Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 219
“Hey! Artist over there!” a rough man shouted towards the corner. “Come over and embroider a flower on my cloak. I’ll pay you—a copper coin as a reward. How about that?”
The person sitting at the small round table in the corner didn’t respond, not even turning around, pretending the provocation wasn’t directed at him.
However, his companion sitting opposite seemed a bit indignant and whispered, “Ignore them. They don’t understand anything.”
Alai nodded. His skin was pale, and a pair of melancholy green eyes were hidden behind his bangs.
Since they remained silent, the provocateur quickly lost interest in them. This wasn’t a place they usually frequented, so after cautiously finishing a cup of cheap oat beer, they paid and left the tavern.
“How about it? Meet again at nine o’clock tomorrow?” his companion asked him.
Alai hesitated for a moment.
“Maybe a bit earlier. We’re almost done,” he suggested carefully.
“No need to be polite with me. I also want to finish early. How about seven-thirty?”
Alai nodded, so they parted ways at the intersection. Alai walked down the street alone, heading home to sleep.
The moon was very big and round tonight, making everything around visible even without streetlights. Alai rarely went out at night, and although there were no people around, he felt a bit uneasy.
He was naturally timid and weak, not good with words. Others would say he was “unremarkable”, and even his parents worried that he wouldn’t be able to live independently after they passed away.
Just like now, even though he knew there were no wild animals in town and the security was decent, he still felt on edge, thinking that he wouldn’t be so scared if he met someone on the road.
Coincidentally, just as he was thinking this, he saw a passerby ahead, wearing a hat and carrying a travel bag.
Alai immediately felt relieved and followed quietly, keeping a moderate distance. He wondered: This town wasn’t a tourist spot, just an ordinary place. Why would a traveler come here? Had this person been to many places and seen a lot? It was impressive, unlike him, who rarely left town.
Lost in thought, Alai suddenly saw something fall from the edge of the traveler’s bag.
“Hey…” Alai hesitated, instinctively wanting to alert the person, but they didn’t notice.
Alai quickened his pace and found a beautifully silver-embellished small water bottle on the ground, which seemed lightweight and likely empty.
The item didn’t seem cheap, and more importantly, the silver embellishments were both beautiful and clean, indicating the owner cherished it greatly. Alai quickened his pace to catch up.
“Sir… Sir!” Initially, it was difficult, but once he started speaking, Alai’s voice grew louder.
The traveler stopped and turned around.
It was a man in his thirties, with long hair tied back, handsome features, and gentle gray eyes. Despite his travel-worn appearance, his face showed no signs of fatigue or distress, but rather calm and composure.
Alai hesitated for a moment before taking two more steps forward.
In the presence of outstanding people, he always felt inferior and uneasy. If it weren’t for…
“Your… Your item fell,” Alai said softly, handing over the water bottle. He then realized that such a distinguished gentleman might not want a poor person touching his belongings.
If that were the case, he would be humiliating himself. It must be the fault of the oat beer—normally, he wouldn’t be so careless.
But the traveler’s reaction surprised him.
“Ah, this is my water bottle. Thank you so much,” the traveler said with a calm tone and a hint of joy, which made Alai feel a bit more at ease.
Alai bowed to him and was about to leave but was called back.
“Please wait a moment,” the traveler said. “I haven’t thanked you yet, sir.”
Alai was surprised and wide-eyed, having never been called ‘sir’ before. His face flushed red.
“Please don’t say that,” Alai said awkwardly. “Don’t mention it.”
“What is your name? I should buy you a drink or a meal,” the traveler said, looking at Alai. “My name is Salman.”
“I’m Alai, but—”
“Mr. Alai, are you an artist?”
Alai was stunned.
Salman’s gaze lingered on Alai’s trouser cuffs and fingers for a moment before he smiled at him.
“I’m a decorator,” Alai instinctively replied. “I paint sets for the theater and such.” He was exaggerating a bit—such work wasn’t common, but it paid well. He had just received this job this month, which made him overly excited and led him to celebrate at the tavern with his partner.
