One week later, Beijing.
Zhou Hui sat in the hospital room, his bare upper body appearing very strong in the morning light, but covered in various large and small scars. Some of the wounds had almost healed, while others were still gaping open, clearly revealing the fresh red muscle and blood vessels beneath the skin. However, he didn’t care, seemingly feeling no pain at all, and just quietly looked at the jade egg in his open palm.
The hospital room door opened, and Yu Jingzhong walked in, gently placing the cigarette pack on the bedside table. “Old Zhou.”
Zhou Hui raised his eyebrows, his eyes filled with undisguised gloom. “Is it done?”
“Yes, Wu Bei, Shenwan Tiansi, and Nine-Tailed Fox have all returned from H City. The local aftermath work has been fully handed over to Long Jiu. Currently, the capital’s defense perimeter and the Qiankun Array are temporarily managed by Situ Yingzhi, and Yan Lanyu can help a bit.”
Zhou Hui nodded without speaking. Yu Jingzhong hesitated, then after a moment, said, “Old Zhou.”
“What?”
“…What do you plan… to do?”
Yu Jingzhong finally asked the question, feeling a complex sense of relief. However, the next moment he saw Zhou Hui’s haggard, resentful face, and a heavier worry silently pressed upon his heart.
“Me?” Zhou Hui said coldly, “Do you think I can return to Group Six in this state?”
“I didn’t mean that, it’s just that you’ve been cooped up in the hospital room all day…”
“What’s the problem?”
Yu Jingzhong choked, almost speechless. After a daze, he had to pull out a cigarette. Just as he pulled out his lighter, Zhou Hui immediately stopped him, pointing at the egg in his hand. “—The Phoenix is in here!”
“…” Yu Jingzhong reluctantly put the cigarette back into the pack. “I heard it’ll take many years for it to hatch, right?”
Zhou Hui didn’t answer.
“Old Zhou, do you plan to live like this for hundreds of thousands of years? Cooped up alone, hiding in a corner to hatch an egg? What if the egg doesn’t hatch and you die of old age first? What if the egg hatches and the Phoenix doesn’t recognize you? You need to find something to do, you need a change of pace, and find the meaning of life. Although your life is longer than humans’…”
“Do you want a beating?” Zhou Hui interrupted.
“No, no, I’m doing this for your own good,” Yu Jingzhong said earnestly. “Precisely because your life is still very long, you must find a hope to support yourself and move forward in the years to come. Look, you have two children, both born to you and the Phoenix…”
Zhou Hui slammed his hand on the bedside table with a crash, and the table collapsed in response.
Yu Jingzhong immediately stopped talking.
The ward was silent for a moment, then Zhou Hui finally said in a muffled voice, “I want to go for a walk.”
Yu Jingzhong, who had been ready to bolt out the door at any moment, retracted his poised feet when he heard this and asked, “Where to?”
“Hell, the Grey River, Buzhou Mountain, the Ten Thousand Li Wall of Glazed Heaven, the Ice Palace of Sumeru Mountain, and the ruins shattered by the Vajra Bell back then. There are many places to go, but even more time. Maybe in the end, there’ll be nowhere to go, and I’ll return to the human realm.”
Zhou Hui laughed mockingly and said, “Don’t worry about losing contact. I’ll come back to visit every ten or eight years. In a few decades, you’ll be old. If you die, I’ll fish you out of hell. Maybe we can even have a drink down there and find a good family for you to reincarnate into.”
Yu Jingzhong stared at him for a long time. “…Thank you very much.”
“As for Group One,” Zhou Hui continued, “it can be handed over to Jia Louluo. That kid is foolish, strong, eats little, and is naturally suited to be abused. And in terms of personality, he has some good qualities, very much like the Phoenix…”
He paused, then sighed.
“I don’t know when the Phoenix egg will hatch. One year at a time, I guess. I once lived with the Phoenix for thousands of years in the void outside the Six Realms. It was truly a place with nothing but darkness, but our family lived peacefully, and time seemed to fly by unnoticed. Back then, it was never like this, where the future feels so long when I think about it…”
Yu Jingzhong felt very uncomfortable listening, wanting to persuade but not knowing what to say, only feeling a bitter taste in his tongue and a sourness in his nasal cavity.
