Chapter 78
Recovering memories after amnesia felt like watching a black-and-white film reel play out in one’s mind—an unrelenting loop that forced one to relive every past experience.
Moments that were once joyful became even more poignant; moments of reluctance to part turned even more bittersweet.
Wen Xin vividly remembered the scenes of each companion leaving.
Naturally, he hadn’t forgotten the words Ah Jiu once said to him: “Countless people look up to me, and one day, they will look up to you too.”
Seeing the hopeful expression on Ah Jiu’s face, Wen Xin recalled a time when he too had been filled with such impatient longing, eagerly anticipating a reunion with his companions.
Yet each meeting had turned into a tangle of half-truths and evasions, leaving him grappling with hidden identities and withheld facts.
Wen Xin fell into deep thought.
Ah Jiu, noticing Wen Xin’s silence as the young man stared at him intently, grew inexplicably nervous. He asked in a low voice, “Wen Xin?”
“…Sorry, Ah Jiu.”
Wen Xin suddenly wore an apologetic expression, raising his hand to rub his temple as if in discomfort. Furrowing his brows, he said, “I actually suffered a head injury some time ago. There’s a lot I don’t remember.”
“I think I have a faint impression of what you said, but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t recall it.”
Ah Jiu’s mouth fell slightly open, his eyes widening as an undeniable panic overtook him.
Wen Xin felt Ah Jiu’s fingers tighten around his own in a sudden grip.
Even though Ah Jiu controlled his strength, it still made Wen Xin’s fingertips throb.
On closer observation, Wen Xin noticed that Ah Jiu’s hand was trembling slightly.
A mischievous thought crossed Wen Xin’s mind—to turn Ah Jiu’s usual tricks back on him.
He expected surprise, but he hadn’t anticipated such an overwhelming reaction!
Caught off guard, Wen Xin parted his lips, ready to come clean.
But before he could speak, Ah Jiu’s voice came, low and hoarse. “I should have come to find you sooner.”
Ah Jiu had only risen to power in Rose City over the past few months.
Neither the time nor the effort he had spent reorganizing the Western territories had allowed him to stay informed of every matter beyond his domain.
Since ascending the throne, he had received two pieces of intelligence concerning Wen Xin.
The first had been about Wen Xin’s time with the Idealism Sect, accompanied by Xiao Qi, the fox.
The second was from the Eastern territories, where Ah Lü had personally ensured Wen Xin’s safety.
Both times, it had seemed like Wen Xin was doing well, leaving no cause for concern.
Wen Xin’s widespread reputation wasn’t just a coincidence—it was partly thanks to Ah Jiu’s discreet manipulation from behind the scenes.
Ah Jiu had ordered his subordinates to spread rumors strategically, creating deliberate confusion around Wen Xin’s true identity.
This measure had been taken to prevent the First Base or other malicious organizations from identifying and targeting Wen Xin.
It wasn’t until recently, when Ah Lü successfully evolved to S-class and Wen Xin’s identity was exposed in the Eastern territories, that Ah Jiu ceased his secrecy. He publicly declared Wen Xin as his honored guest.
With the combined support of the Eastern territories, Rose City, City A Base, and the Idealism Sect, even those who harbored ill intent toward Wen Xin had to carefully consider whether they were strong enough to act on it.
Ah Jiu’s other hand pressed against the windowsill, his fingers gripping the stone hard enough to nearly crush it. His voice was solemn, and he repeated with a heavy emphasis:
“It’s my fault for acting too slowly.”
Ah Jiu had always believed Wen Xin was safe.
Even when danger arose, it seemed Wen Xin always escaped unscathed.
If not for seeing the lingering scars on Wen Xin’s body when he removed his tactical vest during training, Ah Jiu might have remained trapped in his narrow perspective.
The boy appeared deeply stuck in remorse, prompting Wen Xin to hurriedly explain, “No, I was just teasing you earlier. I actually do remember, Ah Jiu.”