Salman nodded, then asked about the local theater and its regular performances. Alai answered all his questions, unknowingly walking a long distance alongside him until his legs began to ache.
“Ah, there’s the city gate ahead!” Alai exclaimed. “Mr. Salman, we were so engrossed in talking that we forgot to watch the road.”
Salman said, “I just arrived here and was about to find an inn.”
“I know a round log inn that doesn’t close at night. It’s on the street next to Ginger Street—do you know how to get there?”
Salman shook his head.
“Could I trouble you again to lead the way?” he asked kindly.
Alai felt that they had become quite familiar and wasn’t as uneasy. In fact, during their brief conversation, he discovered that Salman was indeed well-traveled and knowledgeable, just as he had guessed. His casual anecdotes were fascinating, inspiring Alai.
“Alright, this way,” Alai said, “I’ll take you through Magnolia Lane. It’s a shortcut.”
Salman had a magical quality that made people lower their guard around him. Even someone as shy as Alai felt as if he had known him for a long time. In such a short interaction, Alai was amazed at how much he had spoken.
If only he could become someone like Mr. Salman, Alai thought secretly when he got home, but he knew it was a foolish dream. Despite Salman’s friendly and unpretentious demeanor, his behavior and manners clearly showed his cultivation and grace, unlike himself…
Alai carefully turned over on the narrow straw bed to avoid waking his little brother sleeping by his feet. The night wind blew in through the gaps in the wooden window, slightly diminishing the smell of dinner in the room—Alai had received an advance payment, so their mother had made a delicious fried fish tonight, and everyone had eaten happily.
“So, your mother raised you all by herself,” Salman said sincerely. “She is truly a remarkable person.”
Alai nodded in agreement.
“My father was a good man too, a very good man. He taught me how to draw with sharpened sticks on the fine coal dust by the boiler.” Alai sat on a stone. He rarely talked about his father because it saddened his mother and brother, but Mr. Salman had a calmness like the night sky, making Alai feel strangely safe.
“His health wasn’t great, but he always wanted us to live better, so he constantly pushed himself.” Alai tried to be cheerful, but it wasn’t very convincing because he saw that Mr. Salman’s expression had also turned a bit sad.
“It was an accident,” Salman said softly.
Alai nodded, directing his gaze to the nearby theater. Although it wasn’t dark yet, someone had already lit the gas lamps, and flamboyantly dressed women leaned against the streetlights, casually eyeing passersby.
“For people like us, accidents are common. I’m grown up now and can earn money for the family.” Alai wanted to comfort him, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.
“Don’t say that.” Salman’s gaze moved from Alai’s eyes to his lowered hands, which were rough and a stark contrast to Alai’s delicate face. Like other long lives, even if Salman had no intention of accumulating wealth, time, like the river constantly washing over the banks, would inevitably push gold grains ashore. He had almost forgotten how many years it had been since he last worried about making a living.
Salman shifted the topic and told Alai about his adventures. The young man, who had never left his hometown, indeed loved hearing these stories. He listened with shining eyes and kept asking various questions, chatting from evening until the stars appeared in the sky without realizing it.
If it hadn’t been for Alai’s little brother interrupting, Salman might have been forced to talk all night.
“Brother.” Alai’s brother, Adu, stood a few steps away from them, nervously calling out. “Mom is waiting for you to eat.”
Adu was dark and skinny, with a timid expression, but shared his brother’s small nose and smooth forehead.
Alai came to his senses, quickly stood up, and instinctively turned to look at Salman, opening his mouth but unable to speak.
Salman pretended not to notice Alai’s embarrassment and calmly bid them farewell. After watching the brothers walk away, he turned and walked back.
At that moment, a strange commotion sounded not far away. Instead of stopping, Salman quickened his pace, swiftly circling around the street towards the inn. Although this small town seemed peaceful, every place inevitably had its share of thugs lurking in the dark, trying to profit without effort—
Salman suddenly stopped.
