Fu Ran's report was finished and he returned to the bedroom.
Tian Han was already comfortable on the bed beside Wan Yu. It wasn't often that the two of them were seen so close together. Fu Ran couldn't allow himself to move, or risk disturbing them.
Their weight shifted the covers, and the soft glow of lantern light cast a gentle swaying shadow. This time, Wan Yu looked so peaceful in his sleep with his head tucked against Tian Han's upper arm.
Tian Han's head lulled closer to Wan Yu, like he was fighting to stay awake. But upon the closing of the washroom door, he blinked. Even though tiredness evidently clung to him, his lips curled into a smile.
"Come to bed," he mouthed silently. With his free hand he beckoned.
Fu Ran's heart gave a traitorous thump.
And sleep in the same bed as the Tyrant Emperor? Fu Ran caught himself. Mentally, he had already decided to stop that habit, but the crude nickname just came so easily.
Every movement he made was undeniably gentle. Even the way he Instinctively turned his head to check on Wan Yu, or the way his hand brushed against the boy's head.
Fu Ran swallowed. The longer he kept trying to make excuses—the colder the room felt.
Tian Han must have noticed his hesitation, because his voice came even softer than usual. "Shizun?"
Fu Ran looked up.
"If it makes you uncomfortable," Tian Han murmured, "I can always go to another room."
Fu Ran exhaled through his nose. "No, I'm not uncomfortable."
His voice was steadier than he expected. And before he could overthink it, he finally moved closer. Getting in bed was the easy part, because Wan Yu had been dragged to the other half of the bed, and currently acted as a wall between Fu Ran and Tian Han.
But despite the ease of one action, falling asleep, however, was another matter entirely. Never had he willingly put himself in a situation like this before. Being this close to a source of his trauma? He would have never done that.
For now, he would try to find some peace in it. Just enough so that he could rest for tomorrow.
***
As it always had, the nightlife of the city was replaced with the brighter, more natural light of day. Even here morning came no differently than it did on An Xian Yun Peak.
Even though the night had rolled over, Fu Ran's tiredness did not go away. For some inexplicable reason, he was still exhausted. Does sleep eventually stop working on an insomniac? he asked himself. There was just no way he could sleep for a solid eight hours and still feel like shit.
He sat up in his bed, expecting to hear the noises of morning—birds, disciples, anything—yet the room was eerily quiet. His head snapped to the right, then to the left, and to the balcony, too.
Nothing.
Where were his disciples? Perhaps the children running amok in the daytime wasn't that strange, but it was strange that Tian Han was missing too. Last night, the room was completely full. The room didn't even show signs of a quick escape, everything was perfectly in place.
A sharp sting pricked at Fu Ran's head when he moved the slightest amount. He winced, his palm pressing against his forehead to chase the pain. There was certainly something wrong; he was dizzy.
"Fuck," he cursed through his teeth.
It actually required a great deal of effort to stand and steady his weight on his knees. Why was there such a sickness in his gut? He stumbled to the balcony, the door already cracked ajar from where Meng Xiao had made his bed last night. By the time his hands hit the railing, he was barely able to hold his weight.
Like the world was twisting below, the streets of Jinan were spiraling.
He paused.
What the hell? The condition of the streets matched his bedroom. There was not a single person in sight. Bright and early, there should have been so many, yet even shopping stalls were empty. No scents of food, no displays of people enjoying the city's lifestyle. It was all gone.
Everything was… missing?
Except for ruined decorations. Banners hung in tatters, long rips marring the calligraphy. Even the gates that led to the auction house were crumbled into dozens of pieces.
The nearer buildings were still in place, but the distant ones had turned to smoldering ash. The burning crimson trees didn't just share the hue of a wildfire; they really were ablaze.
The city had been swept up in disaster.
Impossible. He would have woken up. "Is this a dream?" Fu Ran asked himself. There was no other explanation that would suit his panic.
But Shi Wei Ji… The spiritual sword was still missing. So why was he dreaming prophetic visions of the future? Was this a vision of the future?
Over the last few years, Fu Ran had grown mostly capable of distinguishing a dream. Sometimes the line between reality would blur, but if he had a second to stop and think, to really feel his bodily condition, he could tell.
Nightmares conjured by Shi Wei Ji always had an underlying sensation of doom, and right now, his gut twisted and turned like a torrent.
The sound of footsteps jerked his attention backward, but by the time he turned around, a pair of hands had clasped the railing on either side of him.
"I thought I'd pay you a visit," a man said his face only inches away.
Fu Ran's breath caught in his throat, and any words he was going to say fizzled out. His body had been locked in place by none other than his very own stolen face.
The face mirroring his own twisted in amusement, and then smiled like the scene was one to be enjoyed. Only now, in the brighter lights of daytime, could Fu Ran see the intricacies of their differences.
He really did only look older; the other features were exactly his own.
Fu Ran hesitated before his words came out shaky. "Pay a visit? How… are you doing that?"
"Don't worry about it too much. There's quite a few things you've yet to learn about our spiritual companion's abilities." The Imposter smiled. His voice was calm, but his aura chilled, even more icy than even the Tyrant Emperor.
It was as if the man were dead.
"...Fine," Fu Ran hissed. "You know more about Shi Wei Ji than me. Fine—But what do you want?"
The Imposter cocked his head to the side. "Oh, you're actually listening? Good, then I have something to offer you." It was like he was talking down to a child, his words condescending.
Previously, the golden-masked man said that he had nothing to do with this 'plan' anymore. So, Fu Ran squinted, unsure of why the plan had suddenly changed.
Receiving silence, The Imposter continued, "Why don't you work with me to get rid of that problem once and for all?"
"You're going to have to be more specific than that. I have a lot of problems," Fu Ran said bluntly. He could name about ten without thinking.
"I know you do." Not once had The Imposter let up his grip. Their eyes lined up perfectly enough to meet in a glare—lavender to lavender. And he asked, "The biggest one. Do you want to be rid of the Tyrant Emperor?"
Fu Ran tensed. 'What?' The word barely left his throat. Be rid of the Tyrant Emperor?
As if to enhance his case, The Impostor quickly added, "If he's gone… Well, The Faceless City may still be doomed, but perhaps nothing else will suffer a similar fate."
Those words hung in the back of Fu Ran's mind, and his gaze shifted to the ruined city behind him. Was he telling the truth?
The Tyrant Emperor would be gone?
Tian Han… would be gone?
His lips straightened into a line, and he swallowed down a lump in his throat.