https://www.wattpad.com/1645542327?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=reading&wp_uname=GLaC1991

The story begans in a small piece of earth where a group natives began their day, the men collect the fruits and vegetables to cook breakfast and the women bath the children, the sun hits the window of a hunt, where a young girl is laying her head on a cotton pillow, she is dressed in a pure white garment, made from the fabrics made their local seamstress. The colour was chosen by her caregiver who is called father by the local children. This girl is named Manu, which was also chosen by her caregiver. As the waves outside her window are guided by the wind to clash, her eyes meet the little bit of sun peaking through the roof of her hunt.

She guides her body towards the bowl of water left by one of the women to bath in. She slips in a blue dress ready for the mundate day of everyday. Her hunt is facing the ocean, blue as the sky and still as the time here in their little heaven. You could barely see the line separating the sky and sea. Just an endless colour of blue, with tides and waves crashing and twirling. Her arms follow their movements, she began her day like this everyday, her little prayer to this unknown god of blue that her people feared. The locals of this small island believe the world has been invaded by the Waku, the Ocean Spirits so they avoid the water in fear of being taken by the them. 

The scene is filled with laughs of children and mothers serving food to their husbands. Their eyes fall onto her, her caregiver calls her name to greet her, " Wamato be a with you child", her caregiver said, "as to you" she replied. You cannot say much on this little Earth as there is little to speak on. The children laugh about the birds, the women bless their children and the men think of the next day. As everyday time is measured by the how far the sun has touches the ocean so another day can began. Music is not allowed on this small paradise, the Waku speak in song and hymns, by singing we would call onto them so we listen to the silence, which is a song of our people.

WARNING! This text contains:

• Profanity
• Sexual references
• Violence

Also, tell me if you liked the moral of the story, the plot, the protagonist, and the humour

From either end of the Ouroboros that is time travelled a pulse of energy that, just like all inanimate things, propels the mere idea of myself forward through that then one-dimensional realm of existence. In this black void where my memory fails me exist clouds of intense, bursting sensations of warm, all-encompassing motherly pressure and dingy, excruciating electrocutions of fear.

This nebulous dimension of half existing, half not existing could only be represented in my mind through a foggy and oversaturated image of sunny greenery. This cerebral polaroid, with its vague outlines of healthy hedges and beautiful briers, evokes the concept of gentle rays of sun on my skin and the thought of the ethereal butterflies gracefully landing on flowers.

This is the ultimate bourne that is the history of my life according to my mind. If it were a spouse, I would bury my face into her collarbone and cry on her shoulder, prolonging my stay with her as long as possible until it is to time for the inevitable departure through the clearer yet odious tutor sessions, classes, exams, workshops, internships, and math competitions that thought, in all their hubris, could capture that sense of meaning, that sense of mastery over one’s own existence that the clouds of life effortlessly harnessed.

After the exams, studying, and learning I finally reached the end of my sorrowful journey home with the aid of a door slam. I felt my head shoot up and bob around like it was a balloon tied to my shoulders. In my darkened vision I made out bored college students staring at a board covered in nightmarish calculus. My eyes made their way to a doorframe, and in it I saw that damn homeless man again, or at least we assumed he was homeless, considering he wore the same smelly sports jacket and the same crusted jeans every day, and his crazy shock of white hair and scraggly beard, and the fact that he spent hours a day mumbling to himself on the curb in front of this hall.

This was the third interruption of the semester, and at this point he was a celebrity among my college peers. My classmates were eager to see what crazy thing he’d do this time, and oh boy did he deliver.

The man walked up in front of everybody, and (noticeably drunker than usual) undid his pants and flashed his massive ding-a-ling in front of everyone. Everyone gasped, the girls averted their eyes, the boys cheered, the freaks drooled. He danced around lassoing his shit until he hopped on his back and started swinging his meat carnival style.

