Chapter 108: I want to save my lover.
The expression on the woman’s face made An Wujiu want to laugh. She was obviously stunned by Shen Ti’s “sweet talk.”
Could it be that in this instance, he and Shen Ti, who played the role of the priest, were truly at odds?
For a moment, due to this setting, An Wujiu doubted Shen Ti’s hidden agenda, but quickly dismissed the idea.
The Holy Altar wouldn’t reveal the hidden cards in such a simple way through character relationships; otherwise, there would be no need for the morning ritual.
The woman quickly recovered from her surprise and immediately led them inside, “It’s cold outside; please come in first. I’ve lit a small stove; it’ll be warmer.”
“Why do they say we’re not getting along?” Shen Ti asked as soon as they entered.
“Ah,” the woman’s face showed a bit of embarrassment, “They just say that you two have different ways of showing your faith to the deity, and also…”
“And also, what?”
“Some say…your partner is in love with this priest, so you two are…”
“Rivals in love?” Shen Ti found this relationship very novel and interesting, “This setting is not bad, right?” He nudged An Wujiu’s shoulder.
An Wujiu just found him improper and suppressed a smile.
What’s good about it? It’s fine as it is now.
The furnishings in the house were unfamiliar to An Wujiu. Just from the abundance of stone artifacts, it was clear that the productivity here was low, likely from an early era. The walls were adorned with strings of dried corn hanging on hemp ropes and some brown, spindle-shaped dried fruit shells.
An Wujiu reached out and picked one up, splitting the shell open to find it empty inside.
“Those are last year’s cocoa shells.”
The woman spoke warmly and kindly as she bent down to wipe two stone chairs with a cloth. These two chairs, carved from basalt, were clearly the most meticulously crafted and time-consuming items in the room. Besides the carved patterns and totems, the tops of the chairs were adorned with two round obsidian stones.
“Please, have a seat, both of you priests.” The woman’s skin was very dark; her features were slightly more pronounced than his own Asian traits, but she still had black hair and eyes.
“It’s been so cold these past two days. I swear by the sun; I’ve never seen snow like this since I was born. You know, it never snows here.”
She was dressed in layers of thin clothing to keep warm, and there was an unfinished quilt on the stone ledge by the window.
The woman said her name was Yasia, and she hospitably and respectfully served them two bowls of corn porridge, saying, “Please try this; I ground it just yesterday.”
Her face was full of apologies for not being a good hostess. An Wujiu stared at the steaming porridge, thinking that this was clearly a plot lead. Before they even asked, the NPC had already brought the porridge.
He couldn’t speak, so he nodded in thanks. Shen Ti thanked her on his behalf and explained, “He caught a cold last night and can’t speak.”
“I see.” Yasia took out a rough wool blanket and covered An Wujiu with it, “Please take care of your health.”
After drinking half a bowl of corn porridge, An Wujiu felt warm. Yasia confided in them about the hardships the snowstorm brought. Their hard-grown corn was crushed by the snow, a year of labor was wasted, even a friend’s house had partially collapsed, and even the high priest who was supposed to officiate the ceremony had now secluded himself, not seeing anyone.
This snowstorm seemed to have brought everything to a standstill.
“What kind of person is the high priest?” Shen Ti asked curiously.
“He is the one closest to the deity.” Yasia’s eyes were full of longing, a faint smile appearing on her face, “Some say the high priest is immensely powerful, taking many forms—sometimes an old man with white hair, sometimes a child, sometimes a strong young man. He is ever-changing and can even transform into animals like jaguars, pythons, and lizards…these are all among his forms.”
An Wujiu found this strange.
It seemed more like she was describing the stone deity idol in the temple.
A being that encompasses all.
“We rarely see the true form of the high priest. Some say she is actually an extremely beautiful woman, a beauty brought back by our leader, who understands divine prophecies.”
“That sounds more reliable,” Shen Ti commented, thinking that as long as the high priest was half as good-looking as An Wujiu, it could indeed be called “extremely beautiful.” Considering someone as good-looking as An Wujiu existed and was his own partner, nothing else seemed exaggerated.
“Yes, from their descriptions, it seems she is like you.” Yasia looked at Shen Ti and said, “With green eyes like a snake.”
Shen Ti blinked.
“My eyes are not like a snake’s; they are more like a cat’s. Have you seen a cat?”
Yasia shook her head, “What kind of beast is that?”
“Exactly!” Shen Ti said intentionally, “The most ferocious beast in the world.”
An Wujiu, already knowing Shen Ti rarely spoke seriously, was still amused.
While they chatted, An Wujiu held the stone bowl, gazing at the drawings on the wall, which were very similar to those in the temple, except the temple ceiling had many human figures, seemingly representing different deities. In Yasia’s home, there was only one figure on the wall, with the left hand extended forward and the right hand raised, holding a shield, all golden, and a headdress adorned with colorful feathers.
