The Itch That Lasted Seven Years - Chapter 20

Lu Tan painted a scene from years ago when Wen Qingyuan had insisted on sharing the moonlight with her. It was one of the few carefree moments the two had shared during those centuries of tense hostility.

After so many years, Lu Tan rarely reminisced about that carefree past, and she never voluntarily painted such a warm scene. Her paintings often featured Wen Qingyuan, but always in silhouette.

Wen Qingyuan gazing indifferently at the battlefield strewn with corpses; Wen Qingyuan fleeing atop a horse, hunched over to escape pursuit; Wen Qingyuan, exposed after betraying his allies, forced to hide in the shadows, too afraid to show his face…

Lu Tan had painted and recorded many such scenes. Only the face of her former friend was unbearable to recall.

In those dark, oppressive days of manipulation and deceit, she had forgotten Wen Qingyuan’s exact appearance.

But today, for some reason, the scene from years ago of the two of them basking in the moonlight, content in each other’s presence surfaced in her mind.

Perhaps because her injured eye had gone blind, the Young Miss’s face in the scene had morphed into Wen Zhan’s.

White clouds drifted across the mirror, and the bright moon shone before the steps. Within the pavilion, the woman of his memories and the person before him miraculously overlapped.

But how could she possibly look like Wen Zhan?

Though acts of kindness might go unnoticed by others, they are known to heaven. Thus, in the next life, one can retain their original appearance. Over time, someone in the world will always remember that face, and being remembered is part of what gives a living being meaning.

Conversely, those who commit evil lose their original appearance in each successive life, never remaining the same.

After four lifetimes, a great cycle is complete. By then, no one remembers the face that has changed so many times, and the soul, forgotten, eventually fades away.

Wen Qingyuan had committed many sins in her past lives, and her appearance changed with each rebirth.

This was her fourth life, but it was the first time Lu Tan had seen Wen Zhan’s face. Wen Qingyuan hadn’t looked like this before—certainly not in the past few centuries. Lu Tan knew this very well.

Yet while reason told her one thing, her brush moved of its own accord. Forced to compromise, she settled for drawing Wen Zhan’s back view.

Lu Tan’s question about Wen Zhan’s past was impulsive, but the young woman beside her calmly gave the only correct answer.

A storm of emotions surged within Lu Tan, yet she maintained a composed facade. “Injuries. How did you know I was injured?”

Back then, Wen Qingyuan had always insisted on replacing Lu Tan’s cooling tea with fruit drinks, and forbade her from drinking alcohol, all in the name of aiding her recovery.

What the Young Miss didn’t realize was that her fruit drinks were truly awful, forcing Lu Tan to make multiple trips to the restroom each day. The constant trips actually hindered her recovery more than drinking alcohol would have.

But Wen Qingyuan’s intentions had been sincere, and Lu Tan couldn’t bear to disappoint her. Yet time and circumstance had worn even that kindness away, leaving only faded memories.

She never expected that, years later, she would hear the same words from Wen Zhan’s lips.

Does she… really not remember?

Amidst her swirling thoughts, Lu Tan noticed Wen Zhan staring off into space, and her heart sank involuntarily.

“Why aren’t you answering?” she asked.

Wen Zhan snapped back to reality, shook her head, and answered honestly: “I don’t know.”

******

Wen Zhan truly didn’t know. Her mind was a jumble; the scene in the painting felt strangely familiar, and the people in it seemed like old acquaintances.

Her fingers trembled as she pointed at the figure in the painting. “Is this… you?”

“Why do you ask?” Lu Tan’s brow furrowed imperceptibly as she countered.

“There’s a silk ribbon on her face,” Wen Zhan explained, curling her fingers and lowering her gaze. “It looks very like you.”

Lu Tan’s gaze lingered on Wen Zhan, searching for any sign of deception. But the girl before her remained pale-faced, offering no further words that might arouse Lu Tan’s suspicions.

*****

That night, Lu Tan was woken by Wen Zhan’s sleep-talking. The young woman, trapped in a nightmare, was drenched in sweat, her eyes tightly shut, her eyelids trembling. Even her grip on the quilt was tight and unyielding.

Lu Tan called to her several times, but Wen Zhan remained unresponsive. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached out and placed her hand on Wen Zhan’s sweat-drenched forehead.

Before she could cast a spell, Wen Zhan’s hand shot out from the pillow and clamped onto hers.

“Huayou… Lu Huayou…” Wen Zhan’s lips moved, and she finally managed to speak.

“I’m here,” Lu Tan replied quickly.

“Lu Huayou… don’t… please… ah… save… let go…”

Wen Zhan’s words came out in disjointed fragments, utterly incomprehensible. Lu Tan leaned closer, her ear pressed against Wen Zhan’s lips. “Azhan, what are you saying?”

Trapped in her nightmare, Wen Zhan couldn’t answer. Her grip tightened unconsciously, as if she were enduring some terrifying ordeal. Even tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes.

“It hurts… it hurts so much… go away… don’t… Huayou…”

“Azhan, I’m here. No one will harm you.” Lu Tan gently nudged Wen Zhan’s shoulder, but seeing no sign of waking, she sighed. Her fingertip pressed against Wen Zhan’s forehead, and she repeated the promise she had made years ago: “I promised to protect your life, and I won’t break my word. Azhan…”

Before she could finish, Wen Zhan, still trapped in her nightmare, interrupted:

“Lu… Huayou.” This time, between heavy breaths, each word came out crystal clear: “I hate… hate you.”

