Due to the searing severity of his calf pain, Deming didn't sleep much that night. Every slight movement sent agonizing jolts through his leg, preventing deep rest. Before anyone else woke up, while the world was still cloaked in predawn silence, Deming decided to initiate another desperate escape plan, driven by the lingering terror of recapture. But as he tried to put weight on his foot, the blinding calf pain flared, preventing him from walking a single step. He had no choice but to fall asleep again, collapsing into a restless doze.
When he was finally awakened by the familiar noise of other people stirring, the soft sounds of the camp coming to life, it was already too late to escape unnoticed. With the kind help of Tam Kun, who supported him gently, Deming followed the group, walking slowly, agonizingly, towards the intersection.
Everyone was going down the mountain, returning to Waterfall City, their journey home a stark contrast to his own desperate flight. After walking for two agonizing hours, despite Tam Kun's support, Deming's calf began bleeding again, the fresh white bandage soaking with crimson.
Tam Kun, noticing the spreading red stain, shouted with concern, "Sister Ah Qiu, come and look at his leg, it's bleeding again!"
Ah Qiu, her face immediately serious, saw that the bandage was soaked with blood, a grim sight. "Senior Brother!" she called out to Guozhao Zhiqiang, her voice sharp with urgency. "We're going to take a break and change Brother Deming's wound dressing. Ah Kun, I asked you to help him, why did you let the wound bleed this much?" She looked at Deming, her brow furrowed. "Don't put pressure on your feet, Brother Deming."
Tam Liang wiped the sweat from his forehead, his own exhaustion evident. "It's impossible not to put pressure on his feet because he's walking, Ah Qiu," he explained, a note of helplessness in his voice.
Ah Qiu, with practiced movements, wrapped a new, clean dressing on Deming's calf, carefully stemming the flow of blood. She looked at Tam Liang and Tam Kun, her gaze firm. "Brother and Cousin Brother, you two take turns carrying Brother Deming on your back. This way he doesn't put pressure on his legs. Blood pumps faster when walking. Carrying him on your back will help prevent further bleeding and aid in healing."
Tam Kun, ever practical, suggested, "We could build something to carry him, like a litter, which is very easy for us to construct and carry."
They then saw, from a distance, a group of thirty people dressed in black, their movements swift and aggressive, engaged in a fierce fight with three men dressed in white, clearly a brutal ambush.
Tam Kun, his eyes narrowing, said, "From the perspective of clothing, it must be Snow Sector members fighting bandits."
As the hunters approached closer, they saw Hu Dingxiang and three of his disciples fighting desperately against the thirty people, clearly overwhelmed. The Guozhao Hunters, driven by their principles, immediately rushed in to help Snow Sector fight off the unexpected bandits.
"I can't believe there are bandits around here!" Tam Kun shouted wildly, drawing his sword and leaping into the fray. He looked at Deming, his voice urgent, "You stay here, Deming, it's too dangerous!"
Tam Liang and Tam Kun, along with the other Guozhao hunters, left Deming to fend for himself, assuming he was relatively safe behind them. But another twenty bandits, a secondary force, approached stealthily from behind, aiming directly at the defenseless Deming.
One bandit, with a brutal grab, caught Deming, pulling him into a headlock, and another bandit, just as swiftly, caught Hu Dingxiang, securing him as a hostage.
Ah Qiu, turning sharply as she caught sight of the new threat, quickly turned and shouted at the bandit who took Deming hostage, "Let him go!"
Bandit One, confused by the sudden appearance of two identical red-haired men, muttered, "There are two Hu Dingxiangs! Which one is the real one?"
Deming looked at Hu Dingxiang. Hu Dingxiang also glanced at Deming. Deming couldn't believe he was looking at himself. Everything about this man was very similar to him. The only difference was the clothes they wore.
The bandits pulled Deming and Hu Dingxiang next to each other, a cruel display of their identical appearances.
Guozhao Zhiqiang's gaze had been fixed on Hu Dingxiang, watching his former lover, but upon seeing the two look-alikes, a terrible truth began to dawn. He suddenly sent a single, powerful talisman at the man holding Deming hostage, then, with a primal roar of fury, lunged with incredible speed at the man who took Hu Dingxiang hostage. Guozhao Zhiqiang grabbed the man's sword, twisting it from his grip, and with a brutal twist, broke the man's wrist with a sickening snap. The man's sword fell to the ground, and Hu Dingxiang walked out unharmed, released from his captor.
On the other hand, Deming was not so lucky. The talisman Guozhao Zhiqiang had sent, originally aimed at the bandit holding Deming, turned into a deadly icicle upon contact. It pierced through Deming's left chest and, passing through him, hit the bandit's left chest. Simultaneously, Tam Liang's icicle, aimed at the same bandit, hit the bandit's head, killing him instantly. Both the dead bandit and Deming fell to the ground, Deming landing tragically on top of the dead bandit, his body convulsing.
