nian

You get bored staying too long in one place, so after that, I left Shangshu.

And there I thought to myself, I gave them some pointers, helped them improve their art; they ought to realize Shangshu's not suitable for long-term habitation, and go find another home. Acceptable ending, by and large.

Until fifty years later, I went back to Shangshu again.

And in those towering mountains, I found a city.

The Three Mounts and Eighteen Peaks of Shangshu. Rugged place to put passes through, and the plank walkways people set up were just one death road after another; the peaks were steep, yet they'd have a tower built at the crowning summits.

I obviously could've taken the credit, thought how if I didn't give them any tips, it'd be anyone's guess, the years they'd polish their tech to reach that level of understanding.

But the sight of those vast walls in the sunlight, I was honestly just stunned. Not a thought like that ever came to me.

I never expected to hear you say anything like that.

Maybe that was the moment my thinking changed.

People. They really are neat after all.

Is that the end?

I guess so.

If you have to be technical, there's still a tiny little epilogue...

Anybody home?

Come in, come right in! Sit anywhere you like!

'Xingcheng Inn'... Was that always this place's name?

You may not know, but they say that fifty years ago, Shangshu went through a Catastrophe.

My grandpa brought in divine metal from a god, and that was the metal our craftsmen built the modern Shangshu with.

My grandpa wanted to commemorate it, so he changed the name of the shop to 'Xingcheng', just like our new city rising.

That's neat. Then did your grandpa ever tell you the prequel to that story?

Like, about a blind swordsman, maybe a broken blade?

You're a funny one, ma'am. The god's metal's just a legend, no more. Where's a swordsman breaking anything come from?

If you want to hear about fifty years ago, you'll have to find the storyteller in the teahouse. It'll cost you a pretty penny to listen to his nonsense, too.

Yeah, you're right. It was fifty years ago.

Whatever, I'm just rambling... hey, boss, I'll have some shuizhu, extra spicy!

Coming up! Just one moment.

Seriously...

It was just a sword...

By the sound of it, you regret it?

I kind of do.

Do you regret not giving that boy a better sword, or that you didn't go see for yourself just what ended him?

I regret not coming out a few years earlier.

All those years buried in that pitch-black tomb. Really was a waste of time.

And who knows how much time we have left, still.

No matter what... you always come back to this topic.

Don't just shrug it off like that. Isn't this the biggest household argument our whole family's got?

I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Hurry up and leave.

And since when did you start being able to sleep again?

Admit it, li'l sis. We're all still in a dream. It's so crammed with interesting stuff, it's got us forgetting just how fragile the dream really is.

But we'll have to wake up at some point.

Suit yourself. How do you plan to take a dream out with you?

First, find a way to make it carry on a little longer. If we're going to wake up no matter what, then I'd like to ready up a giant firecracker, and blow this dream apart with my own hands.