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A gentle breeze drifted silently through the room on a summer night. Lü Bu felt a sudden coolness wash over him, and his mind grew clearer — making the warm, soft presence at his back all the more distinct.
“…”
Xiao Meng said nothing, remaining just as he was, holding him with neither too much nor too little force.
“…Xiao Meng…”
The moment Lü Bu realized it was Xiao Meng holding him from behind, he instantly grew calm.
He forced himself to stay composed.
He cursed himself inwardly — it was truly inexcusable that he hadn’t sensed Xiao Meng’s approach at all until the moment he was already in his arms.
The two sat back to back in silence, the space between them filled with nothing but the sound of their breathing.
Xiao Meng rested his cheek sideways against the space between Lü Bu’s shoulder blades, separated only by a thin layer of cloth soaked through with sweat, listening to his heartbeat. His cheek absorbed the warmth radiating from Lü Bu’s back.
That night.
Not long before, a low, muffled sound from the outer room had jolted Xiao Meng awake. Listening carefully, he recognized it — the twisted, distorted breathing of someone straining with everything they had to hold back their sobs.
It was the kind of sound that could only emerge from the collision of extreme anguish and extreme restraint.
Xiao Meng understood that state of mind. Because in his own life, he had breathed like that before.
He crept out of bed and tiptoed across the floor into the outer room, not making a single sound.
At last, he found the source — Lü Bu, his back turned, had sat up on his sleeping mat, both hands apparently covering his face.
By the faint light of the moon, what met Xiao Meng’s eyes was Lü Bu’s back, heaving and shuddering violently.
Almost in the same instant, Xiao Meng moved without thinking — he knelt forward and wrapped his arms around him.
Lü Bu steadied his breathing. His hands flew quickly across his face, then wiped several times against the blanket, before finally dropping to his sides. He gently patted the back of Xiao Meng’s hand and said softly, “…Don’t be afraid. I’m fine…”
But Xiao Meng had no intention of changing his position whatsoever. And Lü Bu had no desire at all to disturb the Xiao Meng who was holding him in this moment.
After a long while, Xiao Meng spoke at last, listening to Lü Bu’s heartbeat as he did, “Lü Bu, I know you’ve been blaming yourself — that you shouldn’t have sent little thing away. Am I right?”
Lü Bu’s body gave a start. He was silent for a long moment, then finally let out a deep sigh, "…Yes…I was wrong…I should have understood long ago — there was nothing left to be done. But I…I just didn’t want to admit it. I stubbornly kept believing I could turn things around. And in the end…I even threw away little thing’s life…
…She…such a sensible child, such a good child…she shouldn’t have died so young! And certainly not…like that!.."
Seeing Lü Bu’s body tremble more and more violently, Xiao Meng held him tighter.
"…The one who deserved to die like that…should have been me!..It should have been me, this useless wretch of a father…
…How did it come to this…little thing, such a good child…
…to have a father like me…a father who is worse than an animal!"
Lü Bu was consumed by shame so deep he wished the earth would swallow him whole — because of little thing, and because he had only just sworn he would never cry in front of Xiao Meng again, yet now he had completely lost control of his tears, and could not stop himself from pouring out the words buried deepest in his heart.
He realized that in front of Xiao Meng, every form of self-control he had ever attempted had failed without exception.
So be it…I suppose Heaven sent him specifically to undo me…
Lü Bu sighed inwardly.
Xiao Meng, still holding Lü Bu, felt the droplets fall one by one onto the back of his small, pale hands.
A nameless wave of emotion rose suddenly in his chest — though it was not, in truth, primarily because of the tears of the man in his arms, nor because of his words of self-reproach and self-condemnation.
It was because he had thought of little thing — on that stormy night at the white gate tower, huddled in his arms, crying as she spoke the words:
"…I’m not afraid…I’m furious!
Furious that I was born a girl!
That I cannot share my father’s burdens…cannot fight shoulder to shoulder with him!
