Sleepless

Their breathing alternated, but neither ever slowed to a steady rhythm.

Jiang Ci lay under the blanket. It was a semi-worn blanket with cotton stuffing that was thick in some places and thin in others, but it managed to keep out the chill from outside. The candlelight slowly dimmed, and the room grew darker, leaving only a flickering patch of yellow on the wall that stretched and shrank their shadows. She faced the wall, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again. She couldn't fall asleep at all.

Her mind was a mess, an absolute mess. It was so chaotic... she didn't even know what she was thinking. Nor did she know what she should be thinking. She felt that dwelling on things would only lead to more unknowns, so she was better off not thinking at all. She tried to empty her mind and avoid thinking about the things that made her feel worse and worse. But the more she tried, the more those images forced their way into her head, like someone stirring her brain with an iron hook, leaving her with no peace.

But at this moment, she was no longer the master of her own body. The betrayal of her “kin,” the talent they coveted, and the scene of her own trial kept replaying in her head. Jiang Ci had kept her head lowered at the time, unable to see their expressions. But now, in the darkness, she seemed to see them—pairs of eyes, mocking, greedy, and disdainful, staring at her as if she were a piece of merchandise. Zixiao's, Bai Cen's, and those of the elders whose names she couldn't even recall from when she was exiled. She could even see the slight upward curve of their lips, that patronizing posture of treating her like an ant.

The more she thought, the more terrified and pained she became. And the more terrified and pained she became, the more she thought. Jiang Ci felt as if her entire chest were being crushed. A phantom pain lingered where her heart had once been gouged out—it wasn't real pain, but her body remembered the agony. She curled up, her whole body beginning to tremble slightly. Her fingers gripped the corner of the blanket, her knuckles turning white, her fingernails nearly sinking into the fabric. Once she relaxed, the emotions she had forced down into the depths of her heart surged like a tide, completely swallowing her. Fear, humiliation, anger, and an indescribable sense of grievance tangled together like a lump of mud blocking her throat, impossible to spit out or swallow down. Her breathing grew faster and more ragged, and the bedboard began to vibrate slightly. She tried desperately to control herself, but it was useless; her body simply wouldn't listen to her.

“What's wrong?”

Like grabbing onto a piece of driftwood, Jiang Ci abruptly broke free from that sea of emotions. The images from just now vanished instantly, as if a bucket of cold water had been splashed over her. She wanted to take deep breaths, but fearing he would realize she was awake, she deliberately suppressed her breathing. She hadn't expected Lu Yan to still be awake; she had assumed he was asleep. His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear, like a blade cutting through her and the surrounding chaos.

“Stop pretending. If you can't sleep, you can't sleep. It's better to talk about whatever's on your mind.”

Lu Yan actually couldn't sleep either. His sleeplessness tonight wasn't due to nightmares, but simply because sleeping on the stool made his back ache. He had sat on this lousy stool for three years without a single complaint, but lately, perhaps because of the damp weather, the wood had absorbed some moisture and felt incredibly stiff. He tossed and turned, changing positions, but nothing felt comfortable. Just as he was wondering if he should just sit up, he suddenly noticed that something seemed off with Little Jiang nearby—why was her breathing getting so rapid, and why were the bed legs shaking slightly? Wait, what the hell is she doing? No, it's not like she has a joystick; she can't be some legendary pilot. What's going on?

He pricked up his ears and listened. Her breathing grew heavier, but not with the heaviness of sleep. It was the kind of heavy breathing that came from being weighed down by something, struggling desperately but unable to break free. He had seen this state before; in fact, he had experienced it countless times himself. In the dead of night, the things you thought you had forgotten would crawl out on their own, grabbing you by the throat and leaving you breathless.

After Lu Yan called out to her, he noticed her breathing gradually return to normal, but it was clearly forced. She was deliberately slowing her breathing, pretending nothing had happened. He raised his eyebrows, his lips curling up into a distinct smirk. She's pretending to be asleep.

