Rong Mian steadied his emotions with the fastest possible speed. Looking at the three people in the room, standing at three points that together formed a triangle, it looked bizarre no matter how he viewed it, yet he couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly what was so strange about it.
Wenger lightly swept his gaze over him and Titmos, a weak smile on his face, before fixing his eyes on Titmos and smiling sweetly: “Brother, what were you and the High Priest doing?”
“I was performing my routine duties. His Majesty came to worship the gods and we happened to run into each other.”
Rong Mian suppressed the doubts in his heart, looking at Wenger’s uncomprehending gaze without a shred of panic, as though the person who had just been pressed against the edge of the offering table and driven to his wits’ end wasn’t him at all.
Titmos looked at Rong Mian and smiled imperceptibly at the corners of his lips: “The High Priest is right.”
He then took two steps forward, arriving in front of Wenger. Looking at the black puppy held in Wenger’s arms, the light in his eyes softened considerably: “Bailey.”
When he had previously left for the border wars, he had handed the dog over to Wenger to look after. He hadn’t expected that after returning a few months later, it would have completely changed its appearance, becoming chubby and extremely cute.
“Bailey misses brother every day while with me. Sometimes it even stares out the window at the distant scenery all by itself. No matter how I raise it here, I can never get it to be of one mind with me.”
As Wenger spoke, a faint disappointment lingered in the depths of his eyes.
Titmos took Bailey and patted Wenger’s head with elder brotherly affection, looking at him as he said: “I will thank you properly later.”
Hearing this, a bright flash crossed the depths of Wenger’s eyes, and he nodded obediently.
“Woof woof! Woof!”
Bailey suddenly started barking, gesturing wildly and excitedly toward Rong Mian’s direction.
The black puppy Bailey kept its round, glassy eyes fixed straight ahead, sending a wave of numbness straight down Rong Mian’s back. This damn dog, what is it looking at him for?
Seeing this, Titmos patted Bailey’s back and looked over at Rong Mian: “Bailey seems to want to go over to your place.”
Ten thousand strands of reluctance surged in Rong Mian’s heart. He certainly didn’t want to hold Titmos’s dog.
Yet Bailey stretched out its front paws, wishing it could immediately scramble onto him. Rong Mian scorned it inwardly; truly, dogs resemble their owners.
On the surface, he could only put on a fake smile, his feet feeling as though they were filled with lead as he walked over slowly. The corners of Wenger’s mouth stiffened for a split second, but he quickly recovered, looking at Rong Mian with a soft voice: “Bailey actually shares an affinity with the High Priest; how rare.”
“His Second Highness has taken care of it for a long time. If we speak of affinity, then naturally you are the one with an affinity for it. Perhaps it has never seen someone dressed like me before, which is why it was attracted.”
Rong Mian went up and patted Bailey’s head. Miraculously, Bailey stopped fussing and even put on a well-behaved, smiling expression, its eyes narrowing into slits. A look of astonishment flashed through Titmos’s eyes, and looking back at Rong Mian, the smile on his face deepened: “Bailey really likes the High Priest.”
Rong Mian scorned it in his heart: I don’t like it.
Watching from the side, Wenger clenched his hands tightly into fists. He knew that Titmos had come to the temple simply to find a good excuse to see him, bringing Bailey along alone. He never expected that Bailey would actually take a liking to Rong Mian. For all the time he had spent raising it, he had never seen it narrow its eyes into slits to curry favor with him; instead, he pampered it like a precious treasure every day, truly an ungrateful creature.
“Brother, Bailey seems hungry. I had better take it back to feed it first.” With that, Wenger stepped forward to take Bailey back.
Rong Mian desperately wanted this damn dog to be taken away immediately; he didn’t want to be tied to anything belonging to this man.
“Right, Brother, I prepared a gift for your ascension. You were too busy earlier so I didn’t get a chance to give it to you. Tonight…”
His words carried a rather eager tone. Titmos looked at him with satisfaction: “You take Bailey back to feed it first, and I’ll come to your place tonight.”
Having obtained the result he desired, Wenger smiled as he took Bailey back and bid farewell to the two of them with a smile.
Watching Wenger’s retreating figure, Rong Mian always felt that this Second Highness looked at him with rather strange expressions.
Recovering his senses, he found that Titmos was staring at him from somewhere, the smile in his eyes obvious. Rong Mian’s scalp tingled: “Your Majesty, this minister still has matters to attend to.”
“I never expected Bailey to take a fancy to you. The High Priest is truly loved by everyone who sees him.”
“Thank you for the praise, Your Majesty; this minister is unworthy of such praise.” Rong Mian bowed in feigned compliance.
Titmos looked at the branch in Rong Mian’s hand, noticing that the blush on his face had already faded by more than half, while his chest still retained the soft sensation from shortly before when he had pressed against him. He had teased him enough for today; if he continued any further, the person before him would probably blow his top.
He said aloud: “The High Priest, carry on with your work. This king will not disturb you.”
