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If there was one thing Xiao hated the most in a hospital, it was the smell.
Medicine, antiseptic, and sickness hung in the air like perfume. Xiao hated it the first time he had been brought there as a child, and continued to dislike it even to the present. It didn’t help that he had a more sensitive nose than others, and no matter where he went or turned, the heavy scent often came over his senses.
In such a place, the only area where he could breathe a little easier was the garden on the rooftop.
The sweet smell of the flowers gently masked the faint traces of the hospital beneath him. It was also the only place where patients could get sunlight and air.
“Is that fun?”
An adult's voice asked curiously. Xiao looked up from the bench where he was sitting to see a familiar face in a white coat.
“... Doctor.”
Zhongli was holding a cup of tea. He approached Xiao casually and looked at the game console in his hands. During his short breaks, he would often come up here to visit him.
Xiao looked at the screen. “No idea. I still don’t understand how to play it.”
“I thought that was the rage with young people these days.”
“Apparently.”
“Hm…” The doctor sat beside him and observed the scenery. In the middle of the garden, a small fountain had been built where the statue of a winged, hooded angel stood with water trickling from their outstretched palms. White flowers that Xiao didn’t know the name of surrounded the angel’s feet.
“Have you thought about it?”
The young doctor suddenly spoke in a soft tone. Xiao knew what he meant.
“I did.”
“Did you come to a decision yet?”
“... No.” Xiao shook his head and tightened his grip on the console. On the screen, his character had died and the words ‘GAME OVER’ flashed before a black background.
“It’s alright. You still have time.”
“But it’s not enough, is it?”
Zhongli was silent. He sipped on his tea for a moment, movements graceful and quiet. Such a scene had a calming effect on anyone who could see it, and this was the reason why more than half of the staff and patients secretly regarded him as free walking therapy.
“It’s been six years since you were brought here…” he finally said. “Time flies fast.”
“You speak like an old man.”
“I am.”
“You don’t look like it though.”
“The miracle of a healthy lifestyle.”
“The miracle of genetics.”
Zhongli looked at him with an amused smile in his eyes. At that moment, his watch made a beeping sound which he turned off with a quick press of a finger.
His break time had ended, it seemed.
“I should get going. I’ll see you later.”
“Alright.”
Zhongli stood up to leave. Before he went, he paused for a moment and reached out his free hand, rubbing the top of Xiao’s head.
It caught him off guard. The warmth from the gesture was something he hadn’t felt in a while. It made him feel like a small kid again.
“I’ll trust in your judgment.”
Xiao couldn’t look at him in the eyes. He was afraid the other person would see the fear in them.
So instead, he mumbled a quiet response.
“... Alright, doctor.”
“Did you try playing the game yet?”
He was back in his hospital room. It was spacious, large enough to accommodate a bed, a couch, a desk, and a wardrobe with room to spare. The low hum of the machine and the quiet beeps of the monitor could be heard in the background.
Xiao frowned.
“I couldn’t understand it and died a lot.”
Closing the door behind him, Chongyun entered with a small laugh. He was wearing his uniform, and a plastic bag was in his hand. He held it up.
He offered the contents inside, “Ice cream.”
“Mhm, thanks,” Xiao reached out and took one, realizing halfway that he was probably too weak to open the wrapper. Before he could react, Chongyun took it back and ripped it for him.
“... Thanks again,” he repeated as he received it.
Chongyun nodded and sat on the couch next to his bed. He seemed relaxed and at home, which he always did whenever he visited three or four times a week. He deflated on the seat, wiping sweat from his face.
“Today’s really hot…”
“Should I turn on the AC?”
“It’s alright, your room has a nice breeze.”
Just as he said that, a gust of wind entered from the window, cooling the atmosphere by a few degrees. Xiao noticed a white flower petal carried by the air, landing next to his hand connected to the IV. He looked at it quietly. It must have been from the rooftop, since the private rooms were on the top floor.
Xiao raised the ice cream in his hand and licked it. The sweet, cool taste came to his mouth.
“Anyway, did you even do the tutorial properly?”