“It’s okay if you don’t remember,” Ah Jiu interjected, his eyes regaining their determined brightness. He spoke quickly, not giving Wen Xin a chance to finish. “You don’t need to force yourself or pretend just to comfort me.”
“My work here isn’t done yet, but wait a little longer. When spring arrives, Rose City will hold a grand celebration. On that day, I’ll fulfill the promise I made to you.”
Wen Xin felt compelled to get his words out. “I truly remember. You once told me—”
“Wen Xin, stop,” Ah Jiu interrupted, brushing his cheek lightly against Wen Xin’s hand. His voice was filled with yearning and a gentle plea. “If you’ve forgotten, then it’s my responsibility to remind you and rekindle your memories.”
“Give me another chance. Consider it my apology for today, okay?”
Wen Xin hesitated, the words caught in his throat.
After a brief moment, he sighed softly in resignation.
But seeing the unwavering determination in Ah Jiu’s gaze, coupled with the boy’s confident and self-assured demeanor, Wen Xin felt a warm wave of relief rise within him.
He knew just how remarkable such a transformation was, having witnessed Ah Jiu’s past timidity and fear.
This is good.
Really, really good.
Wen Xin couldn’t help but smile, his eyes curving as he laughed softly and reached out to ruffle Ah Jiu’s soft golden hair. “Then I’ll look forward to it.”
Since the day Ah Jiu made that promise, Wen Xin had been looking forward to it—and that hadn’t changed.
In Wen Xin’s original plan, reuniting with Ah Jiu was to be followed by a journey to the South Sea to search for Ah Zi’s whereabouts.
If Ah Jiu’s circumstances had been poor or if he had wanted to accompany Wen Xin, Wen Xin would have moved heaven and earth to take him along.
If, like Xiao Qi, Ah Jiu had been tied down with responsibilities and unable to travel, Wen Xin would have continued on with Ah Lü and the others to find the remaining companions.
Only after reuniting everyone would he have dealt with the lingering problems and brought them all back together.
Now, the plan was proceeding as intended.
However, with an impending snowstorm making travel to the South Sea too risky, Wen Xin had to delay his departure.
The rare moment of stability allowed Wen Xin to resume his disciplined, high-intensity training regimen.
The Rose City palace boasted expansive training grounds, with descending tiers that formed a circular arena-like space. It seemed like a former fighting ring converted into a private training area.
The next morning, Tang Qi entered the training grounds and asked Wen Xin to be his instructor.
“I don’t need to become as strong as you,” Tang Qi said, “but I want to be able to do something if danger comes.”
Encouraging a friend’s desire to improve was never a bad thing, so Wen Xin readily agreed.
Over the following days, the training grounds became a stage for two sweat-drenched figures instead of one.
The palace servants couldn’t help but grow curious about Wen Xin.
The king’s extraordinary care for this guest was apparent to everyone, human and mutant alike.
Even before Wen Xin’s arrival, the typically composed Ah Jiu had been rushing around, ensuring the heating system was fully operational.
The meals were prepared with the utmost attention to detail, using only the finest and most delicious ingredients.
The meat had to be fresh and tender. Vegetables were picked directly from the greenhouse.
Desserts were crafted daily, never repeating the same variety.
Thanks to Wen Xin’s presence, the palace staff also reaped unexpected benefits.
Ordinarily, the servants only enjoyed heated floors in their work areas or quarters. Once they stepped outside, they had to bundle up to avoid freezing.
Now, they enjoyed uninterrupted warmth throughout the palace, including the hallways.
To ensure freshness, meat was transported daily from the mountain pastures behind the palace and slaughtered on the same day.
Since Wen Xin and Tang Qi couldn’t consume an entire animal, and mutants didn’t regard human food as staple fare, the leftovers went to the servants.
The staff were overjoyed.
