Chapter 33: Yuan Shaolin’s Inner World

"Are you the one from back then?" Yuan Shaolin put down the paper and looked at Long Yin, surprise flickering in his eyes.

Those four words, "the one from back then," assured Long Yin that after three years, his appearance had completely changed. He shrugged, tacitly admitting it.

Yuan Shaolin slapped his waist with his uninjured left hand, and the eight-star recovery card instantly floated up. Activated by his elemental force, the card began to emit a gentle glow. As the light touched his wounded right hand, it suddenly intensified, stabbing into his arm with a force so vivid that even Yuan Shaolin paused in shock. An intense pain struck without warning, and even someone as adept at endurance as Yuan Shaolin couldn't help but let out a muffled groan.

Long Yin, who had been watching for a while, frowned, his face full of disapproval. "Haste makes waste. That recovery card may speed up healing, but your body clearly can't handle it!" The other was biting his lip, sweating profusely from the pain, yet stubbornly forcing the treatment. Long Yin couldn't bear to watch any longer.

"It's none of your business!" Yuan Shaolin snorted coldly, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

"You are simply unreasonable and ungrateful!" Long Yin turned and left.

Yuan Shaolin cast a glance at Long Yin's retreating figure, lowered his eyelids, and a surge of intense emotion welled up in his eyes. So this card could be used in such a way; he had thought he understood it fully. Now his handsome face was slick with cold sweat, a hint of self-mockery coloring his pallor, so frail it inspired pity.

When Long Yin returned, he was met with just such an expression. After all, it was because of him that Yuan Shaolin ended up like this. His unstable mood and irritable temper were understandable. Long Yin hesitated, then pulled a wet towel from his space and walked over. "Since you were injured for my sake, I'll help you wipe your sweat."

"That's unnecessary!" Yuan Shaolin turned his face away, rejecting coldly. "Why did you come back?"

Long Yin inhaled, forcing himself not to get angry. "If you want to recover quickly, cooperate a little." As soon as the wet towel touched Yuan Shaolin's forehead, he shot Long Yin a cold, angry glare. "I said I don't need it!"

Yuan Shaolin's obvious unwillingness made Long Yin's task impossible. In the effort to wipe his sweat, Long Yin ended up sweating himself, feeling worse than when he crafted cards.

Besides his former self, Long Yin had never met someone so thoroughly unapproachable. Unable to help himself, he muttered, "You're even harder to please than Dongfang Ning."

Long Yin left with the wet towel, unaware of the storm his careless words had stirred in Yuan Shaolin's heart. Dongfang Ning—he heard the name again from Long Yin's lips. Yuan Shaolin couldn't help but wonder if this child was somehow related to that person. The other's use of cards, these repeated coincidences—could the world truly hold so many? The deeper he thought, the more anxious he became. The card, now unsupported by elemental force, slipped from his hand and landed softly on the carpet. Yuan Shaolin, unable to muster the slightest bit of force, watched it fall, reached for it, and began to inch himself closer, biting his lip and enduring the pain. His fingers finally touched the card, but no matter how hard he tried, he only managed to push it farther away.

When Long Yin returned, he saw Yuan Shaolin half-suspended, his left hand straining for the fallen card. Startled, Long Yin nearly cried out, quickly snatching up the card. Seeing Yuan Shaolin stunned, Long Yin couldn't help but scold, "Is there a rock in your head? Is it so hard to ask for help?"

Yuan Shaolin lay back down, his voice icy. "Give me the card."

Long Yin looked at the card in his hand, frowning. "Is this card really so important to you?"

"Give me the card!" Yuan Shaolin's tone intensified. Instantly, Long Yin felt the room's temperature drop at his words. He traced the card with his finger, and the sensation brought forth a chill from deep within him. He saw the loneliness and vulnerability in Yuan Shaolin's eyes as he gazed at the card—an unsettling urge to strike at him rose. Holding the card aloft, Long Yin said, "You want it? Ask me for it! Then I'll give it to you!"

"You!" Yuan Shaolin couldn't believe what he was seeing. A devil in a single second? The other's actions left him humiliated.

Yuan Shaolin's face flushed red. Long Yin had no doubt: if Yuan Shaolin regained even a shred of elemental force, he would attack him without hesitation.

"Ask me for it, and I'll hand you this card."

Yuan Shaolin's eyes were icy as a frozen lake. As he lay back, he sneered coldly. "Ask for help? Only if I'm dead."

Never again, in this lifetime, would he ask anyone for help. Never.

The irrevocable resolve in Yuan Shaolin's gaze struck Long Yin at that moment. Pressing his lips together, Long Yin suddenly smiled with angelic innocence. "Is that so? Then I'll just throw it away!"

Yuan Shaolin opened his eyes in disbelief. With a flick of his wrist, Long Yin tossed the card away. In that instant, he felt as though he had shed some heavy burden, but the figure lunging for the card left him gaping in shock.

A crack! The sound of breaking bone chilled the spine.

Yuan Shaolin's face was drained of all blood from the pain, but the card clutched tightly in his hand made him curve his lips in a rare smile. The reassurance and joy of regaining what was lost made him forget the pain—until it engulfed his nerves, and all he could do was convulse.

"Are you insane!" Long Yin struggled to turn Yuan Shaolin over, seeing the bleeding arm again. Trembling, he asked, "Is that card more important than your arm?"

He expected no reply. Unexpectedly, Yuan Shaolin retorted with a mocking tone. "Only someone like you, who carelessly ruins other people's treasures, will never understand what it means to cherish."

Long Yin froze. He had indeed gone too far. In silence, he applied medicine to Yuan Shaolin, then called for Xiao Chui to carry him to bed. Long Yin sat dumbly outside, staring at the sparse stars in a daze.

Under the moonlit night—the somber moon, scattered stars, oppressive evening breeze, shadowy trees—everything seemed so gloomy. Forced to confront the questions he'd always avoided in the silence of the night, Long Yin sat alone. Xiao Chui, unexpectedly, did not disturb him. Long Yin sat quietly all night, rubbing his cheek in the morning to find it damp—whether from dew or something else, he couldn't tell. Stretching his stiff limbs, he returned to Yuan Shaolin. As expected, Yuan Shaolin had also spent a sleepless night. Long Yin paused, then spoke quietly under Yuan Shaolin's suspicious gaze, "Dongfang Ning truly doesn't understand what you mean."

Long Yin turned and left, leaving Yuan Shaolin with even more tangled thoughts.

After spending the night in contemplation, Long Yin finally understood: even if he only acknowledged himself as Long Yin, deep down he was still the Dongfang Ning of his previous life. Perhaps changed, but not as thoroughly as he imagined. Some things still easily stirred emotions hidden deep within him. The words he spoke to Yuan Shaolin were more a reminder to himself—he was Long Yin now, no longer Dongfang Ning. In the midst of it all, he wondered: had he ever met Yuan Shaolin in his past life? Some feelings from Yuan Shaolin unsettled him, and he was surprised, yet compelled to remind him—Dongfang Ning was already dead.

Through the narrow crack of the window, the first sunlight of morning arrived. Long Yin pushed open the door to find Duolin. Yuan Shaolin should not remain here; he was not Dongfang Ning, and the other should not live in the past. Letting him go would be best—for both of them.