The Exiled Immortal of Xizi

“She really is ruthless. I've never met anyone like her. I was wrong, sure, but she should've at least given me a chance to make it right. But she wouldn't. Not even once!” The man took a long swig of liquor. His throat burned, but not as badly as the ache in his heart.

“What is the greatest distance between two people? It's not standing right in front of you and having no idea what you're thinking. It's life and death. No matter how hard you try, nothing makes a difference. You want to hear her voice, you want her to get mad at you, you want to touch her face and tell her you love her, but you can't do any of it! You desperately search for her scent, only to find that the traces of her existence are fading away.” The man, so strikingly handsome and forceful in public, cried like a child, utterly helpless.

“She must hate me. The last thing she said to me was, ‘I've given your life back. I don't owe you anything anymore.’”

The man slumped over the table, his phoenix eyes staring blankly at its surface as he murmured to himself, “I don't want you to give it back. I want you to live.”