An Immortal Love

Secrets

He startles at the name "Jie Kingdom" and glances quickly at the dragon. Their food has just arrived, and the dragon seems entirely focused on the meal before him. The attendant lifts a bamboo lid, revealing steaming dumplings with delicate, translucent skins, glowing softly under the dim light. Other dishes follow: plates of pork slices with scallions and bamboo shoots, stir-fried vegetables, fish cake stew, wonton noodles topped with beef slices, lean meat porridge with preserved eggs, and a large pot of chicken soup with cabbage and red dates.

Downstairs, the storyteller's voice resonates throughout the teahouse. "By now, you've all heard that the Jie Kingdom is no more. The mighty King Jie, a man of power rivaling an Enlightened Beast, and all his court were slain by an unknown flood dragon."

The storyteller continues with dramatic flair, painting the fall of King Jie in vibrant, tragic strokes, his voice accompanied by mournful zither music. "The flood dragon, after destroying the kingdom, vanished into the mountains, never to be seen again."

Below, the crowd murmurs, exchanging whispered opinions. Some express sympathy for the tragic people. But many voice their belief that King Jie deserved his fate for his arrogance, his refusal to worship a god and incite the wrath of heaven.

Yijun frowns. Sure the king was arrogant, but the rest was minding their own business. They certainly did nothing to deserve a dragon popping out of the blue and kill them.

He sneaks another glance at the dragon, who appears utterly uninterested, entirely absorbed in his meal. His expression remains serene as he picks up a strand of noodles, slurping it quietly, his lips glistening with broth. He casually wipes them with his tongue before moving on to a dumpling, which he picks up delicately, allowing its skin to stretch before taking a bite.

"But that's not the end of the tale," the storyteller continues, his voice rising. "The widows and families of King Jie, waiting back at the city with a feast prepared for their victorious men, were struck down by a thousand bolts of heavenly lightning!"

A collective gasp erupts from the crowd, and one man stands, proclaiming it to be Heaven's Will, a righteous judgment upon the arrogant. Scattered applause follows. Yijun picks at his food, but his appetite wanes. He takes a dumpling and tears into it, trying to distract himself from the grim story.

"Out of the ashes, a boy rose up. The prince-King Jie's son-survived!" The storyteller's voice cuts through the low hum of the audience, sparking a new wave of excitement.

Yijun freezes mid-bite, his shock evident. The dumpling falls from his chopsticks as he stares at the storyteller in disbelief.

The storyteller goes on, describing how some of the survivors, having endured Heaven's wrath, emerged from the ruins stronger, their bodies tempered by divine lightning. Yijun casts a quick glance at the dragon again, his nerves on edge. The dragon pauses, noticing the glance, and locks eyes with him.

"Please don't go after them," Yijun pleads softly, anxiety bubbling beneath his calm tone.

The dragon frowns slightly. "Why would I?"

Yijun hesitates. "Didn't you try to kill them all?"

"My lightning strikes only those unworthy of living," the dragon replies matter-of-factly. "If they escaped it, they are free to keep their lives."

The dragon resumes his meal, unfazed, while Yijun watches in silence, trying to understand him. The dragon has killed so many, yet he shows no malice, no hatred, no emotion at all toward his victims. It's as if killing were just a duty, a task to be completed, devoid of personal feeling.