The back of my hand feels unnaturally cold. On instinct, I sit up and withdraw the hand, images of tentacles and squirming creatures from the depths flashing before my eyes.
‘Shh. It’s just me.’
I open my eyes. Guizhong is kneeling before me, a hand outstretched, her wet clothes clinging to her small frame. I realise with a start that something is missing.
‘Your guqin.’
‘Ah…’ She reaches into her pockets and pulls out a couple of frayed strings. ‘I didn’t expect it to survive, but…’
I am not sure what to say at the distant look in her eyes.
The sand beneath me is warm, as if heated by a mild afternoon sun. Shielding my eyes against the remnants of a sunset, I take in my surroundings. In front of us, endless sea, though this time its waters are blue, occasionally turning white along its waves. To my right…
I take in a deep breath.
There is the harbour, a pearl nested into the side of a mountain, draped in glittering glass and gold. I realise Guizhong is looking as well, and I remember that she never had the chance to see this: the fruits of her labour.
‘Wow,’ she breathes. ‘You… you’ve been busy.’
‘I did not accomplish it alone,’ I say.
‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘Thank you for taking care of my homeland.’
I feel the urge to kiss her. Or hold her, bring her through the veil that separates dreams into my world. I have her back now, even if it is just a pale imitation. I can pretend, at least, throw a tarpaulin over the gaping hole in my chest.
‘Come home with me,’ I say to her.
She smiles, so softly it hurts. ‘I’m not like you. Death is final.’
‘I know.’
I let her fall into my arms and hold her there, breathing in the smell of lilies and soil, and something else uniquely hers. I want to stay here forever, where it is just the two of us again, without the wounds of our parting.
‘Within the dream,’ I say to her, running my hands through her hair. ‘I will reconstruct the harbour from my memories, and we can spend one last day together.’
I feel her smile into my shoulder. ‘You’ve really changed.’
I pull us to our feet, guide her down the beach. The harbour approaches, the fading sun trailing behind our footsteps. At last, we are at the toll gates. No sign of the blood red trees. I feel safe enough to let go of her hand.
The roads of the city are empty, and so are most of the buildings she peeks into through their windows. Just the two of us, I tell her, and she raises an eyebrow.
‘You can just say you can’t dream them into existence,’ she says. ‘There’s no need to keep up the act. After all, —‘ She winks. ‘It’s just the two of us.’
The further we walk along the grey pavements, the abandoned roads, I notice more and more of the dream’s flaws; or more accurately, the gaps in my memory. There should be a food stall here, an office building there. Instead, in their place are messy, misshapen shapes that make my head hurt when I try to look at them.
These imperfections increase the further I go into the city. She seems to notice too, looking into the windows of every more highly detailed building.
‘They’re all empty,’ she says. I nod in response.
‘My memory is beginning to fail me,’ I say. ‘My mind is not nearly as strong as…’
I don’t let myself finish. Thankfully, she doesn’t press on.
As we keep going, the ground swims beneath my feet. I force myself to look up, at the darkening sky, slowly descending over the city like a wool blanket. The stars are back, their light permeating through the half-transparent shapes of barely-remembered buildings. They are descending as well, and I swear I can hear the gentle sloshing of water, as if the ocean has followed us here.
‘Hey,’ says Guizhong when I stagger, barely catching myself at the last moment. ‘Are you okay?’
I mumble something incoherent. She grips my arm and guides me to a nearby bench, sitting down next to me.
‘I see it too,’ she murmurs. I turn my head to see that she is gazing skywards, the stars reflected in her eyes too large and too bright. ‘We only have so much time.’
I breathe in, then out, wanting to calm my heart. She turns to look at me now, completely serious.
‘What I am wondering,’ she says, ‘is when you are going to tell me the whole truth.’
I look away. She continues, ‘You didn’t call me here to find the host of this dream. What do you want to tell me so badly?’
‘Your song.’ I finally say quietly.
‘Which one?’
Instinctively, I reach to my right. My fingers close the wooden neck of an erhu, lifting it onto my lap with my remaining strength. Guizhong’s eyebrow lifts.
I look up. The office building that looms before me fizzes in and out of sight before solidifying into something opaque. Without the light of the stars, I feel just strong enough to find the bow and drag it across the strings.
The strings are perfectly tuned, but my shaking hands do not complement them. The trembling notes, too slow for the original piece, choke out, barely enough to be recognisable. Guizhong’s hands find mine, steadying them.
‘They flow into each other,’ she says, her breath against my face. ‘Don’t think of them as a series of separate notes. This section, —’ She moves my hands, playing it with more grace than I could ever be capable of. ‘ —you don’t have to be so scared of it.’
‘I could never complete it,’ I say, too honest. ‘Not like you could.’
‘Then let it stay unfinished,’ she says. The bow dances across the strings, my hands limp in her grasp. I hear the click, click of claws against brick. ‘Keep it with the rest of your memories. Or release it and let everybody else share it with you. If you can’t finish it, then let them do it.’
I shake my head. ‘It is something I wish to keep for myself.’
‘Ah, that’s something that hasn’t changed. Tell me, —’ She lets go of my hand, looking at the office building in front of her. Does she see it, I wonder, the winding, scaly body around its windows, its magnificent head turned towards us? Whether she does or not, she rests her hand on my knee.
‘You haven’t been honest, have you? You… you are not the god I spoke to.’
I cannot lie to her. I nod.
