All I Am

At exactly eight o'clock, Wu Changkong pushed open Lu Menge's door on time.

He carried warm water and a pill, a bedtime sleep aid prescribed by Doctor Zhang. Ever since he had successfully made her finish an entire plate of greens and ribs in the cafeteria with an authoritative tone, he had consciously adjusted the way he spoke to her—not by becoming deliberately cold and harsh, but by replacing every "Do you want to?" with "What should you do?"

Lu Menge was curled up in a wicker chair, flipping through an old magazine she had dug out from somewhere. She had showered and was wearing a loose white cotton nightgown with a thin cardigan over it. Her long hair was untied and scattered over her shoulders, the tips still carrying a trace of dampness that had not fully dried. She was tucked into the chair with her legs curled up, her toes peeking out beneath the hem of her nightgown, one slipper kicked off.

Wu Changkong walked over to the wicker chair with the water and pill, looking down at her.

"Get up. Take your medicine."

Lu Menge peered at him over the top of her magazine. She looked at the white pill in his hand, then at him. She hesitated for a beat, as though she wanted to bargain—she had always bargained before. After taking the pill from him, she would habitually pop it into her mouth, press and flip it with her tongue, tuck the little white tablet beneath it, then wait for him to set down the water and turn away before spitting it out. But tonight, he simply stood before her holding the water, his stance clearly saying, I'm watching you swallow it. She set the magazine aside, sat up from the chair, took the pill and put it in her mouth, accepted the cup and gulped down some water, then tipped back her head and swallowed. She opened her mouth to show him her empty tongue, then pursed her lips.

"Bitter. Can't you change it to capsules? Capsules aren't bitter."

"Capsules are a different medicine. This one only comes in tablets." Wu Changkong took the empty cup and turned to place it on the bedside table.

Lu Menge rose from the wicker chair, her bare feet stepping onto the wooden floor. She walked to the bed and sat down, patting the edge of it before looking up at him. Wu Changkong stood beside the bedside table, looking down at her and waiting for what came next—she always had a few complaints after taking her medicine, things like "This medicine makes me sleepy," or "Can I take it later tomorrow?" He was used to it and prepared to refute every one of them.

But that was not what she said.

"Wu Changkong."

"Mm."

"Do you want to sleep together tonight?"

The room fell quiet for a moment. It was not an awkward silence—Lu Menge's tone was perfectly natural, as was the way she tilted her head to look at him.

Wu Changkong stood by the bed, looking down at her. Her lashes cast a small shadow beneath the light, and a faint shower-gel scent lingered around her freshly bathed body. When she asked that question, she looked up at him with no teasing or nervousness in her fox-like eyes. Her feelings did not seem like a sudden whim, but more like the result of a long period of solitary reflection.

Lu Menge had been thinking about this for a long time. From the perspective of someone who had lived for an unknown number of millennia, human lives were pitifully short. Everyone she knew was like a ginkgo leaf, falling as soon as autumn arrived. The Dragon God had fallen, those old fellows had fallen too, and even Di Tian was counting down his days one by one.

She had never cared before—fallen leaves were just fallen leaves, while she stood in the wind. But Wu Changkong was different. This human had clumsily slapped his salary card onto her windowsill, sought out Zhenhua for her, and swallowed every fabricated story of her past as truth outside the psychiatric clinic. In his own way, he was telling her: you are not alone. She was not sure what this was—she had lived too long, gone too long without being treated as "a person," so long that she could no longer tell what she truly felt for Wu Changkong. But she knew one thing: he wanted to take care of her. And while he was still alive, she wanted to give him everything she could.

Wu Changkong was silent for a moment. He removed the Heavenfrost Sword from his waist and set it on the bedside table. Then he sat on the edge of the bed. Lu Menge's lashes fluttered as she watched where he sat—very close, but not touching her.

"Do you know when those words would be most appropriate?"

Lu Menge froze slightly, then shook her head.

"When you are sure that the person you like feels the same way. When you are not sick, when you are not treating me as a lifeline. On a day when you will not hide in the bathroom at dawn and scrub yourself until the backs of your hands turn red, then pretend nothing happened."

His cold blue eyes looked at her calmly. There was no rejection, no disgust, none of the negative reaction she instinctively expected him to give at a time like this. He merely sat beside her and made every word perfectly clear.

Lu Menge opened her mouth. She wanted to say, I'm not treating you as a lifeline. I just want to be a little better to you while you're still alive. But she could not say it. Because she suddenly realized that if she truly said those words, she would be admitting that his place in her heart carried more weight than she was willing to let anyone know.

"I just think—you're so good to me—" Her voice was a little dry.

"Because I want to take care of you," Wu Changkong cut in. "Not because I expect anything in return."

Lu Menge closed her mouth. The bitter taste of the pill still lingered at the root of her tongue, but she felt that was not the medicine's flavor.

Wu Changkong pulled the blanket over from behind her, shook it out, and covered her legs with it. Then he stood, dragged the wicker chair to the bedside, and sat down. From this distance, she could reach out and touch his shoulder.

"Lie down. Close your eyes. I'll leave after you fall asleep."

Lu Menge slowly lay down and turned onto her side, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She looked at the straight-backed figure in the wicker chair and wanted to ask if he was cold, wanted to tell him his legs would go numb sitting like that, wanted to say that his kindness frightened her terribly. She was afraid that one day he would be gone, afraid that one day he would discover she had lied to him, afraid that one day he would look at her as though she were a stranger.

"Wu Changkong—you're so good to me—I have nothing to give you." Her voice was slightly muffled by the blanket.

Wu Changkong sat in the wicker chair without looking down at her. His gaze rested on the pitch-black night outside the window, his tone as steady as ever. "You do not need to give me anything. You just need to take your medicine properly, eat properly, get up at seven tomorrow morning, and go to the cafeteria with me. You can do that."

Lu Menge squeezed her eyes shut beneath the blanket and answered, "I can." With her eyes closed, she listened to the steady breathing of the person in the wicker chair. The medicine was beginning to take effect, and sleepiness gradually crept upward from the soles of her feet.

Wu Changkong's gaze shifted from the window to her quiet profile. He said nothing, only glanced at the bedside table—where Lu Menge's salary card lay. She had secretly slipped it into his pocket when he was not paying attention earlier that day, thinking he had not noticed, but after returning to his office, he had taken it out and put it back. He let out a soft sigh at the curled lump beneath the covers, rested the Heavenfrost Sword across his knees, and closed his eyes to rest.

After an unknown amount of time, Lu Menge turned over, her breathing even and deep. Her arm slipped out from beneath the blanket and rested on the edge of the bed, her fingers slightly curled, only a palm's breadth away from Wu Changkong's hand on the armrest of the wicker chair. She did not touch him.

Wu Changkong opened his eyes and looked down at the hand hanging over the edge. He lowered his eyes in silence. Then he reached out, pulled the blanket higher, and covered both her hand and arm. He rose, casually switched off the light, picked up the Heavenfrost Sword from the bedside table, gently pulled the door nearly shut, and left.