“My son drew this,” Yasia said proudly, “I hope the god of rebirth will protect us, help us get through this disaster, and end the blood moon soon.”
Shen Ti stood up, pointing at the mural, unreservedly showing his lack of understanding, “Is this the god of rebirth?”
Yasia was stunned for a moment, then nodded, “Yes.”
“What kind of rebirth?”
“He…” Yasia answered Shen Ti in a daze, “He sacrificed himself so humans could have food and survive…”
“What kind of rebirth is that?” Shen Ti shook his head, “That’s clearly a sacrifice.”
His indifference to humanity made it impossible for him to empathize with such a deity. He, clearly a human, thought only humans would do such self-sacrificing things, while gods would not.
Gods would only look down on mortals from above.
Yasia was evidently shaken in her beliefs by Shen Ti’s words. An Wujiu immediately stood up, grabbed her arm, and pointed to the obsidian cup on the table to divert her attention.
Yasia indeed did so. She said to An Wujiu, “This cup was made a long time ago.” As she spoke, she suddenly thought of something.
“Oh right, please wait a moment. I’ve finished something another priest asked me to make last time.” Yasia walked to another room, and An Wujiu followed, discovering that there was an altar in that room, almost identical to the one they saw in the warm-up match.
Shen Ti leaned against An Wujiu and asked Yasia, “Why do you have this altar too?”
“Of course, every household in Water City has one. We offer our finest handmade items as sacrifices to the deity.” As she spoke, Yasia took a black knife from a shelf by the wall and handed it to An Wujiu with both hands.
Listening to her, Shen Ti finally understood why the people here were so skilled in stone carving. It seemed their religious faith had driven local productivity.
“I heard the old one was worn out, so we rushed to make a new one. What do you think?”
This knife was also made of obsidian, a misty black throughout, with a very thin blade.
An Wujiu nodded slightly, expressing his gratitude. According to the Holy Altar’s game settings, this obsidian knife was likely the item they needed to obtain from the NPC.
Soon, Yasia’s husband returned. He threw the chopped branches to the ground and, seeing the two of them, immediately tried to bow, but Shen Ti stopped him.
“I thought he went hunting,” Shen Ti said casually.
“There aren’t many animals to hunt here,” Yasia explained to him, “We live by growing corn. Even poultry is hard to come by; those are offerings for the nobles.”
Her husband’s eyes suddenly lit up, “But we will soon have delicious food. When the leader and his men return, they will bring us plenty of food. Please, you two must honor us with your presence the day after tomorrow. We will prepare the best stew for you.”
Shen Ti raised an eyebrow and said, “It’s okay, you should enjoy it yourselves.”
“No, you must come!” The man’s eyes were hollow, and he stared at them intently, as if possessed, “The deity will descend too.”
The deity will descend too.
An Wujiu didn’t understand what he meant by this. Could it be that the day after tomorrow was some important occasion?
He knew that in many places where religious beliefs were deeply rooted, religious activities were frequently held, mostly for blessings and prayers, with various forms, such as banquets.
Could it be that the day they mentioned was a customary day for hosting a feast to pray to the deity?
With Yasia’s hint, the two had to leave the small house. As they opened the door, the wind and snow, carrying an intense chill, rushed in. An Wujiu’s face almost became numb. He and Shen Ti walked side by side, stepping on the thick snow, creating crunching sounds. They carried a bundle of corn cakes given to them by Yasia and that obsidian knife.
He turned his head and mouthed to Shen Ti: [I feel something’s off here.]
But Shen Ti either truly didn’t understand or pretended not to. He smiled in the bright snow, “What are you saying?”
Just then, a tiny snowflake landed on An Wujiu’s eyelashes.
An Wujiu lowered his head, rubbed his eyes, and reached out to hold Shen Ti’s hand, writing what he wanted to say in Shen Ti’s palm.
Shen Ti held his hand, smiling slightly. Seeing An Wujiu’s nose tip turn red from the cold, yet his expression remaining very serious, created an endearing contrast.
“What do you want to say?”
[It feels like these plots are not laid out randomly.]
An Wujiu wrote this word by word and then looked up at Shen Ti.
His eyes were bright and full of compassion, matching the snowy surroundings perfectly.
Nothing could be purer than this.
[Maybe there’s something waiting for us to uncover.]
An Wujiu’s hands were red from the cold, and he rubbed them together, trying to gain a bit of warmth.
The people here were used to living in a tropical climate, even needing to make quilts on the spot. They couldn’t withstand this level of cold at all. If they couldn’t stop the blood moon and the snowstorm, these people might freeze to death.
Shen Ti grabbed An Wujiu’s hands to stop him, then took off his own gloves and put them on An Wujiu.
This gesture caused An Wujiu’s constantly working mind to momentarily pause.