In times like these, no one felt humiliated by eating someone else’s leftovers.
Only those who had experienced the depths of hunger—chewing on rocks just to feel something in their mouths—understood the value of a full meal.
And this was no ordinary food: fresh meat, slaughtered that very day, in the heart of winter!
On the market, such fare fetched exorbitant prices, equivalent to weeks or even a month’s wages for an ordinary person.
Throughout Rose City, only Ah Jiu could afford to heat and electrify an entire pasture to keep the livestock alive.
The first time the leftovers were distributed, the servants practically fought over them.
The next day, after Wen Xin and Tang Qi had finished their meal and left the table, the servants were astonished.
Apart from the two plates directly in front of Wen Xin and Tang Qi, which had been cleaned spotless, the rest of the dishes remained untouched, steaming with tantalizing aromas.
No one wasted time overthinking it. Smiles spread across the servants’ faces, nearly splitting them in two.
Under Ah Jiu’s iron rule, the palace adhered to strict protocols, even for distributing food.
Some servants carefully packed their share into clean bags, joyfully preparing to take it home and share it with their families.
Others, unburdened by such concerns, devoured their portions on the spot, eating so heartily that juices dripped down their chins.
Among the staff, there were those who couldn’t help but feel a mix of jealousy and admiration for Wen Xin, who received such treatment.
Most people didn’t understand.
Aside from his good looks, what was it about this young man that earned him such special treatment and care from Rose City’s cold-blooded and ruthless ruler?
One afternoon, a group of servants gathered for lunch.
There was an employee dining hall, but most of them were too frugal to spend money on meals there. Instead, they usually brought food from home or made do with plain buns and compressed biscuits to quickly fill their stomachs.
One servant opened his lunchbox with a dramatic flourish, clearing his throat loudly to draw attention.
Once he had everyone’s focus, he slowly opened the lid, making a show of revealing the fresh, vibrant green vegetables inside.
Instantly, the others crowded around him.
“Whoa, where’d you get fresh greens like that?”
“Snow’s piled up so deep out there—how did your wife even find anything edible?”
“You didn’t eat those yesterday and just reheat them today, did you?”
The servant feigned nonchalance. “Look closely! These leaves are so fresh—how could they be leftovers from yesterday? My eldest helped the scavenging team unload goods yesterday. They found a decent stash of vegetables and gave him some as thanks!”
The others immediately began showering his child with praise, calling him both dutiful and capable.
The proud father beamed, his smile wide enough to split his face.
At that moment, Wen Xin and Tang Qi, finishing their training nearby, happened to walk past. Seeing the lively gathering, they paused to glance inside.
It only took one look for Wen Xin to notice something wrong.
“Excuse me,” he said.
The servants turned to see a young man pointing to the lunchbox. “When those wild greens were first harvested, did they have clusters of small red berries with spiked surfaces?”
Caught off guard, the servant reflexively nodded.
As he confirmed it, Wen Xin’s brows furrowed deeply.
The young man’s pale, unweathered face stood in stark contrast to their own gaunt and rugged features. The servant couldn’t help feeling an inexplicable discomfort.
He suspected that someone who regularly enjoyed lavish meals would disdain his modest fare. The joy of being praised moments ago was now extinguished, leaving him sullen and resentful.
And, just as he expected, Wen Xin confirmed, “Those greens are inedible. Eating them could cause stomach pains, and in severe cases, diarrhea.”
Irritation flared in the servant, but Wen Xin’s elevated status kept him from voicing it outright. Instead, he forced a strained tone. “Mr. Wen, maybe they upset your stomach, but we rough folks—what haven’t we eaten since the apocalypse started?”
He patted his stomach. “I’ve got a gut of steel now. Don’t worry about it.”
Wen Xin, sensing he hadn’t explained clearly, patiently repeated himself without losing his composure.
“I’m not exaggerating. Those greens are toxic. I’ve seen someone eat them before—they vomited and had diarrhea for an entire day and night. They nearly lost their life.”
