SOP CH16: Life Like Morning Dew

Memories surfaced hazily like scenery veiled behind mist. The goateed old man recalled that day long ago: dusk had not yet fully settled as he sat with Diamonds in the dilapidated clinic, the street outside chopped into disjointed fragments by the shadows of hurried passersby. Diamonds’s lips parted and closed, his words falling upon the doctor’s ears in a blur, like echoes resonating underwater. The goateed elder heard him smile and say:

“The Clepsydra rebels need a leader, and Boss Hearts will serve a far greater purpose than me.”

“And what about you?”

Light was sliced apart by the iron grating, filtering into the clinic in scattered fragments. The room was dim and hazy, mottled with light and shadow like an aged photograph. Diamonds leaned back, an expression of relief touching his brow:

“I will be a soap bubble drifting with the wind, living every single day happily before I pop.”

Everything from that day remained branded into the depths of Doctor Hua’s heart. Memory, like gossamer adrift on the wind, snapped abruptly. He slowly returned to the present, currently standing before the examination bed, facing Diamonds, who had just been delivered unconscious from the Blood Arena by Quicksand. Piercing acupoints with bronze needles and administering Shengmai Yin with a medicine feeder, the goateed elder worked deftly, just like the countless treatments he had performed for Diamonds in the past.

Gradually, Diamonds’s eyelashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes.

The goateed old man sighed, “Missing so many internal organs, surviving to this day truly is a miracle.”

Diamonds’s lips trembled, and after a long while, he squeezed out a parched, raspy voice. His words were like dried, brittle leaves, sounding as though they would crumble with a single gust of wind:

“Isn’t it all because of Doctor’s miraculous healing hands… skilled at gutting innards and making wind-dried chicken.”

The goateed old man gave a dry chuckle at his dark humor. “This body of yours was never meant for heavy exertion. I saw it on the broadcast; you’re practically a hollowed-out shell, yet you still ran off with Clepsydra to join that ridiculous duel to the death!”

Diamonds remained indifferent.

“Then again, it’s not like such things haven’t happened before; Bigan lived for quite a while even after his heart was gouged out. This old man is an expert, having once authored a work called the Qingnang Shu. You had better thank me properly. If you had fallen into the hands of some quack, you would have suffered far more.”

Having just regained consciousness, Diamonds’s eyelids felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton, his vision spinning like a top. He gave a sudden start, asking in a hazy daze:

“The Qingnang Shu? Doctor, what era are you from? Do you hold a grudge against someone surnamed Cao?”

The goateed elder scoffed, “A man of the second century, living all the way until now. Are you only just thinking to inquire about this old man’s past?”

Diamonds’s expression went blank as he slowly turned his eyes toward the brass nameplate resting on the consultation desk. Two characters were inscribed there:

“Hua Tuo.”

Diamonds fell silent.

After a long pause, he asked, “A namesake, or the man himself?”

“Heh, guess as you please,” the goateed old man stroked his beard with a pleasant smile. “Perhaps a namesake, or perhaps the man himself who, after escaping the death row dungeons of Xuchang, found a secluded haven and concocted the Powder of Longevity.”

“Living from the second century AD all the way until the present?”

A smile leaked through the old man’s wrinkled face. “How else would this old man arrive in this era? I certainly possess no time-jump technology like the Time Entropy Group.”

Diamonds suddenly burst into hearty laughter, the light outside washing over him in a brilliant glow, looking as though it melted his entire being. Once he had laughed his fill, he said:

“It seems every one of us in the lower tier harbors a secret.”

Dusk crept in quietly, neon lights unfurling like colorful clouds, illuminating the city’s twisting pipes that resembled coiled giant snakes. Diamonds walked out of the Super Cheap Clinic to see a young man in black sitting curled up on a folding stool, his gray pupils like two freezing pools, gazing up at the profound sky without a single trace of emotion. It was Quicksand.

Seeing him emerge, Quicksand asked in a completely flat tone, “Did you settle the bill?”

“I just woke up and you’re already talking money with me. That truly hurts our bond.”

“This concerns the nature of our relationship. If the medical fees are settled, you remain my black-hearted boss. If unpaid, we are merely strangers crossing paths.”

