DPM Chapter 23-In The Past Part 3
Translated by Snowfall77
Mozun bowed three times to the parents in the photo, and then stood up.
Wu Xingyun followed Mozun’s actions, saying nothing, simply deeply feeling the impermanence of life.
Who could have guessed that the sunshiny boy of the photo would later become a grim, killing-machine demon?
Quieting observing Wu Xingyun, Mozun waited until Wu Xingyun got back up, and turned to the door: “Come on, let’s go back. I won’t come to this place again.”
Unable to repress his curiosity, Wu Xingyun eyed the last bedroom. He’d seen the study, and now this room with the picture.
So what was behind the remaining closed door?
Wu Xingyun stopped in front of the shut room. Mozun, glancing back, said in an indifferent tone: “It’s him inside……You won’t want to see it, I’ll……I won’t come again, there’s no need to see.”
His heart filled with infinite curiosity, Wu Xingyun knew the ‘him’ Mozun referred to was his dead lover, who’s appearance was like Wu Xingyun’s and who even smelled the same.
What the hell was that man like?
Wu Xingyun didn’t move, only gave Mozun an inquiring look.
Mozun stayed in place for a moment, finally nodding gently.
The door wasn’t locked, the inside unusually clean and tidy.
Walls covered with photographs, an ordinary desk, a bunk bed with mattresses, pale gray quilts neatly folded, with a leather belt atop them, stacked like chunks of tofu.
Wu Xingyun slowly walked in, sunlight streaming in through the window, as the photos caught his eye.
Some were large, some were small. One photograph showed a plain man in an olive-colored military uniform, smiling brightly.
Then catching his reflection in a standing mirror, Wu Xingyun saw a carbon copy of the man in the picture.
He seemed to see hundreds of himself, all smiling at himself. A strange feeling rose in his chest, and he sat at the desk, easily opening a drawer.
Inside was a stack of paper, a black pen pressed against it.
Weird, it was all weird. The room, the furnishings might be slightly different, yet everything was arranged exactly as Wu Xingyun would’ve done.
Down to the second drawer on the left side of the desk, where would be paper and pen, pen placed just so. All of it was the same.
Wu Xingyun got up carefully, stroking the humble desk. Mozun was in the doorway, gazing at the photos with soft, watery eyes.
“Here……Your former lover, did he live here?”
Nodding, Mozun answered with a hoarse voice: “No……This is where I rebuilt my former home. This house……I built this house according to his old lifestyle.”
Wu Xingyun sighed. It was probably all a coincidence. People who looked the same might have similar habits.
""Without thinking, Wu Xingyun reached for the upper bed’s pillow.
He had a routine from being a soldier for many years.
At first, when Wen Nuo had still been Wu Xingyun’s Company Commander, Wen Nuo had slept on the bunk underneath Wu Xingyun’s. Leaving Wu Xingyun to be woken up by Wen Nuo’s snoring every night, until Wu Xingyun thought of putting a clock under his pillow. He’d listen to the tick-tock of the hands, drowning out the disturbance from below.
If it was all a fluke, surely there’d be no alarm clock under the pillow, right?
That was what Wu Xingyun was thinking, as he went to check.
Yet before his hands could touch, Mozun caught his arm.
Clearly displeased, Mozun growled: “Wu Xingyun, don’t move anything here!”
Wu Xingyun pulled his arm back, saying: “I wasn’t moving anything, I just……”
Mozun stepped closer to Wu Xingyun, repressed rage in his eyes: “I don’t allow anyone to touch his things! I’ve tolerated you enough. Know that he is the most important person in my heart, more important than all my family, parents, friends, you’d better be clear on this!”
“Oh.” Wu Xingyun didn’t dare say anything else.
Pushing Wu Xingyun out, Mozun shut the door with a loud bang.
Mozun locked himself in the room with his ghost, keeping Wu Xingyun outside.
At the moment the door had closed though, Wu Xingyun had raised his head, seeing that picture on the wall one more time.
The solider, like himself, beaming cheerfully.