The poor professor, an old ass man who wasn’t all that used to human interaction, was frozen in shock for like a minute, but eventually he snapped out of it and tackled the homeless guy. The guy squirmed until he managed to knee the professor in the nuts and escape his grasp. The guy ran to the door frame but crashed into a buff security guard that just arrived. The guy's head went straight to the hard floor and there was a nasty crack. The homeless guy died from that impact, but his legacy lives on thanks to that massive wiener (No homo).

I float, crawled up in a ball. Blind, deaf, dumb, paralyzed, etherized, I existed at the total end of entropy, when nature stops being nature, when gravity loses importance and time becomes irrelevant.

However, I traced the lines against the blackness up to the imperfect reconstruction made by photos, portraits, and grainy videotapes of a fair white woman with black curls. In her womb I looked up to see her grinning in pain and agony. Her face folded in helpless terror as her tremors rocked my womb. The vibrations of the amniotic fluids were so strung it tore my lungs and shattered my ear drums.

I looked up to her in horror, realized that I was being brought into her world, and that I would experience its torturous shocks, its thunderous catastrophes, and its agonizing burdens. I yelled to her.

I looked deep into her face, and I saw that she was being pounded, screwed, filled, ripped in half. Sex, she was having sex. Sex, I have to have sex. Now. I need sex right now.

“I need sex” I said out loud.

I looked around for the woman, but it was just my mess of an apartment building. I could have gotten a bigger one with my salary, but this was the best the economy could manage. I dragged my feet through the trash like I was walking through shallow water, all while saying “I need sex” over and over again.

I stepped outside barefoot, in nothing else but my underwear and wife-beater. I ran straight to my local red-light district and ran up to the nearest pimp I saw. He was short and was in a green suit and fedora. I literally picked him up by his shirt and wiggled him around.

“Give me sex, give me cooter,” I shouted as I shook him.

“Fuck off of me nigga, the fuck?” He snapped.

Meanwhile the pimp’s pimp friends were chatting a block away and saw this haggling play out. They rushed over, grabbed my long hair, and threw me onto the street. My back landed on a broken beer bottle. They beat me to a pulp, I think I got curb stomped two or three times, but I blacked out. I woke up the next day under an ugly overcast, half dead.

The eyes. The eyes, even though the face turned blurry, were still so sharp after all these years of chipping. In the darkness I made out a hurt boy, lying on his side. His eyes were hurt and glossy from the tears.

When regarding the whole body I felt an explosive burst of hot blood heat the periphery until I was in a skin-bubbling, flesh-gnawing inferno but the eyes cast off that hellish storm and all that remained was the question “Why?”

I awoke to see my boss. He had a wide face with round eyes, a bushy, curly black beard, and olive skin. “Wow, Nate. Passed out again on the job. What have you been up to?”, he snickered with a grin.

In spite of my stoned fatigue, I felt a jolt of energy upon hearing that question. I rolled my office chair over to my computer, typed in something, hit enter, and on the opposite end of my desk rose a little Miku doll. The robotic toy started dancing and singing in Miku’s signature voice. I gave my boss a weak smile and he gave one back after turning his face to mine. I typed another thing into my computer, and Miku hit the floss and started singing in Brazilian Portuguese. This got my boss laughing. I laughed with him.

When his laughter died down, he looked into my eyes. “Nate, this is the tenth, the tenth, motherfucking time I found you like this.” I probably looked surprised at this sudden snarling. He continued. “Your team and I have been busting our asses, developing the most complex, the most state-of-the-art technology in the world, while you jerk and do this.” Like an idiot, I nodded along because I didn’t know where he was going with this. “Nate, get the hell out of my building before I fucking bludgeon you to death. You’re fucking fired.”

I waddled in a haze out my workplace’s lobby, too drugged to realize I left my shoe. Maybe this is the reason why I can’t afford bigger places to live.

Now, I lay in my bed, but it isn't my bed. I fucked around and got HIV. I thought HIV was like herpes where it gives you like these moles but no it gives you AIDS and just fucking kills you.

