In Order To Ascend, I Became A Modern Wage Slave - Chapter 49: Xi Yu’s Story

Chapter 49: Xi Yu’s Story

 

“You’re finally awake.” As his vision cleared, a face came into focus, moving from near to far.

 

The person smiled with relief. Xi Yu looked him up and down. He was wearing shabby clothes, stained with patches of mud, as if he had just returned from working hard in the fields. Scratching the back of his head, the man seemed a little embarrassed by Xi Yu’s scrutiny. “I saw you collapsed by the roadside. You were still breathing, so I brought you back. How are you feeling now?”

 

“Thank you. Where is this place?” Xi Yu glanced around.

 

To be precise, it was the Xi Yu of that time.

 

Because that face was incredibly familiar to Xi Yu—Wan Xiang. Or rather, Luo Yang.

 

They looked exactly the same.

 

Xi Yu quickly understood that in this story, he couldn’t intervene, only observe.

 

It was a chance to see how much difference there was between now and then.

 

“This is my home,” Wan Xiang said. “You…”

 

“Can I stay here for now? I have nowhere else to go,” Xi Yu asked first. How could Wan Xiang refuse? He nodded quickly. “Of course, of course…”

 

Looking at Xi Yu’s pampered and delicate face, Wan Xiang hesitated for a moment before saying, “The conditions here aren’t great. Can you manage?”

 

“It’s fine,” Xi Yu replied.

 

At the time, when Xi Yu first woke up, he was initially shocked, then suspicious. Seeing Wan Xiang, his guard went up to the highest level. He thought this person saving him and showing concern out of nowhere must have ulterior motives, probably sent by Xi Yi to torment him.

 

He immediately jumped up and grabbed Wan Xiang by the neck.

 

But in the next moment, all the strength left his body, and he fell back down.

 

This only confirmed Xi Yu’s suspicions further.

 

Over the next few days, he made several attempts to escape but was always inexplicably forced back. For example, he’d get lost in the small village, only to find himself back at Wan Xiang’s home. Or he’d collapse at the gate, only to be carried back in a panic by Wan Xiang. Such tricks were countless. Xi Yu cursed Xi Yi a thousand times in his heart but eventually chose to stay.

 

Because whenever he thought of leaving, something bad always happened.

 

This time, however, he was the one who actively asked to stay.

 

During that period, Xi Yu suffered many blows. He became expressionless and silent, often sitting alone, lost in thought. The air around him was suffocatingly heavy. Wan Xiang didn’t dare disturb him, only asking softly from a distance at mealtimes if he wanted to eat.

 

A few days later, for some unknown reason, Xi Yu suddenly started helping Wan Xiang with chores.

 

Wan Xiang lived alone. His parents had died when he was young, and though he once had a younger sister, she had passed away during a drought two years ago. The family had been poor, and with no crops growing, his sister had collapsed under the blazing sun and starved to death.

 

“It’s because of that tyrant Xi Yu. He angered the gods, causing the drought,” Xi Yu said self-mockingly.

 

“Maybe. That’s what they say.” Wan Xiang wiped the sweat from his forehead and glanced at the sky. “But I’ve always felt it’s not fair to blame him. Humans are humans, gods are gods. One lives on earth, the other in the heavens—what conflict could there be?”

 

Xi Yu gave an example: “Fratricide.”

 

“I heard the previous king ascended to the heavens, but if that’s the reason, then isn’t he the real tyrant?” Wan Xiang said. “We were once his people too. If he ascended, shouldn’t he protect us? Pushing his selfish desires onto others isn’t any better.”

 

Wan Xiang had once been a believer, praying to the gods, but after his sister’s death, he found it all absurd.

 

He often thought that if he had saved the offerings for the gods and used the money to buy food for his sister, she might have survived.

 

But it was only a thought.

 

His sister would never come back.

 

Xi Yu fell silent. He glanced at Wan Xiang, then lowered his head and continued working.

 

“By the way, have you remembered your name?” Wan Xiang suddenly asked.

 

“No.”

 

Wan Xiang, perhaps out of habit from taking care of his sister, was very kind and attentive to Xi Yu. “I found you nearby, so maybe your home isn’t far. Why don’t I take you around tomorrow? You might remember something.”

