"Please rest assured, I only have one simple request: please do not inform my teacher of my death, not now, not ever."
"My teacher once said that if a hundred years passed without her contacting me, I should forget her."
"I am about to die. In a way, this is me obeying my teacher's instruction, forgetting her."
"As for the birthday gift bestowed by you, forgive me for not being able to accept it."
"I consider my life complete. I have no desire for eternal youth. My only regret... is that I ultimately failed to persuade my teacher to stop her research."
"When my teacher sent me away, it was probably not out of anger. It was simply that I was too dull, no longer able to comprehend more of the knowledge she imparted."
"The lifespan of long-lived species stretches endlessly. Perhaps it will not take many years before my teacher completely forgets me."
"To have met you in this long life has been my honor."
"Thank you for the care you have shown me all this time."
"Let that be all, senior... Yu. Goodbye."
The recorded message ended there, fading into silence.
Yu Qingtu parted her lips, staring blankly at where the image had vanished. She remained unmoving for a long while, as if frozen in time.
"...When did he pass away?"
"Based on memory analysis: Rrakavasha passed away nine days after receiving your birthday gift," the mechanical puppet replied with emotionless precision.
Yu Qingtu felt as though her emotions had been stirred into chaos, a rare sensation for someone who'd lived as long as she had.
Stripping away the part of herself that belonged to a genius and examining her heart honestly, she confirmed something she didn't want to admit.
Perhaps... she had indeed liked him.
It was just that the subtle arrogance inherent to geniuses had led her to classify those feelings as admiration rather than affection. A safe distance, a comfortable label.
Now that she understood, it was already too late. The realization came with all the weight of wasted time.
Looking at the items in the puppet's hands, Yu Qingtu carefully picked up a piece of the cake and placed it into her mouth, bracing herself.
In an instant...
Regrets accumulated over countless years converged into a raging torrent, crashing violently into her heart with the force of a tidal wave.
He regret spread deep inside her heart on this very day, the day she learned of Rrakavasha's death and bid him farewell forever, prying open an emotion she thought she'd long buried: sorrow.
"You only changed how you addressed me at the moment of your death, calling me 'Yu'... If I'd known earlier, I would have made you bake me cakes forever..."
"You little bastard..."
Yu Qingtu solemnly put away the remaining cakes, treating them like precious relics. As for the birthday gift she had given, only to have it "returned" unused...
She let out a soft sigh that carried a deep exhaustion.
"Did he at least leave himself a grave?"
"Please follow me," the puppet said, turning to lead the way toward the back mountain with mechanical efficiency.
Arriving before the old plum tree, Yu Qingtu lowered her gaze to the solitary tombstone. Her heart tightened sharply, as if gripped by an invisible hand.
[Grave of Rrakavasha]
Only three words. No biography. No origins or accomplishments listed.
Not even the name of the person who erected the stone.
The plum blossoms were in full bloom, crimson filling the branches like scattering memories, their faint fragrance drifting through the cold air.
Yet no matter how beautiful the scene was, it was invisible to her eyes. All she could see was that cold stone and those three lonely words.
She reached out and brushed her hand across the rough stone surface, her fingers tracing each carved stroke.
It was bone-chillingly cold, even colder than the winter air surrounding them.
She could almost imagine Rrakavasha facing death alone. With his temperament, the one he thought of until the very end was probably still Ruan Mei, waiting for words that never came.
No one to send him off after death. No family or friends present to bear witness.
That was why he had created a puppet, to gather his remains for himself, to perform the final rituals no one else would.
Leaving behind only this lonely stone, bearing the name of someone who no longer clung to this realm.
The plum grove held only the howling of the cold wind, a mournful sound that seemed to mourn what had been lost.
Yu Qingtu stood before the tombstone. Though she had countless words she wanted to say, all of them stuck in her throat like shards of glass.
So this was how quietly a person could disappear.
Suddenly, soft footsteps started crunching through the snow behind her, breaking the stillness.
Yu Qingtu turned her head to look.
It was an orange cat, looking somewhat frail and aged, vaguely familiar from her visits years past.
Dragging its body step by labored step, it slowly reached Rrakavasha's grave with a determination that defied its weakened state.
With its front paws, the orange cat gently scraped away the snow and fallen petals until the frozen black earth beneath was exposed.