I was weak in the dark. It was totally silent, with no one else around and even though I was dying, I wanted to jerk off. There were no drugs or alcohol. I couldn’t even smoke, it was “against hospital rules”. The food was awfully bland too, so I just resolved to pass the time by beating my shit.

However, my whole body was too weak, I was too sick. I couldn’t get it up; I was too weak to get my arm up. It was a pathetic sight, not my limp dick, but the image of someone like me in this bed struck me deeply. This wasn’t supposed to happen to me. I was an auspicious, capable, and charming genius. I had so many scholarships, my college experience was practically free, I won so many awards my room sparkled, and everybody just loved me. Now what do I have to show for it? A hooker’s awkward experience, a coworker’s annoyance, a fucking Miku robot?

I was alone but felt like I was being laughed at. I wanted to curl up into a ball, but I was too weak, so I just laid there. I had no drugs, porn, food, or video games, so I escaped back into the only place that could warm my soul: those fond, fuzzy memories.

I thought and I thought, but I was too weak, all I saw was the black void. I stopped thinking, I stopped stressing, and I stopped feeling.

A tiny dot appeared in the center of my vision. I felt my legs walking toward it. It got bigger and appeared to be a doorframe. I walked through it and I was in a hallway. It had patternless carpet and was painted a dark orange. The hallway was cool, and dark, illuminated only by the sunrise glowing through the curtain at the end of a hallway. There was screaming, a muffled screaming coming from behind one of the other doors of this corridor. I approached the source of the screaming, the sound of my weathered teddy bear dragging on the carpet was the only other noise. I stepped up to one door, reached up to the doorknob, standing on my tiptoes, and I opened it to see two men hovering over a bed. A woman with dark curls lay on it screaming in pain.

“Push, push, you’re almost there,” One man cheered, “There it is. It’s out, sir. It’s a beautiful baby boy sir; you should be so proud”.

“Yes, but she isn’t going to make it,” The other man sulked, and started sobbing uncontrollably. The doctor tried to stifle his sobs, but cried with the man, and the two cried along with the newborn boy.

Nate waddled out of the hallway and into a bright, cool, moist backyard overflowing with vines, hedges, and grass. Golden rays landed on the boy’s eyes when he looked at the dappled canopy of leaves above him. He would have played, but now he sat. He sat in the middle of this jaw dropping scene and as the gales played with his hair, the squirrels and rabbits and chipmunks ran by, while the drops of dew flowed down the blades of grass, while the Earth travelled at thousands of miles per hour, this being of impetuous, violently rushing nature sat still and asked “why”.

“Drifting in a boat, sometimes sinking, sometimes afloat. Now that I have met the gentleman, my heart is at rest.”
—The Book of Songs, Minor Odes, “Luxuriant Is the Oatgrass”

As dusk fell, Lü Bu had already prepared dinner. The two of them dined together in the hall of the side building.

Their conversation flowed naturally.

Lü Bu had stir-fried the pheasant he hunted that morning into a delicate dish, picking out a tender piece to place into Xiao Meng’s bowl. These days, apart from martial arts, his cooking had improved greatly—simply because he enjoyed watching Xiao Meng eat with such relish.

“Xiao Meng, what do you think of Guo Jia’s suggestion?” Lü Bu asked. “That day he said he could help me win back a seat at court. What’s your opinion?”

“But didn’t you already refuse him that day?” Xiao Meng replied, a bit surprised.

That day, after sending Guo Jia off, Lü Bu had immediately told Xiao Meng everything they discussed.

Xiao Meng understood Guo Jia’s abilities. Now with the Emperor’s support and having turned enemies into friends with Cao Cao, there really might be a time when Lü Bu would be needed. The situation had changed.

A comeback was not impossible!

Moreover… Every night for over a month now, Xiao Meng had carefully prepared medicine according to Hua Tuo’s prescription, applying it to Lü Bu’s forehead. Now, as Lü Bu drank his wine, Xiao Meng sneaked a glance—sure enough, the scar had long since vanished.

