single word. Before he could fully process it, it vanished, leaving him to think he had hallucinated.

Pei Liu withdrew his hand, turned, and went to the archive room.

There were many bookshelves, and the collection of books was indeed abundant.

But Pei Liu didn’t search for a book to read immediately, because he still had to retrieve the flower from his lower back. He walked to a corner, untied his sash halfway, let the collar slide down to his arms, exposing half of his shoulder, before he could reach his hand back and successfully retrieve the flower.

He had originally wanted to place the flower on the nearby bookshelf temporarily, but because it had been squeezed, the petals were slightly crushed, releasing a few drops of juice. Some pollen had also gotten onto Pei Liu’s fingers. To avoid making a mess, Pei Liu cupped the flower in his palm, struggled slightly to adjust his clothes, and tied the sash.

Looking closely at this moment, he discovered the flower was quite beautiful—small, with a gradual transition from deep to pale yellow, bringing a brightness to his eyes.

Pei Liu examined it for a while, feeling somewhat reluctant to throw it away.

He walked out of the archive room, washed his hands, plucked a few more fully bloomed flowers, placed them on the offering table before the shrine, gave a small smile, and said in a low voice: “The flowers are blooming beautifully, so I wanted the deity to see them too.”

Then, he returned to the archive room.

The slightly crushed flower in his hand was placed on a corner of the desk. While sitting down to read, he would occasionally look up at it.

Traveling to ancient times was indeed a novel experience.

Pei Liu held the scripture rolls that emitted the scent of ink. They described bizarre occurrences and anecdotes with strong characteristics of the era, which was highly interesting. He unconsciously lost himself in the reading, finishing a book before he knew it. He stood up, intending to exchange it for another.

But he never expected that the moment he looked up, he would see a tall, exceptionally familiar figure standing by the bookshelf.

Waist-length black hair, pale and handsome, wearing a set of black silk robes.

Just like when they first met.

Except he looked even younger.

The Xie Wuyu Pei Liu met in the future possessed an extremely powerful aura, carrying the weight of having lived through the ages—mature and dangerous. But the Xie Wuyu before him looked only eighteen, and his demeanor wasn’t as cold and distant.

Suddenly, he had become a younger partner.

Pei Liu felt as if he were looking at a high school younger brother.

He couldn’t help but take a few more glances. Xie Wuyu didn’t appear offended by his stare; his expression remained calm as he held a scroll, reading in silence.

Pei Liu called out hesitantly: “…Deity?”

Xie Wuyu paused, slightly raised his eyes, and looked at him, as if asking what was the matter.

Pei Liu suggested: “Would you like to sit over there to read? Standing is quite tiring.”

Xie Wuyu nodded, holding the scroll as he walked toward the desk.

There was only one chair. Pei Liu had originally thought about going to get the cushion in front of the offering table, but he saw an identical carved wooden chair materialize out of thin air behind Xie Wuyu, and the other sat down.

Pei Liu didn’t need to make the trip anymore, sitting down as well to read the ancient miscellaneous books.

Neither spoke, simply going about their own business, yet the atmosphere wasn’t awkward at all.

The desk was right by the window, the lighting bright and warm.

While reading, Pei Liu instinctively wanted to share something with Xie Wuyu. But the moment he raised his head, opened his mouth, and saw the other’s unfamiliar gaze, he remembered where he was.

This Xie Wuyu didn’t know him yet.

Pei Liu suddenly felt a bit dejected, his chest tight.

Xie Wuyu noticed the change in his expression. The page he was about to turn stopped, and without his finger supporting it, it fell back.

He could feel that Pei Liu had been eager to say something to him, but upon seeing that it was him and not that person, his gaze had dimmed, filled with obvious disappointment.

Xie Wuyu pressed his lips together, lowered his head to continue reading, acting as if he had seen nothing.

But soon, he heard a voice from across the desk.

“Did the deity see the flowers on the offering table?”

Pei Liu’s eyes curved into crescents, shimmering with scattered light.

Xie Wuyu nodded: “Mhm.”

“Aren’t they beautiful? They still have dew on them. I picked the most beautiful ones to let you see.”

Xie Wuyu had naturally seen them; he had also seen the scene of him bending over to earnestly pluck the flowers—dark hair, red robes, gorgeous and radiant.

His gaze unconsciously fell on the slightly crushed flower on the corner of the desk.

“Also, I want to thank the deity for letting them take me to eat. The vegetarian food was plain, but the taste was good, especially the tofu, which was so tender and smooth—fresher than any I’ve eaten before.”

Xie Wuyu had also eaten it, many years ago, though he could no longer remember the taste clearly. Because he had displayed divine power, he wouldn’t die even without eating or drinking, so the clan stopped preparing mortal food for him. That made him resemble a deity more.

Now, listening to Pei Liu’s description, he vaguely recalled some of the flavors.

It seemed indeed delicious.

He seemed to… also have a dish he liked very much? What was it?

He couldn’t remember.

His experiences as a human grew increasingly blurry, as if something were slowly being stripped away from him.

Xie Wuyu’s hand rested on the page, falling silent.

Pei Liu asked: “What does the deity usually do?”

