Three Flowers Gather at the Crown Are an Illusion

In the year 3234 of the lunar calendar, eighteen-year-old Lu Zhao entered Dijing University for the first time. High school combined life-force development and academic coursework in equal halves; divine power development involved only exercise and digestion. At university, the exercise became a set of lethal boxing techniques, followed by the development of various different divine powers. The academic courses covered various subjects in administrative management, much like the cadre training he had attended in his previous life. Dijing University was a top-tier school and, more importantly, an institution for training the ruling class. Divine powers fell into five major categories: physical, psychic, Five Elements, Fate, and Nature. Lu Zhao belonged to the psychic category. In terms of prospects, it ranked second, only somewhat below Fate. In the first monthly exam after enrolling, Lu Zhao placed exactly two thousandth in his year—a lower-tier result. He did not feel discouraged. This was only the gap created by educational resources; Lu Zhao did not believe he was inferior to anyone. He knew his shortcomings well, and that was exactly why he needed to work even harder at developing his life force. At the same time, because he had no money to keep taking life supplements, he had to eat the free protein in the cafeteria. He slept only one hour a day, ate ten meals, and took eight shits. Through astonishing perseverance, his ranking climbed steadily by thirty places every month after that. By the second semester, he had become a campus “celebrity.” Some busybody gave him the mocking nickname “Straight Gut.” Even walking down the road, strangers would shout it at him, and laughter would follow. The nickname seemed to have some magic: it made people laugh, and it made whoever shouted it feel witty. Lu Zhao never minded. Across two lives he had lived forty-five years; he had died, gone hungry, and suffered. Apart from life and death, everything else was a small matter. Later, when the school learned what was happening, the leadership praised him and added a monthly subsidy of life supplements. From then on, his ranking began rising steadily by fifty places a month. By the time he entered the school’s top hundred, all the mockery around him had vanished. A girl named Chen Qian began seeking him out frequently. Not wanting to hinder his studies, Lu Zhao refused her firmly. By his senior year, Lu Zhao ranked twelfth in his year and could climb no higher. The top ten were geniuses whose talent and wealth far surpassed his; hard work alone could not close the gap. That year, Chen Qian latched onto him again. Over those four years, boyfriends had flowed through Chen Qian’s life like water. At her busiest, she could go through one a week, sometimes even two at a time. Her conduct was so chaotic that the school publicly criticized her. But her background was powerful—her father was a regional Martial Marquis—and she had still never been expelled. Lu Zhao kept his distance and hoped she would not come and wreck his life. To be fair, by Lu Zhao’s aesthetic standards, Chen Qian’s looks were a seven out of ten; she was not ugly. But relationships were about each side getting what it needed, and Lu Zhao had no need for beauty like a rotten persimmon. More than a dozen lives of the Lu family had sent him to Dijing University; they had not sent him there to attach himself to a vile woman. “Lu Zhao, don’t throw my goodwill back in my face!” In a corner of the school, Lu Zhao was blocked on a narrow path. The woman before him was grinding her teeth, a hint of savagery in her eyes and brows. “I’ve pursued you for three years. What more do you want?” Three years. The words made Lu Zhao’s temples ache. He had long suffered from insomnia. For three years he had not only had to fight the side effects of his psychic divine power but also endure her harassment. Because of his position, he had yielded again and again and met her with a smile again and again. Lu Zhao forced down his discomfort and shook his head. “Chen Qian, I told you clearly from the start: I only want to work hard and finish my studies.” “I don’t care! You have to agree today! Otherwise I’ll make you sorry!” Chen Qian’s shrill voice drew more passersby. Students stopped in small groups, pointing and whispering about them. Her hysterical behavior only deepened Lu Zhao’s disgust. Did she think she was in an idol drama? He turned to leave. Chen Qian immediately grabbed at him, even making a clawing lunge at him. Smack! Lu Zhao backhanded her across the face. He looked coldly at the stunned Chen Qian. “Stupid bitch.” With that, he turned and walked away, paying no attention to the even more hysterical screams behind him. ----- The second day after Lu Zhao returned from a rotation, Zhang Like handed him a slip of paper with a phone number on it. “This is Chen Qian’s number. Try going to apologize. Things might still turn around.” Lu Zhao took it and said, “I’ll think about it.” This time, Zhang Like did not call him stubborn. Before this, a big figure in the border defense system named Liang Chengyun had used his connections, hoping to reach Martial Marquis Chen and get the matter resolved. With Lu Zhao’s record and merits, it was inappropriate to keep holding him down. The official system was not that good, but it was not that dark either. Only a lapdog like Lü Jinshan would desperately curry favor with the Chen family. Martial Marquis Chen gave only a brief reply: “Mm, I understand.” After that, nothing. Perhaps someone would resolve it after a while; perhaps the man simply did not care. Zhang Like thought the latter more likely; otherwise, wrongful convictions would not be so hard to overturn. A figure of Martial Marquis rank would not target a small man, and by the same token would not admit fault for one. His daughter had made a mistake. So what? What could anyone do about it? Zhang Like understood all of that, but he still spoke to comfort him: “Don’t be so pessimistic. The one holding you down is not the Martial Marquis. He doesn’t even know about this; it is all his daughter’s willfulness.” The words sounded naive even to him. “Don’t feel too burdened. Worst case, you resign and leave the official system. With your education and life-force development, you’ll do well anywhere.” Zhang Like stopped there, rose, and left Lu Zhao’s room. As the door closed, the room returned to gloom. A last ray of sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains and fell on the table, on a lotus formed from the