Chapter Fifteen: The Scent of Fireworks

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The soldiers stood cold and indifferent, like broken strings with no echo. They were stationed five meters apart from one another, just five meters from the dike, and not a single one responded to Xu Xing’s calls.

Watching the old man draw ever nearer to the edge of the dike, his foot nearly slipping into the void, Xu Xing summoned all his strength and dashed forward, becoming a streak of wind that raised dust from the ground in his wake.

The distance between him and the old man closed rapidly, now just a step away. The old man stretched out his arms, one foot already over the edge, ready to take that fatal step. At that instant, Xu Xing leapt and threw his arms around him, but instead of knocking the old man over, he found himself clinging desperately to him, unable to move him an inch.

Blocked by Xu Xing, the old man turned his head, extended a finger, and with a gentle tap left Xu Xing utterly powerless, unable to move a muscle.

Looking at the old man, his face was tanned and weather-beaten, the bones of his face deeply etched by the years, his expression wavering between hesitation and sorrow. He had known much suffering; the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes formed a tight web. He seemed as if forgotten by the world, a lost pearl in the vast sea, chilling to the heart.

In this moment, Xu Xing finally realized just how powerful this old man was, and how ignorant he had been; frail in appearance, yet possessing a force that could sweep through grass like a gale.

Rendered immobile by the old man’s touch, Xu Xing could only watch as the old man stepped lightly, half his foot now suspended over the dike.

“Hey, what are you doing? Have you thought about your family? What will happen to them if you’re gone? Do you want them to live every day in grief without you? Isn’t that selfish?”

“I don’t know what hardship has brought you to this, but tomorrow can still be beautiful. Think about your family, waiting at home with a meal prepared, only to set one less bowl and chopsticks—what must that feel like?”

“Your home is where you truly belong! Not here! Please, stop!”

Seeing that force alone couldn’t stop the old man, Xu Xing tried to reach him with warmth, hoping to stir some memory within him.

“Home? What is home? It’s been a long time since I heard that word. The four seas are my home now. Young man, you’re still young. When you’ve walked far enough in life and there’s no one left in this world you care for, you might end up like me, walking this same path.”

Perhaps the old man hadn’t spoken for a long time—his voice was halting, tinged with hoarseness.

Seagulls flew to their side, stopping at the edge of the dike and watching them, chattering endlessly. Xu Xing no longer knew how to answer, but pressed on:

“If you’re so powerful, why not use your abilities to save others from suffering? The greater your power, the greater your responsibility!” Xu Xing tried to persuade him.

The old man stroked the few remaining wisps of hair on his head, smoothed his white beard, turned sideways, and pulled his dangling leg back.

His eyebrows were as white as perennial snow, his face deeply wrinkled, his eyes filled with sorrow, with only two teeth left.

Seeing this, Xu Xing sensed he had touched something soft in the old man’s heart and said firmly:

“That’s right—the greater your power, the greater your responsibility. With strength like yours, why not be a good man?”

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“A good man? When the world itself is so muddied, how can I pretend to be noble? The ties within are too tangled. To shake the tree as an ant—I’m not capable. When you can truly rise from the mire untouched, it means your power is enough to make them submit. I’m not there yet.”

“I hope that one day, we’ll meet again…”

The old man sighed, turned his back, and gazed out at the ocean. Though Xu Xing couldn’t see his eyes or feel the weight of his past, he knew the old man must be in utter despair.

“I’m coming, my family!”

The sea wind tossed his long, unkempt hair; he looked like a wanderer with no home. Perhaps, as he said, the sea truly was his home…

“Wait, perhaps you could come to my home—wouldn’t it be better to face the future together?”

The old man let out a great laugh, stepped forward, and in a heartbeat, his aging body plunged down. Xu Xing shouted, desperate to hold him back.

But what’s done was done.

The old man’s words echoed through the sky:

“Why, in a city of seven hundred thousand, is there not a single person for me…”

A vibrant life vanished before Xu Xing’s eyes.

Suddenly, gold light burst forth from within his body, drawing the soldiers’ attention. Feeling his limbs freed, Xu Xing rushed forward and looked down at the beach.

The rocks below were steep and jagged as blades, covered in countless razor-sharp shellfish, stained with fresh blood. No body was to be seen—perhaps already devoured by those merciless creatures…

At that moment, Xu Xing was overcome with grief. He could not understand why the old man chose such a painful way to end his story.

Was the world truly so muddied? The old man had chosen to end his journey like this, right before his eyes.

A new moon was slowly ascending.

Xu Xing sat alone on the dike, letting the evening breeze brush past, gazing at the horizon where sea met sky. He hesitated, surrounded by seagulls.

“The cicada’s song lasts only for summer. A fish remembers for just seven seconds. The moon above is the same as in ancient times, but those who bathed in its light are gone, generation after generation. Perhaps, like fleeting rays, we too are gone in an instant.”

Compared to heaven and earth, he felt so small. At this thought, Xu Xing’s heart grew heavy.

The seagulls huddled close, nestling against him, soothing his wounded soul, some even nuzzling him gently.

The touch of their soft feathers brought a little comfort, easing the ache in his heart.

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He gazed at the distant horizon where sea and sky met, wondering why a man would choose such an end for himself. What lay beyond the sea?

Since childhood, Xu Xing had never sailed—he was deeply curious about what might be on the other side.

The evening breeze kept him company for a long time, until the wind stilled and darkness fell. Only then did Xu Xing rise to leave, still mourning the old man’s passing.

Night closed in, the seagulls departed, and the coastline was left to the beacons on the dike and the soldiers standing guard.

From the remnants of the sun, the moon rose over the sea, pure and bright, turning the waters to shimmering white.

Alone in the darkness, Xu Xing turned back—there was Ocean City. He walked on, until he found himself back within its bounds.

Ocean City was as bustling as ever, though none of its splendor belonged to him now. His brother, sister-in-law, and younger sister were all gone; only the familiar old courtyard by the sea remained.

The sounds of revelry rose and fell in waves; the city’s festivities had reached their height, fireworks lighting up the night, making Ocean City seem even more lively.

“Candied hawthorn! Fresh candied hawthorn!” The familiar street cries brought a smile to Xu Xing’s face. Perhaps only the warmth of the world can make one long to keep living.

Strolling along, he saw a father about the same age as his late brother, cradling his precious daughter. Their clothes were threadbare, the colors washed away long ago.

The girl gazed longingly at the bright red candied hawthorn, swallowing her saliva. She turned, her wide, sparkling eyes pleading with her young father: “Daddy, I want to eat a candied hawthorn… can I?”

“Of course you can! Today is my precious girl’s birthday—how could you not?”

“Two skewers of candied hawthorn, please! My daughter deserves a treat today.”

The young father smiled, holding his daughter in one arm, fishing through his pockets with the other. Yet after a long search, as the hawthorn seller handed over the treats with a scowl, growing impatient, he snapped, “Hey, are you taking the candied hawthorn or not?”

The young father looked embarrassed, patting his empty pockets again and again, his face turning stiff. At last he forced a smile and turned to the hawthorn seller:

“Sorry, not today. My girl can’t have sweets.”