The fatty woke up earlier, having already heard the story, and he had no reason to hesitate.
Despite feeling extremely suppressed, he managed to force a casual smile the moment Wu Tianzhen made his suggestion. His face, now much thinner, lacked its usual fleshy jowls, making him truly resemble a carefree wanderer of the martial world.
"Alright!" he exclaimed, slinging an arm around Wu Tianzhen's shoulders. "We'll search everywhere for traces of Little Brother. Don't even joke about it, our Little Brother is so amazing, and who knows how long he's been alive. He might even be some king or general mentioned in history books, hahaha!"
"Then when Little Brother comes out, we'll show him—"
"Hoo! Didn't expect this, Little Brother? All this was the empire you once conquered!"
And so, the matter was decided.
Zhang Haike and Xie Yuchen both had families to manage. They fell silent for a moment upon hearing this, but provided ample supplies.
"...I will always guard the Bronze Gate," Zhang Haike handed them a communicator. "If you—"
He seemed about to say something. Wu Tianzhen looked at him, even thinking several times that Zhang Haike might suggest joining them.
But Zhang Haike ultimately did not.
The voices of his subordinates came from behind him; the elders of his clan were causing trouble again. Zhang Haike opened his mouth, feeling speechless, as if a dense layer of dusty ash had descended before him, burying him completely.
In the end, he simply said, "...Be careful on your journey."
Then Wu Tianzhen and the fatty went to find Hei Yanjing.
Hei Yanjing was still as roguish as ever, darting around everywhere. However, at some point, he had entered into a long-term employment relationship with Xie Yuchen, which gave his movements a degree of clarity.
"Mute?" he leaned against the wall bonelessly, twirling a knife between his fingers, appearing as if nothing could disturb him.
But he paused for a moment upon hearing the question.
...The most painful times, the brushes with death in the darkness of forbidden lands, all surfaced in his mind.
But ultimately, he wasn't that familiar with the mute.
Hei Yanjing didn't respond to their questions. After a long silence, he suddenly grinned slyly, "Who knows—"
"Where that mute went before, how would an ordinary blind man like me know~"
With that, he hummed a tune and pushed the door open, quickly disappearing from sight.
Hei Yanjing did not reappear before Wu Tianzhen and the fatty set off.
But as they bid farewell, Xie Yuchen gently handed them a piece of paper.
"This was given by that blind man. He absolutely refused to come, I don't know what got into him."
Although his words were indifferent, Xie Yuchen's tone was still gentle and soft. Wu Tianzhen took the paper. Written on it in messy yet forceful strokes were a series of locations.
They set off.
This journey required them to measure every step. Without a clear destination, the use of any transportation felt like it was pushing them further away from the person lost in the mist.
Those treacherous paths, those damp caves, those silent forests, were all etched into memory with the appearance of each footprint. Yet, throughout it all, they never managed to capture even a sliver of that person's trace.
Zhang Qiling seemed to have truly become a falling snowflake, melting and disappearing in the flow of time.
This did not discourage the two, it only filled them with profound pain.
...If they had asked everyone they met, searched everywhere, and no one knew of Zhang Qiling's existence, no place bore his mark—
Then how lonely must Zhang Qiling have been at that time.
Neither of them voiced this thought. They continued their search as if engaging in self-torture, delving deeper into increasingly dangerous places.
Finally, in a remote mountain village, they found that trace.
The crude portrait etched with stones on the dilapidated earthen wall, no matter how one looked at it, revealed the artist's lack of skill. Yet, the slightly turned eyes were so lifelike, it was as if the person was quietly standing before them.
That extreme indifference struck them like lightning, but Wu Tianzhen's lips couldn't help but tremble.
...Within that extreme indifference, there was a distinct, overwhelming loneliness.
"They said this was drawn by his great-grandmother when she suddenly had a burst of energy before she passed away," the person who came to translate the dialect explained to them. "Their great-grandmother wasn't educated. Times were chaotic, and they fled here to settle down. For some reason, she kept practicing drawing."
"They didn't understand before, but after seeing this, they realized their great-grandmother might have been painting the person she had always kept in her heart."
Those villagers, dressed in vintage clothing, hadn't seen outsiders for a long time. They were now excitedly gesturing with their hands, telling the translator the story they had grown up hearing.
