Chapter 52: If We Live to See the Snow (Patreon)

Su Ye: Hey Zhiwei babe, did you just finish practicing Luminurgy? We were wondering why you weren’t answering.

Matt: Let’s wait until Aglaya’s handover ceremony is finished. I think she still has to recite the hymns. It’ll take a while.

Gu Zhiwei scrolled back through the earlier messages and finally found Aglaya’s note saying she would be entering the Inner Sanctum that night for the handover ceremony. She closed her eyes and reached out with her senses. Aglaya’s mark was still in the direction of the Grand Temple, motionless, its presence calm and peaceful. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“Does the saintess’s handover ceremony in the Inner Sanctum take a long time?”

Lucien-vael had no idea what had prompted the sudden change of subject, but he thought back and answered her anyway. “It’ll be well past midnight by the time she finishes reciting all the hymns. Then she has to keep vigil over the candles until nearly dawn before she can leave the Inner Sanctum. Are you waiting for your friend?”

“Mm... We’d arranged for her to tell me something.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until morning.” Lucien-vael unfurled the sheet of lumenbreath again and motioned for Gu Zhiwei to step on. “You’re exhausted too. Go back and rest.”

Gu Zhiwei rubbed her throbbing temples and left a message in the group chat reminding Aglaya to reply once the ceremony ended. Only then did she follow him onto the light carpet.

The mountain wind roared past her ears. Lucien-vael sent the sheet of lumenbreath racing through the night. Asterwyn, thousands of meters away only moments before, came into view beyond the sprawling mountain range in a matter of seconds. 

Lamps still shone atop the spires of the Grand Temple. From a distance, it looked like a silent island in a dark sea. Streetlights traced winding threads of gold through the city, following arcades that rose and fell with the terrain. Soft light spilled through stained-glass windows high above, catching the sheen of the finely carved marble walls. Under the moonlight, Asterwyn was like a rare flower blooming in the dark, breathtakingly beautiful.

Who could have imagined that this was a city on the verge of destruction?

Only then did Gu Zhiwei realize that since arriving in Lyvaria, she had never once had the chance to take a proper look at this land. She was always traveling somewhere or racing against time to learn Luminurgy. Even when she went out, it was to farm shadow beasts. And why was she farming shadow beasts? To become stronger, live longer, and make it to the end of this endless game?

It had been a long time since she had thought about the Myriad Worlds or the system. Without her realizing it, they seemed to have changed her, almost turning her into a machine that knew only how to complete quests and grow stronger.

If someone asked what this world meant to her, she could probably offer no better answer than a place to farm monsters and a free school where she could learn to control her Spirit with precision. When players on the Forum shouted, “Hey, slow down! We still want to farm mobs before you clear the dungeon!” weren’t they giving voice to thoughts she’d had herself?

Only then did she realize that she had never truly considered what the endless tide of shadow beasts meant to the people who actually lived in this world.

Perhaps it was a son who left to hunt one morning and never returned. Perhaps it was a father who set out on a long trading journey and lost the wealth he had spent half a lifetime amassing. Perhaps it was a mother who woke one morning to find that the cattle and sheep her entire family depended on were gone.

She suddenly remembered the man kneeling beneath the god’s statue, praying over and over that he might be reunited with his wife after death. When the people of a land began to hope the next world would be kinder than this one, its destruction had already begun.

She looked up at Lucien-vael, silent beside her, and suddenly understood why he had been so intent on teaching her as much as he could, as quickly as possible.

Unlike the players who had come from elsewhere, he had faced countless nights like this alone, silently guarding borders that shrank by the day. Vick had said he was everything a luminurgist in Lyvaria aspired to be, but did any of them truly know what he carried?

Gu Zhiwei gazed at the city’s nighttime splendor and the man before her, her mind full. She remained lost in thought until the sheet descended into the courtyard.

“Go get some proper rest. You worked hard today.” Lucien-vael turned to her, warmth in his eyes. “Don’t follow me so recklessly next time.”

“All right. Next time, I’ll follow you openly.” Now that Gu Zhiwei knew what he was facing, how could she let him bear it all alone? She was S-rank too. Until they found a way to end this for good, she was perfectly capable of helping him clear out the creatures.

“You...” Lucien-vael had clearly not expected that answer. For a moment, words failed him.

“This world is about to be destroyed. What exactly do you expect me to inherit? A world of ashes and cries of grief?”

Gu Zhiwei had no idea whether she had inherited his Luminurgy, but she had certainly inherited every bit of his sharp tongue.

Lucien-vael was so exasperated he almost laughed. He knew he wouldn’t talk her out of it easily. After a long moment’s thought, he finally nodded and agreed to bring her next time.

Just before he turned to leave, Gu Zhiwei called out to him, scarcely knowing what had prompted her.

“If this world makes it through all this, what’s the first thing you’d want to do?”

Lucien-vael went still. 

He had never considered the question. Through all those years of planning, he had never imagined a place for himself in the world he was trying to save. But since she was the one asking... he still wanted to give her an answer.

