Chapter 75 Osmanthus Wine Tastes the Same as I Remember

[Remaining Lifespan: 1 year]

A thin layer of snow had gathered along the window ledge; delicate traces of snow traced along the stone-paved wall all the way to the window frame. With the spring wind ushering in warmth into the Tusu wine, another New Year had arrived.

For the people of Liyue, this marked a new beginning—a time to bid farewell to the old year and welcome a new one, filled with hope and promise. But for Bosacius, it meant that this was his final year.

"When was the last time I celebrated the New Year?" 

Bosacius recalled that it was with his junior sister. 

"Was it four years ago…?"

He gazed absentmindedly at the little flakes clinging to the window frame. Despite having nearly seventy years of life compressed into only a few fleeting years, his appearance was remarkably youthful; his body looked healthy, free from cough or fatigue, his spirit as vibrant as that of a young man.

"Big Brother," a soft call came.

Bosacius lifted his eyes to see Indarias standing there. Dressed in a light red ruqun and wrapped in a pure white scarf—with her delicate, pale hands held close to her lips as she exhaled moist, warm breath—she said, 

"Happy New Year."

"Happy…" he replied slowly, "New Year."

The hot wine on the stove exhaled a faint aroma and rose in a rich mist. Bosacius filled a cup to the brim and downed the steaming wine in one gulp; as its warmth spread through him, his body felt comforted and cozy.

"This wine tastes rather good," Bosacius admired. "Let's have another round." 

"Big Brother, your drinking capacity is still as impressive as ever," gushed little Indarias. The wine Bosacius was drinking wasn't any ordinary brew—it was an immortal wine, brewed by the Celestials and known as "Immortal Drunkenness" (for, as the name implies, even immortals can get drunk). A mere drop would render an ordinary warrior senseless, yet Big Brother remained as stalwart as in his youth. Indarias felt not only delighted but also reassured.

His eyes still shone with the vigor of his prime—those clear, lilac-purple irises, reminiscent of a pristine spring pool under a flourishing season; his breathing was steady and rhythmic, his heart beating powerfully—all clear signs of robust health. 

Though mortal lifespans pale in comparison to those of celestial beasts, Big Brother had, in recent years, seemed to grow ever more vibrant. While people often say "Nothing gold can stay," he defied that adage, growing even more full of life with age. Every New Year when one came to see him, he appeared just the same.

"Big Brother," 

just in case, she asked, "how have you been feeling lately?"

"Very well," Bosacius replied, tapping the table with a measured, rhythmic "tup-tup." With a tone of pride mixed with playful self-mockery, he joked, "I could live for several more centuries—perhaps I'll outlive you all. And when you all pass before me, I'll go burn paper money for you."

As he spoke, the earnest light in his eyes was unmistakable.

At these words, little Indarias couldn't help but retort, her competitive streak suddenly aroused as she mimicked his tone, "You old fart! It'll be Indarias who burns the paper money for you from now on!"

"Then you'd better burn extra for me," he replied with a hearty chuckle. "I can easily get money to buy more liquor."

"You're always drinking—so much that Indarias won't even have to burn paper money for you!"

"If you don't pay up, I'll haunt you in your dreams and come after you as an evil ghost!"

Even now he used the same childish threats he once employed to scare a little Indarias—threats like "if you're so picky with your food that you drive me mad, I'll come after you as a ghost"—which once had sent her into tears, forcing her to eat properly. And still, he resorted to such nonsense.

"Never mind me. Liyue Harbor is about to light up with fireworks, so I must leave first," she announced.

Indarias stood, smoothing her ruqun as she neared the door. Before departing, she made a funny face at Bosacius and teased, "Big Brother, aren't you coming down from the mountain? Let's all celebrate together…"

"I'm in seclusion. Don't you understand? During a period of seclusion, one is not allowed to leave the mountain," Bosacius replied, tapping the table edge with a steady rhythm.

"You've been in seclusion for years now. It's time you got out to clear your mind," she replied helplessly, though she said no more. After all, time flows differently for celestials than for mortals—years are but moments when you've lived for centuries. Practicing the immortal arts and retreating for a few years is perfectly normal. And Big Brother, so young and handsome, will be just fine.