…And even more furious…that a tiger father…sired nothing but a worthless daughter!"
…This father and daughter…they really are…
Xiao Meng felt that bright, childlike voice echoing in his ears with every syllable, every sound transforming into a small wild creature that ran and thrashed inside the deepest chamber of his heart — as though determined to break free of its cage, to batter his heart to pieces.
Xiao Meng had come intending to comfort Lü Bu, who was on the verge of collapse — only to discover, to his own dismay, that the one on the verge of collapse was himself.
Xiao Meng was startled to find that this feeling made a person reckless — recklessly bold in a way he had never anticipated.
Xiao Meng released Lü Bu, then without a word crawled forward and swung himself up to straddle Lü Bu’s lap.
Both hands cupped Lü Bu’s face — tear-streaks not yet dry — and gazed at him intently.
When Lü Bu realized the state he was in was being seen clearly by Xiao Meng, a panic unlike anything he had ever felt before rushed over him.
Before he could think —
Xiao Meng had already leaned down and kissed him, with startling intensity.
A small, nimble tongue slipped unexpectedly past his slightly parted lips, and Lü Bu felt as though he had swallowed a small flame whole — and then, in an instant, his entire body caught fire.
For a moment he thought of their first kiss in the old royal city. That kiss had been dangerous, intoxicating, and yet so thrilling.
No — no!
— There was simply no comparison!
Lü Bu closed his eyes and let himself be tossed freely by these crashing waves. The emotions that had, just moments before, threatened to grind him to fragments — all of them were burned to ash by Xiao Meng’s deep, flame-laced kiss.
As their lips and tongues tangled in breathless abandon, Xiao Meng reached up with one hand and undid his own sash, swiftly beginning to shed his robe.
Then, suddenly, Xiao Meng felt both arms seized — a pair of hands, powerful as iron, locked around his arms and instantly stopped his movement.
Then Lü Bu drew back from Xiao Meng’s lips.
He did not push Xiao Meng away. Instead, gripping Xiao Meng’s slender, delicate arms, he seemed to summon every last ounce of strength to “move” Xiao Meng aside.
In this moment, Xiao Meng’s warm, soft body felt as heavy to him as something cast from bronze and iron.
Xiao Meng said nothing. His eyes, like the depths of a still pool, remained fixed on Lü Bu. He could feel the ache in his arms where the grip held him — the force was great, yet Lü Bu was clearly fighting to restrain it, so much so that Xiao Meng could feel the trembling passing through Lü Bu’s arms.
Xiao Meng had been practically “lifted” and moved aside by Lü Bu, so he now looked down at him slightly — and saw him bowing his head, his eyes unreadable, yet his lips trembling faintly. He watched him struggle painfully to steady his breathing, before forcing out a few hoarse words, “…Xiao Meng, you don’t have to…do this…”
Lü Bu knew that Xiao Meng was gazing at him right now, yet he could not, no matter what, bring himself to meet his eyes.
“So that’s what you are…there’s only one person like you.”
Xiao Meng broke the silence.
“Clearly capable of doing every manner of beastly thing, yet in your heart, you hold so firmly to this — that you must still be a man!”
Lü Bu felt his heart lurch with a heavy jolt, compelling him to lift his head and look at Xiao Meng.
Moonlight from the window fell across Xiao Meng’s breathtaking face, casting over him a faint silver luminescence, as though he were veiled in a thin shimmer of moonlight. His eyes, already ethereal as a dream, now shimmered with a radiance that made the heart tremble.
Lü Bu felt that Xiao Meng radiated a strange and otherworldly light, one that pierced through to the darkest, most hidden places within his soul.
Beneath that light, he was transparent from head to toe — with nowhere left to hide.
For a fleeting instant, Lü Bu had the disorienting sensation of falling back into a dream. He even began to wonder — had he ever truly woken up at all…?
