Chapter 721: 29.6%, and 2.4%

Chapter 722: 29.6 and 2.4

The old man's cracked lips trembled open, and his seemingly dry eyes welled up again. Those seven words, like a sword that had pierced through three centuries, struck the softest part of his heart.

At that moment, all the fatigue, pain, and grievances that had been suppressed deep within him surged out uncontrollably, condensing into turbid tears that streamed down his cheeks and splattered onto the desolate ground.

No one knew how he had lived for the past three hundred years.

He had borne the responsibility of maintaining the Mortal Realm, endured the pain of a broken device piercing his body, and suffered a solitude beyond human endurance, battling time stitch by stitch.

He had intended to take everything with him and return to dust in solitude, but a single sentence from Su Zhiwei shattered all his stubborn persistence.

The old man forced himself to look away, no longer meeting Su Zhiwei's gaze. He looked at the murmuring stream beneath his feet and spoke hoarsely:

"You shouldn't have come looking for me..."

"Why?"

"If you didn't find me, I would always remain the young Yao Qing, following behind you." The old man paused. "Now, I'm an old man who can barely speak clearly... At least, I wanted to leave you with the most perfect image of me in your heart."

"Does perfection have anything to do with appearance?"

Su Zhiwei frowned and said, "You were the one who created the Fleeting Life Scroll, the one who protected the Mortal Realm, the one who locked time for me, and the one who resisted Lord Wuji at the crucial moment. This realm arose because of you, and it prospered because of you. Without you, the Mortal Realm would have been destroyed long ago, and I would have perished in the annals of time.

You haven't been behind me for a long time, Yao Qing. You walk ahead of me, ahead of everyone. You've done so much for us, why do you still feel you're not perfect?"

"But from now on, whenever you think of me, you'll only remember this ugly old face... I don't want that."

"You'd rather not see me, just to preserve a better image of yourself in my heart?"

Su Zhiwei seemed exasperated. She gritted her teeth and glared at Yao Qing. "Immature! Stubborn! You're still exactly like the little brat you were back then!"

Hearing the latter half of her sentence, the old man first froze, then his lips involuntarily curled into a smile. Leaning against the willow tree's trunk, he let out a hoarse, soft laugh. His expression was stiff, almost grotesque, not from anything else, but because he hadn't smiled in centuries, and the muscles in his face had long atrophied.

The old man seemed much more relaxed. He softly said, "But you are in the prime of your youth, yet you care about an old man who is almost in his grave. That just doesn't make sense..."

The moment the words "care about" were uttered, Su Zhiwei also paused. In that instant, she felt as though she had truly returned to over three centuries ago, when Yao Qing would often tease her in the same way, or rather, subtly hide his affection within casual banter.

Back then, she rarely responded directly, as she believed there was an insurmountable barrier between them: she was eight years older than him.

The Su Zhiwei of the past, as part of the highly educated elite, had quite conservative views on relationships. But now, she had experienced far too much; some things she once considered barriers had long become insignificant.

Su Zhiwei pressed her lips together. After a moment of hesitation, she answered seriously:

"Age is not an issue. You yourself said that back then."

The old man hadn't expected Su Zhiwei's answer to be so direct this time. She no longer hid her true feelings, but openly reciprocated his sentiments. However, he did not respond immediately this time.

The old man silently gazed at the river's reflection beneath his feet. Between him and Su Zhiwei, there had long existed an insurmountable chasm...

It was time, era, and life and death.

"Back then... I was just saying it," the old man murmured.

"But I took it seriously."

Su Zhiwei's even more straightforward reply shattered Yao Qing's sentimental worries once again. He froze, unsure how to respond. It became clear that when Su Zhiwei, the pragmatic scientist, was determined to reveal her true feelings, no matter how intricate or complex the threads, they could not ensnare Yao Qing's wavering heart.

Before Su Zhiwei at that moment, all of Yao Qing's worries, concerns, and complex thoughts were forcefully torn to shreds, like a young boy's adolescent troubles.

"Back then, I was twenty-seven, a Ph.D., and you were nineteen, still a university student. For us at that time, eight years was an insurmountable chasm. But now, everything is different." Seeing Yao Qing's prolonged silence, Su Zhiwei continued seriously,

"...What do you mean?"

Even after living for over three hundred years, Yao Qing still couldn't comprehend Su Zhiwei's way of thinking.

"The chasm that once existed, we've already stepped over it," Su Zhiwei said, gazing deeply into his eyes. "Time is nothing in the face of love.

I love you, Yao Qing, regardless of era, regardless of life or death."

As Yao Qing's gaze narrowed, Su Zhiwei closed her eyes and kissed his aged lips.

Raindrops fell into the river with crisp, tinkling sounds. Two hearts resonated at that moment, and the world fell into an eternal stillness.

After an unknown length of time,

The two figures under the withered willow tree slowly separated.

Yao Qing's gaze remained fixed on Su Zhiwei's face, his expression shifting from astonishment to joy, and finally settling into bitterness and helplessness.

Su Zhiwei leaned her shoulder against Yao Qing's, resting with him against the willow tree's trunk. They sat by the bank, quietly feeling the river flowing beneath them and the gentle breeze caressing their ears.

Neither spoke, as if unwilling to break the beautiful, almost surreal dream, as if savoring the fleeting tenderness that bloomed in three centuries.

His heartbeat gradually weakened, like the fleeting breeze at one's fingertips.

"...Sister Zhiwei,"

Yao Qing turned his head and whispered, "I should sleep now."

"Go to sleep," Su Zhiwei said, looking into his eyes. "I'll stay here with you. Someday, we'll meet again... in a dream, or in another reality."

"...Mm."

Yao Qing's eyes involuntarily closed. His life force at that moment no longer allowed him to carefully consider Su Zhiwei's answer. He was like a bonfire that had burned fiercely for three hundred years, gradually being extinguished in the rain, leaving only a single, infinitesimally small flame silently fluttering away.

At the same time, Su Zhiwei's voice, which she could no longer suppress and was slightly trembling, softly echoed in his ear:

"Thank you for three hundred years of companionship... Yao Qing."

Poof—

The flame extinguished within his aged body.

The moment his heart stopped beating, Su Zhiwei could no longer control her emotions. Two streams of tears continuously flowed from the corners of her eyes as she wrapped her arms around Yao Qing's body and wept silently.