“I can change my mind, can’t I? It wasn’t a promise, after all. What matters most is what you want me to do.”

Lü Bu took another drink, smiling at Xiao Meng. “If you think I’m just a big man lazing about all day, I’ll let Guo Jia find me a job.”

But Xiao Meng clicked his tongue lightly and said, “Why must you always be occupied with official duties, running yourself ragged every day with no leisure? As long as we remember our promise to the Emperor, that’s enough to repay his kindness. Eat more and stop just drinking.” As he spoke, Xiao Meng added more greens to Lü Bu’s bowl.

“I’ve done the math; with what we have, we’ll have enough to live in comfort for a lifetime. What’s more…”

Xiao Meng glanced around the hall, speaking with meaning, “This place was Sima Lang’s contingency hideaway, likely hiding a great treasure to fund a comeback. I haven’t seriously explored it yet.”

Lü Bu was taken aback, then laughed at Xiao Meng’s sharp gaze. “I knew it! Xiao Meng really has the makings of a thief! Good, with you saying that, I can live the rest of my days in peace and moonlight with you.” He raised his cup and downed it in one go, his eyes catching the flush at the tips of Xiao Meng’s ears.

Late autumn was ending. The night chill deepened, and tonight, a northern wind howled as if winter couldn’t wait to descend upon the land.

In recent days, Lü Bu had been lighting the brazier in Xiao Meng’s room every night, keeping it warm. He’d usually bring a good wine from the kitchen, sip a few cups with Xiao Meng, chat, and then retire to his own room.

Tonight, their conversation was especially lively, as Xiao Meng was sharing his treasure-hunting plans, explaining how he’d turn the estate upside down. “Speaking of treasures, I have one for you right now.”

Suddenly, Lü Bu, seated across the table, took out a small crimson silk-patterned box from his robe, opened it, and pushed it in front of Xiao Meng.

Inside was a “Phoenix Seeking the Male” jade pendant, carved from the finest white jade, lustrous and translucent like congealed cream. The pair of phoenixes on the pendant seemed alive, full of spirit.

From the palace to the Sima estate, Xiao Meng had seen his share of rare treasures, but at a glance, this jade seemed almost otherworldly—so stunning it took his breath away.

“You… where did you get this…”
For a long moment, Xiao Meng could only murmur in amazement.

“It’s from the palace! A wedding gift from His Majesty.” Lü Bu laughed, taking out an identical piece from his robe. “Look, it’s a pair. This one is mine.”

Xiao Meng suddenly realized something, feeling his cheeks grow hot.

“What kind of gift…”

This emperor was full of tricks—first a welcome gift, then a thank-you, now this…

Before Xiao Meng could look away, he was caught by Lü Bu’s fiery gaze, unable to escape.

“Of course, it’s a wedding gift for us. His Majesty even wished us a long, happy union.”

Lü Bu gazed at him, saying this as if it were the most natural thing in the world, not blinking once.

Xiao Meng felt his ears burn, his throat tightening.

Lü Bu…

Xiao Meng felt his chest burning, the flames suddenly spreading to his soft hands. His hand felt seared—Lü Bu had already grasped it tightly.

“So Xiao Meng, will you marry me?”

Xiao Meng saw it again—in the instant he heard those words, the same wild flame ignited in Lü Bu’s eyes as that day on the White Gate Tower, when he’d held Xiao Meng in his arms—the very flame Xiao Meng’s soul had never forgotten.

In that moment, Xiao Meng nearly fell into those flames, never to return.

“Don’t… don’t be ridiculous!”

Xiao Meng turned his head, as if the movement took all his strength, his voice weak. “I’m… not a woman, neither of us are… what’s this about marrying? Isn’t it absurd!”