Little girl, your Grandpa Lu is the absolute master of faking sleep. From his past life, where he could pinpoint footsteps by sound while dominating the Rift and seamlessly hide his phone to fake sleep in one fluid motion, to being hunted down and playing dead so convincingly that he went undetected under the enemy's detection spells. Trying to pull this on him was like showing off broadsword skills in front of Guan Yu, or wielding an axe in front of Lu Ban. She had walked right into his specialty.

He didn't actually laugh out loud, though. His lips merely twitched as he suppressed his amusement. He could guess what was going on; she had something on her mind. It was just like when he had first escaped from the Northern Border to the Central Continent back then—unable to sleep in the middle of the night, his mind filled with things he shouldn't be thinking about. Those images would replay over and over like a broken recording stone, impossible to turn off, and he hadn't dared to turn them off anyway. He understood.

Having been caught by Lu Yan, Jiang Ci stopped pretending. She cleared her throat, let out a casual “Ah,” and rubbed her eyes—they weren't actually dry; she just wanted to give herself something to do so the situation wouldn't be too awkward. Facing Lu Yan's direction, she asked, “You're not asleep yet?”

Lu Yan found this even more amusing. “So tell me, how did you end up in the Northern Border? Did those bastards in the Central Continent slap some trumped-up charge on you?” His tone was casual, as if asking if she had eaten today, but the weight of his words was anything but light.

Jiang Ci froze. She opened her mouth, her voice slightly stammering, “How... how did you know?”

“Oh—” Lu Yan let out a long “oh” in his mind. So it really was. He asked again, “What kind of charge? Committing crimes, or going into qi deviation?” His attitude was casual, even a bit nonchalant, as if he were just making small talk. But Jiang Ci could tell he wasn't mocking her; he was giving her a way out.

Jiang Ci still hadn't recovered from her shock. Hearing Lu Yan's question, she subconsciously replied, “There are quite a few. Which one do you mean?” Her voice was dry, as if she were reporting battle statistics.

“Pfft—” Lu Yan couldn't hold it in. This girl was like an NPC, rattling off a list of achievements all at once, as if terrified people wouldn't know how miserable she was. After a moment's thought, he chose a safer way to ask: “Then pick the one you think is the most serious.”

In her mind, Jiang Ci went through the absurd charges that had been pinned on her one by one. Harming fellow disciples? She didn't even know who Liu Yun was. Colluding with calamity spirits? The Ice Spirit Cult followers she had killed could form a long line. Disobeying her elders? She had always been absolutely respectful to her master. She didn't acknowledge a single one of these charges, yet they were stuck to her like plaster, impossible to peel off. They all seemed quite serious. The most serious...

“Colluding with an evil cult, I suppose,” she said. Her voice was very soft, as if she were talking to herself.

Lu Yan's lips twitched. Colluding with an evil cult? He let out a chuckle, one devoid of mockery, filled only with the helplessness of “as expected.” “Still the same old excuse. That's exactly how they framed me back then, too.”

Before Jiang Ci could fully digest those words, something in her mind suddenly clicked into place. She chewed on those words over and over—blind, evil cult. He was hiding alone in the Northern Border. He wouldn't give his real name, telling her to call him “Shiyi.” He understood what it felt like to be falsely accused. He had just said, “That's exactly how they framed me back then, too.” On the Central Continent Alliance's wanted list, among the top three was a blind remnant of the Formation Sect who sold fake medicine and ran an evil cult. Ten years ago, he had jumped off Boundary Cliff, his fate unknown. When she was on a mission in the Northern Border, she had heard a missionary from the Ice Spirit Cult mention this name.

Wait. Blind. Evil cult.

He was...!

Jiang Ci's eyes widened as an answer surfaced in her heart. She didn't speak it aloud; she didn't call out that name.

The room was dead silent. The candle had shortened by another fraction, the wax dripping down the candlestick and congealing into a small puddle as the flame flickered slightly. The two shadows leaned against each other on the wall, motionless, as if they had been waiting for a very long time.