Chapter Forty-Two: The Search of the Forgotten

He startled awake once more, his night-dark pupils fixed on the ceiling. No one could fathom what he was thinking; he resembled a heartless automaton, all emotion concealed within a hollow shell. Zhao Tianxing rose, gripping his sword tightly. As he raised the half-human-length blade high, its watery edge reflected the training room’s lights, weaving patterns of shadow and illumination. The chamber was akin to an armory: Tang blades, broad swords, Bologna rapiers, wild katanas—nearly every weapon permitted for cold arms training at Deer Academy stood arrayed within.

Sweat seeped into the corners of his eyes, stinging faintly, but his hands never wavered. Johannes Richard Turner, the professor of his first cold arms class, had told him: the center line is the swordsman’s lifeline. In the clash of weapons, your point must claim that line, for only by holding it can you survive a fight. Zhao Tianxing had unfinished business; he neither wished nor dared to die yet. He stood as if sculpted by Medusa’s gaze, sword unwavering at the centerline of the wooden post.

Time slipped by unnoticed until, at last, he moved. The blade sliced through air, a meteor in the night sky. Strike after strike, thrust after thrust, ceaseless practice let him drown, however briefly, in oblivion, forgetting the past. Only when he could no longer lift the hilt did he collapse onto the empty training room’s floor, gasping for breath, sweat sliding across marble-smooth muscles, tousled hair splayed. He entered the showers; cold water drenched his heated body, like a burning sword plunged into the quench.

What he learned two years ago at the Foundation hadn’t destroyed him; he was more like a wounded beast, staking everything. Beneath the collar of his black coat always lay a black shirt, as if forever en route to a funeral. He repeated to himself, again and again: anyone else may forget, but not him.

Irina knocked at the cold arms training room’s door, heavy echoes reverberating. “I need a favor. Consider it repayment for the last one.” Zhao Tianxing sheathed his blade, placing the scabbard on his back, nodded, sweat-soaked hair hanging over his brow. No one could tell what he was thinking. Irina tossed a form to him. “There’s an advisor vacancy in the group I’m mentoring.”

Zhao Tianxing caught it one-handed, gave it a cursory glance. “I suppose I know them well enough.” Irina turned away, heels clicking crisply on the wooden floor. “Go and take a look, then.”

Ji Ning lay on his dorm bed, hoping to savor the last day of break’s idleness—but the bill before him left him momentarily dazed. He’d braced himself, yet the numbers still made his heart race; all his life, his red envelope money had been managed by his mother. He couldn’t blame Qin Mo, though; her standards were always modest. To show how easy she was to care for, she’d listed all basic necessities except personal items, asked Ji Ning to review it, even specifying “buy the cheapest, just make do.”

But Ji Ning, with a black card and a mountain of wealth, wouldn’t skimp. Make do? If he meant to make do, he’d never have brought Qin Mo to Deer Academy at all. He lacked time to sift through choices—who could fathom how body lotion came in twenty-seven types? Just buy! The most expensive of each! Never mind the product descriptions; tally up all the prices, I’ll take one of each.

Don’t tell me which skincare suits women of which age—I want them all! My pockets are stuffed with diamond and VIP cards; mail this card to Deer Academy Dorm 5238, addressed to Ji Ning. Remember: card and products go to different places. And don’t let any product names appear; slap a giant discount label over everything, cover every logo. All courier packages must bear a big Chinese “grand sale” sticker. Will this cost extra? What, it won’t? Don’t be polite! Add a thousand dollars to the POS as your tip for labeling.

Swipe the POS for a thousand-dollar electric toothbrush, swipe for ten-thousand-dollar jeans—it's all the same. The Portland shopping district even delivers to campus; Ji Ning never needs to carry bags. The sales assistants are beautiful and charming—what’s there to hesitate about?

Besides, Ji Ning had never tasted the delights of the capitalist world; now, finally, he had the chance to splurge. Could he bear to let Qin Mo live as frugally as before? He could picture her timidly making do with subpar goods, and just thinking of it made his heart ache.

He remembered that afternoon only as a blur of swiping cards, never counting the total—who cared, as long as the POS never showed a failed transaction.

Snapping back, he counted the digits on the bill with his finger. He realized: beauty has a maintenance cost. Staring at the bill, he pressed his chest, feeling his heartbeat through the inner pocket and the black card within.

He’d have to forge the bill, or this sum would make Qin Mo never dare raise her head before him again. Emotional debts might fade with time, but monetary debts only accrue. He must erase two digits, and shrink the leading number, or Qin Mo would surely refuse.

As he pondered how to forge the bill, a slow, forceful knock interrupted him. He opened the door and paused, then smiled amiably at the visitor. “Good afternoon, senior.” Ji Ning always respected those who had helped him—not because he feared the sword on the man’s back.

“I’d like to join your group as an advisor,” Zhao Tianxing said bluntly. He despised convoluted subtlety; years of swordsmanship had made him straightforward—hidden when sheathed, sharp when drawn.

Ji Ning grinned. “Of course, of course. Let me fetch the forms. Senior, you have an eye for talent; our group is full of hidden dragons, and we just needed someone like you…” Zhao Tianxing calmly interrupted him. “I’ve already filled it out. Irina gave it to me.”

Ji Ning, smiling, prepared to brew tea, thinking to build rapport—if he could cling tightly to this senior, future dangers would not be his concern. But Zhao Tianxing, after handing over the form, tossed a sentence and turned to leave. “My contact info is on the form. I’m free these days; if the others are as well, I’d like to meet them.”