“You don’t want to marry me?” Lü Bu exaggeratedly let go of Xiao Meng’s hand, pretending to sigh. “I suppose… I’m no longer a general, nor a high minister. No armies, no titles, no wealth—I’m just a penniless villager now. No wonder you wouldn’t marry me!”

He sighed dramatically.

Xiao Meng, flustered, protested, “What nonsense! You’re just—”

“Then let me marry you!”

Lü Bu grabbed Xiao Meng’s hand again, tighter than before, his gaze even more intense.

He watched Xiao Meng stare at him, dumbfounded and adorable, and felt even more delighted. “All our fortune is in your hands now, so you’re the rich one. Lately, I see you’re talented not only as a thief, but you have a knack for business too. With you, what’s to worry about? Xiao Meng is truly worth marrying!”

Lü Bu grinned, rare for him; Xiao Meng’s face was scarlet, utterly embarrassed. But Lü Bu wasn’t done. “And…” His voice dropped, deep and seductive, as he leaned closer, his grip on Xiao Meng’s hand tightening, catching Xiao Meng’s panicked gaze—every word laced with desire.

“Xiao Meng… aren’t you the one lusting after my body? Otherwise, why do you always go to the herb garden whenever I bathe? You know the only window in the bath faces the garden… and it’s always open…”

Boom—

A thunderclap went off in Xiao Meng’s mind.

Of course he knew why he did it.

So this infuriating man had always known his secret—a secret mixed with embarrassment and pleasure.

Xiao Meng had always known Lü Bu was keenly perceptive, detecting movement within tens of meters, but never thought his own secret would be discovered—perhaps, deep down, he wanted it to be known.

Xiao Meng wanted to scream, but could only breathe in quick, ragged gasps.

He felt his whole body burning, as if every pore was exploding with heat. He felt weightless, as if he couldn’t feel the ground beneath him.

He’d never experienced anything like this, body or soul.

In the past, Xiao Meng had tried alchemical pills, but their fleeting rush couldn’t compare to this. The difference was worlds apart.

Yet this devastating feeling came from nothing more than Lü Bu’s simple words.

Heavens—!

In that extreme emotion, a nearly wild courage erupted. Xiao Meng pulled free, stared Lü Bu straight in the eye, and raised his voice: “What are you doing! You’re not even a cut-sleeve! You like beautiful women, don’t you? Isn’t that why you were attracted to me in the first place? I know I’m beautiful, but no matter how beautiful, I’m not a woman! I may be missing something, but however incomplete—that’s still a man’s body!”

He stared Lü Bu down, pouring out all the words he’d buried—this was his truest, most unvarnished self.

These days, they’d embraced and kissed, both naturally and joyfully.

Because they hadn’t taken the final step, Lü Bu could still treat him as a woman; but if it ever came to that, Xiao Meng didn’t even dare imagine the outcome.

This was his deepest fear, a truth he’d always avoided.

…Since you force me, I have no choice but to lay it all bare.

So Xiao Meng felt wronged, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He was angry—not at Lü Bu, but at himself.

Yet Lü Bu only gazed at him.

Suddenly, Lü Bu reached out and pulled Xiao Meng into his arms, making him sit on his lap. Lü Bu’s iron arms encircled Xiao Meng’s delicate body, locking him in a tight embrace, pressing their bodies close, not leaving a sliver of space.

As soon as he sat, Xiao Meng felt something strange. Where their waists pressed together, Xiao Meng sensed an intense, hard heat, surging and barely restrained.

It felt like sitting on a brazier—his whole body aflame, the fire spreading inward, burning his soul. He knew the source of that heat: Lü Bu.

Precisely the thing he himself lacked between his legs. Xiao Meng instinctively tried to escape.

But before he could, Lü Bu’s arms tightened, pulling Xiao Meng even closer.

Xiao Meng inhaled sharply—he had no strength left to move, even the thought of escape was scattered by that subtle motion.

Outside, only the howling northern wind could be heard; inside, only the sound of their breathing.