However, there was no sign of pain or despair on Zhou Hui’s face. He caressed the small egg in his hand, and after a long time, he sighed silently. The lingering echo of that sigh seemed to carry something very heavy, yet completely vanished like light smoke into the quiet air of the ward.
Yu Jingzhong finally pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth, but didn’t light it. He walked over and patted Zhou Hui’s shoulder.
“When you leave, let me know, and I’ll see you and Phoenix Four off.”
Zhou Hui smiled but didn’t speak.
Outside, the morning sun was bright, and the scent of osmanthus permeated the air. Yet, this handsome man sat in the hospital room, as if isolated from the world. In his closed world, there was only him, the unconscious egg, and countless unforgettable, wonderful, and faded memories, receding like a tide in the air.
For the first few days of Zhou Hui’s hospitalization, no one dared to disturb him. After Yu Jingzhong broke the ice, Yan Lanyu, Wu Bei, Situ Yingzhi, and Shenwan Tiansi all visited one after another. The first few visits went well, but when Shenwan Tiansi came, Zhou Hui probably recalled the old days when he was an infant and the Phoenix picked him up and raised him for a few days. He caressed Shenwan Tiansi’s head and remained silent for a long time before saying, “If you have anything on your side in the future, find Jia Louluo to help, okay?”
Shenwan Tiansi nodded extra obediently, his gaze occasionally drifting towards the Phoenix egg that Zhou Hui never parted with. “Then… will you still come back often?”
“We’ll see.”
“…” Shenwan Tiansi blinked. “Oh.”
He seemed very distressed, but he must have been warned beforehand by Wu Bei and Situ Yingzhi, so he tried his best to hide it. That emotion was, in fact, nowhere to hide from Zhou Hui’s eyes. The two remained silent for a moment before Zhou Hui patted his head, seemingly a little emotional. “He’s such a big boy now, in the blink of an eye…”
Although everyone told Zhou Hui to say goodbye when he left, Zhou Hui said nothing to anyone on the day he left the human realm. He left the hospital late one night, walked through the neon-lit sky of the capital and the quiet, desolate suburbs, and slowly entered the void, heading towards the indistinct Human Realm Stele standing on the distant horizon.
“Hey,” a voice said from behind him.
Zhou Hui’s footsteps paused.
“Leaving without a word isn’t your style. If you don’t have the vibe, don’t cosplay as a wandering fresh-faced youth. Why don’t you stay in the hospital for a few more days?”
“Hu Qing.” Zhou Hui turned his head and said, “I’ve always had a question. Since we might not see each other for ten or eight years, can you give me a straight answer…”
Behind him, Li Hu wore her almost iconic tight red dress of recent years, her long hair alluring, full of charm, gracefully standing under the vast galaxy, her slender fingers delicately brushing her lips.
“We really never slept together,” she said with a smile.
Zhou Hui said, “Not that.”
“I’ve handed over all the Phoenix’s nude photos; I didn’t hide any.”
“Not that either.”
“…I’m willing to come to the human realm to work with you not for the purpose of seducing Yu Jingzhong, although I did try to seduce him in the early years and almost got beaten up like a female ghost. Later, I felt a bit embarrassed and didn’t mention it…”
“I know,” Zhou Hui said, “Old Yu told me everything.”
Li Hu tilted her head, a little confused. “What exactly do you want to know? I’m even willing to report a post-hookup summary to the Phoenix, so I shouldn’t have any secrets, right?”
Zhou Hui looked her up and down for a long time, his gaze lingering on the cleavage on her chest, which seemed to rival the Mariana Trench in depth, and finally asked, “You are inherently a male fox and are more comfortable in a male body. Have you been dressing as a woman these past two years because Zhang Shun finds it easier to approach women?”
Li Hu stared at Zhou Hui, silent for a long time. After a moment, his figure suddenly changed, transforming into a young man with pink clothes, disheveled hair, and nine snow-white tails. “I’ve changed my mind. You’d better roll quickly,” he said expressionlessly. “You’re a cheap debt, dear. Why would the Phoenix rather find you than sleep with me?”
Zhou Hui laughed and turned, waving his hand at him, the tightly clutched Phoenix egg in his palm drawing a magnificent soft glow in the night wind. He walked towards the distant Human Realm Stele and, under the complex gaze of the Nine-Tailed Fox, disappeared into the end of the night.
