HTCYH Ch 13

Chapter 13: The End (Final)

After Tu Si absorbed the strange flower sphere, the game space instantly collapsed. It flickered like a malfunctioning computer screen, and then the surrounding scenery vanished one by one, as though someone had pressed the delete key. Soon after, everyone plunged into the depths of darkness.

Yet, Tu Si was completely oblivious to all these changes. His vision turned into a blur of white, his mind utterly unable to think, drowning in excruciating pain. His entire body ached, though he couldn’t pinpoint where exactly; his muscles spasmed violently, and his hands uncontrollably clawed at his own flesh.

Just as his torn-up arms began to drift toward his face, a pair of cool, jade-like hands stopped him. He was pulled into someone’s embrace. That person gently supported Tu Si’s back, one knee bracing his waist, one hand firmly yet tenderly restraining Tu Si’s flailing arms, while the other pried open his convulsing, clenched jaw with the base of the thumb, preventing his tongue from blocking his airway or getting bitten during the spasms.

Tu Si felt the filthy black miasma writhing inside him like countless crawling worms, slithering throughout his body with nowhere to vent, nowhere to purge. His restrained hands only added to his mounting panic, and he sobbed brokenly, emitting a low, guttural growl — a threat born of instinct, meant to scare off whoever was holding him. Yet the person restraining him remained unshaken, loosening his grip only slightly — enough to avoid hurting him, yet still firm enough that Tu Si could not escape.

Driven to desperation, Tu Si thrashed his head violently, unable to shake off the hand gripping his jaw, and in his frenzy, he bit down savagely on the stubborn hand.

At this moment, terror had already eroded all of Tu Si’s rationality. His resistance was pure instinct and feral rage. His teeth sank into the tender flesh of the palm, tearing off a strip of skin and flesh that he swallowed in one gulp. Sweet, rich nectar flooded his throat — and in an instant, the pain wracking his body eased. The foul black miasma halted its rampage and began to gather quietly at his dantian.¹

Feeling slightly more comfortable, Tu Si’s struggles lessened considerably. He even had the leisure to smack his lips, savoring the taste.

But, as with a sick person craving cake — no matter how delicious — nausea inevitably followed after swallowing it. The moment the “deliciousness” went down, it churned violently in his stomach. Nausea surged. Tu Si gagged and retched, coughing up thick, pitch-black tar-like fluid, vile and sticky, splattering everywhere — drenching the person holding him.

He vomited and vomited; who knew for how long? Eventually, the white blur before his eyes cleared into hazy double vision. Through the overlapping silhouettes, he vaguely realized he was cradled in Wuming’s arms. Recalling how he had bitten off a piece of Wuming’s flesh, he remembered that the taste had been exactly as he imagined — rich, springy, succulent. A pity it was too small to satisfy him.

Contentedly reminiscing, Tu Si wriggled slightly, wiped his mouth against a relatively clean spot on Wuming’s clothes, and then sank back into the comforting darkness, slipping into unconsciousness.

He knew he was dreaming, yet it didn’t stop him from marveling at the dream’s beauty — luminous petals fluttering across the sky, a crystal-clear, icy stream flowing beneath him. Barefoot, he stood in the middle of the stream, the cool water slipping soundlessly between his toes, carrying away the filth clinging to his body without leaving a trace.

Clusters of drifting petals lit the path like lanterns, leading him deeper into the dream. At the heart of the dream stood a colossal peach blossom tree — a single tree forming an entire forest.

Amidst the trees, Tu Si saw the bride. No — she was no longer “the bride.” She had a name now. Her name was Sun Caiwei.

Sun Caiwei leaned against a protruding tree root. Without the heavy makeup, she appeared even more ethereal and pure — bright eyes, snow-white teeth, twin pupils clear as water. She exuded a natural grace and spiritual aura, and the soft pink of her gauzy skirt blended seamlessly with the drifting peach blossoms. Half veiled, half revealed, she resembled a fairy untouched by the mortal world, faintly divine, impossibly distant.