Diamonds sighed, “Settled. Otherwise, do you think I could have walked out that door under the old man’s watchful eye?”

Only then did Quicksand rise, unfurling an umbrella and dutifully standing beside him.

Walking side by side toward the alley mouth, the battered taxi they had arrived in was parked not far off. Residual glimmers of holographic advertisements soaked the streets, acid rain pattering against aged structures with hollow echoes. This city felt like an empty husk as well. Quicksand asked:

“Are you feeling better? What kind of illness flared up earlier?”

Hands in his pockets, Diamonds kept his eyes straight ahead. “A cold.”

“Liar. Since when is a cold this severe?”

“Easy for you to say. Over six hundred thousand people die worldwide from that illness every year.”

Quicksand immediately took two steps back. “Then stay away from me, don’t pass the virus onto me.”

Even so, after walking a short distance, he tiptoed back over anyway. Seeing Diamonds staggering unevenly, he stepped in to support him. Sweat beaded on Diamonds’s face, his expression limp like a frost-bitten leaf. Looking down at the hand supporting his arm, he teased: “You call this staying away from me?”

Quicksand said, “This is a safe distance.”

The two drove the car toward Poker Bar. All along the way, reveling crowds choked the streets and alleys, their eyes bloodshot, singing at the top of their lungs. News of the Clepsydra rebels defeating the 2030 Branch had spread throughout the lower tier. People ripped down the Group’s surveillance cameras one after another, smashing them to the pavement. Others painted victory slogans across walls with fluorescent paint. Children hurled glass bottles scavenged from the scrapyard at signs stamped with “Perpetual Property of the Group.” Confetti from party poppers drifted through the air like heavy snowfall.

Following the collapse of the 2030 Branch, the exploited slaves had finally regained their freedom, and the burden upon the lower-tier folk was no longer as crushing as before. In their protracted struggle against the Group, the lower tier had finally welcomed a glimmer of dawn.

Arriving back at the bar, they found it packed with a sea of people. Patrons cheered in unison, clinking glasses as liquor splashed into the air. Funk music poured from the jukebox, bodies swaying and stomping on the wooden floorboards with heavy thuds like a pounding drumbeat. Seeing the two return, Madam Spades greeted them with an amiable smile:

“You’re back? If you have time, come help out in the kitchen; Clepsydra is organizing a victory celebration banquet.”

Quicksand skirted the bar counter and headed into the kitchen. The patrons buzzed like cicada shells popping in boiling oil, raising their glasses toward Hearts, talking all at once about the spectacular clash in the Blood Arena. Hearts caught sight of Diamonds at a glance, parted the crowd, and strode over with a laugh:

“Diamonds, you’re here? Let’s have a drink together on the terrace.”

The two stepped onto the terrace. The rain had ceased. Holographic advertisement screens flickered into static snow, colorful graphics melting and warping like running candle wax. The city of steel and concrete was submerged in a tidal wave of cheers, while they seemed far removed from the clamor, cut off from the world.

Sitting down on the small sofas, Hearts poured a glass of Sierra Silver tequila for himself, but set a glass of plain water before Diamonds.

Diamonds protested, “Boss, that’s not fair. We agreed on a drink, but you’re the only one enjoying it.”

“Haha, this liquor is 75% ABV. Could you handle it in your current state?”

Diamonds chuckled, falling silent. They looked out in silence over the cityscape, ventilation exhausts howling like a great whale booming in the distance. After a long while, Diamonds whispered, “Boss, I’m sorry.”

“What is there to apologize for?”

“During the duel to the death, I destroyed your limbs. Now your flesh-and-blood body can never be restored.”

Hearts patted his shoulder. “What does that matter? Ever since fitting these cybernetics, I’ve long grown used to them. Switching back to my original limbs would feel fragile now anyway.” Diamonds knew Hearts was deliberately consoling him, offering a gentle smile.

They drank for a while. Hearts suddenly exhaled a cloud of white mist into the air, sighing:

“We triumphed over the 2030 Branch. This should be a day of great celebration, yet one matter still weighs upon my heart. Long ago, a benefactor donated organs to me, but no matter how I inquired among Clepsydra members, Doctor Hua, and everyone I know, I could never discover any news of him.”