Ji Ning hadn’t even managed to say anything before Zhao Tianxing vanished from sight. “He doesn’t seem easy to get along with—but that’s exactly what we needed: someone tough and taciturn.” Ji Ning mused over the form, then sent messages to the three girls. Once they replied, the meeting time was set.

Ji Ning and the three girls arrived early, as he’d moved their meeting up by half an hour.

“Zhao Tianxing wants to join our group. Who’s for, who’s against?” Ji Ning placed Zhao Tianxing’s form in the center of the table.

Kathleen spoke first, “Why?”

Ji Ning puffed up, “Obviously because my kingly aura drew him in—he trembled and pledged allegiance!”

Kathleen ignored him, inspecting the form. “I agree. He’s strong, and can ensure our group’s survival.”

Afra nodded as well. “Zhao Tianxing is indeed powerful. The autopsy on the demon hound showed it died in a single stroke; he may be even stronger than we imagine. Having such an advisor is reassuring. Otherwise, if our teammates are the type who’d flee from a demon hound solvable with one blade, our future missions would be far fewer.” She glanced at Ji Ning.

Ji Ning feigned indifference. Qin Mo caught the subtext in Afra’s words. “You seem to know Zhao Tianxing?”

“He’s not only last year’s freshman representative, but also the first to pass the C-level exam. On our last commissioned mission with Ji Ning, he saved your lover’s life.”

Qin Mo glared at Afra, “You’re the one with a lover.”

Afra only grinned wickedly, “Fine, forgive my imprecise wording—your beloved whom you love beyond measure.”

Qin Mo leapt at her, arms wrapping Afra, tickling her until she begged for mercy.

“You vile Qin Mo, you ambushed me!” Afra gasped, vowing to get even with her roommate later.

Qin Mo straightened her messy hair and ignored the accusation, blushing as she nodded to Ji Ning. “I agree too.”

“Alright, unanimous. Get ready; I’ve arranged to meet him soon.” Ji Ning spun his phone on his finger.

After a while, a man with a flame-shaped sword appeared in Ambrose Restaurant. He surveyed the surroundings with cold indifference; only when his gaze fell on Ji Ning and company did his expression soften.

“You don’t like this place?” Ji Ning keenly noticed Zhao Tianxing’s hesitation.

“It’s far beyond my budget,” Zhao Tianxing replied nonchalantly. He’d experienced too much to bother hiding his shortcomings like a child; instead, he faced them calmly.

“No worries, I’ll pay.” Ji Ning waved it off, his radiant smile suggesting he owned nothing but money.

Qin Mo glanced at Ji Ning, wanting to say something but restraining herself. She rose and extended her hand to Zhao Tianxing, introducing herself with grace and poise.

Afra and Kathleen merely greeted him; it wasn’t their first meeting.

“Have you decided on a leader?” Zhao Tianxing, always brisk, wasted no words.

Ji Ning straightened his collar, deliberately extended his voice like a Nobel emcee, “Why, it’s obviously…”

“Miss Kathleen Ivanova,” Qin Mo cut him off, raising her hand. Afra thought for a moment and raised her hand as well.

Kathleen was about to speak when Qin Mo interjected, “You’d rather have him lead?” Kathleen glanced at Ji Ning and silently raised her hand.

Zhao Tianxing nodded, then raised his hand. “Miss Kathleen’s tactical analysis is so outstanding Professor Alfred mentions her to nearly every student.”

Ji Ning persisted, “Whoever votes for me gets a year’s worth of desserts!” Afra wavered, but after considering, kept her hand up.

Ji Ning sighed, tapping the menu on the table like an auctioneer’s gavel. “Congratulations to Captain Kathleen. Next topic: group name.”

“Tiramisu for free?” Afra eagerly tossed out her long-prepared suggestion, but the excited Swedish girl was alone in raising her hand.

“How about ‘Never Wiped Out’?” Ji Ning thought a lucky name was best; Qin Mo was tempted but ultimately found it too childish.

“The Quest of the Forgotten,” Zhao Tianxing said quietly, eyes wandering out the window, gaze lost in the distance.

Qin Mo’s eyes flickered; she stole a glance at Ji Ning, calmed herself, and raised her hand. Kathleen felt the warmth of the pendant against her chest, recalling the photo inside, and silently raised her hand. Afra, seeing the vote settled, raised her hand as well. “The world is so bitter—one day you’ll all bow to the sweetness of tiramisu.”

Ji Ning tapped the menu again. “Excellent. Now, the most important matter today.”

Qin Mo couldn’t help asking, “What matter?”

Ji Ning calmly ticked off items on the menu and handed it to a nearby waiter. “Ordering. Eating.”

Zhao Tianxing looked at the playful youth before him, recalling a friend once as carefree as this, a fleeting light in his eyes hidden by a smile as he took the menu.

Ji Ning, magnanimous, blocked Zhao Tianxing from paying, brandishing his unassuming black card with swagger. “Allow me!” As Zhao Tianxing started to object, Ji Ning waved him off. “Money means nothing to me—it’s just a number. Consider this a treat for everyone.”

Zhao Tianxing thought it over and accepted Ji Ning’s generosity; his own allowance came solely from academy commissions, not worth wasting just to posture.

After bidding farewell to the group, Zhao Tianxing left as quietly as he had arrived. Moonlight gently bathed his retreating figure. Though the paths of Deer Academy still teemed with students, that solitary shadow never walked beside any other.