Xiao Meng gestured for Lü Bu to let go, then drew back himself, sitting cross-legged across from Lü Bu.
“That night, I asked you whether you had truly decided to do this. Do you remember?” Xiao Meng looked at him, his tone calm and earnest, though his expression grew gradually more complex — enough to make Lü Bu reassure himself that this was, in fact, reality.
“Yes…you had already warned me. But I…still chose to stake the most precious person in my life on a chance that was vanishingly small.” Lü Bu lowered his head.
“You said you couldn’t give up at a time like this. Then you turned and walked away.”
Xiao Meng, too, had slipped into memory.
“I was hesitating, at that moment, over whether I should say more — try once more to talk you out of it. Your back was turned to me then, but I knew — you were waiting for me to give you a reason to turn back.”
But in the end…you never gave me that chance.
You never gave me any chance at all.
Lü Bu’s heart surged and churned. He smiled bitterly to himself — the words he could not say aloud were the ones that left him with a strangely inexplicable ache.
“I was thinking — if I truly said one more word, would you really have let me talk you out of it?” Xiao Meng’s tone remained as composed as ever, but Lü Bu noticed that from the very start of their conversation, Xiao Meng had been unconsciously clenching his small fist, releasing it, then clenching it again — as though he were on the verge of making some difficult decision.
And so, after a brief silence, Lü Bu said gently, “I think…you already knew the answer then. You knew I would listen to you — and that’s precisely why you didn’t say another word.”
Since it’s so hard for him to admit it, let me be the one to say it first.
“Yes…I was thinking — it was a near-certain death, but what if you actually won? Who could say!”
At this, Xiao Meng drew his knees up, small hands clasped over them, and bowed his head to look at his own fingers, whitened from the pressure.
“…I knew full well that among all of us, little thing was the last one who should have been sacrificed! And yet I…I wanted you to keep fighting! If you won your gamble, I’d benefit too; if you lost, then it was simply your loss alone. If the city fell, for me it would just mean giving up my life — nothing more to pay.”
Yes — this was truly what Xiao Meng had been thinking at the time. He had reminded himself that he and Lü Bu were enemies, not allies. His reason for remaining in Xiapi was simply that Lü Bu was fighting Cao Cao, and that gave him a chance to avenge a blood debt.
This had always been nothing more than a mutual use of one another.
I knew he was hoping I would stop him, but I didn’t — because I, too, wanted to gamble on that one-in-ten-thousand chance. As for little thing, she had nothing to do with me to begin with.
…I…to have harbored such cold and callous thoughts at the time.
Only now did Xiao Meng feel the full weight of his shock — and an unbearable, overwhelming shame.
If he won, I gained from his fight against Cao Cao; if he lost, the beast of a father who sold his daughter to survive was him — not me.
Out of sympathy for little thing, he had asked Lü Bu one question — “Are you truly sure you want to do this?” — but out of personal self-interest, Xiao Meng had said nothing more, especially once he realized he truly could have changed Lü Bu’s decision.
Now, Xiao Meng felt utterly contemptible.
If Xiao Meng had died at the white gate tower that day, or if he had never crossed paths with Lü Bu again, then everything would have faded in time — he might never even have recognized that he bore any responsibility for little thing’s death.
But fate had insisted on bringing them together again, and more than that — on keeping them bound to one another, dependent on each other to survive.
And so he could not help but think of little thing. He could not help but face what his own thoughts had truly been that day — how squalid, how ugly, how terrifying.
Now he even felt that his own sins ran deeper than Lü Bu’s — because he had once been the person with the power to rewrite little thing’s fate, and he had chosen to surrender that chance.
“…So you see — when it comes to being base and selfish, you may not even surpass me!” Xiao Meng said with a self-deprecating laugh, as a single clear tear traced its way down his fair cheek — though he wiped it away naturally with his sleeve and carried on as though nothing had happened.
Just the same — he didn’t want to cry in front of Lü Bu.
