Chapter 115: The Human-Faced Flower

Every flower, regardless of its splendor, hides a mysterious shadow behind it.

The tarot card that Macarius handed to Luo Hanyan looked remarkably worn, as if it had weathered a great epoch, imbued with a distinct sense of vicissitudes and the accumulation of history.

On the slightly jaundiced card were depicted several enormous flowers. Their species differed, and the temperaments they exuded varied greatly; the only commonality was that in the center of each flower, where the petals should have curled around a stamen, there sat a tumor. Traces remained upon these growths, making them appear like the faces of faceless men.

Luo Hanyan stared at the card for a long time, completely lost within it. His eyelids did not even tremble until the strain on his eyes forced a slight blink. He set the card down, placed his hands behind his head, and rotated his stiff neck, nodding thoughtfully as if he had grasped something.

The card brought by Macarius was like a glimmer of dawn in the darkness, finally granting Luo Hanyan a deeper understanding of everything he had experienced.

Each flower represented a person. There were five flowers entrenched upon his heart, each representing someone he had encountered. In total, he had met seven people: Stone-Silkworm, Man Luo, Little Wind, Shui Yue, the Man in White, Heather, and Macarius. Two of them were not among the five flowers; they were outsiders who had no need to vie for the nourishment of his heart.

Luo Hanyan took a deep breath. He was currently facing a stalemate. He had to eliminate all the outsiders first, and then seek out the five flowers—the five that had taken root in his heart and were competing for its vitality.

Luo Hanyan quickly identified the two he deemed outsiders—Shui Yue and...

He was certain that Shui Yue was an outsider. She did not belong here. The aura she carried felt profoundly familiar to him, as if they had once spent every day together, their essences seeped into the deepest reaches of each other’s souls. Even though he had lost all related memories, the attachment and longing remained. Even if Shui Yue were one of those flowers, he would refuse to believe it—not to mention that it was highly unlikely she was one at all.

Luo Hanyan silently recited Shui Yue’s name several times. Beyond sorrow and bitterness, he felt only a profound sense of unreality.

"Shui Yue, Shui Yue... moon in the water, flowers in the mirror..."

"Ha, this is truly unbearable." Luo Hanyan rubbed his eyes; a dull, tearing pain radiated from the corners. Shui Yue’s mournful question echoed incessantly in his mind:

"Where are your tears? Why?"

"Where are my tears? Why are my eyes only dry and in pain!" Luo Hanyan, like a raging lion, pounded his fist against the table.

One blow, two blows... the table emitted a groan of agony. The aged wood could not withstand his furious assault and threatened to shatter at any moment.

"Ah! Damn it!" Luo Hanyan braced himself against the table, gasping for breath. His bloodshot eyes seemed to turn a crimson hue. He glared at the table, fueled by a mixture of spite and release, and struck it with all his remaining strength.

With a sharp crack, the tabletop simply... shattered. It broke into pieces. Splinters of wood pierced deep into his fist, and blood welled up, mixing with the debris to paint a magnificent, tragic scene—bright red blood mingling with dark, greenish wood shards, like a surreal meteor shower, cruel yet dreamlike.

"Boom!" A sudden thunderclap rang out, jolting the bewildered Luo Hanyan. He swayed, feeling an intense weakness. This extreme emotional discharge had brought him no relief, only a boundless exhaustion, far greater than that of a long sprint. Heartbreak is a force that destroys all in its path.

Luo Hanyan looked at his hand. Blood continued to flow, and wood splinters were clearly visible embedded in his flesh, stinging with a deep, piercing pain. He remained expressionless, casually wiping away the splinters, which only tore the wounds wider into a bloody mess. Seeming not to notice, he indifferently tore a piece of cloth from his garment and wrapped it around his hand; the blood instantly soaked through the strange-shaped fabric.

"Boom! Boom!..." The thunder continued in succession, as if the heavens were enraged, intent on unleashing a divine fury to punish the sins of the world.

Luo Hanyan slowly opened the window and gazed at the black clouds blanketing the sky, as if they were descending upon the earth. The bright morning light had been merely the calm before the storm, fleeting and transient.

"Is this a portent of something?" Luo Hanyan sighed and leaned out the window, greedily inhaling the cold, damp air. Perhaps mist was hidden within it, too; the air smelled terrible. He shook his head in resignation and exhaled the foul taste. Only then did he realize he was on the third floor of the Fog Inn. Having traversed a labyrinthine path, he had somehow moved from the second floor to the third.

The thunder outside persisted. There was no rain, but hail the size of fists began to fall, striking the building with eerie thuds, leaving one to wonder if the dilapidated inn could survive this catastrophe.

"The end has come. The time for reckoning is here." Luo Hanyan stared blankly at the apocalyptic scene outside. A strange arc curled at the corners of his mouth. His eyes, freed from confusion, were extraordinarily clear. His cold, stern face resembled that of the Xi Ye of the past—as indifferent as the dead, as calm as a machine.

Luo Hanyan walked toward the door without looking back. He seemed to have made up his mind to go where the truth lay—a place where there was no fog, only the raw, bloody truth.

"Macarius, why did you give me this card? Are you truly an outsider?"

"What is the significance of this code name?"

"If you are an outsider, why do you keep following me? And why does my instinct tell me that you are detestable?"

"Or perhaps the person following me is not you—then who is that person?"

"And what is the purpose of that diary? To tell me only that the sea is bizarre?"

"What is the ultimate meaning of this story?"

"What are those five flowers, and what does each one represent?"

"What is everything I have experienced trying to reveal to me? Little Wind, Shui Yue, the Man in White, Heather, Macarius—everyone seems to be trying to tell me something..."

All the questions in his mind erupted in an instant. They struck his nerves like a cold torrent of metal, but strangely, they did not shatter his fragile composure; instead, they were consumed and dissolved.