“Perhaps... I’d return to my lands, sit beside a warm hearth, and watch the snow fall one winter. If I could...”

If I could, I would want to watch it with you.

A faint, tender smile touched his lips as he gazed quietly at her with those beautiful pale-gray eyes. Moonlight lay over his silver hair, veiling him in a soft glow.

Perhaps the sight was simply too beautiful. Gu Zhiwei missed the last words as they faded on his lips. The night wind seemed to fill her head, leaving room for nothing else. In the end, all she managed was a clumsy, “So... it snows where you live.”

At that, Lucien-vael laughed softly. Then he shook his head and walked away from this dream beneath the moon.

Perhaps, if Gu Zhiwei had remembered those famous lines by Li Shangyin[1] a little sooner, she might have spared herself some regret. But life so often unfolds this way. By the time we are old enough to recognize what we will regret, the moment has already passed.

***

After returning to her room, Gu Zhiwei immediately drank a Spirit-soothing potion. She sat for a while until the discomfort eased, then picked up the formation diagram and headed to the practice field.

If Neria and the others were indeed the figures behind this world’s God of Radiance, searching her Retrocognition memories for clues would be more useful than guessing blindly.

Lumenbreath slowly flowed across the ground, tracing the summoning formation she had long since memorized, stroke by stroke. The formation soon lit up. Night insects chirped softly beyond the window, and the evening breeze carried a faint trace of lilac.

Yet she waited and waited, and her consciousness remained firmly in her own body.

...Fine. Apparently it was closed for business again tonight.

She had tried summoning again the day after she last saw Neria, but had failed to enter her Retrocognition memories. Nearly a month and a half had passed between her first two successes, while it had only been about two weeks since her last summoning.

Did this thing have a cooldown too?

Gu Zhiwei dismissed the summoning formation and braced her hands on her knees to stand. For now, she had no way to see what happened next in those memories, but she couldn’t just sit around and wait.

Lucien-vael was clearing away the black mist almost every night now, yet it was still accumulating so quickly. Even if she helped him, how much difference could the two of them make? The system quest linked saving Lyvaria to finding the sacred relic. Until they found it, they needed to get more people to help.

It was already well past midnight, but the Forum was still lively. She created a new post explaining what she had learned about the impending apocalypse.

【Regarding “The Doom of Lyvaria,” there are some things everyone needs to know.】

She left out Lucien-vael’s involvement and explained only that shadow beasts were born from accumulated black mist. What had once taken several months to build up could now accumulate in two weeks. Having no time limit didn’t mean they could take as long as they liked. Once the beasts began appearing faster than they could kill them, the danger would only become harder to contain.

At the end, she added one more line.

【Until we find a solution, anyone who can fight should help clear out shadow beasts whenever possible. I recommend going in parties. Don’t split off alone just to chase Virtue Value. If you encounter a group of shadow beasts you can’t handle, get to safety first, then post the location.】

Less than five minutes after the post went up, the replies had already spilled onto a second page.

【Damn, it’s actually an apocalypse? I thought the quest title was just trying to sound scary.】

【Not a big deal. We were already farming them anyway. Our party needs a healer. DM me if you’re interested.】

【Holy crap, it’s that serious? Guess I’ll give it a try too. I’ve been learning to use lumenbreath at Sanctum Aurelia for months. Feels like I’m ready for some real practice.】

Yet not everyone thought the situation was urgent. Players were almost never hunted down by other players in this world. That wasn’t because everyone had suddenly grown a conscience. Most of those who could fight had simply gone off to farm shadow beasts, which were easier to find.

Some had even found fixed spawn points and were keeping the locations to themselves. Clearly, they still hoped all this talk of an apocalypse was an exaggeration.

【We don’t have to clear them out completely, do we? Can’t we just keep the numbers under control? This dungeon is way too good for farming points. Where are we supposed to find another one like it?】

【Agreed. Hey, boss, don’t rush the main quest yet. The more Virtue Value we all save up, the better our chances next round.】

【Can you people read? She already said this is an apocalypse dungeon, and you’re talking about controlling the numbers. You think the shadow beasts are going to negotiate with you?】

【Exactly. How do you know they’ll stay under control?!】

Seeing this, Gu Zhiwei replied to make her position clear.

【I can’t control the shadow beast population or end the quest whenever I want. Please don’t gamble with your lives.】

***

Gu Zhiwei managed only a brief doze in a soft chair in the hours before dawn. The first thing she did upon waking was check her messages.

An entire night had passed, and Aglaya still had not replied. No matter how long the ceremony was, shouldn’t it have ended by now?

Gu Zhiwei decided not to wait any longer. She would go to the Grand Temple and see what was happening. She shared her concerns in the group chat. Su Ye was probably still asleep, but Matt replied almost immediately.

Matt: I just dropped Elias off at the Holy Land. I’m on my way back to Asterwyn now. Go check on Aglaya first. I’ll contact you when I arrive.

Gu Zhiwei: Did you find out what the acolytes actually have to do?