 

“No need.” Xi Yu thought for a moment and added, “My parents are gone too. It doesn’t matter if I go back or not.”

 

“Don’t you have any siblings?”

 

“No.”

 

When Xi Yu said no, he specifically looked at Luo Yang’s expression. He seemed absent-minded and didn’t react much, only saying, “Then you must feel lonely.”

 

“Most of the time,” Xi Yu replied seriously. “But there was a time when I was very happy.”

 

Xi Yu was handsome, and after a few outings with Wan Xiang, the local girls quickly took notice of him.

 

In groups of two or three, they would stroll by the field where Xi Yu was working, pretending to pass by while stealing glances at him every few seconds.

 

“They’ve walked back and forth how many times now?” Wan Xiang put down his hoe and wiped the sweat from his brow.

 

“I don’t know,” Xi Yu replied without much reaction.

 

Seeing Xi Yu like this, Wan Xiang got interested. He was tired from working anyway and decided to chat. “Hey, don’t hoe anymore. So, do you fancy any of the girls?”

 

“What?”

 

Only then did Wan Xiang discover that Xi Yu, despite his age, had never even seen an erotic painting. Back at home, Wan Xiang rummaged through a corner and dug out two dusty books, handing them to Xi Yu.

 

Xi Yu flipped through a page and immediately threw the book back.

 

“What is this?”

 

Wan Xiang patiently explained, but Xi Yu showed no interest, his expression always indifferent. Wan Xiang couldn’t force him. Talking about such things openly was a bit embarrassing, so he told Xi Yu, “If you don’t like this one, there are others. You can look through them yourself if you’re curious.”

 

“By the way,” Wan Xiang asked curiously, “do you like anyone?”

 

“I like Shan Bei,” Xi Yu answered without hesitation.

 

“Who’s Shan Bei? Is he good-looking?”

 

“Yes, very good-looking. He’s a great person who taught me many things.” Xi Yu’s eyes drooped as he continued, “But I’ll probably never see him again.”

 

After Wan Xiang left, Xi Yu sat in his chair, lost in thought.

 

Not long after, Wan Xiang came back again and said, “We’re out of rice. Tonight we’ll have porridge.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“There’s no pickles either.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

Actually, eating was unnecessary. Xiyu, still in his divine body, didn’t need mortal sustenance to survive; drinking some dew in the morning was enough.

 

However, to avoid appearing strange, he still politely took a few bites. Wanxiang, like a mother, scolded him, saying he was already as thin as a stick yet still didn’t like eating, and forced him to eat a few more mouthfuls.

 

After Luoyang left, the house returned to silence.

 

Xiyu couldn’t help but glance at the messy pile of books in the corner. After pondering for a long time, curiosity eventually got the better of him, and he decided to investigate.

 

Squatting on the ground, he casually picked one up.

 

He opened it.

 

Two naked men.

 

“…”

 

This porridge, which Xiyu had been drinking for several days, started as a decent consistency but became increasingly watery over time. By the fifth day, there were only a few grains of rice floating in the clear water.

 

Wanxiang stammered, “There’s no rice left, and we have no money.”

 

He looked sadly out the window at the scorching sun. He hated this weather. “It hasn’t rained for a month and a half.”

 

Another drought.

 

Was it because of Xiyu’s arrival?

 

Xiyu thought that Xiyi’s purpose in trapping him here was probably to drive him into despair, forcing him to commit suicide.

 

For Xiyi, the act of pushing an unyielding man like Xiyu to his death was undoubtedly a great accomplishment.

 

Of course, there was another possibility: Xiyu conceding and surrendering to him.

 

In either case, Xiyu was against the wind.

 

From here on, things began to deviate more and more from how they were supposed to unfold.

 

A year-long drought followed. In the first half of the year, Xiyu pawned everything of value he had to barely make ends meet. In the latter half, Xiyu couldn’t even recall how he survived.

 

He watched helplessly as the people around him fell one by one, powerless to help.

 

Wanxiang also died on a scorching afternoon.

 

But here, events were completely different from how Xiyu remembered them.

 

The first half of the year was identical—he pawned his belongings to get by, even in the same order. The difference lay in Wanxiang’s attitude.