When Sun Caiwei saw Tu Si arrive, she smiled faintly. “Do I look pretty now? I don’t look like a fox spirit anymore, right? Actually, I always wanted to be a flower fairy since childhood — a peach blossom fairy. Do I look like one now?”

Tu Si nervously tugged at his hair. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to insult you back then. You’re beautiful now! Truly beautiful! You’re not imitating a peach blossom fairy — you are the peach blossom fairy. I just want to say, be confident! You don’t need to imitate anyone — you are you. Everything in this world is one of a kind; you don’t need to imitate anything — you just are.”

Sun Caiwei giggled softly. “For a dodder vine² with a bit of human sensibility, life in human society must be hard, huh? Thinking you’re being kind, yet always misunderstood as being sarcastic. Pure kindness turned into a knife by evil people. Every cautious step becoming a target for everyone’s arrows.”

Tu Si wasn’t surprised at her words. He could peer into Sun Caiwei’s memories through the peach tree, and likewise, the peach tree could glimpse fragments of his thoughts through his tendrils. The world had never allowed a cheat code that worked one-sidedly. But now that the misunderstanding was cleared, Tu Si let out a breath of relief and smiled at her. “But humanity truly is the greatest invention of this world.”

Sun Caiwei sneered. “Is it? I think humans are the true cancer of this world. A tumor dragging the earth down. It’d be better if they went extinct.”

Tu Si didn’t refute her. After all, many human deeds had once made him despise them, too. Yet, if humans truly vanished, the world would become unbearably dull — just like how he, after lingering too long in the deep forests, always eventually sought the torments of the human realm. Perhaps he was just insane. Who knew? So he merely nodded and deftly changed the subject: “So… you’ve become a ‘god’?”

Sun Caiwei burst into laughter. “A god? No. I’ve become a ghost. In my next life, I’ve decided to be a peach blossom tree!”

Tu Si nodded eagerly. “Wow! I have to recommend you a place — Linzhi in Tibet! It’s got snow mountains, gorges, fields — absolutely stunning. The peach blossoms there are breathtaking! If you grow there, I can come visit you often!”

Sun Caiwei covered her face, eyes curling in laughter. “Not a bad idea. Then I’ll look forward to seeing if you can find me among tens of thousands of peach trees. Here — this is your ‘divine’ reward, a bone relic³. It’s time for us to say goodbye.”

Tu Si caught the fragment of an arm bone she tossed him. Its familiar coolness made him giddy with joy. Hugging it to his chest, he rubbed against it affectionately, carefully inspecting it for scratches. Finding it flawless, he looked up to thank her — only to see the scene vanish and Sun Caiwei disappear without a trace.

A sudden weightlessness and pitch-black void jolted Tu Si awake. He sat bolt upright — and slammed into a chest that was as firm as it was soft, like the perfect cushion.

“You’re awake? Are you feeling any discomfort?” Wuming’s gentle, soothing voice rang out.

Tu Si froze for a moment, then caught a whiff of Wuming’s alluring scent. Gazing at the chest so close to him, he nearly couldn’t resist taking a bite. Swallowing hard to suppress the urge, he pushed himself away and glanced around the single-room infirmary. From the layout, he immediately knew Wuming must have brought him to this hospital after he fainted. Terrified that any abnormality in his body might have been discovered, Tu Si hurried to explain: “I’m fine. I don’t know why that flower inside suddenly attacked me. I don’t remember anything after that.”

No matter what Wuming asked, Tu Si planned to blame all strange physical findings on the attack by the black flower sphere.

But this clumsy lie, this blatant “hiding silver with no silver”⁴ excuse, only made Wuming want to laugh. He didn’t press further. Even when Tu Si instinctively clutched the arm bone that suddenly appeared in his embrace and hurriedly hid it away, Wuming pretended not to see — nor hear. Wasn’t this the outcome he wanted? The fish had taken the bait.