‘What are you, Morax? Or should I call you Zhongli?’
She looks down at her hands. ‘I thought I was incomplete. At first I had put it down to your faulty memory, unable to reconstruct me in my entirety. But that can’t be right. Gods are above this kind of imperfection.’ She looks at me. ‘You are not a god. I do not feel my body tearing apart at the seams every time I look at you. Are you a reflection? Or are you another dream?’
I inhale, sigh deeply.
‘It’s hard to explain.’
‘Try anyway.’
‘I am his dream,’ I begin cautiously. ‘But I am also yours. And Xiao’s. And our friends’. I am all of your minds taken form. How you see me, how he sees himself. A surrogate for what he feels, yet cannot comprehend.’
She rests her chin on her hands, deep in thought.
‘I should have known,’ she says slowly. ‘He could never understand us, just as we could never understand him. Why, then…’
For once, I can answer.
‘He loved you. And your people.’ I stare straight ahead. The dragon is almost to the ground, its legs clicking as they move against the pavement. ‘He loved you enough to want to understand you, even if it was through a surrogate.’
The dragon drops to the ground. I stand up, fighting against the nausea and pain.
‘What’s wrong?’
I place myself in between her, and the advancing dragon. It stops, ten feet from our bench, its claws digging into the undefined ground.
‘I won’t let you,’ I say quietly. The dragon curls up on the ground, its head resting atop its coils. Waiting.
‘Come on, Zhongli. Step aside.’
‘Close your eyes.’ I don’t mean to snap at her. I won’t let this end the same way. One more moment of peace, I almost beg.
The dragon opens a singular, golden eye and reaches out with a claw, drawn from the depths of its scales.
‘You’re not doing a very good job,’ says Guizhong. ‘I can still see him.’
‘I won’t let it happen again.’
She laughs. I hear her stand, the strings of the erhu clanging as she puts it down on the bench.
‘Silly. There is only one way this can end.’
I feel my blood run cold at the sense of finality in her voice.
I grab her arm when she walks past me, sleeves flowing once again. ‘Stay. Let me have you… just for one last moment.’
‘I’ve done everything I need to do,’ she says. ‘You know who the host of this dream is. You know what to do with my song. Now you need to wake up and do something about it.’ Her face softens. ‘It is way past my time. Let me rest.’
She shakes her arm free and walks forward, stopping in front of the dragon. It uncurls, one claw reaching forward, followed by another, then another, extending out of the sides of its flattened body. I can’t look, turning away to stare at the bench, which is beginning to melt into the blurry ground. Until she calls out for me.
‘Zhongli,’ she says.
I turn to look at her, wrapped in the white bundle that is her loose, flowing robes. The thin, bony arms attached to the claws cage her, like a grotesque cradle. The cage is brought to the dragon’s belly. It begins to curl, holding her to its chest.
‘Say hello to Xiao for me, alright?’
That snaps me out of my frozen state. I run forward, thinking of nothing but the fact that she is being taken from me. Only the faintest segment of white is visible when I cling onto the dragon’s scales. I feel my fingers begin to bleed when I hold on, reaching forward with my other hand, towards the very end of her sleeve.
The dragon growls in warning. I ignore it, scrambling up its coils. How large is this thing? My clothes rip and tear as they catch onto its scales, its legs. I can’t scream, not anymore, even as the skin on my hands are shredded to bits. My voice is too far gone for that.
The dragon growls once more. I stagger backwards, catch the end of one of its legs at the very last moment. Before I can begin climbing, it twists around, throwing me to the ground. I hear something crack when I hit the pavement. The dragon looms over me, Guizhong nowhere to be seen, its claws fully extended.
It flexes its claws, and then swings them.
There is pain, then silence.
~~~
I wake up on my couch, sweating, desperate for water. I barely drag myself away from the couch, half-limping to the kitchen. I attempt to fill a glass with water, but my trembling hands fail me. Glass shatters, scattering about the kitchen floor, water soaking into my socks.
I let out a growl of frustration and turn on the tap, drinking in gulps.
It will pay. Rex Lapis will pay for taking her away. I turn off the tap when I begin to cough, bracing my arms against my sink. From the sound of twittering birds outside my window, it should be dawn, but I do not feel the urge to savour it.
I wince when I make my way back to my living room, the glass fragments embedding myself in my feet. That can be taken care of later. Now, I have a favour to call in.
I find my phone, hanging off the edge of a coffee table. Several missed calls from Xiao, but I ignore them for now. I find the newest number in my contacts and dial it, bemoaning the time it takes for him to pick up.
‘Hi—hello?’ Childe’s voice is slurred with sleep. I adjust my phone. I have to reel it in, I think. His interest is not that easily earned.
‘I dreamed tonight,’ I say. My voice is hoarse, but I ignore it. ‘Against my will. I found—I found something—a lead. I know who the host of the dream is.’
‘Oh?’ Slight interest, but nothing definite.
I lower my voice. ‘A dragon with golden scales.’ He doesn’t respond, so I drive it in. ‘It had… it had so many legs.’
A clang from the other end. I wait for him to pick up his phone and almost snarl into the receiver, ‘Room 5-11 of Baiju Guesthouse. Ask for me. Be there before six.’
i was struggling trying to figure out what other creepier creature i should combine rex lapis with to suit the aesthetic and then i watched a sekiro playthrough. centipede imagery as a symbol of cursed immortality my beloved
did you know that some southeast asian centipedes are more venomous than cobras?