ashtray and its cigarette butts, wreathed in ever-lingering smoke. Lu Zhao smoked one cigarette after another. His gaze stayed fixed on the slip of paper; he read it over and over. In the end, he put it down. Begging for mercy would be useless, and he was absolutely unwilling to do it. If the matter could be resolved, Zhang Like would have given him a clear answer, and the station leadership would not have been so vague. Lu Zhao had no grudge against any of them, and none of them were so bad as to do things that harmed others without benefiting themselves. Suddenly his phone buzzed. The caller was Lu Xiaotong. Lu Zhao’s niece. When his brother died in the line of duty, Lu Xiaotong had been only two; now she was sixteen. As the only male elder Lu Xiaotong had, he had been close to the girl since childhood; in some ways Lu Zhao played the role of a father. “Hello, Xiaotong. What is it?” “Uncle Zhao, Grandma has to go into the hospital again.” “How much do you need?” Lu Zhao was not overly alarmed by the news; his mother had to be hospitalized for several months every year. Her heart disease could not be cured. Each time it worsened, she had to be admitted for treatment, then discharged once she improved. On the other end came the sound of Lu Xiaotong talking with his sister-in-law. “Mom says ten thousand yuan. And are you coming back for the Dragon Boat Festival, Uncle Zhao?” “I have to work overtime, so I won’t be back.” “Overtime again! In ’41 you worked through Mid-Autumn and National Day too, and this New Year you didn’t come back either. All year long you only come back for Qingming—soon I won’t even recognize you!” “Smugglers and demon beasts don’t take holidays. I’ll come back for Mid-Autumn, all right?” “Really?” “Absolutely.” They chatted for a while. Lu Xiaotong hung up reluctantly, but added one last line: “You have to come back for Mid-Autumn, promise.” Lu Zhao checked his phone and found only five thousand yuan left in his bank account, so he had to borrow five thousand from Zhang Like. After transferring the money, he returned to his room, sat at the table, picked up the slip of paper, and stared at it for a long time. Then, as if possessed, he dialed the number. Brrring… “Hello, who are you looking for?” A soft, effeminate male voice came through. Lu Zhao said, “I’m looking for Chen Qian.” “Darling, someone is looking for you…” The sound faded in and out. A moment later, an arrogant voice came on. “Hello, who is this?” “It’s me. Lu Zhao.” “Lu Zhao?” There was a brief pause on the other end, as if she had forgotten him. “Oh, I remember now. What are you calling about?” “…” Lu Zhao fought the urge to crush the phone. He opened his mouth, his throat as if clogged with phlegm, and forced out a few words with all his strength. “That business back then… I was… I was in the wrong.” “If you hadn’t brought it up, I’d have forgotten. I’m a little busy now; we’ll talk another time.” The call ended. The room fell silent, and outside the rain began to pour again. Boom! A flash of lightning lit the room. Lu Zhao was already on his feet, the flip phone crushed and folded in his grip, the web of his thumb pierced by glass without his noticing. The Jiangbei Martial Marquis did not know. Chen Qian had forgotten. A tiny whim of power had left him stuck in these remote mountains for four years! He had walked out of Nanhai on the lives of his father, his uncles, his elder brother, and his cousins. He had come all that way amid mockery, only to be pinned down by a single sentence from a vile woman! He had thought he was being targeted, but in the eyes of the one truly responsible, he was so utterly insignificant! Rumble! Thunder and lightning could not calm the killing intent in his chest. Lu Zhao opened the drawer and took out a handgun; its cold black gleam was reassuring. Firearms and ammunition at the border station were kept under strict guard. This was one he had secretly kept after killing drug traffickers; there were three rounds in all. He had made his decision long ago. Lu Zhao’s gaze darkened. The handgun clicked as he chambered a round. Superhumans were not immortal cultivators, and Chen Qian was not a physical-type superhuman. No matter what noble lineage or lofty rank you hold, before a bullet, everyone is equal. Lu Zhao did not rush to set out. He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, growing calmer and calmer. At that moment he was strangely calm, silently calculating in his heart: “The route to Cangwu City can’t use public transportation. I can’t move too hastily and expose myself. Finding Chen Qian’s location won’t be hard; the Chen family will likely have precautions. But a thief can steal for a thousand days; no one can guard against thieves for a thousand days.” A wave of exhaustion washed over him. He needed to sleep first. It had rained the previous night, and he had gone forty hours without sleep. With the rain easing, he could snatch a brief rest. He closed his eyes. He did not know how much time passed before his consciousness seemed to free-fall, plunging all at once into the mental world. Endless darkness stretched in every direction. Beneath his feet it felt like a muddy swamp, and a constant stream of noise pressed into his ears. Lu Zhao walked forward. Somewhere ahead he could faintly make out land, but he had walked for more than ten years and had never set foot on the far shore. He simply could not stop. If he stopped, he would hear more whispers and sink into the unconscious thoughts given off by all living beings in their sleep. Or into the residual memories of the Fate Bone’s previous bearers. Tap! The muddy sensation beneath his feet suddenly vanished, replaced by the solid feel of standing on some kind of stone floor. He seemed to have crossed the mental mire and reached the end of the far shore he had gazed at for more than a decade. Everything around him fell silent. For the first time in twelve years, his ears knew silence. Behind him, a bronze bell suddenly tolled, slow and distant. Dong! Dong! Dong! Lu Zhao whirled around. The black mental mire was gone, replaced by a palace of carved beams and painted rafters, dazzling in gold and jade. Court officials in tall caps and gauzy robes knelt prostrate outside the hall. Within, white gauze and red jade hung as curtains, with the three thousand texts of the Daoist canon written upon them. An indistinct figure sat upon the high seat: a bristling beard, long brows, the countenance of a dragon. “Three flowers gather at the crown, yet it is all an illusion; the clouds beneath your feet are not real either.”