Ah Qiu shouted worriedly, her voice filled with anguish, "Brother Deming!" She rushed over, her face pale with horror. She knelt down and frantically pulled Deming off the dead bandit, her hands immediately beginning to put pressure on the bleeding wound on his chest.
Tam Liang stood beside Ah Qiu, helpless, his face grim. "What can I do?" he asked, desperate to help.
"Give me my bag!" Ah Qiu snapped, her voice urgent, needing her medical supplies.
Tam Liang started searching frantically for Ah Qiu's bag among the scattered belongings on the ground.
Deming looked at Ah Qiu, tears streaming down his face, his voice barely a whisper. "Sister Ah Qiu... don't save me." He looked at the sky, and the clouds moved gently with the wind, vast and free. "It's beautiful here," he murmured, a peaceful resignation in his voice. "I like it better than the dark dungeon, far better."
Guozhao Zhiqiang knelt down beside Deming, his face a mask of agony, his heart breaking. "I'm sorry," he whispered, a profound apology for his intended mistake. He turned his head to look at Hu Dingxiang, who stood a few feet away, unharmed, his face impassive.
Blood gushed from the corner of Deming's mouth. He smiled, a fragile, bittersweet expression. "It's okay. I forgive you," he choked out, his voice fading.
"Don't talk too much. I will heal you!" Ah Qiu said frantically, desperately trying to stem the bleeding, her own tears falling onto his face. She held his right hand, searching for his pulse. "Older Brother," she cried to Tam Liang, "where is my bag?!"
Deming, with a last surge of strength, reached into his belt and pulled out the tassel with the silver bell, holding the bell tightly in his left hand, its familiar weight a comfort. He looked at Ah Qiu, a profound understanding dawning in his eyes, now clear and bright with dying light. "Sister Ah Qiu, I understand now," he said, a faint, knowing scoff escaping him, and as more blood poured out of his mouth, he coughed weakly. "I understand what the man meant when he promised me that 'In a faraway land there is a city up in the cloud. There lives a goddess who always welcomes me with open arms.'" He started sobbing, soft, ragged sounds. "I think I'm going there now. Please don't save me. Let me go."
Guozhao Zhiqiang was taken aback, his eyes wide with shock, and quickly looked back at Deming, his mind reeling. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice sharp with disbelief. This was exactly what he had said to Hu Dingxiang nine years ago, a private conversation, a desperate promise, but Hu Dingxiang hadn't remembered their conversation at all when asked. What shocked him even more, twisting his gut with a terrible realization, was that Deming, whom he had only met two days ago, would know of his private conversation with Hu Dingxiang, words meant for only one person.
Deming cried, his voice fading, "I'm too stupid. I'm too stupid," he repeated, wracked with self-blame. "I also begged him to take me with him, to that fairytale city." He sobbed and then, with a final, heartbreaking smile, gave a weak, gurgling laugh. "Ha...ha...ha..." Deming began to vomit blood, his life draining away.
Guozhao Zhiqiang, with a desperate surge of hope, grabbed Deming's left hand. As he held it, he saw, unmistakably, that there was still a red, dirty thread tied tightly to Deming's left wrist, barely visible beneath the blood and grime. He remembered, with a profound, terrible clarity, nine years ago, that he told Hu Dingxiang never to take it off, as a token of his love and promise. He started to laugh, a wild, hysterical sound, part agony, part dawning, unbearable truth. And now, he also understood.
Guozhao Zhiqiang laughed hysterically, the sound echoing strangely in the chaos, then, amidst the tears, murmured, "I understand now. It was you all along."
It was getting darker and darker, the twilight deepening. Deming saw Ah Qiu screaming at Tam Kun, her face contorted in anguish, but couldn't hear what she was saying, the sounds fading. He was very happy that Guozhao Zhiqiang, had ended his sad life for him, freeing him from endless torment. Then everything darkened, slipping away into merciful oblivion.
In the quiet, dark room of the inn, illuminated only by the faint glow of the oil lamp, Guozhao Zhiqiang opened the window, listening to the heavy rain pouring outside, its steady rhythm matching the tumult in his heart. He needed to confirm his terrifying suspicion, to face the impossible truth. He sat on the floor next to the bed, his hand holding Deming's, his touch gentle.
Deming woke up slowly, groaning faintly in pain, a soft snort escaping him. Deming realized where he was, feeling the unfamiliar softness of a real bed, and quickly withdrew his hand, his body tensing with fear. His heart sank, a cold dread washing over him, and he thought he must have returned to the dark prison again, that his freedom was merely another cruel trick. He quickly got up, scrambling backward, and retreated towards the cold, unyielding wall, trying to press himself into the shadows.
Guozhao Zhiqiang, seeing his terror, calmly climbed onto the bed and gently held Deming's hand, his touch reassuring. From Deming's heavy, ragged breathing, he knew that Deming must be very scared, his trauma still raw. So, he slowly raised Deming's hands and, with infinite tenderness, pressed them to his face, guiding Deming's fingers across his features.