Handing over a blackened medicinal bowl, Wuming’s voice turned warm and gentle: “Yes, that was a contaminated artifact. We were shocked you possessed extraordinary purification abilities. An ordinary person would have been corrupted into a monster, but you emerged unscathed — aside from some initial discomfort. This decoction will help your body recover. Drink it first.”

Relieved by Wuming’s explanation, Tu Si silently rejoiced. Luckily, they had drawn their own conclusions; otherwise, he’d surely be locked in some lab, interrogated about the source of his abilities. Grabbing the bowl, he drained it in one gulp — and instantly, his expression contorted!

Why?! Why, when he had no sense of taste, could he suddenly taste bitterness? And why was it so intensely bitter, lingering until his tongue went numb?!

Tu Si’s tear-filled eyes turned pitifully toward Wuming. Wuming, puzzled, handed him a candy. Tu Si tore it open, popped it into his mouth — only to find the bitterness wouldn’t fade. He couldn’t even taste the sweetness of the candy. Teary-eyed, devastated, he could only look at Wuming, unable to explain.

“What? Is the medicine really that bad? Even candy can’t mask the bitterness?” Wuming asked, genuinely concerned.

Tu Si wiped away the tears at the corners of his eyes and shook his head. “The candy’s delicious. It’s not bitter anymore. I’m just being melodramatic. Don’t mind me.”

Wuming, satisfied, raised his right hand — heavily bandaged — and gently patted Tu Si’s head. “The medicine’s bitter; you’re not melodramatic. Your body’s still recovering. Rest well. While you’re recovering, I’d like you to think about my earlier proposal — joining the Bureau. Your ability is unique. With training, you could purify corruption with ease and without such pain. Naturally, the Bureau would also grant you more benefits. Take your time; there’s no rush to answer.”

Tu Si’s eyes lit up. Joining the Bureau… wouldn’t that mean more missions with Wuming? More opportunities to sneak a drink of his blood? Plus, Wuming’s strength would guarantee safer game clears. He almost agreed on the spot but quickly restrained himself, schooling his face into calm thoughtfulness. “I understand. Please give me a few days to consider it carefully.”

Since Wuming had admitted his purification ability was rare, Tu Si figured he could leverage it for better perks. Accepting too quickly would make him seem easy to exploit; he needed time to negotiate better benefits.

Wuming only smiled and nodded. “No rush. It’s an important decision; think it through carefully. But don’t burden yourself with worry. Rest well. I’ll come back with more medicine before dinner.”

“…Huh? More?” Tu Si’s eyes widened in shock.

Wuming raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Did you think this was some miracle cure? One bowl heals everything? Medicine requires a course — one bowl in the morning, noon, and night. For a week.”

After speaking, he ruffled Tu Si’s cool, silky hair once more, then softly said, “Rest well,” and left, closing the door behind him.

Tu Si remained seated on the hospital bed, staring blankly into space, utterly despondent.

¹ Dantian (丹田): In traditional Chinese martial arts and Taoist practices, the dantian is the “elixir field,” a vital energy center located in the lower abdomen. It is often referenced as the source or storage of life energy (qi).

² Dodder vine (菟丝子): A parasitic plant often used metaphorically in Chinese literature to describe someone dependent on others, lacking autonomy, or weak yet clinging.

³ Bone relic (骸骨奖励): In certain xianxia/fantasy settings, bones of powerful beings can carry lingering spiritual power or serve as rewards for trials. Here, it’s a symbolic gift from Sun Caiwei upon parting.

⁴ “Hiding silver with no silver” (此地无银三百两): A Chinese idiom meaning to give oneself away while trying too hard to cover something up. It comes from a fable where someone buried silver and posted a sign saying “No three hundred taels of silver buried here,” thus revealing its existence.