The servant hesitated slightly, but then rationalized that the scavenging team had eaten them without issue. Perhaps Wen Xin was mistaken, or maybe he was confusing this plant with another.
After all, even seasoned farmers couldn’t always identify every wild green, let alone this seemingly pampered young man.
Wanting to test him, the servant asked, “Do you even know the name of this plant?”
Wen Xin shook his head. “No, I’ve just seen it before.”
The servant’s lips twitched in a faint smirk. “Alright, then. I won’t eat it. I’ll throw it out later.”
Wen Xin caught the servant’s fleeting, dismissive smile but said nothing more. He turned and walked back into the hallway.
“Why bother?” Tang Qi shrugged. “They don’t want to listen. Why waste your breath?”
“Hold on.”
Wen Xin scanned the area, spotting another servant heading toward the dining room. He stopped them, motioning discreetly to the servant with the lunchbox before speaking in a low voice.
“If he ends up eating those greens after all, tell him they usually grow alongside a spiky-leafed herb. Boiling that herb into a soup and drinking it can help with the symptoms.”
The servant nodded and entered the dining room.
Wen Xin waited at the door until he saw the message passed on in a whisper. Only then did he turn away, addressing Tang Qi’s earlier question.
“It’s not just about him. His whole family will probably eat those greens. Adults might withstand the toxins, but kids have weaker stomachs and will suffer more.”
“If his family gets sick from eating what he brought home, the child will be heartbroken. What started as a good deed could end in tragedy.”
Wen Xin smiled faintly. “It doesn’t cost me much to say a few words.”
The next day at lunch, Wen Xin noticed a shift in how the servants looked at him.
There was confusion in their gazes, alongside deep contemplation.
Some expressions carried surprise, admiration, or emotions too complex to put into words.
When Wen Xin inquired about it, he learned that the servant, in an effort to prove the greens were safe, had not only eaten them all but had shared them generously with others.
The result? Everyone had diarrhea.
The lucky ones recovered after a few trips to the washroom.
The unlucky ones suffered all day, their bodies weakened, their legs trembling, and their faces ghostly pale, nearly missing their duties.
The servant himself fared the worst. Ignoring Wen Xin’s advice had landed him in a truly miserable state.
It was said that after returning home that evening, the servant even joked with his family about the incident and ended up downing several bowls of wild vegetable soup.
By the next day, he didn’t report for duty. When others checked on him, they found he was so sick he couldn’t even get out of bed.
Wen Xin listened quietly as the story was recounted.
When he heard that the servant’s family eventually sought help from the scavenging team, who brought them the spiky herb to alleviate the symptoms, Wen Xin simply nodded and paid no further attention.
The servant delivering the report couldn’t help but sneak glances at Wen Xin’s expression.
There was no smugness or gloating, no sense of “See, I told you so. You should’ve listened.”
There was also no performative concern like “Oh no, are they alright? Should we send someone to check on them?”
Wen Xin just listened calmly, and once he knew the problem had been resolved, he dropped the matter entirely.
This left the reporting servant feeling an odd sense of dissonance.
The Lord of Rose City was undeniably one of the most powerful figures in the Western territories.
If someone like Wen Xin received such favor from a man of that caliber, anyone else would likely exploit it, basking in the glory and perhaps even abusing the privilege.
Yet Wen Xin seemed completely at ease, naturally accepting the special treatment without appearing awkward or arrogant.
The servant had a growing suspicion: these privileges, coveted by most, seemed neither vital nor particularly significant to Wen Xin.
If they were offered, he accepted them. If not, it didn’t seem to matter.
For instance, Wen Xin always ate the same two dishes placed in front of him—whether it was chicken and pumpkin or pork and tomatoes. He never complained or showed preference, focusing only on filling his stomach.
But today was different.