Chongyun sat at the edge of the couch and leaned over, taking out his own console.
“There was a tutorial?”
The other person narrowed his eyes.
“You… pressed 'skip' didn’t you.”
Xiao blinked innocently.
With a sigh, Chongyun held out his game.
“You see, it’s like this…”
Six years ago.
It had been a month since Xiao was brought to the hospital.
It was a weekly occurrence at first. Then, the number of visits increased. Then, the doctors had suggested he become a resident so they could observe him more closely.
“His condition is terminal, I’m afraid he won’t be able to leave this place for a while.”
At twelve years old, he understood what that meant.
Xiao remembered the smell, of course.
After that, he remembered the pain.
After that, he remembered the medicine.
And then, he remembered the figure of a small boy who had sneaked inside his room one day.
“Hi, I’m your neighbor! My name is Chongyun. What’s yours?”
He was Xiao’s first friend.
It was a little later that he found out Chongyun was hospitalized because he had broken his arm after falling from a tree.
It would take a few weeks before he was discharged, and every day during that, Chongyun would visit Xiao in his room to play with him.
At first, Xiao had regarded him as an annoying kid who couldn’t stop talking, but it wasn’t soon before he got used to it and his presence by his side became a natural thing.
They would watch movies in his room and play board games. They would roll on the grass in the rooftop garden and sneak around the building. They’d talk about interesting things outside the hospital, like the amusement park that Chongyun wanted to visit again soon.
“The rollercoaster is fun! I’ll definitely take you there next time I go!”
Xiao doubted that would happen anytime soon.
Because of the strange, cheerful boy from the next room, Xiao slowly began to grow comfortable in showing other expressions compared to the first months where his small figure barely had any trace of life.
“I’m glad you made a friend.”
A younger Zhongli had told him once after drawing his blood. “The nurses say your face lights up when you’re with him.”
“It does not.”
“Hm… is that so.”
And then, the day came when Chongyun could finally leave.
He had given him a bundle of white flowers at the entrance of the hospital.
“To make sure you don’t forget me.” Chongyun had said while grinning.
“When it catches the light correctly, it kind of looks like the color of my hair,” he added.
Xiao frowned. Even as a kid, he was always awkward at conveying what he felt and often locked them behind a wall. That was why even until the end, he refused to show how devastated he had felt when he saw Chongyun’s figure turn back and disappear into a car.
With a forced smile, he had waved him goodbye.
The day after that, Xiao didn’t leave his room. He stayed inside for the entire day, wondering if the ache in his chest was because of his condition or of something else.
Then, the next day, he heard his door burst open.
Instead of the doctors and nurses that he expected, what he saw was the familiar fluffy hair that looked white in the sunlight from his angle on the bed.
Chongyun smiled.
“Miss me?”
“Stupid.” Xiao said.
On the desk next to his bed, the flowers Chongyun had given to him as a parting gift were carefully placed inside a vase.
It really was the same color, he thought.
When he opened his eyes, Xiao was looking at it.
The flowers he received six years ago had long since wilted, but Xiao had replaced them with new ones regularly. It became a sort of hobby to take care of them, and one of the few things he enjoyed doing in this bleak room.
He also found out that they were the same unnamed white flowers from the garden on the rooftop. In fact, Chongyun had probably plucked them from there.
It was night already. Chongyun had gone home. He could hear the sound of the AC with the rest of the machines in the room, a low mechanical buzz that hinted at a sign of life. A small trail of moonlight peeked from the gap in the curtain window, creating a line of silver glow.
Something caught his eye.
The stray petal from earlier was still at his side. He picked it up absentmindedly and rubbed it with his thumb.
Just then, a sudden pain erupted from his chest.
It was excruciating, like having a thousand needles stab at him. He could hear a ringing in his ears as he gasped for air, not expecting the sudden attack. His throat seemed to be blocked and he could neither see nor hear properly.
All he could feel was agony.
When he thought he couldn’t endure it anymore, he felt a hand grabbing him.
Xiao flinched and looked up.
It was the same familiar appearance from his memories, although older.