The movements were slow, yet never paused, a task it had set for itself that it wouldn't abandon.
When the pit was finished, it was neither too big nor too small, just enough to hold its own body. A perfect fit.
The orange cat lowered its head and sniffed the patch of earth it had just cleared, then turned and curled itself inside carefully.
It rested its chin lightly on its crossed front paws, its tail wrapped to its side, quietly gazing at the name on the tombstone with eyes that had seen twenty years pass.
Yu Qingtu could see its belly rise and fall faintly with each breath, very light, very slow, each one more labored than the last.
After about half a minute, those once-clouded eyes gradually lost focus and closed completely, never to open again.
The wind rose. A few plum petals fell onto the cat's back and head like nature's own burial shroud.
It did not shake them off, remaining quietly crouched there in eternal stillness.
Yu Qingtu understood immediately.
The orange cat had reached the end of its long journey.
For twenty years, it had never left, remaining in the place where its master once lived, a faithful sentinel waiting for someone who'd never return.
Only at the very end of its life did it go to its master's grave to lie beside him one final time.
"..."
Yu Qingtu could not say a single word. Her eyes reddened despite herself.
How many years had it been?
She could no longer remember how long it had been since her eyes last grew wet for someone like this, since she'd felt grief sharp enough to pierce through thousands of lifetimes.
Uncontainable regret filled her mind, drowning any rational thoughts.
If only, twenty years ago, she had departed ten days later...
If she had wanted to, there were countless ways to extend Rrakavasha's life. So many methods at her disposal, and she'd used none of them.
Thinking back on everything, Yu Qingtu lifted her head and took a deep breath, steadying her turbulent emotions.
She opened the seal on the emerald-green potion in her hand and poured the longevity elixir, coveted by countless people across the universe, onto the ground before Rrakavasha's tombstone, watching it seep into the frozen earth.
"You little bastard, since when do people take back gifts once they're given? Whether you accept it or not, you're taking it..."
She had not even accompanied Rrakavasha for as long as Little Orange had. The realization stung worse than any physical wound.
Her weight in Rrakavasha's heart had never reached the point where he would remain in the mortal world for her sake. She'd always known this, but knowing and accepting were different things.
"He was a short-lived species, unlike you. If you buried yourself in research for a few dozen or hundreds of years, he would have already died of old age. Aruan, short-lived species and long-lived species think differently."
The words she had once said to Ruan Mei echoed in her ears, and a trace of self-mockery surfaced at the corner of her lips.
Everything you say eventually comes back to you.
Hadn't she also left for decades for her own affairs, unaware that Rrakavasha had grown old and died? Hadn't she committed the exact same sin she'd warned against?
Hadn't she also been accustomed to thinking like a long-lived species, presumptuously making choices for Rrakavasha, assuming he would cling to the mortal world simply because she would have?
The only lesson humanity learns throughout history is, that humanity doesn't learn its lessons.
Genius Society Seat #56 had chosen not to extend their lifespan as well, dying naturally and resting eternally. Why would Rrakavasha, who had always regarded himself as an ordinary mortal, be any different?
In truth, she understood as well that one should not forcibly keep someone who no longer wished to linger in this world. It was cruel, selfish even.
But where did "if only" exist in this world?
It was merely that, for a moment, she could not accept reality and wanted to find an explanation, an outlet, something to cover up the regret flooding her heart.
That was all. Just the desperate struggle of someone who'd arrived too late.
She did not know how much time passed before the cold wind gradually died down, exhausted by its own mourning.
Warm sunlight broke through the clouds, falling on Yu Qingtu's shoulder and on Rrakavasha's tombstone.
Yu Qingtu remained standing there, unmoving for a long time, only descending the mountain as night approached.
The bamboo house was still there. The furnishings were the same as before, as if nothing had changed, as if he might walk through the door at any moment.
Except that there was no longer any trace of the person who once lived there.
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Hey guys...
Fuck, this chapter actually made me tear up a bit...
Anyway, I know some of you are waiting for additional chapters, and I am working on them, but I really don't wanna rush them. I want to maintain my quality and really think about what's making it into the story, and what doesn't. So I hope you stay tuned and appreciate the quality.
Thanks for the support guys