Deming, feeling the familiar contours, remembered the touch, the warmth, the kindness. "Is that you?" Deming said in a trembling voice, a fragile hope in his tone, but fear still warring within him. "Please let me go. I didn't see your face. I can't identify who you are, I promise."
"Do you still want to go to the city in the cloud?" Guozhao Zhiqiang asked, his voice soft, a gentle test.
Deming softly cried, tears welling anew, the old pain resurfacing. "There is no such a city in the clouds, please don't lie to me again... They said it's just fairytales."
"There is," Guozhao Zhiqiang confidently said, his voice firm, unwavering, a promise of undeniable truth. He held Deming tightly in his arms, his embrace a sanctuary. "I promise to take you there. It's called Cloud City, and it's real."
Deming struggled to break free from Guozhao Zhiqiang's embrace, his fear and the ingrained belief in betrayal still strong. "I know you are the boss's friend," he sobbed, his voice hoarse. "The boss lied to me, and you lied to me too! Please let me go! I didn't see your face and I won't be able to identify you, I swear!"
Guozhao Zhiqiang, seeing the deep-seated terror and distrust, decided he had to break through the illusion completely. He released a fire talisman, its light brightly illuminating the oil lamp in the room, flooding the small space with warm light. Deming, instinctively terrified of being fully seen, quickly closed his eyes, squeezing them shut against the sudden brightness.
Guozhao Zhiqiang watched Deming close his eyes in tears, his body trembling, but refusing to open them, trapped by his fear. He brought Deming's head closer, his voice soft. He gently kissed Deming's left eye, then his right eye, then his forehead, each kiss a silent reassurance. He slowly, tenderly, kissed Deming's trembling lips, a deep, comforting connection.
Deming, overwhelmed by the tenderness, finally opened his eyes, slowly, hesitantly. He stared into the big, kind hazel eyes of the man holding him. Deming pulled his head back slightly, his face a mask of disbelief, his voice a disbelieving whisper. "It's you... the person from nine years ago, is that you?"
Guozhao Zhiqiang nodded, his own eyes brimming with unshed tears, a profound relief washing over him. He held Deming even tighter in his arms, pulling him into an unbreakable embrace. "It's me," he affirmed, his voice choked with emotion, "it was always me."
Fear, profound and crushing, slid down Deming's spine and sank into his heart. Nine years ago, the boss told him that this kind man, the one who had just saved him, was his "good friend." They must be waiting for the boss to show up, waiting to trick him again. He must leave. He didn't want to go back to the dungeon again. He would rather run away and die in the rain than be locked up in that smelly, cruel dungeon, a prisoner of their games.
Inside Guozhao Zhiqiang's arms, Deming's mind raced, a desperate plan forming. If they could lie to him, why couldn't he lie to them? He would use their tactics against them, a final act of rebellion. Deming broke free from Guozhao Zhiqiang's embrace, pushing away, and lied, his voice surprisingly firm, "I'm hungry, can you get me something to eat?"
Guozhao Zhiqiang, seeing the subtle shift in his expression, but interpreting it as genuine hunger, nodded. He walked to the door, his heart still aching, and glanced at Deming again before closing it, leaving Deming alone in the light.
Deming, seizing the moment, quickly got up, his body screaming in pain, and slowly, stealthily walked out the back door of the inn, disappearing into the dark, rainy night. His left calf, still injured, and his upper left chest, where the icicle had pierced him, were throbbing with intense pain. As he wandered the dark, unfamiliar street, the pain became unbearable, a searing, all-consuming agony. His left leg completely abandoned him, refusing to bear his weight. He fell to the ground and crawled bit by bit, using only his arms, dragging himself forward. He crawled and sobbed in the cold, heavy rain, desperately trying to escape, to reach some unknown safety. He knew, with a final, desperate certainty, that he could not continue, his body broken. He stopped, collapsing into the muddy street. Then, a pair of powerful, familiar arms gently picked him up. He opened his eyes, blurred by rain and tears, and saw that it was Guozhao Zhiqiang, his face etched with sorrow and determination.
"Please let me go," Deming pleaded, his voice a raw, broken whisper, still convinced he was being played. "I don't want to go back to the dark dungeon."
"I will take you away as we promised, Deming," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice firm, unwavering, a true vow. He looked deeply into Deming's eyes, his own brimming with truth and regret. "I want you to know that I was being lied to as well. I did not know."
"How?" Deming asked, his voice filled with disbelief, the ingrained distrust still powerful. "You are a friend of the boss. You were with him."
"I don't know who this 'boss' is, the one who enslaved you, but he is not my friend," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice hard with cold anger. "I can only assure you that from now on, if someone wants to harm you, they must pass me first. They will have to kill me." Guozhao Zhiqiang gently kissed Deming on his forehead, a profound, protective gesture. "I will never let anything happen to you. I swear."
With heavy rain pouring down on them, drenching their clothes, Guozhao Zhiqiang returned to the inn, carrying Deming carefully in his arms, bringing him back to safety, to a true home.