Alai and his brother had just left. If he evaded the suspicious figures alone, the brothers would be in greater danger.
Thinking of this, Salman started walking again, entering a dark street.
The windows of the low houses on both sides were tightly closed, giving no indication of whether there were people inside. However, ordinary people always avoided trouble, so Salman wasn’t worried about being watched. He stood calmly for a moment.
But the noise had ceased. Just as he began to wonder if the pursuers had given up on him and turned to chase Alai, a small, sharp sound like a swift wind cut through the air. Salman was somewhat familiar with this sound—
Swish!
A black shadow darted into the street, circled over Salman’s head at a speed too fast for the eye to follow, and then landed on his shoulder, its weight causing him to stagger.
“Emerald?” Salman asked in surprise.
The Pluto Owl, which had grown considerably but still thought of itself as a baby, stubbornly perched on Salman’s shoulder. Hearing its name, it proudly flapped its wings.
Emerald’s exceptional speed and navigation skills allowed it to traverse the continent unimpeded. Duke Dwight had once tested it, releasing Emerald from a village in the far south of Pennigra to retrieve a plant seed from the far northern mountains. What would have taken a fast horse two months non-stop took Emerald less than five days, and that wasn’t even certain it had exerted its full strength.
Although raised by humans, animals naturally loved freedom. The Duke didn’t confine it to the castle, often letting it out to play (and occasionally deliver messages). Salman had experienced this twice but was reluctant to comment.
“You gave me a scare.” Salman said, smuggling Emerald into the inn room and pouring it a large bowl of Bols fruit wine. Emerald lifted one foot, showing the leather pouch tied to it.
Salman wished the Duke had taught it to pose differently. This position made it look like a peeing dog.
There were two letters from Brandenburg. Salman read them by candlelight, pondered for a moment, then folded them back without opening the ink bottle on the desk.
……
“It’s not green here, it’s blue.” Bill stopped Alai for the second time, just before he made a mistake. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you today?”
Alai was startled.
“I—I don’t know,” Alai blushed. “I’m sorry.”
Bill was Alai’s friend and his only partner. They had known each other for over ten years. Bill wouldn’t really get angry with him, but Alai’s frequent distractions were quite curious to him.
“You’re always looking towards the gate,” Bill pointed out sharply. “Are you interested in one of the actresses? Can’t blame you. They are indeed the most beautiful girls in town.”
Alai shook his head and lowered it to mix the paint again, trying to hide his expression. He was embarrassed to tell Bill that he was looking at the sunlight outside to judge when he could finish work and meet Mr. Salman for a chat.
But Alai’s movements slowed down. If he finished work, what excuse would he have to go see Mr. Salman?
The overly innocent Alai didn’t even understand why he was so eager to see Mr. Salman, let alone find a reasonable excuse for it. Bill, however, had some idea but knew how introverted Alai was. Before things became clear, Bill preferred to wait and see. Those beautiful girls were all quite proud. Bill didn’t want to blindly encourage his friend to face rejection.
Alai didn’t know that Bill, with a strange expression, was already thinking about which of his simple and cute cousins he could introduce to him. Alai thought for a long time but couldn’t come up with a suitable reason to visit Mr. Salman. After all, he was poor, and his house was bare. He couldn’t even invite Mr. Salman over for a simple meal. As a result, the off-time he had been looking forward to became rather depressing.
He deliberately waited until everyone had left before slowly packing up his things and leaving. By then, the sun had already started to set. He saw Mr. Salman standing not far from the theater entrance—right by the stone he had sat on the previous evening. The last bit of sunlight fell on his shoulders, making him look like he was glowing.
“Mr. Salman!” Alai felt as if a small animal was jumping excitedly in his chest, bringing a happy expression to his face.
He even thought Mr. Salman looked very happy too. Although they had only known each other for three days, Mr. Salman seemed happier each day.
