Young Master Cheng

If Luo Cheng had opened his eyes at that moment, he would have seen a huge crack suddenly split open where he was falling. A swirling black hole inside swallowed him in the blink of an eye. Before long, the black hole vanished with him, as if neither had ever existed.

But the earthquake had been real, not a hallucination. The date was May 12, 2008.

(Once again, I mourn the victims of the Sichuan earthquake. I hope every victim was as lucky as the protagonist, reborn as a person and becoming someone above the rest. Of course, I wish the same good fortune on friends whose lives aren't going well. I hope we, too, get a chance to take control of our own fates.) In his dream, the staggering Sanbao found himself in a sea of fog. Not far away, a burly youth and a strange bird, red from head to toe, were locked in a vicious struggle. Both were battered and bleeding all over. The bird seemed to have the upper hand, while the youth was gradually losing ground. In a daze, Sanbao wandered over.

"You wicked beast! You dare prey on humans? I'll beat you to death! Beat you to death..."

With a splat.

Sanbao strained with all his might to lift his arm, then brought it crashing down on the bird's head...

The two of them and the bird became a tangled mess...

"Ugh..."

"Ow, that hurts. My whole body feels like it's fallen apart. I shouldn't feel pain if I'm dead, should I? Could it be I'm not dead yet?"

The first thing Sanbao noticed upon waking was the pain. It pierced him from head to toe, inside and out. Only after that did it occur to him that he might still be alive. In his years of medical training, he'd learned that jumping from a cliff that high left no chance of survival.

"Young Master Cheng, you're finally awake? Thank heavens! I thought..." Under the bright moonlight, a faint voice suddenly came from a patch of grass nearby.

Although Sanbao couldn't tell what language it was, what astonished him was that he understood every word.

Sanbao turned his head and saw an old man with white hair lying in the grass a few meters away.

The old man was dressed all in black, like an assassin from a martial arts drama. But the wrinkles covering his face showed that he was well into old age. And from his deathly pallor, it seemed he was in no better shape than Sanbao.

"What is this place? I remember the cliff where I jumped was covered in rocks. How did it turn into a stretch of green grass? This clearly isn't the bottom of Luo Family Mountain! Where am I?" Sanbao tried to recall what had happened.

That was a mistake. The moment he tried to think, his head spun, as if countless steel needles were stabbing into his brain. He had no choice but to stop.

"Let me help this old man up first. He should know what happened, right?" Ignoring the pain all over his body, Sanbao struggled to his feet and slowly staggered toward the old man.

Was it day or night? It wasn't this dark during the day, and it wasn't this bright at night. Sanbao looked up and saw a huge, perfectly round moon in the sky.

W-what kind of place was this?

Why was the moon so huge? Could this be the underworld from the old stories?

"Ah! What is that?"

As soon as Sanbao got up, he spotted the corpse of a gigantic bird beside him. It looked like an eagle, or perhaps a vulture, but was far larger than an ordinary eagle. Its feathers were bright red, though they were now a complete mess.

What's more, the grass around the bird was drenched in blood. The whole area was a wreck, feathers scattered everywhere. Sanbao let out a startled cry.

But the moment he spoke, he startled himself.

"Why does my voice sound like this?"

Sanbao realized his voice had become incredibly childish, like that of an eight- or nine-year-old boy. And although he understood the language he was speaking, it had nothing in common with the Chinese he'd spoken before.

"Listen, Young Master Cheng, stop jumping at every little thing. I'm badly injured, and we can't stay here. We need to find somewhere safer..." the old man said sadly.

"Young Master Cheng?" That title nearly drove Sanbao mad. It felt as if no one had ever called him that—and as if everyone had always called him that. His thoughts were a complete jumble.

"Old sir, who are you? I don't think I know you, do I?" Setting everything else aside, Sanbao went to the old man, carefully helped him sit up, and asked.

"Cough, cough. What? You don't recognize me? Young Master Cheng, I'm Thirteen! Heavens! How could this happen? Could the Blood Fusion have damaged your soul? Have you lost your memories? Still, I suppose we're lucky—you made it through..."

The old man gave two light coughs, then sighed deeply.

"Old sir, I think you've got it wrong. I've lost love, my job, and even my mind, but I haven't lost my memories." Sanbao was aching all over himself, so he plopped down beside the old man and shook his head.

