Power Up Artist Yang - Chapter 365

The moment those words left her mouth, Zixu’s face changed, eyebrows knitting together, lips slightly parting.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve asked how you were earlier. I shouldn’t have started pressing all this outside stress on you.”

Yujia stared blankly at her half-filled cup of tea on the table. She knew she had to respond, but she just couldn’t bring herself to speak. The words from earlier were still sinking in, like a blade against her heart, digging deeper to leave their agonizing reminder.

And then, instead of saying anything, she lifted the teapot again, refilling Zixu’s cup, then her own, to the brim. She watched the tea, the way it flowed into the cup in ripples.

The ripples stilled.

She looked up, finding an unexpected smile crossing her expression. “Don’t worry,” she replied, her tone light. Her fingers wrapped around the tea cup. “Tell me more about… Luoyang. What kind of work will you be doing there, exactly?”

Zixu blinked.

Hands lying flat on the table, he said, “Are you sure you want to talk about Luoyang?”

She blinked as well, words failing her again.

“I’ve been where you are now once before,” Zixu spoke, keeping his words slow. “No matter what others said, I refused to talk to them. I thought it would’ve been better if I kept it sealed away in the depths of my heart, where no one, not even I, could see again. Perhaps that was good for me; perhaps it was not.” He paused. “But this is not about me. It’s about you, your thoughts, your feelings. If you truly don’t want to talk about it, we can avoid the topic. Except, if you ever change your mind and decide you do, just know that I’m here.” He reached a hand out across the table. “I always have, and I always will.”

His gaze met hers. Lone silence hung in the air.

And then, she was crying again.

Uncontrollable tears spilled out, coupled by the same sinking feeling she had felt so many times before. She wanted to stop. She didn’t want to cry as much as this. At the same time, she simply couldn’t. The tears kept falling; her c_h_e_s_t kept heaving. Despite every attempt to control herself, nothing could change.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, as if she was drowning again. Yet in the midst of all of this, Zixu found her. He crouched on the floor beside her, hand reaching out and taking hers. She felt the warmth of his hand first, then the firm yet gentle grip he held hers in.

Zixu was here. He was here for her.

She could breathe again.

For moments after, Yujia wept still. Zixu didn’t move away, one arm reached to her back, carefully patting in slow, circular motions.

Eventually, her breathing steadied, going from irregular hiccups to a more normal pace. Her trembling ceased. Seeing that she had gathered herself more, Zixu pulled away. He reached to the table, taking her cup of tea and carefully handed it to her, making sure it would not spill over.

“Have a sip,” he beckoned. “It’ll help.”

Yujia raised the cup to her lips, taking a slow but long sip. Just like Zixu said, it did help. The tea, which had gone from steaming hot to simply warm, reassured her.

“Thank you,” she murmured. To this, Zixu simply gave a quiet nod of his head.

“How do you feel now?” Zixu asked. “Better?”

“Much better.” Yujia took a long sip of tea again. “I’m… sorry about that.”

He glanced at her as he went back to his seat. “Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t something within your control, so how could you ever be blamed for that? Furthermore, for some things perhaps occasionally in your control, like crying, isn’t it all just a normal, human thing to do? We tend to hold them back, but are they not just a natural form of expression? There should be nothing wrong with any of that.”

“You think so?”

He nodded.

Yujia thought about everything he spoke of before, how talking might’ve been better for her. How he would always be here for her.

She realized, with recalling his words, that she did want to speak. All along, she truly wished that she had someone she could talk to. However, she was afraid, back then. She was, like he said, sealing it all away in hopes that it could get better.

She should’ve realized earlier that wasn’t the right thing to do. But now that Zixu was here for her, what did she have to lose by talking to him? It would be better to talk, wouldn’t it?

“You’ll listen?” That was all she asked.

Zixu nodded again. “Of course.”

“Then…” she began, drawing in a deep breath, “how should I put this?” Her elbows propped up on the table, hands clasping together as she leaned her forehead against her hands, eyes looking down. “I guess… what makes me feel the worst… is just that I feel… selfish.”

Yujia felt tears pricking at her eyes again. The moment she spoke the word “selfish”, she had finally allowed something to slip out of her. It was one of those thoughts that she had kept all to herself. Now, there it was, fallen out of her own mouth, lingering in the air between them.

Once she finally said it, it was as if nothing could hold her words back anymore. They spilled out in a rush.

“Ever since I’ve heard the news about my master, I couldn’t stop feeling that I’m being selfish. Unreasonable. I want my master to live. I want him to live because I don’t want him to leave my life. I know if I think from his perspective, it would be better to let him go. He’s been living such a weary life for so long. To let go would be a relief, for him, I think. But I still don’t want him to die. Despite knowing all of that, how much better it’d feel for him, I still keep wishing he won’t. I worry about how I will be with him gone, rather than how he will be if he stays alive.”

She looked up. “Today, I had a conversation with him. He told me he wanted to live longer. For Yunhe and for me. When I heard that, I felt incredible relief. However, now that I think of that conversation again, there is nothing but guilt in my heart. Again, I was happy to hear that he would live. My master makes such a selfless sacrifice to live for me, and yet again, all I can do is to find happiness in my selfishness.”

All this time, Zixu had not spoken. He simply listened, like he said he would.

“I know it’s not just me who’s suffering. My master, of course, is, but so are the people beside him. His closest servants. The physician. Chef Hong, Old Wu. Yunhe, too, of course. Yunhe must be hurting as much as me. Still, I do not bring myself to think in their perspectives. I do not reach out. I do not offer to help them feel better. I can only think of my pain, my suffering. Is that not selfish of me?”

“Above all, I know I am being selfish myself, except I do nothing to change. I don’t think I can. And this realization is what, ultimately, weighs me down.”

With that, she concluded what she was saying. The words hung in the air.

Then, Zixu began speaking.

“You say you are being selfish;” he started, “you say you are not thinking in other perspectives. But in everything you’ve told me, you’ve been doing the exact opposite of that. You think of how your master would find relief in death. You worry over how much everyone else, like Ye Yunhe, is hurting. To care about the feelings of others, so much that they put your own thoughts to shame— how is that being selfish?”

“That…” Yujia found herself incapable of responding.

Zixu went on, “Why do we live? Is it not for ourselves? We eat the food we like to eat. We do the things we like to do. In this case, you have your own feelings, which you gravitate towards. Feelings, like eating and acting, are some of the most rudimentary human behaviors, are they not?” He paused for a brief moment. “It is human nature to be inherently selfish. Before you can care for anyone else, you must care for yourself. What matters, in the end, is how you act upon your inner thoughts and feelings.”

“How I act upon things?” she repeated.

“Your master seems to have already decided how much longer he wants to live. During this time, will you cherish the time you have left with your master, find happiness in your last memories with him? Or will you trap yourself in this misery of only pain and suffering, sink yourself in this guilt, leaving only regret in the future of how these past memories are all laced with bitter grief?”

Her brows furrowed. “But that’s still about me. My happiness, my misery.”

“Indeed.” Zixu tilted his head. “Right now, it’s about you. A year from now, it’s about you. Decades from now, it’ll still be about you. As I’ve said before, that’s all that truly matters in the end. So, how will you act upon things? What will you choose?”