“What brings you here?” Alai asked happily, jogging up to him.
Salman smiled. “I wanted to see you.”
Alai said, “Oh, I was thinking the same thing!”
Hearing this, Salman had a strange expression, both happy and sad, but it passed so quickly that Alai thought he might have imagined it.
If he had known Mr. Salman was waiting for him, he wouldn’t have dawdled so long. Alai felt a bit regretful. They found a reasonably priced restaurant for dinner. Mr. Salman seemed very hungry and ordered several meat pies and creamy round bread all at once.
“You seem to be in a good mood,” Alai said. “I don’t want to spoil it, but we probably can’t finish all these pies.”
Salman asked him, “Do you like meat pies?”
Who wouldn’t like pies filled with beef and chopped onions, dripping with oil? Alai nodded honestly.
So, Mr. Salman pushed all the pies in front of him. Alai couldn’t eat that much, but Salman insisted he try each flavor.
Mr. Salman looked gentle and had a mild demeanor, but he actually had a strong side. Unable to refuse, Alai thought as he ate the meat pies, but he didn’t think it was a bad thing. However, ordering two more large bottles of malt beer was truly excessive.
“This place has very strong beer,” Alai whispered. “We might not be able to drink it all.”
“Don’t worry. It’s a gift for my friend tonight,” Salman said.
“You have a friend here?” Alai’s eyes widened.
“Not a local. It’s a messenger,” Salman explained. “It brought me letters from far away last night.”
“Was it good news?”
“It was good news.” Salman smiled involuntarily. “A friend I lost contact with has returned.”
“Is he a traveler like you?”
“No.” Salman thought for a moment. “He’s more like… an adventurer.”
Seeing Alai’s interest in the topic, Salman ordered another large pot of elderflower tea and detailed the story of how he met that friend. Alai was completely fascinated. There was a contact point for the Mage Association in town, but there was only one resident junior mage who was reclusive and never interacted with people.
“Is there really such evil magic in the world?” Alai felt both shocked and sad upon hearing about the strange book in the castle and the many girls who had been turned into flowers. “I thought all magic was good.”
“Do you think all magic is good?” Salman asked him, his eyes reflecting the same sadness they held when they first met.
Alai thought he had said something wrong. “I haven’t experienced magic. It’s just…”
Salman nodded. “Magic is just magic. The difference between a blessing and a curse lies in the person who uses it.”
“But sometimes it also depends on the person who is affected by the magic.” Seeing Alai’s serious expression, Salman added, “The same curse that is a shackle for me is considered a blessing by my adventurer friend. The extra strength imposed on him didn’t make him despondent or sad. Instead, it made him more positive. I admire him for that.”
In fact, sometimes Salman even suspected that Charlie’s mentality was so good that nothing in the world could bring him down.
Alai, however, was focused on something else. He said in surprise, “Mr. Salman, are you cursed too?”
He anxiously scrutinized Salman, trying to find something unusual about him.
Seeing Alai’s worried expression, Salman reassured him, “Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”
Alai stopped moving and looked at Salman seriously.
“I’m sorry,” Alai said. “But I think this is something to worry about.”
Salman asked impulsively, “Why?”
Alai was taken aback. He thought for a while before solemnly replying, “Just now you said the curse is a shackle for you. You are a traveler, right? A traveler with shackles is like a bird in a cage. I hope you can be happier and not encounter any bad things.”
Salman looked at Alai, and Alai looked back at him.
“We’ve only known each other for three days,” Salman said softly. “Do you care about every new person you meet this much?”
Alai was at a loss again. He wasn’t good with words and originally wanted to think carefully before answering, but for some reason, when he saw Salman’s gray eyes, he found it hard to hide his true feelings.
“No one else,” Alai said. “I can’t explain why, but you are the only one I just met and care about so much.”
Salman didn’t continue asking. After they finished eating, he insisted that Alai take the leftover pies and desserts home and even escorted him back.
