Chapter Thirty-Eight: Fallen Leaves Return to Their Roots

That night, Li Le delivered the spear and the long lance to Brother Bai.

Exhaling softly, Li Le lay on her side in bed, listening to the tolling of the “night rest” bell and watching the tower’s central glow. For once, she found herself unable to sleep. Next to her, Tuantuan was curled up on a small pillow, sleeping soundly with limbs splayed in all directions, without the slightest trace of the wariness it had shown at first.

Li Le’s lips curled into a faint smile. She tugged at a lock of her own hair and poked Tuantuan’s little nose.

“I really don’t know how you managed to grow up like this, you little thing—able to sleep from day till night. Impressive…”

Tuantuan, annoyed by her disturbance, turned over in its sleep and continued dreaming.

A soft chuckle escaped Li Le. “Honestly, when I named you Tuantuan, I should have called you Piggy instead… You can really sleep...”

Still lying on her side, she bent her right arm beneath her head and gazed gently at Tuantuan on its tiny pillow, her brows and eyes softened by a faint smile. Her dark hair fanned out over the pillow, while the tower’s pale golden light seeped in through the window, illuminating her face and casting a subtle warmth in her half-closed eyes.

After that fleeting warmth, the house—inside and out—was steeped once more in a silence that felt oddly uncanny, as if no one lived there.

Tuantuan slept on, its small body rising and falling with each breath, unbothered by anything around it.

Li Le’s interest began to wane.

“…But perhaps this world doesn’t even know what a ‘pig’ is…”

“No one here would ever get my jokes…”

She shifted carefully, glancing sideways out the window at the tower’s light and the endless sky above, her voice scarcely more than a whisper.

“Li Bai once said, ‘I raise my head to gaze at the bright moon, then lower it in longing for my hometown…’”

“But no one ever told me… what if… there is no moon?”

Her gaze was distant, tinged with a strange coolness—like a willow leaf adrift on a river, unable to find its soul’s resting place.

“Fallen leaves return to their roots…”

“It never meant much to me before, but now, thinking back… it truly makes sense…”

“Here, everyone believes that after death, their souls return to the lighthouse and endure with it for eternity…”

“But what about me?”

“When I die…where will my soul go?”

For once, Li Le’s expression was lost. Since coming to this world, she had been fixated on life and death.

Now, after months of tireless effort—after having exchanged all her faith points for life points, after nearly two months of miscellaneous tasks, and with a vague plan for the future—now, with her life secured, she could not help but think of the world she had left behind. Of her stern father, her gentle mother, and those friends she had often tricked and teased…

Li Le recalled Brother Bai’s delight at receiving the weapons earlier that day, and his subtle, caring attentiveness; a hint of complexity crossed her brows.

“Life here isn’t bad, at least there’s no scheming or backstabbing…”

“At the very least, Brother Bai truly treats me like a sister…”

“In modern society, my parents were good to me, but only just good…”

“Theirs was a marriage of business, each with their own life outside. Their kindness was real, but when it comes down to it, responsibility outweighed affection…”

“As for those so-called friends… how many of them gathered around me because of my family background? They were nothing but drinking companions acting out a part…”

Li Le spoke as if to herself, sorting through the events of her past life with a clear and objective mind, finally drawing a conclusion:

Her death was of little consequence.

Li Le paused.

“…What an expected, yet unexpected answer…”

She pressed a hand to her brow, her expression hard to describe.

She’d thought about so many things, yet in the end, this was the result she arrived at.

A wry laugh slipped from her lips. She relaxed a little, her eyes curving in a self-mocking smile.

Taking a deep breath, Li Le settled her mind and her thoughts, her features growing calm.

“So this is how it is?”

“Then, do I still want to go back to that world?”

She closed her eyes, lashes quivering.

Placing a hand over her pounding heart, she asked herself from the depths of her soul.

“Do I want to go back?”

She was silent for a long moment.

“…I do, I still want to go back…”

Li Le opened her eyes and gazed up at the sky shrouded in mist. Her dark, lonely eyes were half-closed, revealing a trace of longing for home.

Her voice was soft, but her tone was earnest.

“Falling leaves return to their roots; wanderers long for home.”

“It’s not for those people or those things…”

“I just want to go home…”

“I want to return to that world where the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, where the moon shines bright and clear…”

“That is my home…”

“If I am to die…”

“I wish to rest in my own world, like an autumn leaf, quietly buried in that yellow earth…”

“That should be the resting place of my soul, where my heart finds peace…”

“I grew up there…”

“I lived there…”

“It is the place I can never truly forget…”

“On the surface, I act as though I don’t care, but how many times have I dreamed of it? That world of dazzling lights and ceaseless revelry…”

Li Le’s expression was tinged with self-mockery.

She could lie without missing a beat, bluffing with the bravest face, spinning tales for foxes and tigers alike…

But no one can deceive themselves.

Li Le was clever and rational enough to force herself to acknowledge this truth.

“To go home… I must go home…”

She pressed the back of her hand to her eyes, squinting slightly.

In her heart, she straightened herself once more.

“If it’s for the sake of going home… my previous explorations in this world have been far too careless…”

“I need to be more diligent, more cautious, travel further, earn more faith points, and pay more attention to the key people—these will all become my connections and strength in the future…”

“Also, I think I overpaid for that bow. It’s a bit too large; I’ll probably need to have one custom-forged…”

Her thoughts raced, quickly and decisively laying out the tasks she needed to address.

“A good memory is no match for a poor pen. Tomorrow, I’ll write all these things down, keep a notebook—that way it’ll be easier to get each one done!”

Having made up her mind, Li Le’s heart steadied, finally finding a sense of solid ground beneath her feet.

It felt as though, at last, she had found her guiding star and her purpose. The dust in her eyes was swept away, replaced by a new resolve.

A soft squeaking noise sounded.

“What is it?”

Tuantuan had finally been roused.

It lay on its tiny pillow, two little paws rubbing its furry face, its bead-like eyes half open, still not quite awake.