Collapse: Black Moonlight Turns White, Popular Four-Star Character

After finishing a day's work, Yannian returned to Lan's doorstep. It was already late at night.

Looking out at the house, the window was bright. Walking in, I heard sounds coming from the kitchen.

Why do you suddenly want to cook today?

Yannian raised his eyebrows and leaned against the door sill. The steaming hot air shattered into mist in front of his eyelashes, but failed to melt the coldness between his brows.

Pinewood crackled in the hearth, and the flames licked half of Lan's face, making the beads of sweat on his forehead look like broken gold. Lan rolled up his dark blue cloth sleeves to his elbows and put on his face.

"I guessed you would come back at this time... Go wash your hands. I cooked noodles and stewed fish." Lan looked back and smiled. He held the bamboo colander firmly in his palm and gently sank it into the snow-like soup.

"I have no appetite—eat it yourself."

Yannian glanced at him and said coldly.

"The noodles and fish were sent by the craftsmen. I just heated them up."

"It's not my fault." Lan knew Yannian would say that, but his expression remained unchanged. He pursed his lips slightly and said in a gentle tone, "Eat it while it's hot."

Yannian's eyes flashed, but he didn't move. Instead, he looked at Lan for a long time.

The place where he absorbed the annual sun today was near the craftsmen - he didn't see anyone running out to bring noodles and fish to Lan and then cook them for himself. Isn't that a waste of time?

What a clumsy lie! He wanted to see what Lan had in mind.

Yannian turned around and washed his hands.

The candlelight flickered, and the only sound in the room was the soft clink of bamboo chopsticks tapping against porcelain.

Yannian sat opposite Lan, his nose moving slightly. The warmth from the clouds mixed with the aroma of leftover fish sauce, like the first blooming magnolias on a spring night, gently hit his nose.

It smelled unexpectedly good - Yannian took a sip of the soup and wanted to stop there, but he couldn't help but took a few more sips.

Lan placed his chopsticks flat on the edge of his bowl, his hands folded quietly in his lap, not yet eating. The slanting candlelight cast a shadow, half of his face hidden in the soft darkness, his gaze fixed on Yannian's drooping brows.

"How does it taste?" Lan asked softly.

"It's not delicious." Yannian shook his head and said vaguely while eating the long noodles in big mouthfuls.

Lan smiled helplessly, lowering his head and picking up his short, thick, wide face.

Between the two of them, the steaming soup smoke and candle smoke blended together, and there seemed to be a hint of softness in the silence.

Eat noodles often, eat noodles often...after all, this is the ideal happiness.

A bowl of silver thread, clear soup with snow, is the longevity noodles;

This bowl is dedicated to the one in my heart, wishing him good health and peace every day and night.

A bowl of wide noodles with chopped green onions like snow is called broken head noodles;

This bowl is a gift to myself, to comfort myself from the hardships of my life and to pay off my debts to the world.

Lan ate noodles silently. He already had the best idea. Time was running out and he had no time to think. He had to preserve the spark of Zhu Ming. He couldn't watch "Red Star" completely destroy Zhu Ming, just like... the explosion of Daiyu.

He is not an immortal with a long lifespan, nor is he a messenger with divine power, and even... he is not a traveler on a destiny. This departure may be a farewell forever.

Finally, Lan felt that this was enough for his life as he was able to have a bowl of noodles with the person he cared about most.

Maybe he should be more relaxed.

If he died, it would also fulfill Yun's wish. Yun would go to more places and meet more people in the future.

"Yun, go to bed early..."

"I have official business to attend to, so I'll leave first." Lan washed the dishes and left home.

He walked to the door, his back to Yannian, his hand already on the mottled door, his knuckles slightly white from the force.

The wind blew past, Lan didn't say anything else, nor did he look back, and disappeared into the night.

......

The night fell like a piece of iron blackened by artillery fire, pressing down on the sky above the Expedition Square.

People who come here will no longer wait for the dawn of Yaoqing.

Lan stood before the soldiers, unsheathing his sword. The blade's spine reflected a silent sea of ​​fire. "Zhu Ming's life hangs by a thread. We—the first 'Cloud Riders' of the Immortal Ship—will draw our bows and shoot down the sun, driving that star of disaster from the edge of the sky into the abyss!"

"We don't need to leave our names."

"When the starship's tail flames pierce the azure sky, we will be the streak of fire burning through the clouds."

"When the enemy's fangs approach the Jade Realm, we will be the darkness that obscures the moon."

"If one day the blazing fire dies down and the immortal boat collapses—"

“Please remember the moment of white that appeared in the darkest part of the night sky.”

"That's the Cloud Riders, that's us - we will keep this oath, we, the Cloud Riders, will be like clouds blocking the sky, protecting the immortal boat!" Lan shouted with a firm look in his eyes, his blue hair tied up and swaying in the wind.

The fierce wind whirled the fallen leaves and battle flags, making them rustle like a prelude to a dirge. The soldiers roared in unison, their cries bursting from their chests, shaking the bluestone of the square slightly.

They had no time to dismantle the secondary engine of the immortal ship "Yao Qing" and weaponize it.

Lan organized a suicide squad, a suicide squad still named "Cloud Rider", which was joined voluntarily by soldiers.

Many people left their homes, and they didn't have to go.

But in the face of the cries of their compatriots, they voluntarily walked into the night, burying all their unspoken last words, unfinished letters home, and unfulfilled return dates in the bottomless shadows.

"Brother Lan, I'm going too... I can't be here without you." She ran forward from the crowd, holding Zhuyue in her hand. Her eyes were red, but her voice was choked in her throat, as if strangled by the night.

Behind them stood the children and the director of the orphanage. The children clutched the director's clothes tightly, their knuckles turning white, but they dared not cry out loud. The director's temples were white, and the corners of his lips trembled, as if he had a thousand words to say.

Ling looked at Lan with worry in her eyes and clenched her hands in her sleeves.

"Luo, I can't be here without you."

"As Cloud Rider, you have to protect everyone while I'm away... understand?"

"Use this sword." Lan leaned over, his armor making a low metallic sound against his knees, his palm covering Luo's head, his voice gentle but with a hint of urgency.

"Yunqiluo, listen to my orders. You are not allowed to... cry."

Lan turned around, and at that moment when the firelight stretched his back as long as possible, he suddenly paused and whispered, "And... tell Yun that I never betrayed his will."

Having said this, Lan silently tightened his knuckles and looked up at the sky.

A bright moon hangs in the sea of ​​ink, its cold light washing away the departing figure.

"Please allow yourself to live freely."

"Free to go... anywhere I am no longer."