Wu Xingyun waited silently in the living room, hearing Mozun’s sobs drifting out, like a wounded animal’s whimpers.
He knew that Mozun was weeping in that room, lamenting the painful loss of his beloved.
Sitting there calmly, Wu Xingyun did regret opening that door, making Mozun remember long past things.
It was only the first day of his marriage, and his husband was in deep mourning for his old love. A bit of a failure on his part, thought Wu Xingyun.
Time passed, the sun sinking into twilight, pooling in through the windows, briefly chasing away shadows.
The closed bedroom door suddenly opened, and Mozun collectedly came out of the room.
His expression coolly distant, he walked over to Wu Xingyun and said: “I won’t come here again, time to go back!”
It being obvious that Mozun was in a foul mood, Wu Xingyun didn’t ask much. He was more worried that Mozun would get too sad and die of self-induced heartache, causing the peace between both sides to fall through. So Wu Xingyun wisely chose not to chatter or make inquiries.
After the two men had climbed down the outside stairs, Mozun lifted a hand holding a lighter.
With a crackling sound, the lighter ignited, and Mozun threw it into the dead leaves around the small building.
The dried leaves soon flared up, spreading their flames, engulfing the building in fiery waves.
Eventually, the past was reduced to coals and ashes, burning away Mozun’s memories.
Driving away, Wu Xingyun looked in the rearview mirror, the fire still licking away in the distance, and thought of everything stored in that room.
Photos, desks, papers, pens, tidy bedding, full-length mirror, and an unconfirmed alarm clock.
“Why burn it all? It’s a pity,” Wu Xingyun said.
Mozun’s tone was customarily languid: “Yesterday, when I thought I was dying, I thought a lot. At the last, I even felt relieved. But come to find out, I’m still alive, and I think I can’t live in the past forever. Now, I want to forget and start over.”
Wu Xingyun didn’t reply. He knew that Mozun’s words of ‘forget the past’ couldn’t be done.
Everyone’s present was made up of their past, and no one could ever really, truly forget, because that would mean they were no longer themselves.
DPM Chapter 23-In The Past Part 3
Translated by Snowfall77
Mozun bowed three times to the parents in the photo, and then stood up.
Wu Xingyun followed Mozun’s actions, saying nothing, simply deeply feeling the impermanence of life.
Who could have guessed that the sunshiny boy of the photo would later become a grim, killing-machine demon?
Quieting observing Wu Xingyun, Mozun waited until Wu Xingyun got back up, and turned to the door: “Come on, let’s go back. I won’t come to this place again.”
Unable to repress his curiosity, Wu Xingyun eyed the last bedroom. He’d seen the study, and now this room with the picture.
So what was behind the remaining closed door?
Wu Xingyun stopped in front of the shut room. Mozun, glancing back, said in an indifferent tone: “It’s him inside……You won’t want to see it, I’ll……I won’t come again, there’s no need to see.”
His heart filled with infinite curiosity, Wu Xingyun knew the ‘him’ Mozun referred to was his dead lover, who’s appearance was like Wu Xingyun’s and who even smelled the same.
What the hell was that man like?
Wu Xingyun didn’t move, only gave Mozun an inquiring look.
Mozun stayed in place for a moment, finally nodding gently.
The door wasn’t locked, the inside unusually clean and tidy.
Walls covered with photographs, an ordinary desk, a bunk bed with mattresses, pale gray quilts neatly folded, with a leather belt atop them, stacked like chunks of tofu.
Wu Xingyun slowly walked in, sunlight streaming in through the window, as the photos caught his eye.
Some were large, some were small. One photograph showed a plain man in an olive-colored military uniform, smiling brightly.
Then catching his reflection in a standing mirror, Wu Xingyun saw a carbon copy of the man in the picture.
He seemed to see hundreds of himself, all smiling at himself. A strange feeling rose in his chest, and he sat at the desk, easily opening a drawer.
Inside was a stack of paper, a black pen pressed against it.
Weird, it was all weird. The room, the furnishings might be slightly different, yet everything was arranged exactly as Wu Xingyun would’ve done.