...Great-grandmother was young once, too. When she was young, she was just a ten-year-old girl.
The girl lost her home in the war and followed a fleeing crowd. She was swept along by the tide of the times, deliberately smearing herself with dirt, living every second in fear.
But one pitch-black night, she collapsed due to prolonged hunger.
No one cared for her; not stepping on her was already an act of kindness. The girl fell onto a stone, her hands covered in blood, the stench of mud mixed with the smell of blood.
She heard wolf howls rising from the surrounding forests.
"...And then that person appeared and bandaged her with herbs."
...That person was dressed in black, but had a handsome face and a cool demeanor. The hand that reached out to bandage her was clean and fair.
The little girl stared blankly as he gently took her mud-covered hand. She couldn't think of many adjectives, only that—
"She thought that person must be the son of a prominent family." The translator was getting into the flow, thinking this would be a classic love story.
...But he didn't stay long. As if suddenly reminded of something by an unknown force, after a moment's pause, he slowly put down the remaining medicine and food, and quietly melted back into the darkness.
The little girl looked up one last time, only catching a glance from him as he turned his head slightly in the flickering firelight.
So clean, the firelight dancing within it made him look like a god descending to save all beings.
But also so lonely.
"...Later, she got up and rejoined the main group. But strangely, the wolf howls gradually disappeared, and she encountered no danger until she safely caught up with the group."
The translator's disappointment was visible. To him, this seemed like just an ordinary, mundane story, utterly uninteresting.
But as he turned with a smile to ask for his payment, he suddenly saw the tear-streaked faces of these two strange individuals.
Wu Tianzhen and the fatty made no sound, but their tears spoke of profound sorrow. The fatty wiped his face and paid. Wu Tianzhen, however, stared intently at the drawing, and for some reason, felt a strange joy—
At least, someone had remembered you so deeply.
Your existence wasn't entirely devoid of light and darkness.
—
No one asked Wu Tianzhen and the fatty what they had found. They continued their journey, flying back to the Bronze Gate every half month to wait for two days.
Time passed in this busy yet uneventful search, until that day—
Exactly two years after Zhang Qiling entered the Bronze Gate, Wu Tianzhen and the fatty stood before the gate, watching its long-closed doors slowly open.
At that moment, the barrier shattered. A immense force swept over them, as if heaven and earth were inverted, the sky sinking to the bottom, the earth rising. Countless fragmented points of light were sucked into the gate, crowding together like shattered rainbow light.
But they paid no attention to this magnificent spectacle.
Amidst the clusters of light, a person was slowly walking out.
He walked very slowly, as if he were a gravely ill patient who hadn't walked in a long time, each step accompanied by a slight pause.
His yellow down jacket was still on him, faded and cracked, with white patches interspersed with bright yellow, looking rather comical.
Zhang Qiling's hair had grown very long, covering half his face. He tilted his head up slightly to look, and through the parting of his hair, his eyes, illuminated by the light, resembled dark, empty voids.
His lips moved. A trickle of blood flowed from his chapped, cracked mouth, only to be swept away by the light.
He didn't say anything. The gaze he cast was so numb and unfamiliar, as if he had walked alone for a very, very long time, so much so that even after reaching his destination, he was still struggling to move forward out of habit.
But he didn't need to say anything.
Wu Tianzhen and the fatty embraced him from either side, their strong, warm arms enveloping him instantly, the force even making him stumble.
He was so weak he couldn't stand steadily. In his vacant gaze, he only saw the crowd outside and the azure sky.
But he knew these two were crying.
The carvings on his arms reappeared at this moment. The intense pain finally revealed its purpose—
"...Wu Tianzhen... Fatty."
The voices in his ears sounded strange, completely different from two years ago. Wu Tianzhen and the fatty paused, only holding him tighter.
They were speechless. The overwhelming joy, the joy of regaining what was lost, drowned them.
Simultaneously, the heartache that arose also drowned them.
...It had only been two years, just two years, and he had already suffered so much.
They knew Zhang Qiling had forgotten much and had endured much pain.
But he was still alive, he had returned safely.
Wu Tianzhen finally found his voice. He choked back sobs, feeling as if his heart had been torn apart and sewn back together.
"It's okay, it's okay, Little Brother, it's okay..."
He spoke a few jumbled words, his voice growing louder:
"...We're home."