After Transmigrating, I Died of Depression Without My Phone - Chapter 93.2
Long Xiang tightened her grip on him, but Beiting Xue remained quiet, only watching her.
His beautiful eyes showed restrained sorrow and a silent reluctance to part, yet he didn’t move to touch her, not like how she touched him.
Everything about him told Long Xiang the truth.
They couldn’t leave.
“I can send you out,” Beiting Xue finally spoke, after a long silence, but his words were exactly what Long Xiang didn’t want to hear.
“I can’t leave,” he continued, his voice soft but firm. “I’m part of the divine pillar now. It exists because I do. If it’s destroyed, so am I.”
He spoke slowly, as if weighing each word. “Xiang Xiang, do you understand? I can’t leave. I can’t walk away. I’m lucky I wasn’t completely consumed by the pillar. I’ll stay here, and you’re almost ready to ascend. Once you’ve rested, I’ll send you back—to your home.”
Home.
That word caught Long Xiang off guard. It was hard for her to reject the idea.
So, only one of them could leave.
She had come here with such determination, but in the end, none of it seemed to matter.
With difficulty, Long Xiang finally asked, “Send me home?”
Beiting Xue nodded. “Yes.”
He raised his hands, gathering the pure energy from within the divine pillar and surrounding her with it.
“The reason you were brought to this world is tied to the Celestial Ladder. Whatever the cause was, it no longer matters now. As long as the ladder can still send you back, that’s enough.”
The moment Beiting Xue raised his hand, Long Xiang felt something familiar.
Even the air she breathed felt different.
It was the air from her world.
Long Xiang could almost see her mother waving at her.
“But—” She quickly pressed her hand against Beiting Xue’s, stopping him. “Something’s wrong. 4897, that light orb, it entered the pillar too. Did you see it?”
Beiting Xue looked in a certain direction. “Are you talking about that?”
Long Xiang followed his gaze and saw what looked like the “sun” inside the pillar.
The sunlight was warm and bright, illuminating the entire space like a real sun. If Beiting Xue hadn’t pointed it out, Long Xiang wouldn’t have noticed anything strange about it.
“When I saw it leave, it looked like a young boy,” she said.
“That’s a golden crow,” Beiting Xue explained calmly. “A juvenile golden crow. It was the guide that brought you here.”
He seemed to have figured everything out but chose not to say much, likely because, to him, it no longer mattered.
If Long Xiang was going to leave, if she would soon return home, then there was no point in dwelling on it.
“Xiang Xiang, you should rest,” Beiting Xue said as he gently pulled her back into his embrace. Clouds drifted toward them, and he laid her down on the soft cloud bed. “Sleep for a while. Maybe when you wake up, you’ll be home.”
Long Xiang could feel the power gathering inside her body, and her phone kept vibrating, signaling a surge in energy, just like the last time.
Everything seemed to tell her that this time, she really could go home.
For the longest time, she had never understood why Beiting Xue, knowing they might one day part, hadn’t tried harder to enjoy their time together. Why not make the most of every day and be happy?
Now she understood. It was hard.
Before, she hadn’t realized how difficult it was, thinking that day was still far off.
But now, with their separation looming, she realized how incredibly hard it was to let go.
Long Xiang looked up, seeing Beiting Xue lying next to her, his long black hair spilling around him as his thoughts wandered.
He seemed distracted, as though he were trying to focus on something, but it was clear something wasn’t right.
Was it the divine pillar struggling against him?
Long Xiang grabbed his hand. “If I leave, can you really handle being the future ruler of the heavenly realm?”
Beiting Xue hesitated, not answering right away.
“Will you be okay? Maybe you should make a prophecy for yourself, take a look into your future,” she suggested.
In all his years, Beiting Xue had never once made a prophecy about his own fate.
He gazed into Long Xiang’s eyes, his throat tightening. After a long pause, he finally said, “I don’t have enough spiritual energy right now. I need to reserve what’s left to keep the divine pillar in balance. I can’t make a prophecy.”
Disappointment washed over Long Xiang’s face.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said softly, his tone gentle. “I’ll be fine.”
Long Xiang couldn’t help but ask, “Can’t we go together? Even if we can’t leave the pillar and return to the cultivation world, we could try going back to my home together.”
She still hadn’t given up on the idea of taking him with her.
That hope was enough to make Beiting Xue smile, a genuine smile. He pressed his forehead against hers again and whispered, “The moment I saw you enter the pillar, I had no regrets left.”
“If I could follow you, of course, that would be wonderful. But I’m bound to the pillar. If the pillar is destroyed, I die. If it remains, I cannot leave.”
It was a fact neither of them could change.
At least, not right now.
But Long Xiang could go home.
“Xiang Xiang, this is already more than enough. I’m truly content,” Beiting Xue said softly.
His voice was steady and calming. “I’ll never forget the first time I saw you. You were standing there in the snow, in the heart of the blizzard. Everything around us was frozen, lifeless. But when I saw you, it was as if I came alive.”
“I’ll always remember the first time I saw you,” Beiting Xue whispered.
“I can’t leave this place. You can’t take me with you… but take this snowflake instead.”
He conjured a six-sided snowflake, eternally frozen and unmelting, and placed it in Long Xiang’s hand, closing her fingers tightly around it.
“When you see it, it will be like seeing me.”
“In this vast world, time stretches endlessly, life and death cycle through, the heavens can be mended, the seas can be filled, and mountains can be moved. Soon, you’ll forget me. You’ll find someone else to love, someone to share your life with. All of that is fine… As long as you think of me occasionally, when you see this snowflake, that’s all I ask.”
“My life has been unremarkable. As long as you can reunite with your family, and find happiness, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
His words were both beautiful and heartbreakingly sad.
Like a delicate snow globe, cracked and spilling out its fragile contents, the light in his eyes seemed to shimmer and fade, reflecting a deep sadness beneath his calm exterior.
Long Xiang could hear him explaining softly, “I’m not that sad. I’ve been prepared for this farewell for a long time. But…”
“But knowing that I might never see you again, it’s hard not to choke up.”
At this, his composure finally broke. His eyes reddened, and he gazed at her, filled with emotion, saying, “Xiang Xiang, please don’t forget me too quickly. If you do, I’ll be really, really sad.”
His breath came in ragged gasps, as if he could hardly breathe. It seemed that when sadness reached its peak, it could indeed hurt so much that it was hard to even catch your breath.
But there was nothing he could do.
Light had entered his life, illuminating him briefly. But she didn’t belong to him.
“Enough… sleep now,” Beiting Xue said, his voice regaining its gentle tone. He guided her head back into his arms, holding her close. “Sleep, and when you wake up, you’ll be home.”
Long Xiang lay against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, and couldn’t help but wonder: Is this really how it’s going to end?