His consciousness sank into a void, watching all things grow and change, occasionally helping some mortals.

He seemed to have done a lot, yet also seemed to have done nothing.

Pei Liu leaned forward, suggesting: “Shall we play chess together?”

Xie Wuyu nodded: “Okay.”

Then, he stood up, intending to have a servant bring a chess set over. In truth, he could have directly issued the order through telepathy, but he suddenly wanted to act like an ordinary human.

Pei Liu followed him out.

As they walked through the long corridor, the blooming flower branches brushed against his robes, the petals and leaves swaying as light and shadow fell over him, looking as if flowers were blooming on his garments.

Xie Wuyu appeared to be walking unhurriedly, but he actually moved very fast. While trying to keep up, Pei Liu, unused to the ancient garments that draped past his ankles, accidentally stepped on his hem.

A slender hand caught him just in time, supporting his arm. Applying a slight force, the hand let go once he was steady, maintaining a proper distance.

“Be careful, no need to rush,” Xie Wuyu said calmly and gently. “Actually, you didn’t need to come along.”

Pei Liu smiled: “Aren’t I the deity’s sacrifice? Naturally, wherever the deity goes, I must follow. How could I let the deity be alone?”

Xie Wuyu was silent.

But after that, Xie Wuyu slowed his pace, subtly accommodating Pei Liu.

Pei Liu trailed a step behind him, quietly observing him.

He felt that Xie Wuyu’s current personality was very different from in the future—taciturn, displaying few expressions, and his actions were flawless, resembling a perfect gentleman. But this perfection felt unreal, like a meticulously carved statue placed on a high platform, forbidden from having personal thoughts and feelings—repressed and pained.

Pei Liu recalled the past Ming Kong had told him—a young, innocent child, at an age when he should be acting spoiled in his mother’s arms, was instead locked in a dark room copying scriptures day and night, placed on a high platform as a deity to be worshipped, becoming a thorough tool for profit.

Furthermore, this was a past Xie Wuyu had truly experienced, one that couldn’t be changed.

His heart suddenly ached, making it hard to breathe.

He lowered his head for a moment, then suddenly took two steps forward, looking up at Xie Wuyu with a bright smile, and brought up a light and pleasant topic.

One in red, one in black—both exceptionally good-looking. A delicate young man smiling as he spoke, while the other handsome man listened quietly.

The deity and the sacrifice walked side-by-side out of the vermilion main doors.

Qin Wu and Ming Kong saw this scene and couldn’t help but freeze together.

They had served the deity for many years, but the times the deity had revealed his face were few, let alone chatting with someone.

When hearing the request for a chess set, Qin Wu had merely agreed out of instinct, his body forgetting to move, and it was Ming Kong who dragged him away.

***

In the afternoon, Qin Wu was sweeping the courtyard of the main building, his gaze drifting toward the window of the archive room from time to time.

There, he could vaguely see the deity playing chess with his sacrifice, and occasionally the sounds of relaxed, smiling conversation would drift out.

Qin Wu frowned, finding it hard to accept.

Ming Kong, however, looked at it very openly: “I actually think this is quite good. The deity is also a person, after all; having emotions and desires isn’t wrong.”

“But he is the deity! Supreme and high, he should be revered by everyone,” Qin Wu disagreed.

Ming Kong didn’t argue with him, saying instead: “I’m actually more worried that if Pei Liu sees the deity’s other side, he’ll be scared away.”

This time, Qin Wu fell silent.

***

Throughout the entire day, Pei Liu stayed in the archive room, playing chess and reading books with Xie Wuyu. Sometimes, when he came across something confusing, he would discuss it with Xie Wuyu.

Time passed unconsciously.

When he discovered the sky had gone dark, Pei Liu was very surprised, and his stomach was also hungry.

He patted his stomach, and Xie Wuyu said: “Go have your meal.”

Pei Liu asked in return: “Does the deity not eat?”

Xie Wuyu was about to refuse, but when his eyes met Pei Liu’s, he paused.

Pei Liu looked at him eagerly: “Let’s eat together, okay?”

Xie Wuyu fell silent for two seconds and said: “We’ll eat here.”

“Then I’ll go bring the vegetarian food over, please wait a moment!”

Seeing him agree, Pei Liu turned and ran out, as if afraid he would go back on his word.

Crossing the threshold, his dark hair flew, his vibrant red sleeves fluttering like a red butterfly spreading its wings.

Before long, Pei Liu returned carrying the food box. Passing the flower bushes, several green flower vines reached over, intertwining and wrapping together to form a thick, rope-like column. They gently encircled Pei Liu’s wrist, rubbing against it pleasingly, and then hooked the handle of the food box to help him carry it.

Pei Liu froze, then smiled: “Thank you.”

The flower vines shook their tiny flowers, as if responding silently, looking very cute.

Upon reaching the main room, Pei Liu took the food box from the flower vine and gave it a pat before it slowly retreated.

Pei Liu turned around, making direct eye contact with Xie Wuyu standing under the corridor eaves. A hint of confusion seemed to linger on his indifferent face.

Pei Liu couldn’t help but think: Does he not know about his connection to the flower vines?