Emotions are contagious, especially when the sorrow in Ning Li’s eyes is so thick, so dense it feels like clouds heavy with rain, about to burst open with a torrential downpour.
It made Ran Wu’s heart sink along with it.
The air had somehow grown damp, moist and heavy—probably about to rain.
Ning Li actually had many things she wanted to say, but her thoughts were too scattered.
Her mouth felt like a clam shell, unable to utter a single word.
About the Diary—if he said he minded, she would be upset; if he said he didn’t, she seemed even sadder.
He tolerated all of Ran Wu’s bad moods, but it was okay.
Right now, she was Ran Wu.
Ran Wu’s face in her memory began to blur.
She didn’t know what the old Ran Wu would have done if faced with the same situation of being chased by pursuers just now.
She only knew that the current Ran Wu, just as he said, protected her very well.
He said what he meant and did what he said.
But he was not good to himself at all.
He loved this world deeply, but seemed to hardly love himself.
He cared for many people and many things, but didn’t care about himself in the slightest.
She wanted to know if anyone loved him.
It seemed not.
That was why he so recklessly forced his spirit body into action.
She wanted him to care more about himself, but she knew he wouldn’t listen.
In certain matters, he obviously had his own resolve.
Her weight was still too light.
At the moment Ning Li’s trembling eyelids closed, the rain that had been gathering for many days finally poured down in a roaring storm, raindrops pattering fiercely on leaves, on the ground, drenching both of them, soaking their clothes through.
What.
That night, Ning Li developed a high fever in a crude shelter they had found.
She was delirious, mumbling words no one could understand.
Ran Wu’s body had always been fragile in memory, prone to sickness every now and then.
The former Ran Wu was skilled at caring for his younger sister, but the current Ran Wu was flustered and completely at a loss on how to properly take care of her.
He had never seen such a fragile Ran Wu before.
Nor had he ever faced such a vulnerable life.
In his twenty-four years, most of the sentinels around him were robust.
Even after ten days or half a month in the rain, they were still vigorous.
The orphans he met in the slums were full of vitality, having grown up rolling in the mud, accustomed to drinking dirty water, eating expired rotten food, surviving in extreme weather.
His most trusted deputy was even more resilient—like a stubborn weed, having escaped death several times, constantly risking his life.
But Ran Wu was different.
She was unlike anyone he had ever met.
He recalled what he had seen in History about Ran Wu’s brief yet brilliant life.
This powerful sentinel, who possessed the spirit body of the Lord of Storms, lost his sister forever at the age of twenty-three.
After his sister’s death, he launched a fierce retaliation against the 53rd District Legion, and because of him, the ugly side of the 53rd District was fully exposed to the public.
Gao Yan’s deeds were also revealed—and ultimately judged.
No sentinel in the 53rd District was innocent; their hands were stained with blood, their deeds wicked.
To Yin Que, it was history that happened three hundred years ago, something he knew all too well.
But now, he had become Ran Wu.
He once lamented Ran Wu’s experience, regretting the rough and short life of this powerful sentinel.
After dying and being reborn as Ran, he contemplated his mission—should he reveal the crimes of the 53rd District early, or end the threat of aberrants to humanity prematurely in this era?
In just a few days, he thought about many things.
But when Ran Wu lay sick and unresponsive before him, he suddenly realized: what if he was wrong?
What if his mission in this era had nothing to do with aberrants or the 53rd District Legion?
What if he was only here to fulfill a dream of Ran Wu’s?
In History, Ran Wu truly died, just before her twentieth birthday.
She never lived to see twenty.
But the records were limited, and he learned far too little.
Did Ran Wu fail to obtain the Divine Gift back then?
Or was there no such Divine Gift in the 63rd District at all?
History contained no record whatsoever of the Divine Gift!
There were only a few brief lines about Ran Wu—no name, mentioned only as Ran Wu’s sister.
It was as if no one cared about the deep bond between the siblings, nor about Ran Wu’s life or death.
Because Ran Wu was just an ordinary person without an awakened spirit body.
The only one who cared about her life and death was probably Ran Wu himself.
But now, Yin Que had become Ran Wu.
Yin Que imitated the Ran Wu in his memories, placing a wet towel on Ning Li’s forehead and feeding her fever medicine.
Common medicines like fever reducers were always carried by Ran Wu, so Yin Que found them easily.
Now, all he could do was wait for her fever to subside.
If her condition didn’t improve, he would have to find a guide with a Healing Spirit Body.
Ning Li’s whole body was chilled and shivering.
Drowsily, she cuddled up to Yin Que’s chest.
Yin Que gently pushed her away several times, laying her steadily on the ground covered with clean leaves, but before long, Ning Li would come back again.
“Brother’s embrace is so warm.”
“Brother, can you hold me?”
“Brother……”
Yin Que gazed at Ning Li’s flushed face, so sick yet repeatedly drawing close to him, making him truly feel needed for the first time.
Many people needed him.
His deputy and the Royal Guard Captain needed his orders; the people needed his protection.
But what they needed was a symbol—a powerful sentinel.
As long as he was strong enough to resist aberrants, anyone could fill the role.
Throughout the long and ancient history of the sentinels, there were many powerful ones.
He was not the most special.
Even as the Rose of the Universe, he was only its fifth bearer.
If he ceased to be their commander, there would be another.
If he ceased to be the bearer of the Rose of the Universe, there would be a sixth lucky one.
This world could do without anyone.
The seasons would still cycle; life would still continue.
Even his parents were the same.
Time would eventually heal everything.
His mother might bear new children with her second husband; his father might never find time in his busy research to mourn his death.
But Ran Wu was different.
What she needed was not a symbol, not a commander, but the real him.
She told him with every move that without him, her world would truly stagnate, the sun would no longer rise, the seasons would no longer turn, and her world would fall into eternal silence.
That would be the grandest loneliness in the world.
Ran Wu’s body was truly fragile.
Coupled with Ning Li’s sorrowful expression and emotional turmoil, the fever struck fiercely.
Tears welled in her eyes.
The only one she could rely on was Ran Wu.
Without Ran Wu, she might not have survived until her twentieth birthday.
“Brother, please don’t abandon me.”
“Even if you’re busy, please don’t neglect me. I beg you.”
Even in sickness, she still cared about his possible future neglect.
Yin Que’s heart felt tangled with twisting vines—vines coming from Ran Wu, pulling his heart downward, as if dragging him into the depths with her.
He did not push Ning Li away again.
Because she needed him.