Chapter 107: Water and Moon

"The Waste Land," Luo Hanyai recited the poem Xiao Feng had been whispering.

"The Waste Land... *cough, cough!* It is already... *cough, cough*." Xiao Feng seemed to want to say something more, but a violent fit of coughing left him unable to utter another word.

Luo Hanyai sighed and sat quietly by the bed where Xiao Feng lay, gripping the boy's small hand in his own. Xiao Feng’s hand was chillingly cold, like a block of black ice, devoid of any sign of life.

*Cough! Cough!* Xiao Feng suddenly sat bolt upright in bed, droplets of blood splattering onto Luo Hanyai with every heave.

Xiao Feng’s already bloodless face looked ghastly pale now. He pulled his hand from Luo Hanyai’s grasp, clutched at the man's clothes, and shoved him away with all his remaining strength.

"Go! *Cough, cough, cough...*" Xiao Feng’s eyes were bloodshot, and he barely managed to squeeze out the single word before he was once again submerged in a tidal wave of coughing.

Luo Hanyai took one last deep look at Xiao Feng and walked out of the room without looking back. He slowly shut the door, stood in the doorway with his head bowed for a moment, shook his head, and headed toward the light spilling out from nearby. It was an open doorway—his own room, number thirteen.

As soon as he stepped inside, a system notification arrived.

[Main Quest Updated: The Night at the Foggy Inn]

Luo Hanyai shrugged, clearly indifferent to the update. He collapsed onto the bed with a sense of relief, greedily breathing in the lingering scent of decay in the room.

The room was filled with damp sea air now, and white mist drifted in through the window, only to dissipate. The musty odor had mostly been blown away.

Luo Hanyai lay there for a while before getting up to close the window, yet he caught a faint, persistent whiff of staleness. A heavy wave of sleepiness washed over him. He peeled off his soaked shirt, hesitated for a moment, and finally clicked off the lamp. Darkness swallowed him once more. He lay on the bed, bare-chested, wrapped in a blanket. The wind and rain continued outside, lulling him into a hazy, chaotic stupor.

He did not know how much time had passed when he felt like a man surfacing from the depths of a pool, gasping for air, as if a mysterious boulder had shattered the calm water.

"Is it happening again?" Luo Hanyai tried to open his eyes, but it was a futile struggle; his eyelids felt heavy as lead, impossible to lift even a fraction.

Strange sounds, like ants, crawled into his ears, making every hair on his body stand on end. Yet, he remained locked in a world of darkness, unable to see anything, save for the sound of whimpering that wound its way into his ears.

"The same old trick?"

At first, it sounded like the crying of a child drifting through the air, but upon closer inspection, it seemed otherwise. It was more like a woman—the voice melodious and captivating, tugging at the heartstrings.

"Another ghost, then? This place really is a home for spirits."

"Ah! It hurts!" Following the woman’s delicate cry, all sound vanished in an instant.

He could see nothing, hear nothing. All of Luo Hanyai’s sensory organs had ceased to function, yet he felt a strange sensation in his heart, as if something were about to happen.

He could only wait in the darkness—wait for her arrival.

Minutes later, she arrived.

Suddenly, Luo Hanyai felt something collide with his face. It felt soft yet resilient, like a small beast crashing into a hunter’s embrace. In an instant, he felt a gentle breath rushing directly into his nostrils.

Luo Hanyai instinctively grabbed a pair of soft shoulders. He froze, surprised to find that his body could move again. A body was heaving against his chest, accompanied by the sound of light, rapid breathing.

It was a person—or more precisely, a young woman!

Luo Hanyai felt his brain turn to mush, unable to think. His heart hammered wildly, as if it were about to leap out of his throat, yet his hands gripped her shoulders tightly, as if terrified she might slip away. In that very moment, an image of the woman appeared in his mind.

She seemed to be struggling, like a small animal caught in a trap. In the pitch blackness, Luo Hanyai seemed to see those eyes, like those of a nocturnal creature.

A pair of bright, beautiful eyes.

There was not a sliver of light, yet Luo Hanyai saw them by some inexplicable fate. He saw those beautiful eyes, eyes that felt so familiar, and they shattered his resolve instantly. There was no more coldness, no more detachment, only a hazy, drifting sensation.

Luo Hanyai slowly loosened his grip, but she did not flee. She remained against him, her entire body leaning into his.

Luo Hanyai trembled as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into his embrace with the utmost tenderness. He could even faintly sense that her eyes were fixed upon him, appearing somewhat lost, as if she were pleading for his help.

Luo Hanyai bowed his head and asked in a voice of extreme gentleness, "Who are you? Why are you here?"

Though his voice was barely a whisper, it rang out with startling clarity in the dark, dead-silent room. A moment later, he heard her reply: "Shuiyue."

Her voice was ethereal, unlike anything of this world—delicate and clear, like a fairy.

"Shuiyue? Is your name Shuiyue?"

A fierce desire suddenly welled up within Luo Hanyai to see her face, to behold her true appearance.

Luo Hanyai fumbled to turn on the lamp. The dim light illuminated the room once more, making him squint for a few seconds until he could finally see her face.

"So beautiful..." Luo Hanyai could find no other words to describe the woman before him; he spoke the words subconsciously.

Yes, she was beautiful—in the prime of her youth, a natural, effortless beauty. Her vivid, lovely face was deeply etched into his sight. Her slender, dark eyebrows were perfectly shaped, and her eyes, like those of a beauty in an ancient scroll, held infinite depth—a touch of languor, a hint of mischief, and a flicker of panic. She had a dainty, exquisite nose, her lips were pressed tightly together, and the soft line of her chin trembled slightly. A white dress made her appear even more holy and elegant.

Luo Hanyai stared at her, mesmerized. He did not know when his eyes had begun to ache, and his heart felt a sharp, tearing pain, as if it had been pierced countless times by a small blade. Trembling, he released his hold. "I'm sorry, did I frighten you?"

Shuiyue stepped back, leaned against the wall, and looked up at him, her eyes vacant as she uttered a baffling question: "Where are your tears? Why?"