Revive, My Love

The garden at Shrek Academy is not large, yet Dean Flender boasts of it as the "Imperial Garden of the continent's premier academy."

In reality, this garden is only half the size of a basketball court, planted with a few crooked trees, a patch of half-dead lawn, and several clusters of wildflowers whose names no one knows. On the lawn sits a wooden bench with peeling paint that lets out a "creak" whenever someone sits on it.

But Tang San does not care about these things.

To him, as long as there is sunlight, Xiao Wu, and this bench, it is the most wonderful place in the world.

At this moment, he is sitting on the bench, his left arm around Xiao Wu's shoulders, his right hand holding a Soul Beast Illustrated Handbook, muttering to himself. Sunlight filters through the leaves of the crooked trees, casting dappled light and shadows upon the two of them.

Xiao Wu leans against his shoulder, her eyes half-closed, looking as if she is about to fall asleep.

"Third Brother," Xiao Wu yawns, "you've been reading for an hour, aren't you tired?"

"Not tired." Tang San turns a page. "I'm studying the habits of soul beasts; it will be helpful for when we hunt for soul rings later."

"But I'm so bored..."

"Then shall I tell you a story?" Tang San puts down the book, his eyes lighting up.

Xiao Wu looks at him warily: "What story?"

"The story of the Tang Sect. Once upon a time, there was a sect called the Tang Sect, and they were masters of hidden weapons and poisons..."

"You've told that eight times already." Xiao Wu says, expressionless.

"Then I'll tell it a ninth time, but this time I'll add some new details..."

"Third Brother," Xiao Wu sits up straight and looks earnestly into Tang San's eyes, "have you ever thought about a question?"

"What question?"

"You might be a chatterbox."

Tang San: "..."

He opens his mouth, wanting to retort, but realizes that he truly does talk a lot when he is with Xiao Wu. In his past life, he was the most reticent inner-sect disciple of the Tang Sect, rarely speaking ten sentences a day. But after arriving on the Douluo Continent and meeting Xiao Wu, his mouth has never stopped.

"That's because I only talk this much with you." Tang San says sincerely.

Xiao Wu's face turns slightly red: "Smooth talker."

Tang San laughs and picks up the Soul Beast Illustrated Handbook again.

The sun is warm, the breeze is gentle, and the garden is filled with the scent of grass and wildflowers. From the distance comes the "whoosh" of fire-breathing as Ma Hongjun cultivates, mixed with the sound of Oscar's incantation, "I have a big sausage," and the muffled grunts of Dai Mubai lifting stone locks.

This is just an ordinary morning at Shrek Academy.

Everything is so peaceful, so beautiful, so—

"Buzz—"

A mosquito flies past.

It is tiny, so small that one would never notice it without looking closely. It flies very low, weaving between the grass and wildflowers, searching for a target.

Tang San does not notice it.

Xiao Wu does not notice it either.

The mosquito finds its target.

Xiao Wu's arm.

The mosquito lands silently on Xiao Wu's right forearm, its proboscis piercing the skin, greedily sucking her blood.

Xiao Wu feels a slight itch and subconsciously looks down.

"Oh," Xiao Wu lifts her arm, seeing a small red bump, "I got bitten by a mosquito."

Her tone is casual, as if she were saying, "The weather is nice today." It's just a mosquito bite, what's the big deal? When she was little in the Star Dou Forest, she was bitten by poisonous insects a hundred times larger than this mosquito and didn't think anything of it.

But Tang San's reaction is beyond her expectations.

Upon hearing the words "bitten by a mosquito," Tang San puts down the Soul Beast Illustrated Handbook and turns to look at Xiao Wu's arm.

His gaze lands on the small red bump.

Then, his pupils shrink violently.

It is as if two soybeans suddenly turned into mung beans; the whites of his eyes expand rapidly, and his pupils contract to the size of needle points. His complexion changes too, shifting from a normal skin tone to a deathly pale, his lips turning purple, and the veins on his forehead bulging.

"Xiao Wu..." Tang San's voice trembles, "you're hurt?"

Xiao Wu is stunned: "Huh? It's not an injury, it's just a mosquito..."

"The wound!" Tang San's hand trembles as he reaches toward Xiao Wu's arm, "There is a wound on your arm!"

"That's not a wound, that's a mosqu—"

"Blood!" Tang San's eye sockets turn red, "You're bleeding! Xiao Wu, you're bleeding!"