Tears hung frozen at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall, as if carrying the resentment and bitterness of past lives.

Lu Tan’s heart clenched. Before she could think, her fingers brushed away the wetness on Wen Zhan’s cheeks.

If only she could wipe away Wen Qingyuan’s entire past as well… But she couldn’t.

“Azhan.” Her voice softened to a whisper, carrying an unacknowledged plea: “Don’t remember, okay?”

******

Whether it was due to Lu Tan’s soothing music from the night before, Wen Zhan, though dazed from lack of sleep, said nothing about her nightmare or the fact that she had cried out in her sleep.

Her expression was listless, her appetite poor. Her chopsticks trembled slightly, unable to grasp even a small piece of cabbage. Unable to bear it any longer, Lu Tan placed the cabbage in her bowl and asked with concern, “What’s wrong with your hand?”

Wen Zhan merely shook her head, refusing to elaborate. She set down her bowl and chopsticks, resting her forehead on the table and falling into a daze.

A fleeting emotion crossed Lu Tan’s face, but her expression remained impassive as she refrained from pressing the matter.

Lu Tan wondered if the occasional wrist pain Wen Qingyuan had experienced in the past, when Immortal Power was channeled through the mark on her wrist, was the same. Back then, Wen Qingyuan had reacted just like Wen Zhan now, refusing to mention it and enduring the pain in silence, even refusing to let Lu Tan examine it.

Lu Tan still remembered Wen Qingyuan’s bitter expression from those days, her eyes flashing with resentment as she retorted sarcastically, “Lu Huayou, isn’t this all thanks to you? Why bother pretending to care?”

If she could, Lu Tan would rather have nothing to do with mortals.

Immortals like her were born with their Immortal Rank. After overcoming the trials of Ascension, they could smoothly return to their rightful place.

Immortals, who neither experience rebirth nor enter the cycle of reincarnation, have fundamentally different paths from mortals. Yet because of a single misguided thought, she and Wen Qingyuan had been bound together by an unwritten Enmity Ledger, entangled in this cycle of debt and resentment.

In this life, they even shared the same bed…

“Huayou,” Wen Zhan’s voice brought Lu Tan back to the present. She covered her eyes with her hand, sounding dejected. “I keep feeling like something’s weighing on my heart, but I don’t know what it is. I can’t put it into words, and I can’t let it go.”

Lu Tan was taken aback by Wen Zhan’s blunt expression of her feelings.

“My hands feel weak and disconnected, as if they’re not even mine.” Wen Zhan held out her hand and clenched her fist. “But I’m not sick. Do you think I have mental issues? Should I see a doctor?”

“I’ll book an appointment right now,” Lu Tan said, moving quickly to grab her phone. But Wen Zhan stopped her.

“I’ll skip it for now. I need to adjust myself. I have to run to the brand event tomorrow, and the promotion and roadshow for Stars Filling the Galaxy are also coming up. My time is going to be stretched thin again.” Wen Zhan’s lips curled slightly as she shot Lu Tan a reproachful glance. “Isn’t it all your fault?”

Lu Tan stood still, her eyes shrouded in a heavy dusk, their depths unreadable. She subtly brushed aside Wen Zhan’s restraining hand and said slowly, “You blame me?”

“Of course I blame you!” Wen Zhan didn’t notice the deliberate distance Lu Tan had put between them. She wrapped her arms around her lover without hesitation, even bumping her head against Lu Tan’s lean abdomen, and continued her nagging. “If you hadn’t mentioned Stars Filling the Galaxy during your department inspection, the movie wouldn’t have been rushed forward.”

“If the movie hadn’t been rushed, I wouldn’t have had to cut my vacation short.”

“If I hadn’t cut my vacation short, I could have spent our wedding anniversary with you.”

Wen Zhan sighed wistfully. “Now it’s all ruined…”

The somber expression on Lu Tan’s face shifted to surprise. After a moment, she stroked Wen Zhan’s hair and suggested, “Then, should we tell the production team…”

Before she could finish speaking, Wen Zhan abruptly raised her head and covered her mouth.

“No, no,” Wen Zhan hastily protested. “Please, Minister Lu, leave your official dignity at the door and just consider my complaints as the normal work-related frustration of an overworked employee!”

The person before her blinked, indicating understanding.

Wen Zhan finally withdrew her hand, resuming her whining tone. “I’m just a little upset about our anniversary.”

Lu Tan took a deep breath, then chuckled softly, completely messing up Wen Zhan’s messy bangs.

“You’re laughing!” Wen Zhan grumbled, her head bumping against Lu Tan’s waist again. “You’re so happy we can’t celebrate our anniversary, aren’t you?!”

The gentle person’s slender fingers pinched Wen Zhan’s cheeks, their eyes shining with relief, but their voice was full of mock indignation.

“Ah Zhan, you’re so unfair to me,” Lu Tan said, half-serious.

It was unclear whether she was referring to the anniversary matter or the past incident where she had repaid kindness with favors, leaving Wen Zhan to bear the bitter consequences.

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