Down to the second drawer on the left side of the desk, where would be paper and pen, pen placed just so. All of it was the same.
Wu Xingyun got up carefully, stroking the humble desk. Mozun was in the doorway, gazing at the photos with soft, watery eyes.
“Here……Your former lover, did he live here?”
Nodding, Mozun answered with a hoarse voice: “No……This is where I rebuilt my former home. This house……I built this house according to his old lifestyle.”
Wu Xingyun sighed. It was probably all a coincidence. People who looked the same might have similar habits.
""Without thinking, Wu Xingyun reached for the upper bed’s pillow.
He had a routine from being a soldier for many years.
At first, when Wen Nuo had still been Wu Xingyun’s Company Commander, Wen Nuo had slept on the bunk underneath Wu Xingyun’s. Leaving Wu Xingyun to be woken up by Wen Nuo’s snoring every night, until Wu Xingyun thought of putting a clock under his pillow. He’d listen to the tick-tock of the hands, drowning out the disturbance from below.
If it was all a fluke, surely there’d be no alarm clock under the pillow, right?
That was what Wu Xingyun was thinking, as he went to check.
Yet before his hands could touch, Mozun caught his arm.
Clearly displeased, Mozun growled: “Wu Xingyun, don’t move anything here!”
Wu Xingyun pulled his arm back, saying: “I wasn’t moving anything, I just……”
Mozun stepped closer to Wu Xingyun, repressed rage in his eyes: “I don’t allow anyone to touch his things! I’ve tolerated you enough. Know that he is the most important person in my heart, more important than all my family, parents, friends, you’d better be clear on this!”
“Oh.” Wu Xingyun didn’t dare say anything else.
Pushing Wu Xingyun out, Mozun shut the door with a loud bang.
Mozun locked himself in the room with his ghost, keeping Wu Xingyun outside.
At the moment the door had closed though, Wu Xingyun had raised his head, seeing that picture on the wall one more time.
The solider, like himself, beaming cheerfully.
Wu Xingyun waited silently in the living room, hearing Mozun’s sobs drifting out, like a wounded animal’s whimpers.
He knew that Mozun was weeping in that room, lamenting the painful loss of his beloved.
Sitting there calmly, Wu Xingyun did regret opening that door, making Mozun remember long past things.
It was only the first day of his marriage, and his husband was in deep mourning for his old love. A bit of a failure on his part, thought Wu Xingyun.
Time passed, the sun sinking into twilight, pooling in through the windows, briefly chasing away shadows.
The closed bedroom door suddenly opened, and Mozun collectedly came out of the room.
His expression coolly distant, he walked over to Wu Xingyun and said: “I won’t come here again, time to go back!”
It being obvious that Mozun was in a foul mood, Wu Xingyun didn’t ask much. He was more worried that Mozun would get too sad and die of self-induced heartache, causing the peace between both sides to fall through. So Wu Xingyun wisely chose not to chatter or make inquiries.
After the two men had climbed down the outside stairs, Mozun lifted a hand holding a lighter.
With a crackling sound, the lighter ignited, and Mozun threw it into the dead leaves around the small building.
The dried leaves soon flared up, spreading their flames, engulfing the building in fiery waves.
Eventually, the past was reduced to coals and ashes, burning away Mozun’s memories.
Driving away, Wu Xingyun looked in the rearview mirror, the fire still licking away in the distance, and thought of everything stored in that room.
Photos, desks, papers, pens, tidy bedding, full-length mirror, and an unconfirmed alarm clock.
“Why burn it all? It’s a pity,” Wu Xingyun said.
Mozun’s tone was customarily languid: “Yesterday, when I thought I was dying, I thought a lot. At the last, I even felt relieved. But come to find out, I’m still alive, and I think I can’t live in the past forever. Now, I want to forget and start over.”
Wu Xingyun didn’t reply. He knew that Mozun’s words of ‘forget the past’ couldn’t be done.
Everyone’s present was made up of their past, and no one could ever really, truly forget, because that would mean they were no longer themselves.