Xiao Wu looks down at her arm—there is indeed a small red bump, but it was from a mosquito bite; there is no blood at all. The bump is only slightly raised, the skin surface is perfectly intact, not even broken.

"Third Brother, there's no blood, it's just a mosquito..."

But Tang San can no longer hear her.

In his mind, there is only one thought—Xiao Wu is hurt.

This thought hit him like a bomb, exploding in his mind and shattering all reason, logic, and judgment. Tears welled up in his eyes, streaming down his cheeks to drip onto Xiao Wu's shoulder.

Then, he lunged forward and hugged her tight.

He held her with a desperate intensity, as if trying to knead her into his very own body. His arms clamped around her like iron hoops, leaving her gasping for air.

"Xiao Wu!" Tang San sobbed, his voice hoarse and choked with emotion. "You cannot die!"

Xiao Wu's eyes widened. "I didn't—"

"Resurrect, My Love!" Tang San howled toward the heavens, his voice as tragic as a final farewell on a battlefield. "Resurrect, My Love! Resurrect, My Love!"

He shouted it three times, each louder and more harrowing than the last.

The entire garden fell silent.

In the distance, Ma Hongjun's fire-breathing stopped, Oscar's chanting ceased, and the thud of Dai Mubai lifting his stone lock vanished. Everyone had heard Tang San's cry, and everyone was stunned.

Xiao Wu sat on the bench, pinned firmly in Tang San's embrace. Her expression shifted from shock to confusion, then to speechlessness, and finally to a desire to commit violence.

"Third Brother," Xiao Wu took a deep breath. "I was just bitten by a mosquito."

Tang San didn't hear a word.

His tears fell like broken beads, pattering down. His nose ran, mixing with the tears to smear across his face. His expression was twisted in agony, as if he were enduring a heart-wrenching separation.

"It's all my fault!" Tang San wailed, beating his chest. "I didn't protect you well enough! If I were only stronger, you wouldn't be hurt!"

"But I'm not hurt..."

"Your wound is bleeding! You're lying to me! You must be saying you're fine just so I won't worry!"

"I have no wounds, and I'm not bleeding..."

"You're lying to me!" Tang San looked up, his tear-filled eyes fixed on Xiao Wu. "You must be in a soul state! The real you is already dead! You're just a soul now! Resurrect, My Love!"

Xiao Wu: "..."

She desperately wanted to slap some sense into him, but Tang San was holding her too tightly; her arms were pinned to her sides, leaving her unable to move.

"Third Brother, please, get a grip." Xiao Wu tried to keep her tone calm. "I am alive, I am warm, I have a heartbeat. Feel me—I'm warm."

Tang San touched Xiao Wu's face and indeed felt the warmth.

But his brain had already interpreted this as "the lingering warmth of a soul."

"Your soul hasn't dissipated completely yet!" Tang San wept again. "I still have a chance! Resurrect, My Love!"

Xiao Wu gave up.

She gave up on using logic to convince him, gave up on using facts to wake him, and gave up on any rational means to bring him back to reality.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and told herself: This is the man I chose. I chose him. I chose him. I chose him.

Just then, two people walked along the garden path.

Xiao Wu and Oscar.

Xiao Wu held a basket of fruit, and Oscar held two sausages (which he had made himself). They had been heading to the training grounds when they heard Tang San's wailing.

Xiao Wu stopped and turned her head.

She saw the scene on the bench: Tang San was hugging Xiao Wu (the rabbit) and bawling his eyes out, while the rabbit wore an expression of utter despair, the air thick with the vibe of "I want to die."

"What is Third Brother going crazy about now?" Xiao Wu muttered, speechless.

Oscar took a bite of his sausage and said calmly, "I'm used to it. Last time Xiao Wu sneezed, he did the same thing."

"Sneezed?" Xiao Wu raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Oscar nodded. "Last month, Xiao Wu sneezed in the cafeteria, and Tang San immediately thought she had a terminal illness. He held her and cried for an hour, shouting 'Resurrect, My Love.' Xiao Wu explained for ages that her nose was just itchy, but Tang San wouldn't listen—he insisted it was her 'final flash of life.'"

Xiao Wu was silent for a moment. "Is he sick in the head?"

"I think so," Oscar took another bite. "But Xiao Wu (the rabbit) won't let me say it."