Alai sensed that their conversation tonight had a heavy undertone but couldn’t pinpoint the issue. He hesitantly looked at Salman, unsure how to start a conversation.
But Salman didn’t let him struggle for long. He asked, “Alai, can I come see you again tomorrow?”
Alai looked at him in surprise, not understanding how Salman could address his worries without any direct communication.
“Of course,” Alai said.
Salman smiled at him, and Alai, feeling reassured, smiled back before turning to go home.
Salman kept smiling until Alai disappeared among the low houses. Then he slowly retracted his smile and walked back to the inn, recalling the letters he had received the night before.
Emerald had brought two letters. The first was from Charlie, briefly detailing his experiences after falling into the “door” and his high-profile return. Salman was genuinely happy for him. The second letter was from Erica.
Erica’s writing style was as straightforward as she was. She informed Salman that the sixth princess of the Empire had introduced her to a Grand Magus, and she had anonymously sought the Grand Magus’ insights on his curse. The answer was that the curse wasn’t unbreakable.
“I apologize for acting without your consent,” Erica wrote. “But I do not seek your forgiveness and will continue to explore ways to break the curse.”
Even though Erica hadn’t explained her reasons, Salman knew why she did it. Therefore, he didn’t reply immediately. On one hand, he didn’t know how to respond. On the other hand, he had found Alai.
Their attraction to each other under the influence of the curse had become an instinct. After the first meeting, every subsequent encounter brought more sorrow than joy. Under normal circumstances, such a premise was unlikely to foster love, let alone a relationship destined to end in death and sadness. During his long search and wait, Salman had often wondered how much of this obsession and emotion was genuine and how much was due to the curse’s compulsion. But doubt and struggle were meaningless.
They had no choice, but Erica did.
Salman didn’t want to give her any unrealistic responses, but the letter did rekindle a spark of hope in his heart, like throwing a smoldering twig into the ashes of a dying fire.
This curse wasn’t unbreakable. No one but himself could understand what that meant to Salman.
The fairies hated his love so much that they not only made him immortal but also cursed him to watch his loved ones’ lives enter a countdown upon meeting him. Love and death went hand in hand. It was hard to say whether the curse was crueler to him or his loved ones.
Alai was still so young. Even though he had experienced the pain of his father’s death, he probably hadn’t seriously thought about death.
“If you only had seven days to live, what would you want to do?” Alai was stumped by the question. He had never imagined such a novel scenario. But because Mr. Salman asked, he thought about it seriously for a long time.
Seven days was too short. Alai couldn’t think of a way to take care of his mother and brother and ensure they wouldn’t be too sad about his passing. Finally, he said dejectedly, “I don’t know. If I only had seven days left, I would probably work desperately to finish my current job and make sure the payment goes to my mother.”
Salman tried not to look into his eyes. “What if you didn’t have to die?”
Alai didn’t understand why Mr. Salman looked so sad again. He carefully answered, “If I could avoid death, would I have to pay a price greater than death?”
Salman didn’t reply.
Alai continued thinking, “What’s more important than myself should be the people I love, right? If the price is that, then I would rather choose to face death.”
“Is that what you think?” Salman asked softly.
Alai worriedly watched Salman’s expression, but Salman soon stopped dwelling on the question.
He asked Alai to take a day off. They bought bread, jam, drinks, and a roasted chicken, packing it all into a large bag. Alai led Salman to the outskirts to look for herbs.
Salman told Alai he was an amateur herbalist and liked to find local herbs wherever he went. But Alai thought he seemed more like he was on a leisurely outing. They wandered aimlessly for most of the day, and Salman even helped Alai find a mineral that could be ground into paint.
“Mr. Salman, you are truly knowledgeable,” Alai admired. “I never knew these stones could be used like this!”
“I happened to know a paint merchant once. He shared a bit of his trade secrets with me,” Salman said with a smile. “If you live to my age…”
He suddenly stopped, as if recalling something unpleasant, and didn’t continue.