"As long as you all come to visit me every month, I'll be satisfied," Bosacius said with a smile. "That will be enough."

"Then I'll come see you next month," she declared, waving cheerfully as she bounded lightly—almost skipping—across the soft snow and departed.

Inside, the fire in the stove crackled merrily, and the snow continued to fall for a while longer. Bosacius closed his eyes for a moment, and only when Indarias was completely gone did he slowly open them again. Deep within his clear eyes, a dark hue—or perhaps a hint of savagery—now lurked.

---

[Nuo Fu (Indarias)]

[Residual Karma: 10%]

Over the years, after performing the Nuo Fu ritual once a month, these aftereffects always reared their head. And this residual Karma could never be entirely eradicated. Once a trace remained, it would eventually flare up again—like a wildfire that can never be fully quenched. Perhaps it would never be completely eliminated.

"Huff…" 

He exhaled deeply. His slender index finger brushed along his cheek, sliding down the side of his face until his nail dug into his skin, drawing a thin line of blood—a pain that brought Bosacius a stark clarity. He drank another bowl of wine, then another, as the intoxication surged, his vision slowly blurring and his thoughts growing murky. Yet only in his drunken stupor could he escape the relentless voices in his ears.

The cries, the shrieks, the roars, the piercing screams of children, the wails of women—all these layered sounds merged into endless low murmurs. If he closed his eyes, he could see mountains of corpses, seas of blood, forests of white bones, and the stench of blood assaulting his nostrils. Countless remnants of demonic souls whispered his name over and over—"Bosacius, Bosacius, Bosacius." 

He longed to cut out his ears, gouge out his eyes, even sever his nose… 

But he did nothing; he did not wish to burden his juniors with his suffering. Many adults, when faced with life's torments, do just that—they suffer in silence. 

…In the depths of the night, the only remedy available was to down cup after cup of wine, using the liquid to douse the flames of his burgeoning despair.

The night had grown deep. 

A new moon hung like a painting, its pure white light covering the vast snowy expanse until the snow and moonlight melded into one, erasing all traces. Yet drinking alone inevitably felt lonesome.

"Morax," Bosacius suddenly murmured, not sure to whom he was speaking. Half-drunken, he added, "You've come?"

Morax—the deity of Liyue who presides over Geo, the oldest among the Seven Rulers of the mortal realm, so venerable that even Bosacius's master, Cloud Retainer, when in the presence of Rex Lapis, must address him as "Lord Rex"—had been casually called by his true name by none other than Bosacius himself.

"Your state…" 

Rex Lapis lowered his golden eyes and fixed his gaze on Bosacius. After a long pause, he slowly asked, "…How long has this been going on?"

Bosacius, though a true disciple of the celestial path practicing the righteous way, now exuded not a shred of celestial aura. Deep red blood trickled down his cheeks; his lilac eyes were chaotic and murky; between his teeth, a heavy, sinister aura emerged—savagery, madness, malice. At this moment, if one called him a celestial, it would be more apt to regard him as an evil deity.

"Four years," he whispered.

It was the first time Bosacius had ever confessed such a thing to anyone. Not so much a confession as a revelation he could no longer hide. The usually confident celestial Bosacius had always been adept at concealing his inner state, but with Rex it was different; Rex had already sensed something was amiss, so it was better to be frank.

Silence. 

A long, lingering silence.

"You've been hiding this all along," Rex said, his long lashes casting deep shadows as he lowered his eyes. Seeming to recall something, after a while he continued, "During the Archon War a hundred years ago, did you do the same...?"

Karma taints the soul of a celestial—something that had never before occurred in Liyue's history, never been seen. Without the blossom of a flower, the flower simply does not exist. Because it had never happened, they assumed naturally that all was well and the years passed peacefully. Yet behind that calm, someone bore the calamity of all Liyue, silently carrying the burden. Even Morax, a hundred years ago, had not been able to detect it.

"Yes." 

Bosacius downed another bowl of hot wine; as the alcohol surged, his eyes gradually cleared. "Back then, I was still very young."

