The Weight of Despair

Su Xiaoxiao lay in a coma, lost in a chaotic abyss, her body and mind utterly exhausted.

Yet, she continued to walk aimlessly forward. In her daze, she began to hear the faint, fragmented calls of a little girl.

An instinct deep within her recognized it as her little fish-cub, a creature of her own bloodline.

“Mama…”

“Where are you?!” Su Xiaoxiao cried out into the encroaching darkness.

Aside from the child’s calls, no other sound reached her.

“Wake up…”

Su Xiaoxiao ran and ran, for what felt like an eternity, growing increasingly weary.

Still, she refused to stop. Finally, a faint white light flickered into existence ahead.

Su Xiaoxiao paused, her gaze fixed on the center of that light. Within it, a blurry, small, humanoid figure seemed to beckon.

Though she could not discern its facial features, Su Xiaoxiao knew, with absolute certainty, that her little fish-cub was looking at her with a gentle, smiling gaze, her tiny lips softly calling out.

“Mama… wake up…”

When Su Xiaoxiao opened her eyes, a pervasive ache enveloped her entire body. Moreover, she felt as though she had forgotten something crucial. What precisely had slipped from her memory?

Outside, the daylight was blindingly bright, almost painfully so.

She parted her lips, but before a sound could escape, a metallic, bloody taste surged into her chest, causing her to cough out a clot of dark, clotted blood.

Gu Yan, who had been decocting medicine outside, rushed in with a palm-leaf fan upon hearing the commotion. Seeing Su Xiaoxiao awake, she let out a long sigh of relief.

“You’re finally awake! Do you feel unwell anywhere?”

“I…” Su Xiaoxiao’s voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable. She struggled to recall the moments before her collapse.

She only remembered standing on a cliff, the Styx River of the Demonic Realm churning beneath. When she heard the voices of her clansmen, it was as if she had fallen under a spell, plunging into endless self-reproach.

Overwhelmed by pain, despair, and a chaotic mind, she had plummeted directly from the cliff.

She only recalled the red jade bangle on her wrist shattering just before she hit the water, enveloping her in a crimson glow. Yet, the pain had been excruciating, relentless.

Right!

Snapping back to reality, Su Xiaoxiao instinctively reached for her belly. It was still swollen.

Her palm rested on her skin, feeling the little fish-cub slumbering peacefully within.

“Don’t worry, the little fish-cub is still there,” Gu Yan affirmed, sensing her thoughts. “However, you are very weak now. You must rest properly.”

“Where is Xiyue?” Su Xiaoxiao suddenly asked.

“The Honored One is in secluded cultivation.”

Su Xiaoxiao fell silent upon hearing this. After a long pause, she finally spoke to Gu Yan, “She must be furious, I imagine.”

Su Xiaoxiao let out a bitter laugh, asking, “How does she plan to deal with me this time?”

After her brush with death, Su Xiaoxiao showed no sign of joy in her awakening. Instead, this ordeal had left her even more despondent and gloomy.

“The Honored One didn’t say,” Gu Yan gently reassured her. “The medicine is ready. I’ll go bring it in for you.”

Normally, Su Xiaoxiao, despite her reluctance, would dutifully drink her medicine. This time, however, she refused.

Gu Yan sighed at her. “The little fish-cub won’t be able to bear it if you continue like this.”

Su Xiaoxiao let out a soft laugh, her eyes utterly devoid of emotion. “What good is it? We are destined to be separated. It would be better to remain like this, at least then we could be together after death. That would be my way of being worthy of her.”

As Su Xiaoxiao finished speaking, tears suddenly streamed down her face without warning. She stared, bewildered, at the droplets falling onto the bedding. Why was she crying? Why? Why?

“Xiaoxiao, you…”

Gu Yan was taken aback by Su Xiaoxiao’s words, momentarily stunned. It was truly a headache.

Xiyue was mad, and now Su Xiaoxiao was mad too.

She murmured, “I can’t handle this anymore. Let Xiyue come and speak with you herself.”

Half an hour later, Xiyue arrived.

Su Xiaoxiao had been in a coma for seven days, and those seven days had felt exceptionally long.

So long that the weather had warmed, so long that Xiyue’s face had grown pale, her eyes filled with exhaustion, her silvery-white hair losing its luster, and her figure noticeably thinner.

“You…” Xiyue began, but Su Xiaoxiao clearly did not wish to see her. In fact, she grew exceptionally agitated the moment Xiyue appeared.

As Su Xiaoxiao needed to rest in bed, Xiyue pressed down on her. “Don’t move around recklessly!!!”

“Get away! Don’t touch me!!!” Su Xiaoxiao struggled, using both her hands and feet, her eyes fixed on Xiyue with a murderous intensity, as if she intended to devour her. Yet, tears continued to well up, falling relentlessly without a single blink.

At the River of Borders, Su Xiaoxiao had indeed been enchanted by the Demoness’s dark arts, which magnified all her inner thoughts: extremism, stubbornness, despair.