Alai didn’t notice this and continued, “No, no, I don’t have that much knowledge. Even if I live longer, it would be the same. Besides, you aren’t that much older than me.”
Salman said, “You underestimate yourself. The future holds many possibilities. You might go to a bigger city and become a street artist. Perhaps you’ll meet a merchant by chance, start as an assistant, and smoothly accumulate wealth, settling in a warm southern city. Or maybe you’ll discover a passion and talent for learning, make contributions in a certain field, and be recognized by the city.”
Alai couldn’t help but laugh. “But I can’t imagine that. Someone like me doesn’t seem destined for success.”
Salman’s feelings were extremely complex. He could have told Alai that the various lives he described were all people Salman had met before: a young artist pursuing freedom, a cautious and shrewd middle-aged merchant, a gentle and elegant scholar, even a pure and innocent noble maiden, a serious and kind factory worker—normal people wouldn’t believe such things. They would most likely think Salman was insane.
“This is the second time you’ve said that,” Salman said, looking at Alai. “‘Someone like me’… I don’t want you to talk about yourself that way.”
Alai was stunned for a moment, but Salman didn’t seem to realize what he had said and didn’t further explain. He kept walking forward.
Suddenly, an unknown courage made Alai stand still and, without caring, shout to Salman, “Then, in your view, what kind of person am I?”
Alai regretted the words almost as soon as he said them, but it was too late. Salman had heard.
Salman turned around and saw that Alai’s forehead was flushed.
“I just, just…” Alai stammered for a long time but couldn’t finish his sentence.
But Salman answered seriously, without much hesitation, as if he had prepared the answer even before Alai asked.
“To me, you are as precious as a star,” Salman said gently.
A star that seems within reach but can never be truly touched. He kept this thought to himself, but it was enough for Alai. The young man’s expression changed from awkwardness to disbelief, and finally to bright joy.
“I didn’t dare to say it before, afraid you would laugh at me.” Alai took two steps forward, standing very close to Salman. “Though it was just a hypothetical question, I did secretly think that you were one of the people I wouldn’t want to exchange my life for.”
Salman thought his feelings had turned to ashes, but Alai shattered that illusion every time.
“It turns out I still have tears inside me.” Salman thought as he hugged Alai tightly, burying his face in the young man’s shoulder, not letting anyone see his expression.
……
“What did you do to Emerald? It looks furious,” Erica asked, leaning against the door.
Charlie casually stuffed a piece of ribbon into a drawer.
“Just a little joke. It always scares the little birds, so tying a bell to it might help,” Charlie said. “I guessed you would come over soon.”
He pushed Salman’s letter towards Erica.
Erica remained expressionless. “I won’t read it—it’s his reply to you.”
“Alright. You can probably guess the content. He had an accident on the way, a heavy sign fell without warning. The doctor will stay there for a while until the grieving mother and brother are properly arranged.”
Erica nodded.
“Do you need to send a letter? Emerald doesn’t hold grudges and can do it after tomorrow.”
“No.” Erica pondered for a moment, turned to leave, but hesitated.
“I’m not trying to interfere,” Erica muttered. “It’s just…”
“He shouldn’t have to bear this,” Charlie said gently. “Salman understands. We all hope he can be a bit more at ease.”
We.
Erica raised an eyebrow, watching Charlie rummage through his messy desk and pull out a letter from under some thick books, handing it to her.
“Dwight wrote this two days ago, for Princess Leonoxi to give to the Emperor. We all think those pampered old men need a bit of pressure,” Charlie said cheerfully. “Here.”
Erica couldn’t help but smile as she took the letter, her gaze inevitably pausing on the opened letter in Charlie’s hand for a second.
She then waved, expressing her thanks to the shopkeeper and the Duke, and left the study.
The author has something to say:
I’ve been keeping an eye out, and no one seems to have guessed who Erica’s love interest is. Since none of them can be considered a happy ending, I hesitated about writing it, but I still wanted to.
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