Chapter Forty-Five: I Am Who I Am

As soon as he stepped onto the bridge, Shen Lie felt a chilling wind blowing all around, yet the mutated crows beneath his feet did not scatter. Even as more and more people crowded onto the bridge, there was no sign of collapse. Crows still fluttered along the bridge’s edges, scattered and restless, as Shen Lie followed closely behind Yang Weiguo, tense and wary. Beneath the bridge lay the Red Pool, with its eerie, flower-bearing barren tree—falling down there would certainly mean a grim fate.

Suddenly, a heartrending scream rang out from behind—a woman’s voice. Shen Lie turned around in alarm, thinking something had happened to Zhang Jing, but saw instead that a young girl behind Zhang Jing had been attacked by a stray mutated crow. She perished and plunged off the bridge. It was unclear how she had survived this long, yet in the final moments, she failed to cross. Her body slipped slowly into the Red Pool, instantly becoming fertilizer for the crimson blossoms.

Shen Lie felt little at this loss. After all he had been through, his heart had grown hardened. He merely glanced at the spot where the girl had fallen, then let Zhang Jing and little Tao Tao walk ahead of him.

Though some people retreated to the passage, the majority pressed on the bridge—two or three hundred in all. The crowd pushed those in front, easily shoving Shen Lie and his companions into the thick fog.

Entering the mist, Shen Lie found his senses greatly diminished. Even the pill beneath his nose no longer smelled fragrant. He could only faintly sense the presence of life before and behind him; even Zhang Jing, so close, was barely visible.

Moreover, he noticed the “Crow Bridge” beneath his feet had become unstable—first undulating in waves, then swaying side to side. He sensed that the bridge wouldn’t last another minute or two before it collapsed.

“Hold on to me!” Shen Lie growled, grabbing Zhang Jing and Tao Tao, whose skin tinged with pale gold. With the black spear across his chest, he summoned all his strength and charged forward!

As he ran, Shen Lie realized something odd—he had dragged two people for quite some distance, yet hadn’t bumped into a single person. Not only had he not collided with anyone, he hadn’t even seen anyone. It was as though the others had suddenly vanished. The bridge was only three meters wide; he didn’t dare run too fast for fear of falling, and though visibility was poor, it shouldn’t be possible not to encounter anyone. Professor Liu and Yang Weiguo had gone ahead, but now the path before him was empty—he refused to believe they could have moved so quickly.

Whoosh!

Shen Lie halted abruptly, turning back.

The sight stunned him: behind him lay nothing—no people, not even the red mist. Only a pitch-black floating bridge stretched across empty space!

“An illusion, this is an illusion!” Shen Lie squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again.

His expression grew more grave. Not only did the illusion not dissipate, but even Zhang Jing and Tao Tao, whom he had been holding onto, had disappeared. He was alone on the bridge.

He started to call out, but swallowed the words. The situation was too uncanny; it was best not to act rashly.

He lifted his leg and continued forward, glancing back and forth as he walked. But soon he found himself running, faster and faster, as though something was pulling him, his mind slipping into a dreamlike world, becoming a marionette.

“Young man, have a bowl of thick soup and rest a while!” A hoarse voice echoed on the bridge, halting Shen Lie’s steps and pulling him back to reality.

He had not reached the end of the bridge, but now found railings on either side, and the bridge arched above him. He stood at its highest point.

Before him sat an old woman, her face lined with wrinkles. She perched on a stone stool, with a large cauldron before her. There was no fire beneath, yet the soup inside boiled furiously. She stirred the pot with a large ladle, gazing at him as she did so.

“Lady Meng?”

The scene—the cauldron, the soup, the bridge—reminded Shen Lie of a legendary figure from the realm of spirits.

“Young man, have a bowl of soup,” the old woman said, ignoring his question. She ladled some broth into a bowl and gestured for him to drink.

How could Shen Lie dare to drink such a sinister soup? If it truly were Lady Meng’s soup, he would lose his memories and be reborn in another life.

“Thank you, Granny, but I’m not thirsty. I have urgent business, so I must take my leave,” Shen Lie shook his head vigorously, intending to skirt past her.

Yet a strange thing happened: no matter how hard he tried, how fast he moved, each time he crossed the arch and descended, he found himself once more before the old woman.

“It’s useless. This is the Bridge of Rebirth. Only those who sever their past and do not ask about the future can cross. Drink—once you finish the soup, you may pass,” the old woman murmured, pressing the bowl to Shen Lie’s lips.

Her words made Shen Lie’s consciousness grow hazy. He seemed to hear countless voices whispering at his ears, “What use is the past? What does the future matter? Sever ties, drink, drink, drink!”

“Drink, drink, drink…”

Wave after wave of voices overwhelmed him, and without thinking, he took the bowl from the old woman, bringing it to his mouth, ready to drink.

Suddenly, an image flashed in his mind—a beautiful, kind woman, simply dressed yet neat, smiling at him from afar in the void. “Little Lie, don’t be naughty. Go wash up and eat. Mama made your favorite chicken drumsticks today!”

His mother’s figure blurred, transforming into a hazy man. “Little Lie, when Dad’s away, protect your mother well. A man must not be weak!”

“Little Lie, why haven’t you arrived in Yangcheng yet? Hurry over!” came a gentle voice—his cousin.

“Shen Lie, there’s no future between us. Let’s break up,” said his first love.

“Liezi, aren’t we thriving in the capital together? Why go home? Don’t tell me you’re heading back to play house with your childhood sweetheart, hahahaha…” The voice of his university friend brought back more memories.

Sever the past?

Don’t ask about the future?

Would I still be myself? Who am I—who is me? What meaning is there in struggling through this apocalypse if I let all that go?

“I am myself. No matter how bitter the past, no matter how hard the future, life and death, joy and sorrow are all part of living. I won’t forget, nor do I wish to lose them. Granny, I’m sorry!”

“I am myself!”

With a sudden roar, Shen Lie flipped the bowl in his hand and flung it at the old woman’s face. The black spear in his other hand erupted with a flickering glow, sweeping fiercely toward her!