Su Xiaoxiao’s gaze upon Xiyue was filled with desolation and icy coldness.

Xiyue was momentarily blank, a thorn seemingly lodged in her throat, unsure of what to say.

“Didn’t you not want the child anymore?” Xiyue asked her, seemingly trying to remind her. ‘How could you jump from such a high cliff? I never realized you were so daring!’

Seeing Su Xiaoxiao remain unmoved, Xiyue continued, “I know you were under a spell this time. That Demoness has already been dealt with; I flayed her alive. You were foolish, though. Why approach something you’re not familiar with?”

Su Xiaoxiao did not answer, her tears still falling fiercely. Her chin was sharp and pointed, lacking the plumpness typical of pregnancy, instead appearing as if she had endured torment and suffering.

Xiyue thought Su Xiaoxiao was simply too naive. If she had arrived any later, Su Xiaoxiao might have been completely consumed by whatever lurked beneath the water, leaving not even a trace.

It was rare for Xiyue to be so verbose, but Su Xiaoxiao did not respond at all, as if she couldn’t hear a word Xiyue was saying.

Her hollow eyes, apart from weeping, revealed no hint of what she was truly thinking.

Receiving no answer from Su Xiaoxiao, Xiyue surprisingly wasn’t overly annoyed. She didn’t even utter a single harsh word, merely telling her to rest well, eat well, and take her medicine as she departed.

Long after Xiyue left, Su Xiaoxiao remained in a state of stupor and confusion.

The little fish-cub in her womb had suffered greatly. It didn’t seem as lively as it had been days before, now remarkably docile within Su Xiaoxiao’s belly.

Su Xiaoxiao pressed her hand to her abdomen, and her tears fell even more fiercely than when Xiyue had been present.

She was terrified, and utterly bewildered.

Past events unfolded before her eyes, one by one, as if happening in the present.

There was the fine, soft sand along the South Sea islands, the warm yet not scorching sun, and the playful schools of fish beneath the water.

There were the elders toiling on the island, cultivating spiritual herbs and immortal grasses. There were the young mermaids sitting on the reefs, listening to the elders tell stories. And there were Su Xiaoxiao’s close friends, gathered in twos and threes, discussing what they would eat for dinner.

Life had been simple, yet overflowing with happiness and sweetness.

Soon, the scene twisted and deformed, enveloped by darkness, for everything had been destroyed.

Sounds of pain, screams, accusations, and even the cries of infants…

Su Xiaoxiao was utterly exhausted, shattered into fragments.

She didn’t know how long she had been there, unaware even of when the bedchamber had grown dark.

Xiyue returned, placing something she carried onto the table. Then she walked to the bedside, speaking to Su Xiaoxiao.

Su Xiaoxiao didn’t hear a single word. She stared blankly at Xiyue, her mind consumed by the thought: ‘Where will Xiyue send the little fish-cub?’

Slowly, fearfully, as Xiyue approached and reached out to embrace her, Su Xiaoxiao suddenly recoiled towards the corner of the bed.

Xiyue reached for her, her voice tinged with displeasure:

“Why are you hiding? Come eat something.”

No sooner had the words left her lips than Su Xiaoxiao grasped something shiny in her hand and swung it towards Xiyue.

Xiyue paused, then lowered her gaze to her arm. Her spiritual power was profound; aside from a torn sleeve, there wasn’t even a scratch.

She looked back at Su Xiaoxiao, who was clutching a shard. Xiyue recognized it: it was a piece of the bronze mirror Su Xiaoxiao had shattered earlier.

During that period, Xiyue had confined her rather harshly, which had adversely affected Su Xiaoxiao’s mental state. She had inexplicably broken the mirror. Xiyue had questioned her then, finding it somewhat unbelievable, but Su Xiaoxiao’s reply had been that she had accidentally dropped and broken it.

Xiyue hadn’t pressed further, merely telling her to rest well.

Yet, to her surprise, Su Xiaoxiao had hidden this mirror shard for so long.

Xiyue then recalled the “I’m going to kill you” that this little fish had uttered a few days prior, when Xiyue had pushed her too hard.

At the time, Xiyue had found it rather amusing, even deliberately teasing her about when she had learned to speak like that.

She hadn’t seemed to care, unaware that Xiyue was utterly shocked by Su Xiaoxiao’s action now. While it was untrue to say she wasn’t angry or annoyed, Xiyue’s primary concern was whether Su Xiaoxiao might cut her fingers with such a sharp shard.

“Put that down,” Xiyue commanded sternly. “I won’t hold this against you this time.”

Su Xiaoxiao’s eyes were bloodshot, and she remained motionless. Xiyue stared at the shard in her hand and spoke again, “You should know this cannot harm me.

“While I can still speak to you calmly, don’t make me…”

Xiyue’s words trailed off unfinished as Su Xiaoxiao’s expression abruptly twisted in agony, only to quickly revert to a profound stillness, as if she had been driven to a desperate edge, losing all will to live.

“I’m so tired,” Su Xiaoxiao whispered softly.

“I’m truly so tired.”