Lü Bu’s breath was still steady, but Xiao Meng’s was chaotic—he felt all his will focused on breathing, unable to think of anything to say.

“Don’t be afraid, Xiao Meng…”

Lü Bu’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle, his lips brushing Xiao Meng’s ear.

He nuzzled there, then whispered, “Xiao Meng… I’ve always felt that human language is the most useless thing. Once people open their mouths, they rarely speak from the heart. Whether persuading or arguing, it’s always a lie—to others, or to themselves. No matter how much you say, you can never be completely honest.”

Xiao Meng dared not move—the pressure came not just from below, but from being enveloped in an overwhelming masculine aura, so strong it invaded every pore.

He felt that if he moved even a little, the wild heat pressing against him might pierce right through.

Lü Bu’s hot breath brushed his ear, but his tone was gentler than ever, as if restraining himself before a storm. “Xiao Meng, you say so much because you’re afraid I can’t accept your body. So I’ll say nothing. Feel this—this is my answer.”

With that, Lü Bu unexpectedly nibbled his earlobe, a cautious little test.

Xiao Meng couldn’t suppress a low moan, feeling his senses swell, and the sensation below intensified! Lü Bu’s breath hitched, his waist stiffening. Without a word, he swept Xiao Meng into his arms and carried him to the bed, laying him down gently.

The red candle was burning low, casting shifting shadows across the bedroom.

The wind outside seemed to fade into the distance.

Xiao Meng could hear only his own heartbeat and breath.

As he lay on the bed, Lü Bu naturally straddled him, half-kneeling at the bedside.

“Bu…” Xiao Meng felt he had to say something, but Lü Bu bent down, one arm at Xiao Meng’s head, the other hand gently pressing a finger to Xiao Meng’s lips, smiling softly: “Don’t speak—whenever you talk, you’re just trying to lie to yourself.”

Once Xiao Meng fell silent, Lü Bu pressed that finger to his own lips in a “shh” gesture, deliberately pressing hard, his intense gaze capturing every flicker in Xiao Meng’s eyes and expression.

“Only in silence can we hear our own hearts. That’s the truest language,” Lü Bu said.

Xiao Meng stared up at Lü Bu’s face—so close, he could see the softness in Lü Bu’s eyes beneath long lashes, the pressure he’d felt before now softened. Finally, he could calm down and listen.

“Of course I’m not a cut-sleeve. I like beautiful women—you’re right.” Lü Bu gazed at Xiao Meng with infinite tenderness. “I admit, I’m a man obsessed with beauty. And you, Xiao Meng… you’re the only one in this world who can make me love like an addiction. Whether you’re a man, or an incomplete man, that doesn’t matter.”

Lü Bu bent lower, kissed Xiao Meng’s forehead, then his lips.

Their lips and tongues entwined, tenderly.

After a while, Lü Bu let go and straightened up.

Xiao Meng saw that wild flame blaze again in Lü Bu’s eyes.

So it’s true…

When that fire appeared, he could only chase it, watch it flicker, forever.

Xiao Meng thought, feeling as light as a cloud.

Lü Bu’s gaze deepened, his desire growing stronger. “Now, Xiao Meng, just listen to your own heart. See what it wants to say to you.”

With that, he’d already shed his clothes.

The red candle was nearly spent, its flame barely a dot; in the corner, the brazier’s dim red glow grew brighter, while the faint moonlight slipped in through the window.

In that strange shifting light, Xiao Meng gazed at Lü Bu’s tall, powerful body.

Not a thing hidden.

In this moment, Xiao Meng heard his own heart.

His heart told him to savor the beauty before him.

That beautiful, endlessly powerful male body—including the vitality at its peak below the waist.

Xiao Meng couldn’t look away.

He even lifted his shoulders slightly, helping Lü Bu gently untie his robe, until they were both completely exposed to each other.

The brazier crackled softly.

But Xiao Meng felt that his own body was the true source of heat in the room, especially when Lü Bu’s deep, hot gaze lingered over every inch, every part… Xiao Meng felt himself aflame, floating.