"You are old now," Rex stated. His brilliant golden eyes reflected Bosacius's face—though his features remained youthful, his soul was utterly exhausted; his gaze was laden with deep fatigue. Rex recalled how he used to be in his prime—freewheeling and unrestrained, this fellow who loved drinking, pestering him with his wine gourd—for hundreds of years, it had always been like this.

"Mor… cough, Lord Rex, don't worry about official business; without you, Liyue will still go on. People who live without a care tend to live the longest," Bosacius thought.

"Come on, let's go drink," he urged. 

But now he was old—old because he possessed both heart and spirit, a passion deeper than anyone else's—and thus he would be the first to perish.

"How many days do you have left?" Rex Lapis asked gravely.

"I don't know," Bosacius replied softly, "perhaps only one more year… or perhaps I might go mad at any moment."

"You must stop," commanded Lord Rex Lapis, his ancient, majestic golden eyes fixed on Bosacius as he spoke imperatively, "You must stop."

"Morax," Bosacius responded, looking at him with a smile tinged with helplessness, "in my current state, I can no longer stop. The end is already sealed. I am doomed to go mad." 

Bosacius could no longer halt the process; his soul had long been eroded by Karma.

Outside, the snow slowly melted beneath the eaves; vast pools of meltwater broke through the pine and cypress leaves and pounded down with a pattering sound. There was nothing but silence, and the flames burned quietly.

"Tell me—what do you wish for me to do?" After a pause, Morax asked slowly, "What can I do for you?"

Bosacius stared into the dancing flames, then turned his head and fixed his gaze on the Rock God. His lips moved as he declared: 

—"I wish that You would be the one to kill me."

In that snowy, moonlit night, he made his request to the deity with a calm tone, as if recounting someone else's death.

"I will continue to purge the Karma until I go mad," Bosacius murmured, "and when I lose control, I wish for You to kill me."

"Why…" Rex's voice came out stiffly, "why must it be me?"

Why him?

"Lord Rex Lapis," Bosacius said—this was the first time he had used such an honorific. "This is a very selfish request."

He lowered his head. "I am selfish… I'm sorry… Someone must kill me, or else I will bring about a disaster. There must be someone to act as the executioner—and neither the Yaksha, nor Ganyu, nor our master can do it. It would be too cruel for them—"

"Perhaps," Morax replied calmly, "and for me, it is the same."

Bosacius was momentarily stunned.

"I thought…" Morax sat down and poured himself a cup of wine, speaking softly, "we are already friends."

It was osmanthus wine—a clear liquor with osmanthus petals floating in it, exuding a delicate fragrance. This was not immortal wine but rather the osmanthus wine that Rex Lapis himself provided. Usually, Bosacius was the one seeking Rex for a drink, but this time, Rex had come to him.

"We are already friends," Morax said.

"Is that so…" Bosacius smiled. "Is that so." He sighed, "That's wonderful." His smile was imbued with the chill of the snowy night.

"…But I can only entrust this to you, my friend." 

Bosacius managed a woeful laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" 

Though his fate was to die for others, he kept calling himself selfish and kept apologizing. In Rex's mind, Bosacius had never once asked anything of him—no matter the magnitude of the matter, he always bore it alone. This was the first time in six hundred years that Bosacius made a request—a request for someone to kill him.

Tsk.

The osmanthus wine filled the air with its fragrance. Rex studied the wine for a long, long while before, in silence, nodding. 

"If he loses control due to Karma, then let it be Rex who kills him." 

This became the first pact.

"Please do not tell them the truth. Please do not reveal that Karma exists." 

Bosacius pleaded, "If they were to know that I am fated to die because of them, they might regret it for the rest of their lives… I cannot allow that." 

This, too, was why Bosacius had concealed the truth for over a hundred years.

"What do you intend to do?" Rex asked.

"I now appear much like a demon, don't I? Every morning when I wake up, all I think about is killing," he said self-mockingly, "my soul has long since become demonic." 

"I cannot die as a hero," Bosacius continued, lowering his eyes. "Because I will be killed by You—and for Liyue, Rex Lapis cannot kill a hero, and I cannot expose the matter of Karma…" 

"What then do you plan to do?"

Rex's tone grew unexpectedly forceful as he seemed to sense what was coming. 

