HNYWEF -Chapter 190 Murphy’s Law

Fifth year of Zhenguan, nineteenth day of the fifth month.

Jianmen Pass.

Zhou Xiong stood at the pass entrance, tilting his head up to look at the mountain ahead.

The mountain was not tall, but it was steep. The rocks were black, and twisted pine trees grew from the cracks, their branches stretching out like fingers pointing at the sky.

The road was a plank path built along the cliffs. The wood had darkened with age, though some boards had been replaced recently, pale and glaringly white against the old timber.

Another mountain to climb.

He had already spent days climbing through the Ziwu Valley. When he finally came out of the valley, he thought he would never have to climb another mountain in his life.

Then he reached Hanzhong, looked at the map, and realized that to get to Yizhou, he still had to pass through Jianmen Pass.

Beyond those mountains were still more mountains.

Standing there, a sudden wave of irritation surged up inside him.

Not the kind that slowly built over time. It came all at once, lodging in his chest, neither rising nor sinking.

He wanted to curse someone out.

Curse who? He did not know.

Curse the mountain? The mountain would not answer him.

Curse the road? The road would not respond.

Curse that dark blue shadow?

There was no point cursing it either. It would not talk back.

In his mind, he pictured the shadow again, standing motionless in the mist. It neither urged him forward nor waited for him. It simply existed there.

Zhou Xiong stood at the pass entrance for a long while. The mountain wind swept past him, cold and sharp, whipping his clothes loudly in the air.

He looked at the plank road ahead, at the twisted pine trees, at the gray, hazy sky.

Then, suddenly, he did not want to keep going anymore.

Not because he could not walk. He simply did not want to.

Why was he rushing so desperately anyway? That shadow would not hurry him along, nor would it disappear just because he arrived a few days later.

It was there, quietly waiting for him. It had already waited for who knew how long. A few more days would make no difference.

He turned around and walked back down the mountain.

There was an inn beneath the pass. Small, with earthen walls and gray roof tiles.

Zhou Xiong pushed the door open. Behind the counter sat an old man dozing off. Hearing the door, he opened his eyes and glanced at him.

The old man asked no questions. He took the money, handed over a key, and pointed upstairs.

Zhou Xiong went upstairs and pushed open the room door.

The room was small. A bed, a table, a chair. A faded painting hung on the wall, so worn it was hard to tell what it depicted. The windows were shut, and the room felt stuffy.

He pushed the window open. Outside was the mountain, dark and looming, its peak piercing into the clouds where the summit could no longer be seen.

He lay down on the bed.

The bedboards were hard, painfully so against his back. He did not move. He simply lay there, staring at the ceiling beams above him.

Then he closed his eyes.

His thoughts were a mess.

One moment it was that dark blue shadow standing motionless in the mist.

The next, it was the plank road, with its newly replaced boards glaring white against the old wood.

Then it was her, dressed in a rose-red jacket, standing behind the gravestone with a faint smile at the corner of her lips.

He did not know when he fell asleep.

Everything became hazy, as though he had fallen into a mass of fog, not deep, not shallow, suspended somewhere in midair.

There was a figure in the fog.

Dark blue.

He recognized it.

Not the shadow standing in the mist, but another one.

Smaller. Shorter. Standing before him with its back turned.

He could not see the face, but he knew who it was.

It was himself. Himself as a child.

The dark blue shadow crouched down until they were eye level.

He still could not see its face, but he knew the person was smiling.

The voice drifted through the fog, muffled, as though separated by water.

“Do you know what Murphy’s Law is?”

He said nothing.

He did not know what Murphy’s Law was.

At that time he had only been seven or eight years old, barely able to recognize all the characters he read.

The person did not wait for an answer and continued on their own.

“It means that if you worry something might happen, then it becomes more likely to happen.”

The voice paused briefly.

“But remember this. Worrying itself will not make things better. Nor will it make things worse. It only makes you suffer through it once before it even happens.”

He stood there looking at the dark blue shadow.

He did not understand.

All he knew was that the person’s voice sounded nice—steady and warm, like a winter quilt wrapped around him.

“So don’t be afraid,” the person said. “Being afraid is useless anyway.”

The fog dispersed.

Zhou Xiong opened his eyes.

The ceiling was still the same ceiling. The beams were still the same beams.

Outside the window, the sky had darkened into a gray haze, impossible to tell whether it was evening or rain approaching.

He lay there without moving while the words from the dream kept circling in his head.

Worrying itself will not make things better. Nor will it make things worse. It only makes you suffer through it once before it even happens.

He thought again of the dark blue shadow.

Not the one from childhood. The one standing in the mist.

It stood there without urging him on, without waiting for him. It simply remained there. It would not come any closer because he hurried, nor would it disappear because he stopped.

What was he afraid of?

He did not know.

But he knew that fear was useless.

He rolled over, facing the wall. The wall was white with limewash, painfully bright.

He closed his eyes.

Someone walked past outside. Footsteps echoed through the corridor for a while before fading away.

Then another set of footsteps passed, and faded too.

He listened to those footsteps.

And listening to them, he fell asleep again.

This time, he did not dream.