Six years was a long time after all.
“Xiao.”
“...”
He couldn’t speak. Even if he wanted to, no sound would come out of his mouth.
His mind was spinning from both the pain and the surprise.
Why didn’t you leave yet?
Chongyun would sometimes sleep over without warning, but it was always on the weekends when he didn’t have to go to class. It was a Thursday that day, he recalled.
“... Should I call for help?”
There was worry in his tone.
Xiao shook his head, trying to steady his breathing. He could see Chongyun’s figure beside him, still firmly grasping onto his hand. It was warm.
He decided to focus on this feeling.
On the other hand, Chongyun remained quiet as well. It seemed he understood what Xiao wanted.
After a while, he calmed.
"..."
“... I’m sorry.” Xiao finally whispered.
“Don't apologize.” Chongyun said.
Xiao closed his eyes, listening to the beat of his heart thudding in his ears.
“I... haven’t told you this, but… I don’t have long left.”
He confessed suddenly. Heavy silence descended after the words left him. When he thought it went too long, Xiao slowly looked up at the other person’s face, focusing his sight.
Instead of surprise, there was a quiet sadness on Chongyun’s expression.
“I… I’m sorry too,” he finally said. “I knew. Professor Zhongli told me.”
“ ... I see.”
Chongyun lowered his head.
“You know,” he whispered, “I plan to become a doctor in the future.”
“...I thought you hated the hospital.”
“Not anymore.”
“...”
“I’ll find a cure.”
Xiao couldn’t help but smile weakly at that. How many times had he made up scenarios or hoped that a miracle solution would come? He couldn’t count them.
“I can’t be cured.”
Chongyun's grip on his hand tightened.
“... Are you going to do it?” he suddenly asked.
Xiao knew what he was talking about. It was the same thing that Zhongli brought up on the rooftop.
A few weeks ago, there had been a medical breakthrough for his condition. There was a chance he would be healed completely, however it was still in its earliest stages of testing. Zhongli had said that the full cure might come in four or five years.
But Xiao didn’t have that long.
So he gave him a choice: go with the procedure that had a very high lethal rate… or wait until his time.
The two choices ended in a narrow escape and likely death.
He had been given time to think about it, but it was taking him longer than he thought.
Because for some reason, Xiao couldn’t see a future where he was in it.
He had always regarded his existence as a curse. He was born into a wealthy family as the youngest child, and a year after he was confined to the hospital, they hadn’t cared enough to visit him anymore. It seemed they had decided he was no use and left him to rot there, only sending presents and empty greeting cards on his birthday. Xiao hadn’t seen his parent’s faces in years.
He had always hated the stares of people who knew his circumstances as he passed on hallways. Every time they whispered among themselves, he could feel their pitiful gazes he never asked for.
There were only two people who had never looked at him once like that. One was Zhongli, who was like a father to him than his real one, and another.
That person was beside him right now.
Xiao pursed his lips.
“... I’m scared,” he whispered quietly. Honestly.
Chongyun shook his head.
“You’ll be fine.”
Even if he said that, they both knew it was a lie.
“You know… I’ve always wondered,” Xiao murmured, looking at the flower on the desk. “What if I die?”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“It’s hypothetical.”
“Then… I’ll follow you in your next life and make sure you won’t suffer again. I promise.”
“Will we even meet?”
“Yes.”
“Will we even remember each other?”
“Probably.... not.”
Xiao laughed weakly.
“Then how are you supposed to make that happen? Both of us might end up with different personalities. We might even hate each other instead.”
Chongyun frowned, pale face visible behind the soft glow of the moon.
“It won’t. I won't allow it.”
He said that with conviction, as though challenging fate itself.
Xiao tilted his head. A feeling of exhaustion suddenly enveloped him and he could feel his eyes closing from the sleepiness.
He leaned on Chongyun’s shoulder, hiding his face.
“I hope.”
“Good luck.”
Chongyun’s eyes were red and holding back tears, but he was gripping his hands firmly.
“Thanks,” Xiao said.
They were standing outside the operating room. The procedure would start in a few minutes.