And when he noticed Lü Bu’s body responding with awe to his own, that vitality shone even brighter, its tip almost glowing with light—

He was entranced.

Lü Bu could restrain himself no longer, pressing Xiao Meng into a fierce embrace, kissing him passionately, lips and tongue devouring even his most sensitive spots.

Xiao Meng could only gasp for breath and endure the overwhelming ecstasy and emotion, able to do nothing else.

And that wasn’t even the most intense part.

As Lü Bu’s wild force, mingling pain and pleasure, crashed and surged inside him, Xiao Meng heard the man above him grunting hoarsely in his ear, as if suppressing something nearly uncontrollable, whispering in a broken, burning voice:

“Xiao Meng… my Xiao Meng…

…I’m finally certain…”

Lü Bu’s voice trembled with restraint,

“Your body… I don’t just not mind…

I like it—like it so much…

Your body… I love it!…

I love it!... Xiao Meng…”

Xiao Meng said nothing—he had no words left.

He wept—tears that came from overwhelming joy, happiness, and pleasure.

—Absolute sincerity can only erupt in silence.

And so, in this moment, Xiao Meng finally met his true self.

He threw his whole being into holding this wild, godlike man above him, afraid that loosening his grip would make him fall into a bottomless abyss.

By instinct, he tried to take in every part of Lü Bu’s body, letting him run wild.

Tonight, Xiao Meng resolved to bare both body and soul completely to this steppe storm.

There was nowhere to hide.

Beneath thick clouds, Lü Bu galloped across the vast, somber steppe.

An inexplicable urgency filled his heart—he knew he had to reach that place.

The wind howled, growing fiercer, but it only stoked his inner fire, driving him to race against the gale.

At last, a patch of blue appeared on the steppe’s horizon—Lü Bu knew he was close!

It was a sapphire-blue steppe lake.

He dismounted, leading his horse slowly toward the shore. From the lakeside, he gazed at the distant, majestic Yinshan Mountains.

Just then, Lü Bu’s gaze shifted—to the far shore, where a woman stood.

She had long hair and wore steppe attire. Lü Bu looked closely—she was watching him too.

He didn’t know why, but from that distance, her features grew clearer—there was a hint of Xiao Meng’s gentle softness in her eyes.

And then he realized who she was.

Mother…?

Lü Bu awoke from the dream.

A warm weight in his arms—Xiao Meng, sound asleep on his chest, his long, soft hair spilling over his jade-like back.

Lü Bu gently pulled the blanket up, covering Xiao Meng’s snow-white shoulders.

The candle in the room was out, but the brazier still glowed faintly red.

It was the third watch; the wind had stopped, but now rain drummed softly against the window. He didn’t know when it had started.

Lü Bu gazed intently at the one in his arms, watching his long lashes rise and fall with his even breaths.

At that moment, Xiao Meng seemed just like a child—fragile and pure.

A surge of infinite tenderness filled Lü Bu’s heart, and he hugged Xiao Meng tighter.

He swore silently that he would spend a long, long life with this little one, and that every night, Xiao Meng would fall asleep in his arms like this.

A faint noise—Lü Bu knew Xiao Meng was waking up.

Xiao Meng opened his beautiful, sleepy eyes and looked up at Lü Bu.

“Awake? It’s not dawn yet—sleep a bit more.” Lü Bu’s tone was as gentle as if coaxing a child.

Xiao Meng shook his head and nuzzled closer, not sleeping, just lying on Lü Bu.

Neither of them wanted to disturb the peace.

After a while, Lü Bu rolled over, this time burying himself in Xiao Meng’s embrace, still holding him, head nestled in Xiao Meng’s neck.

Xiao Meng heard Lü Bu murmur softly in his ear, the breath brushing his skin, the voice barely audible:

“…Does it hurt a lot?”