Matt: Yeah. So far, it seems fine. I asked the other acolytes and priests there. They mostly help with the daily rituals and take short shifts cleaning and organizing temple supplies. I saw where he’ll be staying. It’s pretty nice, and when the priest who welcomed us heard about Elias’s condition, he even arranged for a physician to examine him regularly.

Matt: Given the situation right now, he might actually be safer there. I checked the area. There are far fewer shadow beasts nearby than around Asterwyn.

Gu Zhiwei: Good. That’s a relief. Stay in touch, and let us know right away if anything changes.

When she stepped out of the residence, an unfamiliar carriage stood by the roadside.

The carriage was a very dark gray, with little ornament beyond a silver crest set into the door. Long, slender ribbons curved around open petals, their ends curling slightly outward. The design resembled both a flower and a bird spreading its wings.

Gu Zhiwei stopped dead.

This design... looked strangely familiar.

Just then, the carriage door opened. An elderly woman stepped down with the help of a servant. She wore silk gloves, and her silver-gray hair was arranged in a flawless coil. As she moved, her cloyingly sweet perfume drifted toward Gu Zhiwei.

The elderly woman gazed at her with a tenderness that seemed carefully rehearsed.

“My dear child. I’ve finally found you.”

Something in the shape of the woman’s brow and nose resembled this body’s features. Gu Zhiwei suddenly remembered where she had seen the family crest before.

On the back of the ring her mother had left behind.

“And you are?”

“My dear child, I’m your grandmother.” The elderly woman reached out as if to stroke her cheek, but Gu Zhiwei instinctively stepped half a pace back.

The woman paused. A flash of displeasure crossed her face. She withdrew her hand with slight embarrassment, folded both hands primly before her, and lifted her chin.

“I saw you on Lumenbreath Day and thought you looked so much like my youngest daughter. We’ve spent the past few days looking into your background...”

“Oh? I don’t recall her ever mentioning you.” Gu Zhiwei searched the memories of the body’s original owner. Her mother had indeed never mentioned her own background or parents. If she’d been close to them, she would have mentioned them at some point, right?

“She was my youngest child.” The elderly woman lowered her eyes, looking sorrowful without shedding a single tear. “She was so beautiful and innocent. All those years ago, some lowborn gardener from goodness knows where deceived her with his honeyed words and took her away. We searched for years but never managed to bring her home. It was only after you appeared that we discovered the vile kidnapper had come from Oakmere.”

The horse beside the carriage snorted, its iron-shod hoof tapping lightly against the stone pavement.

Kidnapper? That was rather different from what Gu Zhiwei knew.

In the memories of this body, her father had always taken the greatest care of her mother. In winter, he would take a warm stone from beside the hearth, wrap it carefully in an old piece of wool, and test the heat against his hand again and again. Only when he was sure it wouldn’t burn her would he place it by her feet.

Sometimes he scorched the oatmeal, and her mother would frown and complain. He never got angry. He would simply grin, pick up the bowl and eat it himself, then make her a fresh bowl. They bickered over trivial things too, but her father was always the first to give in.

Could a man like that ever be a kidnapper?

“She’s dead,” Gu Zhiwei said, watching the elderly woman. “Last winter.”

The woman’s lashes trembled. A look of regret crossed her face, a little too pronounced.

“I heard from the people who came back with the news. Poor child. At least she left behind such an exceptional daughter.”

She gestured toward the carriage door.

“Come home with me. Your mother’s room is still there. I’ve already had it prepared for you. You may stay as long as you wish.”

Looking at her, Gu Zhiwei could make a fair guess at what kind of mother she had been.

The woman knew her daughter was dead, yet she hadn’t asked how her daughter had lived all those years, what had killed her, or even where she was buried. It was as though her daughter’s only worth lay in having given birth to an exceptional S-rank child.

“Thank you, but my teacher wants me to focus on my studies. Living here is more convenient too.”

“I will personally explain the matter to the White Sun.”

“There’s no need.” Gu Zhiwei’s tone cooled. “I’m perfectly comfortable where I am, and besides, I barely know any of you.”

The elderly woman frowned, as though struggling to remain patient.

“Child, you may not understand yet. Being cared for by your own family is different from living under someone else’s roof.”

Gu Zhiwei turned and motioned for her waiting coachman to bring her carriage around to the other side of the road. She climbed in without another glance at the woman.

“I have an appointment. Excuse me.”

The elderly woman stared after her, thin lips pressed tightly together. Every trace of that tremulous grandmotherly affection had vanished. Only a trace of cold hatred remained.

___________________

[1]The lines Zhiwei failed to remember come from “The Brocade Zither” by Li Shangyin (c. 813–858), a Chinese poet of the late Tang dynasty. Loosely translated:

Must this love become a memory before it begins to ache?

Even then, my heart was lost in a sorrow I could not name.

Li Shangyin had a particular gift for making beautiful things hurt. His poetry is known for its rich imagery and elusive meanings, especially when it comes to love, longing, and loss. You may not always be certain whom he was writing about, or exactly what he had lost, but the ache comes through all the same. More than a thousand years later, it still feels surprisingly personal.