There was also a possibility it would be the last few minutes of his short life.
Xiao pushed the fear away. He had already prepared himself for this. No matter what happened, what mattered was that he had made this decision for himself. Something like a final resistance against the hand that fate had dealt him.
Chongyun was holding a white flower. Xiao had given it to him a few seconds before, freshly plucked from the garden on the rooftop.
A parting gift, if needed.
“The doctors are the best in the field. And Professor Zhongli will be there to help. You’ll be fine. It’ll end well.”
“You sound more like you’re reassuring yourself.” Xiao said.
Chongyun shook his head. He looked at his wristwatch.
“It’s almost time…”
As if on cue, Zhongli emerged from the door, beckoning them with his hand. Xiao turned to Chongyun.
“If I die…” he said, “Please look after the flowers in my room.”
Chongyun frowned at his words. He opened his mouth and hesitated, deciding in the end not to argue anymore.
“You know," Chongyun tried a smile. "Even now I still don’t know what they’re called.”
“Me too.”
Xiao turned around to go, but not before a hand grabbed his wrist. A warmth enveloped his thin figure as Chongyun hugged him gently.
“You’ll be fine.”
“I…” Xiao’s voice broke for a moment and he felt his body tremble, feeling the wall where he kept his fear back finally beginning to crack.
“You’ll be fine.” Chongyun repeated.
They stayed like that for a few seconds, until they finally broke away.
Xiao went to Zhongli who was waiting for him.
“Are you scared?”
“A little,” he lied.
Zhongli reached out his hand and rubbed his head. It was a natural gesture, like a father patting his child’s head after getting full points on a quiz. He didn’t say anything else and motioned inside. Xiao glanced at the operating tables and the machines beeping inside the room. The surgeons were already waiting.
“I’ve never said this but…” Xiao looked at him.
“Thank you for raising me.”
Zhongli froze for a moment, startled. It was the first time Xiao had seen his usual calm demeanor break.
Then, Zhongli smiled at him.
“You make me sound like an old man.”
For the last time, Xiao looked back. Chongyun was standing there, looking at them. He knew that person would wait until the operation was over, no matter how long it would take.
I’ll be fine.
The smile on Chongyun's face was the last thing he could remember.
In the present, Xiao opened his eyes.
He sat up on the rooftop of Wangshu Inn, feeling the autumn breeze brushing against him.
He felt like he just had a sad dream, although he couldn’t remember what it was about. The only clue he had was the strange ache in his chest.
Perhaps it was a sad memory.
It was strange. After all, adepti were long-lived and he was confident in his ability to remember things. From the names of his comrades who fought with him in the war, and even to their favorite delicacies, he knew them all with certainty.
And yet, not a single recollection of his dream came to his mind.
“Good... Good morning, did I wake you?”
Xiao turned to see a silver-haired young man peeking from the edge of the rooftop. It was the exorcist, Chongyun.
A week ago, he had approached Xiao to ask for help with his training. After days of being pestered, he finally agreed to it.
There was an unintentional benefit as well.
The young boy had been born with a condition where he had too much yang energy. It naturally purified the air around him, sending spirits and monsters running away within a specific radius.
It also purified the cursed energy that Xiao had accumulated from thousands of years ago.
It was like a breath of fresh air whenever he was around the exorcist, although he didn’t admit it.
He shook his head.
“No, you arrived at the perfect time.”
Xiao stood up and teleported to the floor underneath them. As he looked at Chongyun jumping down after him, he noticed something inserted between his belt.
“... Qingxin?”
The young exorcist glanced at the white flower and smiled awkwardly.
“Ah, yes… the manager downstairs gave it to me. They're good for herbal tea.”
Xiao stood there motionless for a few seconds.
“Is there something wrong?” the exorcist asked.
The dull pain in his chest came again, although faint. Xiao blinked and shook his head.
“Nothing, follow me.”
“Yes!”
As the exorcist eagerly replied, Xiao’s mind was elsewhere.
… White petals.
Somehow, it reminded him of a familiar color and a distant dream.