Lü Bu immediately felt Xiao Meng’s body tremble, and looked up, but Xiao Meng quickly looked away, his face bright red, whispering, “…just a little.”

He felt awkward, but glancing at Lü Bu saw only genuine concern, as if truly wanting to make sure. Instantly warmed, he hugged Lü Bu tightly, saying softly, “Silly, I’m fine. If I really felt bad, I’d tell you.”

A moment later, he whispered, “I’m fine… and you… you’re fine too.”

Blushing all over, he didn’t see the ambiguous smile on Lü Bu’s face, only heard him say gently, “That’s good.”

“What are you thinking about?” Xiao Meng asked. When he first woke, he’d glanced at Lü Bu and saw his gaze distant, as if lost in memories.

“…I just had a dream—of the steppe, and of my mother.” Lü Bu replied, playing with Xiao Meng’s hair. “I’ve never dreamed of my mother before, or my hometown.”

He propped himself up and looked at Xiao Meng. “Xiao Meng, shall we go to Bingzhou together?”

Though Lü Bu was born in Wuyuan, Bingzhou, as the son of a lower-class family, he had lost all ties to his hometown after his parents died.

In fact, since following Ding Yuan to Chang’an, he’d never returned.

“Sure! I’ve always wanted to see your hometown.” Xiao Meng smiled, snuggling back into Lü Bu’s arms. “From now on, wherever you go, I’ll be with you.”

There was a gentle yet resolute finality in his words.

End of Chapter 36❤️‍🔥

Thank you so much for reading this story, 💖🥰thank you for your support all along. I put quite a lot of effort in writing this chapter. 🥹I wish you a good day!🙏

King Heyin🌺

summer 2026

Copyright Notice:
Burning Dreams Chronicles Chapter 36 “Night on the Steppe”
Original work by King Heyin (Vampire L). All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced, reprinted, adapted, transferred, translated or used for commercial purposes in any form without the author’s written consent.
© King Heyin (Vampire L). All rights reserved.

https://blu-oyster-transmission.neocities.org/

Sort of like an ARG at times, a web-series, a visual novel, interactive fiction. A mix of sorts, maybe a game at times? Idk if it fits the criteria, but I made it within a day - atleast up to chapter 1.

I am now updating it weekly. Video included is from a interactive part of chapter three which has not released yet.

I wanna know if you guys fuck with the writing

Has an RSS

I apologize if this topic seems out of topic.

As we know, antagonists are the driving force behind the plot, creating conflict. Based on Vladimir Propp's narrative structure through Morphology of the Folktale, antagonists are the driving force behind several sequential events, ranging from Reconnaissance, Delivery, Trickery, Complicity, Villainy, Struggle, to Punishment.

Antagonists are often misunderstood as villains. However, antagonist archetypes can vary from morally ambiguous such as anti-villains (Thanos from Marvel Cinematic Universe) to morally inverted such as hero antagonists (L from Death Note or Inspector Javert from Les Misérables).

If antagonists are portrayed as physically or psychologically weak, the narrative will stagnate. Most literary media tend to over-emphasize the protagonist's allies reducing the stakes. They also often make antagonists easily defeated, achieve instant redemption, or integrate them as allies without firmly upholding their ideological principles. This is a common pattern in escapist or wish-fulfillment fiction.

This doesn't mean that antagonists becoming allies are forbidden, but rather that their use should be limited to keep the story moving forward without stalling early. This is why many audiences today prefer stories with heavy or dark themes.

Based on personal observation, many people believe that fiction is a means of escape. When analyzed historically, fiction in ancient Greece served as a life lesson. This shift was likely caused by systemic issues in the past during the World Wars I and II when professional psychiatry was still limited, leading fiction to shift as the coping mechanism. However, with the development of the modern era, professional psychiatry has become more accessible to the public that a person's problems are more personal which make many contemporary mainstream literary media have implicitly returned to the ancient formula of promoting life lessons through consequences (albeit systemic ones).

I invite you to share your personal opinions on this topic.