Chapter 1157 — And Just Like That, the Mood Was Gone
Blade of Dawn · Page 1 of 4
Cecil Palace.
The brilliant midsummer sunlight poured through the wide crystal-glass windows into the long corridor, and from the courtyard came the rise and fall of summer insects' chirring. The light slanted across Gao Yang's shoulders, and as he passed an open window he could not help stopping, gazing somewhat absently toward the source of that sound.
Midsummer... in this season of teeming life, the courtyard had reached the busiest days of its year. That unbroken chorus of insects proclaimed a small, vibrant world hidden among the shrubs, the groves, the seedbeds, and beside the fountain pool, where countless insects and tiny beasts bred, seizing the season of abundant food and plentiful rain to multiply in frantic haste.
The splendid giant sun in the sky brought those small creatures an abundance of energy.
Yet the glory of a summer insect's life is brilliant and brief—especially in this northern realm, where the energy of the giant sun would wane over the coming month, temperatures would fall, rainfall would dwindle, and grass and trees would go dormant... The "small world" among those shrubs and groves and garden beds would soon meet its own end as well, losing all vitality in the bitter winter that followed—until early summer next year, when everything would begin anew.
Gao Yang stood before the window a long while, imagining what changes were unfolding in that tiny kingdom built by insects and ants, imagining that if there were among them a sage capable of thought, who by some stroke of luck had learned the secret of the relationship between sunlight, seasons, rainfall, and "doomsday," how would this sage among insects regard the world they lived in? How would he try to save the fate of his people? Or else... would he face the turning of the seasons with equanimity, bow his head, and accept the end of this midsummer?
This question clearly had no answer, so in the end Gao Yang merely sighed softly—this universe was in its midsummer, yet the mortal civilizations that prided themselves on being higher intelligent beings faced a fate harsher than that of the insects and ants. The midsummer of this universe would never end; the "end" that replaced it was no winter, but a "tide" far more swift and far harder to withstand than winter. Insects and ants might hide in their burrows and wait for spring through hibernation, but behind the midsummer of this universe lay omnipresent magic; magic was everywhere, and so there could naturally be no safe "burrow."
The only way to survive was, perhaps, to stop being a "bug."
A familiar presence suddenly surfaced in the air, and Amber's figure gradually grew distinct in the sunlight. She sprang nimbly to the floor and looked up at Gao Yang: "Standing in one spot spacing out again?"
Gao Yang finally roused from his reverie. He drew back his gaze from the window and glanced at Amber: "Sneaking off to slack again?"
"Do I look like someone who slacks off all the time?!" Amber's eyes went wide at once, hands on her hips, perfectly self-righteous. "I just came back from the government hall, and I brought a message along the way—the ambassador from Talrond has already crossed the northern identification line and will be landing in the imperial capital soon. The landing field by the Whitewater River is ready, and Hetty has already gone over with the officials in charge of receiving him. He's an old acquaintance, after all—aren't you going to bring him over here later and host him properly?"
"That is indeed a real matter," Gao Yang said, glancing at Amber with some surprise, then nodded. "I understand. Betty can handle the arrangements—she's quite practiced at this sort of thing."
"Fine," Amber waved a hand casually, then could not resist studying Gao Yang a couple more times. "But speaking of which, what were you thinking about just now? You looked so grim, like you were about to round up those nobles from Gravel Ridge back in the day and fight them all over again..."