 

In Xiyu’s memory, Wanxiang felt deeply apologetic and refused to let Xiyu pawn anything unless absolutely necessary. Every time Xiyu returned from pawning something, with a large sum of money in hand, their first meal was lavish. Wanxiang would often cry while eating and swear to repay Xiyu someday.

 

Xiyu suddenly recalled one time when Wanxiang, with reddened eyes, mentioned wanting to eat meat. That time, Xiyu had sneaked into the palace to steal something and brought Wanxiang a bowl of beef noodles.

 

There wasn’t much beef, and by the time it was served, the noodles had turned soggy and cold. Yet Wanxiang cried uncontrollably. If Xiyu hadn’t dodged, Wanxiang would have hugged him and wept all day.

 

Xiyu couldn’t help but think of a comment he once made to Luoyang: “Was this bowl of beef noodles life-saving for you?”

 

When Xiyu first met Luoyang, he immediately recognized him. But since Luoyang didn’t show any signs of recognition, Xiyu assumed this was one of those “past life” situations and that their bond as friends wasn’t yet severed.

 

He also couldn’t understand how Wanxiang could have ascended to godhood.

 

Xiyu had buried him with his own hands.

 

But now it seemed likely that Luoyang was indeed Wanxiang, and he had ascended.

 

The current Wanxiang was completely different from the one before. He felt that saving Xiyu was enough reason to justify everything Xiyu was now doing, as if it was only natural repayment for his kindness.

 

The day Xiyu sneaked into the capital to steal from the palace arrived. This time, he wasn’t caught and managed to take plenty of gold and silver treasures. As usual, he brought a bowl of beef noodles back for Wanxiang.

 

But this time, the noodles didn’t make it into Luoyang’s mouth.

 

They spilled on the ground.

 

Xiyi appeared.

 

Behind him were many people: Bai Fan, Yuan Xu, and… Beishang Zhenjun.

 

Their expressions were all the same—cold and indifferent. Xiyi, in a lofty manner, looked down at him and said, “Dear brother, hiding in this place, huh? You really made it hard for me to find you.”

 

He smiled. “Are you having fun?”

 

“Second Prince.” Wanxiang suddenly stepped forward and said, “Don’t blame me; I had no choice.”

 

Xiyu looked at him.

 

Wanxiang continued, “I really needed money. I have to live. I must live.”

 

Xiyi grabbed Xiyu by the neck, his violent power surging into Xiyu’s body, tormenting every part of him. Xiyu gritted his teeth and said, “Xiyi, you bastard.”

 

“In this world, there are only winners and losers,” Xiyi said with a smile. “Do you know why I have to kill you? In three days, external enemies will invade, and Xiyu Nation will fall. I don’t want any pests causing trouble.”

 

Everything stopped abruptly.

 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

 

After Wanxiang’s death, Xiyi had indeed met with him, but not to kill him—only to flaunt his superiority.

 

He had wanted to showcase Xiyu’s current weakness, to mock him for being completely at his mercy.

 

In Xiyi’s eyes, Xiyu, along with the tens of thousands of citizens of Xiyu Nation, was nothing but an ant—an ant he could crush at any moment.

 

Xiyu clenched his fists but ultimately didn’t strike.

 

Xiyi left, and Xiyu turned, walking in the opposite direction.

 

The once-gifted Xiyu, who had refused to study diligently, now bore the world’s hatred and endured its backlash. For three days and nights, he didn’t close his eyes, climbing the steepest Huaxi Mountain on foot.

 

Was he already dead?

 

Wasn’t this place something he had made up?

 

Xiyu pinched his arm.

 

It hurt.

 

He walked up to knock on the gate of Huaxi Mansion.

 

A young man with an indistinct face opened the door.

 

“What mountain is this?”

 

“Huaxi Mountain.”

 

“What is this place?”

 

“Huaxi Mansion.”

 

“Which deity is worshipped here?”

 

“Beishang Zhenjun.”

 

“What does he protect?”

 

“Peace and prosperity.”

 

Xiyu chuckled. “What a joke, peace and prosperity.”

 

When he looked up again, the face shrouded in mist became momentarily clear, and Xiyu froze in place.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” Xiyu said, shaking his head.

 

He asked, “Can I stay here?”