Wen Xin actually reached for a third dish, placing it in front of Tang Qi. “Didn’t you say you liked this toothpick beef?”
Tang Qi looked surprised, then dramatically clasped his hands over his heart. “You remembered! I’m so touched, brother.”
“Cut it out and eat,” Wen Xin said with a laugh.
Tang Qi, however, tapped the plate with his chopsticks, deliberately raising his voice. “You always stick to just two dishes, leaving the rest for others. How could I accept special treatment when I’m riding on your coattails?”
He had long been annoyed by the servants who whispered behind Wen Xin’s back.
A little common sense should tell them that when someone brings you benefits, you show gratitude, not malice.
His outburst left the surrounding servants, who had been eyeing Wen Xin and Tang Qi’s plates, frozen in place.
Wen Xin tried to stop him, but Tang Qi wouldn’t let up. Gritting his teeth, Wen Xin flicked a piece of toothpick beef into Tang Qi’s bowl and scolded in a low voice, “Can’t you eat without running your mouth?”
Tang Qi, undeterred, raised his voice even more. “I’m serious! The Lord of Rose City values you—that’s your merit! If anyone has a problem with it, why gossip in secret? Go complain directly to the lord; no one’s stopping you!”
Wen Xin moved to shut him up, but Tang Qi glared, making him hesitate before lowering his hand.
Tang Qi knew that no matter how uncomfortable Wen Xin felt, he wouldn’t let a friend’s good intentions go unsupported.
Sure enough, Wen Xin followed up, speaking clearly to everyone present.
“If anyone has issues with me, feel free to speak to me directly.”
“I won’t change anything because of your gossip, and I certainly won’t feel ashamed.”
“If you think I’m receiving undeserved treatment, don’t worry—I have it today, and I’ll continue to have it in the future. Now that I’ve made myself clear, I hope some of you will control your tongues. If not, I’m more than happy to make time to speak with the Lord of Rose City about it.”
A stunned silence fell over the room.
Tang Qi grinned and gave Wen Xin a big thumbs-up.
If he hadn’t been worried about embarrassing Wen Xin further, he would’ve shouted, Beautiful! Brilliant! Outstanding!
Wen Xin, face calm but ears tinged red, tapped Tang Qi’s plate with his chopsticks and signaled him to eat faster.
After the two of them left, the servants, for the first time, hesitated to rush forward and snatch up the food. They exchanged uneasy, shocked glances instead.
“He wasn’t refusing to eat those dishes because he didn’t like them? He was leaving them for us?”
“…Seriously?”
Months of living through the apocalypse had eroded much of humanity’s goodwill, revealing the darkest sides of survival.
Exploitation, bullying, oppression, enslavement.
Even though Wen Xin was just a guest, the servants instinctively categorized him as an “upper-class” individual, separate from themselves.
If an unfamiliar elite had offered them food, they would have assumed it was a ploy or that there was some hidden agenda.
Never would they have imagined it could come from simple kindness.
Wen Xin didn’t plan to train Tang Qi step-by-step.
As his own instructor had once told him, real combat was the best teacher.
So, after Tang Qi had clumsily picked up some techniques, Wen Xin prepared to take him out to gain practical experience.
Before they could depart, an unexpected visitor arrived in Rose City.
The visiting letter was brief, containing only one cryptic line:
“Qingqing, who do I serve?”
Wen Xin stared at it, baffled.
Ah Lü, who had experience with garbled attempts at human language, offered a guess. “Do you think they wrote the wrong characters?”
“Feels like it,” Wen Xin muttered, flipping the letter over several times.
The playful tone of the message suggested someone unfamiliar with proper writing. Yet the words carried a hint of familiarity…
A startling thought crossed Wen Xin’s mind. He immediately looked toward the empty palace gates. “Xiao Qi?”
“Bingo, Wen Xin!”
A tiny pink ball suddenly popped out from above, leaping excitedly at Wen Xin’s face!
