His foothold is located at the highest point of the entire Moon City, a tall tower built from stacked scrap metal, which only flickers with chaotic light under the round, golden full moon with blades of light criss-crossing.
On a badly damaged billboard lying at the bottom of the tower, someone has written unintelligible words in bold, exaggerated, and oversized letters using blood-red paint. The font is so eye-catching that even the night can't cover its conspicuousness. There's no expression on his face, only the slowly pulsating heart, awaiting a destiny.
Early this morning, he paid a visit to an old friend. That woman, or rather, demoness, was perhaps his only friend in life.
They hadn't met in three hundred or maybe five hundred years. She is still the same, full of charm, laughter, and anger. She has opened a dessert shop in a small alley, scolding and joking with two seemingly foolish helpers. She has the appearance of someone who has cast aside the world's troubles and hidden herself, carefree and unconcerned about the sufferings of the world.
Who could have imagined that on a certain evening in some distant years past, the two of them stood atop the frozen peaks of Ink Mountain by the Yellow Springs Lake, a half-ice, half-flame expanse. They worked together to deal with a double-headed, red-scaled python that had devoured countless people.
At that time, she had long hair and a snow sword, her powers rivaling that of a god, and her movements were as agile as a leopard. The monstrous beast, with its enormous and dangerous form, spewed crimson venom, writhing and roaring under the setting sun, churning water waves that obscured half the sky.
He watched her sword dance a beautiful and calm trajectory in the faint golden light, and it precisely pierced the throat of the red-scaled python.
As the behemoth's lifeless body fell heavily into the lake, its azure blood swiftly spread across the entire surface of the lake, as if reflecting the rarest piece of blue sky.
"You're the most ruthless demon I've ever seen," he said, casting a glance at her. With a single stroke, she cut open the back of the red-scaled python and extracted a "thread" as thick as a thumb from within. She wound it into several circles and put it into her pocket.
She scooped up snow from the ground and carefully wiped her sword, smiling, "Same here."
"Can we be friends?" he suddenly halted before leaving.
Before that day, the word "friend" had never been a part of his life.
"If you treat me to a nice meal and throw in a box of gold bars..." She got to her feet, shrugged, and stuck out her tongue at him, "I can consider it."
In the days that followed, they became friends. Even though they didn't meet often, and when they did, it usually turned into a merry escapade in the Jiāng hú[1], with the drunken him watching the drunken her laughing and making a scene. Eventually, she would end up sprawled on the ground and fall asleep on his lap.
He knew he was different from her. The ruthlessness of her sword was only to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. His blade, however, was different, even though it possessed the same power.
One day, he went to find her and entrusted her with something of utmost importance to him.
"Keep it safe for me," he patted her shoulder.
She looked at what was in her hand and remained silent for a long time, then said, "You should think it through, you might not have a chance to get it back from me."
"If that's the case... then it's your gain," he winked at her, turned around, and walked away without any worries.
Over the course of hundreds of years, time flowed intermittently, sometimes as slow as a dripping tap, and sometimes as swift as a passing steed, not at all up to anyone.
Yesterday, he sat in her "Unceasing," calmly sipping the awfully bitter tea she had prepared for him, and said, "You don't even ask me why I came to retrieve that thing?"
"I'm just asking how much you plan to pay me for safekeeping," she raised an eyebrow.
"You really haven't changed a bit," he laughed.
She didn't reply but instead, watched him and took a deep breath, stepped forward, and gave him a big hug, not letting go for quite some time.
As he was leaving, he turned back and asked, "If I come to see you tomorrow, can we get drunk again?"
"That depends on how many gold bars you're willing to part with," she teased, sticking her tongue out at him.
Standing at the doorstep, she watched his retreating figure, and a subtle layer of secret concern crept into the corners of her always cheerful expression — I'll definitely get drunk with you, just like so many days of the past, as long as you appear safe and sound before me tomorrow.
She said to herself in her heart.
[1] The word 江湖 (Jiāng hú) is a Chinese expression that is a bit challenging to translate directly into English. It is often used in Chinese literature, martial arts novels, and colloquial speech, and it has a nuanced meaning. Since this novel is not set in a martial arts world, I opted to leave it in Pinyin. FYI, Jianghu can mean the world, society/ community; underworld/underbelly; reclusive place etc.
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