After Sakyamuni, the false Buddha, disappeared, the true Buddha returned to his place, and the Immaterial Heaven rose, sending forth a Buddhist edict of cease-fire and recuperation to Sumeru Mountain. The Four Evil Realms finally took a breath from the continuous, ceaseless millennia-long conquest by the Heavenly Dao.
The Asura tribe, however, suffered heavy losses and was no longer the sole overlord ruling the Four Evil Realms. In Hell, with its diverse species and rich mineral resources, the Asuras’ control continued to weaken. Many demonic creatures broke free from their control and, after regaining their freedom, immediately returned to Buzhou Mountain and the Sea of Blood region, causing the once desolate and broken landscape to rapidly regain vibrant life.
The Thirty-Three Heavens’ lowest layer, Lumenous Heaven, closest to Hell, was once barren due to the millennium-long war between gods and demons. Now, it finally regained the characteristic peace and tranquility of the Heavenly Dao. The sky was azure, the city walls towered high. Zhou Hui ascended the winding, seemingly endless white jade steps, pointing to the faintly discernible city tower in the distance, and smiled, “This is where I first proposed, Phoenix. You almost shot me dead with an arrow back then. How dangerous was that?”
The white jade egg lay quietly in his warm palm, emanating layers of soft light. Zhou Hui stood for a while, then continued to walk upward. Beneath his feet, the battleground of millions of years was desolate and silent. The wind gently swept by, emitting a long, desolate wail, as if from a distant charge of men and horses.
Zhou Hui ascended through the Thirty-Three Heavens, layer by layer, until he reached the ancient ice field at the foot of Sumeru Mountain. Feathery snow whistled past in the strong wind. He shielded his eyes with his hand, vaguely glimpsing the majestic and indistinct Sumeru Mountain at the end of the wind and snow, and murmured, “Is this where the great vows are made?”
He looked at the egg, seemingly trying to see the small Phoenix chick quietly lying inside through the eggshell.
“One step, one kowtow, all the way to the Buddha hall on the summit. The vows made there can be heard by all the gods and Buddhas in the sky…” Zhou Hui put the egg back into his pocket and muttered to himself, “Hmph, what’s the use of them hearing? My wife is an ancient divine bird; she’s not governed by those gods and Buddhas.”
Despite saying that, he still took a step, knelt down with a perfunctory kowtow, then stood up, took another step, and knelt down for another kowtow. The various fatal injuries he sustained in the battle with Sakyamuni hadn’t fully healed. Although his daily activities were unaffected, long-term travel was still a difficult task. Zhou Hui walked for a while, then stopped for a while, sheltering from the wind behind the rocks on the glacier, and then continued forward; he passed through the foot of the mountain, ascended the mountainside, crossed the steep, huge ice cliff, and proceeded towards the snowy peak of Sumeru Mountain, his footsteps winding, as if he were the last traveler in the vast world.
Zhou Hui finally crossed the ice field, kowtowing all the way to the front of the Buddha hall, then stood up and brushed the snow from his shoulders, chest, and legs. The monks on Sumeru Mountain knew of his arrival and all hid away, feigning ignorance. Therefore, the Buddha hall, with its curling incense smoke, was empty and deserted; only Zhou Hui stood there, looking at the pure gold Buddha statue in the deepest part of the hall through the large door for a moment.
“You made your vow here last time?” he asked the Phoenix.
The egg in his chest pocket made no sound.
Zhou Hui shook his head and smiled, but he didn’t make a vow. Under the gaze of the eighteen Vajras and various Bodhisattvas and divine Buddha statues, he turned around and continued to take one step and one kowtow, but this time towards a higher place, the Phoenix Divine Hall on the snowy peak.
“I don’t pray to gods or Buddhas; I only pray to you.”
Zhou Hui’s forehead touched the snow, leaving a deep mark. Before him, the divine hall was majestic, reaching straight into the sky; behind him, a long string of footprints led to the distant glacier, gradually being buried by the wind and snow.
“My dear Phoenix, even at my dying moment, please let me see you one last time.”
“Let me see you born into the human world in my last disappearing moment.”