"I will die as a sinner."

Bosacius raised his eyes, his lilac gaze reflecting Rex Lapis's astonished face. 

"I will die as a sinner."

A person's manner of death, after all, defines his entire life. And now, the head of the celestial Yaksha—the hero who had participated in both the Demigod War and the Immortal-Demon War, Marshal Vritras who has watched over Liyue for six hundred years—chose to define his life by dying as a sinner.

"You refuse coronation, yet willingly bear the shackle."

"…I cannot agree to that," Rex repeated as he stared at him. "On that matter alone, I cannot consent."

"Morax," Bosacius reverted to his original appellation, smiling freely as he poured himself another cup of osmanthus wine. "You just said… that we are already friends, didn't You?"

Rex was taken aback.

"Then this is not a request from the [Marshal] to [Rex Lapis]," he said with a smile, raising his rippling cup, "but rather a request from [Bosacius] to [a friend]."

"In Inazuma, they revere death as the aesthetics of 'mono no aware'—a beautiful, resplendent demise. They prize the form of death and therefore place great importance on one's posthumous honor; hence, they have a tradition of the decapitator. That is the Inazuman aesthetic."

Bosacius's expression turned grave. 

"But Liyue's aesthetic of death is not like that. We have a saying: 'Good and evil lie within me; honor and disgrace are for others to determine. When the coffin is sealed, no plea from one's descendants can alter the verdict.'" His voice was not loud, but it struck with force: 

"As long as you remain true to your heart, let others heap praise or blame as they will—so be it!"

"You refuse coronation, yet willingly bear the shackle," Rex Lapis had said earlier.

Bosacius's reply was: 

"If one can die for the ones they love, if one can die for a cause worthy of devotion, then for me in this life, the shackles are also a crown."

"I wish to choose that kind of death—this is my request as a friend."

This became the second pact.

He raised his cup; in the clear osmanthus wine, the New Year's night sky was reflected. Brilliant fireworks flared across the sky.

After a long moment, Rex Lapis let out a soft sigh. He paused, then also raised his cup. 

"You must also agree to one thing," he said.

"What is it?" Bosacius asked curiously.

"This is osmanthus wine, but it is only just spring. The osmanthus isn't particularly fragrant, and the wine isn't especially mellow—it hardly qualifies as good wine." 

Rex said seriously, "I hope that one day, I can share another cup of osmanthus wine with you."

Bosacius paused. Suddenly, a smile broke out across his face—one that grew louder and more carefree, as if it could pierce the heavens. Pointing at Rex's nose, he laughed, "Haha. Fine, Rex Lapis, you're quite the wine enthusiast yourself—if you're in such a refined mood, Bosacius will gladly accompany you!"

When kindred spirits make a pact over wine, how can one dare to ruffle the other's nature?

"Then the pact is made," Rex declared, raising his cup.

Bosacius lifted his cup as well, and continued, "The one who reneges on their words——" 

As fireworks blossomed in the night sky and their cups clinked together amidst drifting osmanthus petals, they both laughed and declared: 

"——shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock!"

This was the third pact.

---

The warm spring breeze swayed the gentle morning light—another New Year had arrived, and the breeze was sweet and mild. 

At Wanmin Restaurant, the meat buns were both delicious and inexpensive.

After finishing their exercises with Qiqi—er, after completing the sect's divine techniques—Yaku wiped the sweat from his brow and followed Lumine to Wanmin Restaurant for breakfast.

Halfway through the meal, he noticed a bit of commotion at the counter.

"This Mora… is rather peculiar," observed a scholarly-looking man with vermilion-gold eyes and a neatly arranged hair ornament. Dressed impeccably and carrying himself with refined elegance, he appeared troubled—perhaps he had forgotten his money for the meal?

"I'll pay—of course, you must remember to reimburse me," Yaku said, patting the man's shoulder. After all, it wasn't his own money; Lumine would settle the bill. In this life, one must act with a carefree abandon and follow one's heart without fretting over consequences.

"Thank you, little friend," the man replied, turning around. With genuine curiosity he inquired, "I am Zhongli. May I ask what your name is?"

"Yaku," the young man replied with a smile. "Seino Yaku!"