"Why?"

"She says, 'Third Brother just loves me too much.'"

Xiao Wu looked at Xiao Wu (the rabbit), who was currently giving her a look that screamed, Save me!

"I don't think it's that he loves her too much," Xiao Wu shook her head. "It's that she's too patient."

Oscar nodded in deep agreement.

The two didn't disturb Tang San's "funeral," walking away quietly. Even from a distance, they could still hear Tang San's voice echoing from the garden: "Resurrect, My Love—!"

Oscar sighed. "Do you think Tang San was a stage actor in his past life? This acting is just too on point."

Xiao Wu rolled her eyes at him. "Keep your voice down, or you'll be the next one he writes down in his book."

Oscar immediately shut his mouth and scanned his surroundings warily—only after confirming Han Li wasn't nearby did he let out a sigh of relief.

Back in the garden, Tang San was still crying.

He had been at it for half an hour.

His tears had run dry, turning into dry heaves. His throat was raw, his voice reduced to a raspy wheeze. His face was a mess of snot and tears, his eyes swollen like peaches, and his nose red as a clown's.

But he was still crying.

Xiao Wu went from wanting to hit someone at the start to feeling helpless, then from helpless to numb, and finally from numb to completely vacant. Her eyes were hollow, her expression dull, and her soul had already flown to the nine heavens.

She was thinking that if time could turn back, she definitely wouldn't have let that mosquito bite her.

No, if time could turn back, she definitely wouldn't have sat on that bench.

No, if time could turn back, she definitely wouldn't have stayed with Tang San.

No, if time could turn back, she definitely wouldn't have left the Star Dou Forest.

"Third Brother." Xiao Wu's voice was very soft and calm.

"Mmm-wuuuuuu..." Tang San responded through his tears.

"It's already been an hour."

"Mmm-wuuuuuu..."

"Aren't you tired?"

"Mmm-wuuuuuu..."

"Doesn't your throat hurt?"

"Mmm-wu... cough cough cough cough!" Tang San started coughing; his throat did indeed hurt.

He finally stopped crying, lifted his head, and looked at Xiao Wu with red, swollen eyes. His face was covered in tear tracks and snot, looking absolutely wretched.

Xiao Wu looked at that face of his, took a deep breath, and then—

"Smack!"

A slap.

Crisp, loud, and merciless.

Tang San was stunned by the blow.

He covered his face, staring blankly at Xiao Wu, his eyes filled with the question, "Why?"

Xiao Wu withdrew her palm, flexed her wrist, and said expressionlessly, "Are you awake now?"

Tang San blinked, then blinked again.

His brain began to reboot slowly, arduously, and painfully.

"I... I just now..." Tang San's voice was so hoarse it didn't sound like his own, "What happened to me just now?"

"You cried for an hour," Xiao Wu said.

"Why?"

"Because a mosquito bit me."

Tang San froze.

He looked down at Xiao Wu's arm—there was a small red bump, very small, very ordinary, and very insignificant.

He looked at his own hands—they were covered in tears and snot.

He touched his own face—it was swollen, red, and painful.

He cleared his throat—it was hoarse, sore, and ruined.

"That..." Tang San's face turned red, turning purple, "I had a dream."

Xiao Wu looked at him, saying nothing.

Tang San lowered his head guiltily: "I really had a dream... I dreamed that you were captured by the Martial Soul Hall and sacrificed... I dreamed that you died... I..."

"Third Brother." Xiao Wu interrupted him.

"Hmm?"

"You say you had a dream every single time."

Tang San: "..."

"Last time I sneezed, you said you dreamed I was poisoned."

"The time before that, I tripped and scraped my knee, and you said you dreamed I was eaten by a Soul Beast."

"The time before that, I had an upset stomach and threw up, and you said you dreamed I was pregnant and dying in childbirth."

Tang San's head sank lower and lower, wishing he could crawl into a crack in the ground.

"So," Xiao Wu crossed her arms, "are you actually having dreams, or are you just finding excuses for yourself?"

Tang San was silent for a long time.

"I think... maybe... perhaps... probably..." he stammered, "I really am just... a bit too nervous about you."

Xiao Wu sighed.

She reached out, ruffled Tang San's hair, and her tone shifted from helpless to gentle: "Third Brother, I know you care about me. But I'm really fine. I am a Hundred-Thousand-Year Soul Beast; how could I possibly be bitten to death by a mosquito?"

