Chapter 339: Salted Fish… Broken

A Xing has already arrived at the trash can.

She stretches out both hands, as if performing some sacred ritual, and lifts the metal lid of the trash can.

The lid emits a faint "creak" sound.

The inside of the trash can spreads before her eyes—some discarded wrapping paper, empty soda bottles, crumpled newspapers…

And also—

A deep‑green, shriveled Salted Fish emitting a faint yet familiar scent lies quietly on the top layer.

A Xing's heart seems to miss a beat.

(Immortal Salted Fish?! My one? How did it end up here?!)

She can hardly believe her own eyes.

Could it be a flaw in the Illusion Realm? Or the Black Curtain Lady sent it in by some means?

Or perhaps… a coincidence of this world itself?

San Yue Qi leans over, sees the trash can's contents, wrinkles her little nose and says, "Huh? Why does it smell weird…?"

A Xing does not hesitate.

She reaches out, pinches the Salted Fish's Tail—the safest spot, avoiding direct contact with potentially worse parts of the fish's body.

Then, she carefully lifts the Salted Fish.

The Salted Fish sways in mid‑air; under the streetlamp's light its desiccated skin and deep‑green hue are clearly visible.

That faint, lingering scent drifts in the night wind.

San Yue Qi watches the Salted Fish in A Xing's hand, her brows furrowing tighter: "Xing… what… what is this? So stinky… and it looks… so familiar?"

Confusion is evident in her voice.

The Illusion Realm strives to rationalize the scene before them—a high‑school girl pulling a Salted Fish from a trash can—but a deeper Memory is being triggered.

Undoubtedly, it is a terrifying Memory, terrifying enough that San Yue Qi literally jumped the Plot.

A Xing watches the Salted Fish intently, trying to confirm whether it truly is her own oddity.

She pinches the fish's Tail, feeling its texture…

"Crack."

A crisp breaking sound.

Under A Xing's and San Yue Qi's gaze, the Salted Fish's Tail… snaps in her hand.

It's broken.

Half of the Tail remains between A Xing's fingers; the larger half of the fish body falls straight down, "plop" back into the trash can, bouncing once.

A Xing: "……"

San Yue Qi: "……"

Time seems to stand still for a few seconds.

A Xing slowly lowers her head, looking at the solitary piece of Salted Fish Tail in her hand.

It is only palm‑length, the broken surface uneven, revealing the dried interior tissue.

Then, she slowly lifts her gaze toward the large remaining portion of the fish body in the trash can.

(My… Salted Fish…)

(... broken…)

An indescribable sorrow wells up in her heart.

This is not an ordinary Salted Fish; it is the Immortal Salted Fish that accompanied her through the Beloberg Underground, the Turnaround Battle of Ke Xia, and deterred the Insect Swarm!

It is her companion! Her weapon!

She… she is the crucial witness of her trash‑can exploration career!

And now, it is broken.

Like a lost youth, like a shattered dream.

"Xing! Are you… you okay?"

San Yue Qi's voice snaps A Xing out of her daze, "Um… let's quickly throw this away! Then go wash our hands! The public restroom is over there!"

She grabs A Xing's hand that isn't holding the Salted Fish Tail, pulling her toward the other side of the street without a word.

A Xing mechanically walks while her golden eyes still stare blankly at the half piece of Salted Fish Tail in her hand.

She doesn't even notice that her other hand has already been thrust under the faucet by San Yue Qi.

Icy water rushes over her fingers.

The Salted Fish Tail remains in her left hand; after getting wet, the smell becomes even more pronounced.

"Let go, Xing!"

San Yue Qi struggles to pry her fingers apart, "We have to throw this away!"

A Xing's fingers twitch, finally releasing.

Half a Tail drops into the sink, spirals with the flow, then is swept into the Sewer.

It disappears.

As if it never existed.

A Xing stares at the empty sink, her golden eyes showing, for the first time, a feeling that could be called bewilderment.

(My Salted Fish… my youth…)

(In the end… gone forever…)

She blinks.

A single drop of clear liquid slides from the corner of her eye, runs down her cheek, gathers at her chin, then falls.

"Eh?!"

San Yue Qi jumped in surprise, "Xing, Xing, you cried? I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to throw your... uh... Salted Fish?...".

She flustered, trying to find a tissue, but A Xing had already raised a hand and wiped away the tear, his face returning to a blank expression.

"It's fine."

Xing's voice was calm, "It... has fulfilled its mission."

"Mi-mission?" San Yue Qi was even more confused.

"Hmm." A Xing nodded, his tone serious, "It used its life to tell me: even an immortal thing has an end. This is... philosophy."

San Yue Qi: "...?"

Although she couldn't understand at all, seeing Xing Na's solemn demeanor, San Yue Qi decided not to press further.

She pulled A Xing out of the public restroom; a night breeze blew, and the faint Salted Fish smell from earlier finally dissipated.

"Alright, alright, don't be sad."

San Yue Qi tried to comfort, "I'll treat you to something! There's a food stall over there, it smells so good!"

She pointed to the street corner—there indeed was a small stall, a red canopy, a simple cooking counter, steaming hot.

The sign read "Authentic Chinese Cuisine · Mapo Tofu".

A Xing hadn't fully emerged from the broken‑Salted‑Fish sorrow, but mechanically nodded.

The two walked up to the stall.

The stall owner was a man in a white chef's uniform with a scarf, skillfully stir‑frying tofu and minced meat in the wok.

Red oil boiled, and the aroma of chilies wafted to the nose.

"Owner, two orders of Mapo Tofu, to‑go!" San Yue Qi said energetically.

"Okay, please wait a moment." The stall owner replied without raising his head, his voice low and steady.

A Xing's gaze casually swept over the stall owner's face—

and then froze.

It was a familiar face.

Black short hair, deep features, a blank expression, eyes hollow yet bearing an indescribable... focus.

Yan Feng Qili.

A Xing's golden eyes widened slightly.

And Yan Feng Qili happened to lift his head at that moment, looking at the ordering customer.

Their gazes intersected in the air.

In that instant, time seemed to stretch.

A Xing saw a flicker of wave in Yan Feng Qili's eyes.

Yan Feng Qili also saw the same clarity in A Xing's eyes.

They both recognized each other: the master‑disciple who, in the night alleys of Dongmu City, had rummaged through trash cans together and discussed the nature of "pleasure".

Although now, A Xing is a female high‑school student, and Yan Feng Qili is the Mapo Tofu stall owner.

But the core hasn't changed.

One glance, ten thousand years.

"Xing? Do you know the owner?" San Yue Qi asked, puzzled, watching the two's strange stare.

A Xing snapped back to herself, averted her gaze, and lowered her head: "Uh... don't know."