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Zhou Zishu cruised the edge of the cathedral hall, letting the tap of his sermon shoes fill in the air. His robes are too long, dragging across the glinting marbled floor.
Was there a god?
He asked as if he didn't serve the cathedral for half his life, diminishing life like the candle burning in its platter. Zhou Zishu kneeled atop the altar, setting the candle to his left as he clasped his hands.
Zhou Zishu prayed, the same anecdotes, the same lines, the same words he'd said thousands of times.
Was there hope?
He wished to add, but everyone knows to add a word before the father's agreement was a sin punishable by cutting their tongue off. Though Zhou Zishu knew better than that. Helian Yi would never allow such words to be added, he'd consider it Zishu loosening from his grip. But would it matter if he did and ran away?
"Amen"
Zishu kissed the clasp of his hands before reaching for the candle beside him, though he miscalculated as his palms felt the flame. He hissed and almost fell to his right before steadying himself and quenching his anger, sucking in an idle breath before reaching for the candle holder's tiny loop on its side. Trying to not squeeze his palms too much as it would irritate the burned skin.
His night prayers are done. Just to check on the twin towers before going to his quarters. The tap of his shoes once again his only companion. The open arching windows allowed the whistles of the wind to become a howl, like a melody that lulled to him a step closer to freedom.
He could just jump, and he would be free.
But that's the temptation talking, unbecoming of a devout believer like him to fall to such ministry.
Some leaves decorated the steps of the stair, he would need to ask the cleaning children of this matter. They are not slaves however, they're taken in as pupils to continue the institution, at least that's how many was led to believe.
Zhou Zishu recalled what the punishments are for liars again.
Surely their tongues would be cut, right?
The left tower was as is. The ceiling filled with spiderwebs, a room with a key no one knows where, and a balcony clean on one side of dust, whilst the other with marks of scratches from a shoe sole. Zhou Zishu smiled as he lit the place with his candle, halfway from burning completely.
The city looked radiant from the left tower balcony. Zhou Zishu placed the candle to his right, a little farther from his folding arms as he leaned to the railing. The night's air was a pleasant song, almost alluring him to come forth and step over to the open. Zishu knows better than anyone but to smile at it.
Sometimes ignorance is an answer to a problem, he would testify as much, after all there is no guarantee that heaven's doors awaits him.
Zhou Zishu leaned back from the railing and grabbed his candle again, this time it had been a good moment, the candle was less than halfway to its death.
No matter. He took his steps languidly, slowly, leaving the left tower to the night's sermons.
Crossing the main halfway, he let the statue's eyes follow his swaying robes. The necklace with a pendant of devotion missing from his neck.
Where had it gone?
He reached the stairs of the right tower, there were more windows on this side of the cathedral, yet curiously the wind doesn't pay a visit often. He felt less chilly than before. A seep of warmth enunciated by his thick robes soothed him.
Winter is close, maybe he should request a new robe in case he needs an extra layer this year.
The stairs were less clean, dust filled its squares instead of leaves, mold could be seen as evidence of how often damp the place was.
Zhou Zishu brushed it off as he traveled the heights again, there were no railing to both the left and right tower stairs. Just an unguarded spiral waiting to be someone's death trap. He'd seen it happen once, he'd caused it once, too bad the poor mouse had to take the blame as it spooked the unsuspecting officer.
Zhou Zishu called himself a devout believer, free of sin. But what had gone by his hands, might god forgive him if god exists?
He reached the top of the staircase, this time an open altar, no balcony in sight as the small floor was only filled with a miniature of the main hall, a window opposite to the end of the stair, just enough for someone to peek their head through. Zhou Zishu ignored the vaguelt brown substance staining its inner edges. A smaller bench in front of the small altar, accommodating maybe two if they were sat side by side, three kids if they were too. Such a small place, such serenity.
The believer sat on the bench, his candle beside him, maybe as a folly of a companion. Here he doesn't have to kneel. The winds passing through the tiny window sounded like a whistle, sharp yet pleasant to him. Now it was not only his candle that shone through the night, it was also the light of the full moon.
Zhou Zishu let his feet be caught in its splendor, he scoots closer to the tiny window, wishing to be enveloped by the moon's light.
As if an embrace was waiting for him.
The candle flickered.
Zhou Zishu looked at the smaller statue, maybe the size of the large ones' palm. He prayed to it freely, forgetting his tongue that could be cut, maybe the statue won't hear him as clearly as it's gigantic companion. Maybe the walls here are more sympathetic to him, maybe the floor won't see him as a sinner.
It was safe for him here. Yet it wasn't his sanctuary.
The prayer is nothing but a jumble of words he could never find a way to piece, forever a puzzle that somehow pleased him as he wished it would stay that way. Maybe Zhou Zishu was content in being incorrigible, so much that the words he cling to reflected that image.
He picked up the candle. Now long gone from its tall appearance, just a meek puddle of dimming light.
Zhou Zishu had to be more careful as he descended the stairs lest he ended up like the man who got spooked by a mouse.
The main hall greeted him once again.
His necklace with its pendant of devotion hung from the statue's left index finger.
Enticing him to come closer to take it.
And Zhou Zishu did; how could he not if he has to explain why it's there in the morning?
A larger hand reached to it before him.
Letting the pendant reflect a slight of the moonlight. Zhou Zishu looked at the outline of the hand, clad in black leather. The fingers were noticeably longer than his, moving so languidly as if following the whims of the night.
The person behind him was quiet, as if not wanting to scare him away, yet Zhou Zishu was never afraid of the person behind him, standing just a step farther than if he would step back then his back would be to their chest.
Another hand came from behind him, undoing the necklace's latch, letting the chains rattle softly before managing to and encircling his neck.
Slowly, the necklace returned to its owner's chest. Dropping like a tired man to his bed. And with the help of the hands behind him, clasped securely again.
If Zhou Zishu were to look back now, then he would lose himself to the sinner.
But was it a sin?
"A-Xu, don't walk around alone at night. What if someone were to do bad things to you?"
That playful lilt greeted his ears as if it was licking the shells. Wanting him to melt under it's tinge just like the first time it calls out to him that very first night. The last genuine prayer he remembered uttering.
And it was the same night Zhou Zishu had bared himself in front of this very statue. Losing to the fingers that are now just in his line of sight. Losing to the sins he vowed to never touch.
Yet here he was. Straining from reaching that warmth and sinful voice that beckoned him to step back, answering its call.
Sadly Zhou Zishu had fallen, he'd become the very sinner he'd condemn in broad daylight. A hypocrite to his own vows, a man tainted by the whims of the world. Long before he'd taken himself as part of the cathedral, he'd known his place in death.
Even if God did exist, God will not stand beside him, as he'd taken the devil's hand.
The man behind him felt warm, Zhou Zishu leaned back and felt a touch of heaven in this made up salvation.
"Wen Kexing."