Yes — what kind of person was he, this Xiao Meng?
When Sun Shu was to be betrothed to LiaoYuan Fire, and came to visit the Sima household — when Xiao Meng had to wait upon her, to dress her hair — how desperately he had wanted to use the ribbon in his hands to strangle her.
He should have known clearly, even then, what kind of person he was.
It was just that within the Sima household, at Fire-ge’s side, before the brothers of the remnant soldiers — Xiao Meng had never dared let them see, had never even dared to think, what kind of person he truly was.
Nor did he understand why it was only in front of Lü Bu that he felt a kind of courage — a courage that made him willing to throw everything to the wind.
“So Lü Bu, I want you to understand — what happened to little thing is not your burden alone to carry. If you hate and despise yourself for it, then please — include me in that too.”
“Xiao Meng, you truly don’t need to think of it that way. Even if everything you did was entirely for your own sake, I don’t believe you did anything wrong.” Even with Xiao Meng laying bare his darkest thoughts before him, Lü Bu genuinely felt he could not blame Xiao Meng for any of it.
“Little thing never blamed you — and yet you will still feel the pain, the anguish. So will I.”
Xiao Meng replied, holding Lü Bu’s gaze steadily as he said, “We bear it together. Because it is precisely this pain that makes us truly — human.”
Lü Bu felt his vision beginning to blur again.
Perhaps none of this was without reason. There were countless beautiful women in the world — yet he had only ever been captivated by “Diaochan.” He had even risked the condemnation of all under heaven, staking his power and his fate, all for the sake of pursuing him relentlessly.
Perhaps…he truly was a wild beast. And wild beasts have an instinct for recognizing their own kind. Even when Xiao Meng was still “Diaochan,” his instincts had already sensed it — they were the same kind of creature.
To meet one’s own kind — this was a feeling he had never known once in his entire life.
But he truly did not want to be moved to tears in front of Xiao Meng again, so he reached for something inconsequential to say, to shift the moment.
“Alas…perhaps I never should have killed Dong Zhuo in the first place. For someone of my background, to have held the position I once did was already something remarkable…if I had only known contentment, I wouldn’t be in this state today, and little thing wouldn’t have had to…” Lü Bu sighed deeply — this, at least, came genuinely from the heart.
He could not help but admit it — this game, perhaps he had never understood the rules from the very beginning. He had been destined, all along, to lose.
Xiao Meng couldn’t help but give him a sidelong look. “You might as well say you never should have killed Ding Yuan in the first place! But if you were the kind of person who knew how to be content, you wouldn’t be Lü Bu.”
Xiao Meng tilted his head in thought, then added, “Perhaps…people like us find it very hard not to make mistakes. Our resistance to hope is far too low — we would rather watch it shatter in our hands than see it slip away from us.”
These words struck Lü Bu with a jolt deep in his chest. He felt compelled to look at Xiao Meng anew — this person so luminous and otherworldly he seemed to have wandered into the mortal realm by mistake. It felt as though every word and gesture of Xiao Meng’s, in this reunion, left him astonished and endlessly delighted, and he found that he loved this Xiao Meng — this Xiao Meng right now — so very, very much.
“Yes…hope…” Lü Bu bowed his head.
Yet a sudden, overwhelming wave of feeling broke through some barrier within him. He moved forward and pulled Xiao Meng into his arms, holding him tightly, burying his face in the curve of his neck and murmuring softly,
“Xiao Meng…thank you…truly, thank you.”
That night, Lü Bu and Xiao Meng fell asleep in each other’s arms, as naturally as if not a single word needed to be said.
And they slept without dreams, all the way until dawn.
End of Chapter 14
Copyright Notice:
Chapter 14 "Inseparable" is protected by copyright. Without prior written authorization from the author, no reproduction, reprinting, adaptation, redistribution, translation, or commercial use of any kind is permitted.
© Jing Xixian (King Heyin) (Vampire L), All rights reserved.
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