He tilted his head at Shen Ti and asked him, using lip reading and hand gestures, “What if someone sees us?” while touching the lines on Shen Ti’s hand with his fingers.
“So what?”
Shen Ti also tilted his head at him, his crystal red earring swaying, as if it were the only sign of life in the snowy world.
He no longer cared about scaring anyone.
No matter what An Wujiu said, he would only wear one glove, and Shen Ti had no choice but to keep the other one. The two of them wore one pair of gloves between them, holding hands as they walked slowly through the snow.
After only a few steps, a figure appeared ahead.
They ran into Zhou Yijue.
An Wujiu looked up and, through the wind and snow, saw Zhou Yijue. He thought Zhou Yijue would ignore them, but Zhou Yijue stopped and stood in front of them.
“I want to know if you’ve used your Easter egg card.”
For someone as roundabout as he was, it was rare for him to be so straightforward and direct about his intentions.
An Wujiu couldn’t answer him, so he just shook his head.
“You didn’t draw at all, did you?” Zhou Yijue raised an eyebrow.
“What’s it to you?” Shen Ti sneered at him and asked, “Why, do you want it?”
Zhou Yijue glanced at Shen Ti and then looked at An Wujiu. “I won’t take your things, but if you draw a resurrection card, I’m willing to trade anything for it. Just say the word, and I’ll make it happen.”
An Wujiu silently watched him. The snow blurred Zhou Yijue’s figure and also blurred his schemes and calculations, leaving only a lonely desire.
He raised his hand and wrote on Shen Ti’s back.
After waiting for a while, Zhou Yijue didn’t receive An Wujiu’s consent, which was natural, especially since they had been competitors for two consecutive rounds and had suffered enough from each other’s traps.
But he heard Shen Ti speak.
“Wujiu wants to know why you want the resurrection card.”
Zhou Yijue looked up, frowning slightly.
After some struggle, An Wujiu saw a hint of pain on this usually well-disguised face.
“I want to save my lover.” In the end, he still looked up and met An Wujiu’s eyes.
In the snowy light, An Wujiu fell into deep thought.
If there was only one resurrection card, he would definitely not give it to Zhou Yijue because he feared being separated from Shen Ti.
But if there was more than one, An Wujiu’s heart wavered.
The person in front of him was clearly his former enemy.
In the end, he wrote on Shen Ti’s back: [Let me draw the three cards first.]
Shen Ti, however, took it upon himself to change his words, “He won’t give it.”
An Wujiu pinched his arm, and Shen Ti, in pain, changed his words, “He said he would think about it and draw the cards first.”
Zhou Yijue nodded and, with difficulty, said, “Thank you.” For some reason, in An Wujiu’s eyes, this scheming person looked pitiful.
An Wujiu nodded and left with Shen Ti.
He decided to draw the three Easter egg cards today.
If there was only one resurrection card, he could only keep it for Shen Ti.
He believed Zhou Yijue understood this without needing it to be said.
Shen Ti didn’t want An Wujiu to make the trade because Zhou Yijue was deceitful, and they had almost been harmed. But he knew his values couldn’t dictate An Wujiu’s decisions, just as An Wujiu never forced him to become normal.
As they neared the temple, Shen Ti’s sleeve was suddenly pulled. He turned back, and An Wujiu reached out to write on his arm.
He wrote slowly, and Shen Ti read each word.
Those single words gradually pieced together a complete sentence and recalled their first meeting.
[When you met me, why didn’t you speak? I thought you couldn’t talk.]
If not for this punishment, An Wujiu might not have recalled the first time he met Shen Ti during the tense instance. But now, unable to speak himself, the strangely masked Shen Ti kept appearing in his mind, triggering his memories.
“At first, I just didn’t want to speak. I hate communicating with people.” Shen Ti told him. He had suffered much injustice from saying the wrong things.
An Wujiu’s heart was touched at its softest spot. Back then, just speaking wouldn’t reveal any difference between Shen Ti and a normal person.
And what about him before? How many bumps and bruises did Shen Ti endure before they met, to the point where he was unwilling to speak?
“People are boring. Pretending to be mute avoids a lot of trouble.”
Shen Ti used one sentence to summarize the various people he had encountered and their actions.
Then he smiled and said, “But you’re different.”
Under the grand pyramid-shaped temple, his smile seemed to carry a divine quality, yet he was vibrant and unique.
“I spoke because I wanted to talk to you. On the dueling platform, I planned to hug you, but if I did it directly, you would have hit me, right?”
An Wujiu’s memory flashed back to that day, recalling Shen Ti saying “wait a minute” to interrupt the duel’s start, then reaching out to hug him. An Wujiu couldn’t help but smile.
“If I weren’t afraid of others thinking I was strange…” Shen Ti’s tone was somewhat childish.
“I actually wanted to speak only to you.”
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