The burly man lowered his head, murmuring, “Perhaps he is no longer in this world, but I at least wanted to express my gratitude to him.”

Diamonds listened in silence, gently swirling the water in his glass, speaking after a short pause: “Why bother searching for his whereabouts? As long as Boss carries Clepsydra’s cause forward, if he is alive, he will feel deeply comforted.”

Hearts smiled as well. “You aren’t him, so how can you deny someone else their right to be thanked?”

Diamonds merely smiled without answering.

A water tank rested on the round table, Duoduo’s head sleeping peacefully in the deep blue nutrient solution, surrounded by fragrant blossoms. Only this time, a fair-skinned arm rested at the bottom of the tank. Hearts gazed upon her with tender affection; she was his treasure. He murmured, “Once the world returns to normal, I want to bring Duoduo… and you, to visit that benefactor and thank him in person.”

Holding the rim of his glass between his teeth, Diamonds quipped: “Bringing Duoduo is one thing, but why bring me? What is my role supposed to be, your family pet dog?”

“Mischievous and fond of making a fuss, just like a wayward son, I suppose.”

“Boss Hearts, spare me. I treat you as a brother, so why do you treat me like a son?”

The two laughed heartily, clinking their glasses. Countless lights intertwined in the distance like a world of colored glaze. Virtual fireworks blossomed across the signboards in endless succession; this was a sleepless night.

Clatter echoed from the wooden stairs as patrons holding bottles surged up with boisterous laughter, their smiling faces seeming to glow in the dusk. Someone shouted, “Boss Hearts, why won’t you grace us with a drink?” and “Tonight we won’t go home until we’re dead drunk!”

Wearing the pink apron, Quicksand also stepped onto the terrace carrying a tray with faceted crystal rocks glasses filled with Manhattans, Bourbon, and Chartreuse. Moving briskly, he threaded through the guests expressionlessly. Madam Spades also stepped gracefully onto the terrace, greeting the patrons with gentle tones to sample the drinks. She said, “All drinks are on the house tonight.”

The patrons cheered at the top of their lungs, their shouts piercing the air like sharp needles. Female guests in sequined dresses began dancing, looking as if they were shaking down a sky full of stars. Madam Spades walked up to Diamonds and placed an old Polaroid camera into his hands. Diamonds was surprised.

“It’s been a long time since we took a photo together, hasn’t it? Tonight is a moment worth celebrating, so take a picture for everyone.”

Seeing this, Hearts hurriedly gathered everyone together. Madam Spades was flanked in the center, and Quicksand had his head firmly guided into the lineup. The flash flared, capturing everyone’s smiles within the frame, preserving that split second of time forever. The boundless lights of the world served as their backdrop, looking as though they were drifting through the Milky Way.

The photo ejected from the slot. Diamonds held it in his hands, gazing down upon it with a soft look.

Fireworks burst above the terrace, piercing the gloom of the sky with tens of thousands of streaming sparks. The people on the terrace carried on like high-speed machines, singing and laughing as if incapable of fatigue. Diamonds stepped into the shadows, descended the wooden stairs, and left the clamor behind, without anyone noticing his departure.

Entering his room in complete silence, he picked up the photo frame from the bedside table and slid the new picture inside. He was not in the photograph, but that did not diminish the perfection of the scene. His life was fleeting, just like morning dew. Yet though dew evaporates, tomorrow brings it anew. Even if he were no longer here, nothing would change: Poker Bar would continue welcoming guests, Clepsydra would fight on for the future, and the joy of this moment would remain etched into the depths of everyone’s memories, eternal and unyielding.

Another blossom of fireworks lit up outside the window, its brilliant colors illuminating the smiling faces within the frame. Diamonds picked up the medicine bottle, tipped a few more pills into his mouth, collapsed onto the bed, and watched the clock. The hands circled endlessly upon the face, like footsteps sprinting along Penrose stairs. He knew some afflictions were carved deep into the bone, such as the craving for eternal immortality, and the dread of one’s own fleeting transience.

Now incurable, he simply closed his eyes, waiting for tomorrow’s sunlight to arrive, to evaporate him like morning dew, vanishing without a trace from then on.