Though the world could be cold and cruel, Sanbao still felt compassion for an old man on death's doorstep, especially on a night in such a desolate wilderness. Perhaps they were both in the same boat.

"Forget it, then. Now isn't the time to talk. I'll meditate for a while. You think about where we can hide in a bit..."

The old man pointed to a mountain several miles away and spoke between gasps.

"Old sir, what kind of strange bird is that? It looks like a vulture, but not quite, and like an eagle, but not quite. How did it get so huge? And for some reason, I feel like I've seen it somewhere before. How strange."

It was clearly the very same strange bird Sanbao had encountered in his dream. He simply couldn't remember.

"Ah, you really have lost your memory. You don't even recognize the Crimson Flame Eagle whose blood we used for your Blood Fusion." The old man gave a bitter smile, then fell silent, looking utterly hopeless.

Of course, that was only how it seemed to Sanbao. In reality, the old man had closed his eyes to practice his cultivation.

"Fine, fine. Old sir, don't be so sad. I'll try to remember and see if anything comes back to me!"

Seeing the old man look so utterly hopeless, Sanbao felt something stir within him.

Sanbao had a feeling the old man wasn't lying to him. Yet he truly couldn't remember a thing. Could he really have lost his memory?

Think...

Think again...

"Right, I really am Young Master Cheng. I live in a very secluded little villa in Lanjing City. I have only one retainer, who also serves as my attendant. He's called Thirteen, and I think that old man is him..." Suddenly, a fragment of an incomplete memory appeared in Sanbao's mind.

"Ah, it hurts!" Sanbao tried to remember more, but his head started hurting again, so he had to stop.

"Reincarnation?"

The thought suddenly appeared in Sanbao's mind.

He looked down and finally realized: "This is actually real!" The person he was now was not the person he'd been before. This body clearly belonged to an eight- or nine-year-old kid.

No wonder. No wonder...

In the blink of an eye, Sanbao understood a great many things.

"Have I really been reborn? This isn't a dream, is it?" He secretly bit the tip of his tongue. The sharp pain told him clearly that he wasn't dreaming.

"Woo..."

As a few faint wolf howls drifted over from beyond the valley, Sanbao felt his hair stand on end. Heavens, what kind of godforsaken place was this? A pack of wolves was coming!

"Um, Thirteen, I remember who I am now. You don't have to worry. But it sounds like there's a pack of wolves nearby. What should we do?" The thought that he had been given a whole new life filled Sanbao with a quiet excitement.

Even ants clung to life; how much more so did humans? Sanbao had jumped off the cliff only because he'd had no other choice. Now that he'd been given a new life, how could he not be overjoyed?

"No need to worry. Those beasts are only testing us. They won't come over so soon. This is the Crimson Flame Eagle's territory. They don't dare come here on a whim. In another quarter of an hour, I'll take you away," Thirteen said calmly, unmoving.

"Good, good." Sanbao felt an instinctive trust toward Thirteen, the stranger who seemed strangely familiar.

The Crimson Flame Eagle must be that dead bird. Judging by its size, in life it could have torn apart tigers and trampled lions. Had Thirteen, a withered old man on the verge of death, really killed it? Heavens, what sort of world was this?

"All right, let's go." As Sanbao's thoughts ran wild, a dry, talon-like arm suddenly wrapped around his waist. With a whoosh, they shot toward the mountain ahead.

"Thirteen, I had no idea you were so strong despite your age. You run like a hare!" Sanbao exclaimed.

Thirteen looked like a man in his seventies or eighties. Yet once he moved, his body was astonishingly nimble. He was even more uncanny than a monkey or a hare.

"Young Master Cheng, are you making fun of me, or have you really lost your memory?" Thirteen gave a bitter smile.

"I only remember Lanjing Villa and you. I can't remember anything else," Sanbao answered honestly.

"Ah, at least you remember this old servant. My risking my life to bring you here wasn't for nothing." Thirteen looked both disappointed and relieved.

Before long, they reached the foot of the mountain. Sanbao looked up and saw a massive mountain, black as pitch and several thousand meters tall. Shrubs of every shape and size covered its slopes. Its enormous shadow loomed between heaven and earth, while the wind howled and wolves cried. Sanbao felt an immense pressure bearing down on him.

He felt so tiny beneath that vast sky...