"But..."

"No 'buts' about it." Xiao Wu cupped Tang San's face. "Look at me, Third Brother. I am alive, I am warm, I have a heartbeat. I won't die, at least not that easily. You don't need to wail and howl every time you see me get a tiny scratch, and you certainly don't need to say 'Resurrect, My Love' every single time—I'm not even dead yet!"

Tang San looked into Xiao Wu's eyes, which held helplessness, tenderness, affection, and a hint of a threat that said, If you do that again, I really will hit you.

"I... I'll try my best," Tang San said.

"Not try your best, you must," Xiao Wu corrected.

"I must."

"Pinky swear."

"Pinky swear."

The two hooked their little fingers together and gave them a shake.

A smile finally touched the corners of Tang San's mouth. Although his eyes were still swollen, his nose was still red, his throat was still hoarse, and his face was still puffy, his mood had improved significantly.

"Xiao Wu," Tang San said softly.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"Thank you for what?"

"Thank you for still being here."

Xiao Wu smiled and leaned into Tang San's embrace. "Silly, I've always been here."

In the distance, on the branch of a crooked tree.

Han Li held a monocular telescope, aimed directly at the two in the garden.

His expression was focused, his gaze calm, and the corners of his mouth even curled up slightly—it was the satisfaction of someone who had "discovered a prey's weakness."

With one hand holding the telescope and the other a ledger, his brush moved rapidly across the paper.

"Subject 307, Tang San."

He wrote down the name, paused to think for a moment, and continued writing.

"Notes: This individual, Tang San, appears to suffer from severe persecutory delusions and a compulsive savior complex. Specific manifestations: overreacting to any injury sustained by Xiao Wu (rabbit). Even a mosquito bite, a sneeze, a scrape, or an upset stomach triggers his 'Resurrect, My Love' conditioned reflex."

Han Li thought for a moment longer and added:

"Based on observation, the trigger frequency of Tang San's 'Resurrect, My Love' is extremely high, occurring almost daily. Triggers include, but are not limited to: Xiao Wu sneezing, Xiao Wu coughing, Xiao Wu tripping, Xiao Wu being bitten by a mosquito, Xiao Wu choking on food, Xiao Wu stumbling while walking, Xiao Wu saying 'I'm tired,' Xiao Wu saying 'I'm sleepy,' Xiao Wu saying 'I'm hungry,' Xiao Wu remaining silent for over three minutes, Xiao Wu not smiling, Xiao Wu smiling too much..."

He counted them up and continued writing.

"Preliminary assessment: Tang San's 'Resurrect, My Love' is not a soul skill, not an incantation, and not a secret technique, but a psychological disorder. While this condition does not affect his combat effectiveness (which is mediocre anyway), it distracts him at critical moments and can be exploited as a potential weakness."

"Recommendation: Should a battle with Tang San occur, one can manufacture the illusion of Xiao Wu (rabbit) being injured to induce a state of emotional breakdown, thereby securing an easy victory."

"Additional note: Tang San's tear ducts are highly developed; his ability to weep is remarkable, suspected to be of thousand-year cultivation."

Han Li finished writing, nodded with satisfaction, closed the ledger, and put away the telescope.

He jumped down from the branch, landed on the ground without a sound, brushed the leaves off his clothes, and turned to leave.

Passing by the garden, he glanced from afar at Tang San and Xiao Wu on the bench—the two were snuggled together, looking as if the world were peaceful and still.

The corners of Han Li's mouth curled up slightly.

"Everything is under control."

He whispered, then vanished into the thicket.

On the bench, Xiao Wu suddenly shivered.

"What's wrong?" Tang San asked.

"I don't know," Xiao Wu looked around. "I feel like someone is watching us."

Tang San immediately grew tense. "Is it someone from Martial Soul Hall? Did they come to capture you? Resurrect, My Lov—"

"Third Brother." Xiao Wu pressed a hand over his mouth.

"Mmph mmph mmph?"

"Shut up."

Tang San obediently shut his mouth.

Xiao Wu scanned the area again, found nothing unusual, and shook her head. "Maybe it was just my imagination."

She leaned back into Tang San's arms and closed her eyes.

"Third Brother."

"Hmm?"

"You really need to see a psychiatrist."

Tang San: "..."

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but realized he had nothing to say.

Because he knew Xiao Wu was right.