As Titmos left, Rong Mian couldn’t help cursing inside. He had loitered around here for half a day, ruining his ability to work normally, and yet had the nerve to say he wasn’t disturbing him, truly terrifying!
After Rong Mian finished sweeping and scattering the holy water, he placed the clay jar and other working tools aside. Seeing that the incense in the burner had burned down more than half, he replaced it with a fresh stick. Before leaving, he looked up at the giant divine statue ahead. The majestic and towering figure of the Great God Amun overlooked the grand hall, his gaze seeming to look straight down at Rong Mian, the corners of his mouth lifted as though about to speak to him.
For just a split second, Rong Mian thought he was seeing things. Looking at the deity’s face again, it appeared stern and carried not the slightest trace of a smile. Rong Mian frowned; it must have been a hallucination brought on by being pressed down by Titmos earlier.
As expected, as long as he was with this man, something was bound to go wrong.
Run, he had to run!
Nighttime. Inside the Temple of Priests.
A distant male voice suddenly echoed in Rong Mian’s mind, reverberating endlessly as if from within a valley: “Rong Mian. Rong Mian.”
Rong Mian felt as though he were being summoned, walking forward continuously through forests and across streams until he finally stood at the edge of a valley, hearing only that voice scattered from the vast sky: “Rong Mian. My descendant, summoning you back a millennium later, you shall fulfill your mission here.”
Perplexed, Rong Mian looked up at the empty sky and shouted loudly: “Who are you?”
“My name is Delba, your ancestor.”
Rong Mian wanted to call out again, but the voice suddenly vanished. No matter how he shouted, it was like yelling into empty air or hitting a soft wall with no echo at all.
“Wuwu.”
Startled awake, Rong Mian sat up instantly, clutching his throat and breathing heavily, his forehead covered in a fine layer of sweat. Looking around, the room was pitch black, with the moonlight suspended outside the window. A faint sliver of light could be glimpsed through the floor-to-ceiling window, as he was in his own room within the Temple of Priests.
It was already dark. Was he dreaming just now?
That dream had felt so real. He felt as though he had truly been conversing with a stranger.
That deep, resonant voice still lingered in his mind without fading. In his haste, Rong Mian could only remember the final sentence spoken: “My name is Delba, your ancestor.”
Who was Delba? His ancestor? Could it be that he had been summoned here consciously, rather than crossing over by accident?
Delba had said he would fulfill his mission? What was his mission?
All sleepiness gone, Rong Mian pulled back the blanket, got out of bed, and walked familiarly to a corner of the wall. He blew on the tallow to ignite a lamp, casting scattered points of firelight across the room.
The next day.
Bearing the previous night’s dream in mind, Rong Mian searched for all available materials concerning the first-generation high priest. Every generation of High Priests in the Temple of Priests carried the bloodline of the first-generation High Priest Delba, inheriting his will from generation to generation to govern the temple and bring blessings to all people. Yet last night’s dream had told him that he, too, was a descendant of Delba.
He was meant to come and complete his mission.
Rong Mian looked at himself. Could it be that amidst the unseen currents, there truly was a predestined fate, and he was Delba’s successor a millennium later, which was why he had been summoned back in advance? But what kind of mission was he supposed to complete?
A thick papyrus scroll before him emitted a faint yellow glow. Rong Mian flipped through it for a long time without finding the answer he wanted. He picked up a reed pen and forcefully slashed it toward the blank space on the final page. Inadvertently, the sharp tip pierced his fingertip, and bright red blood trickled down, scorching onto the blank page. Startled, Rong Mian stood up immediately, yet the page rapidly dried up, and the fallen bloodstain dried up just as quickly. Thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him, Rong Mian rubbed his eyes and looked again, finding it completely blank, with nothing there at all.
The surroundings suddenly fell still. After a moment, a line of small characters slowly appeared on the page. Miraculously, Rong Mian could read them. These were quite ancient texts, roughly meaning that every descendant of Delba carried a unique hidden door on their body, along with the poison of Osiris. Following the guidance of the text, the more Rong Mian read down, the more alarmed he felt.
By the time he finished reading it all, Rong Mian’s forehead was covered in a layer of fine sweat. The body he had transmigrated into was indeed extraordinary, as he could actually get pregnant and have children.
Because High Priest Delba had served the gods, he carried the congenital poison of Osiris, which was passed down through generations. To inherit Delba’s will meant that under the influence of the Osiris venom, every generation of High Priests would unavoidably give birth to a child, and this child would eventually succeed them as the next head of the temple.
Looking at the neat and powerful handwriting, Rong Mian felt his back turn cold, yet he also felt something was amiss. Since this generation of High Priests already had a designated candidate for succession, namely the original owner, why summon him here instead?
Where had the original owner gone? Didn’t he need to inherit Delba’s will? Why did Delba want to find him?
A string of questions made Rong Mian’s head ache. Rubbing his brow, he watched as the text on the final page slowly grew lighter and fainter until it returned to being completely blank as before.
Looking at the book in his hand, Rong Mian surmised that this book possessed special functions and could only be unlocked by the blood of each generation’s High Priest, so he decided to take it back to the Temple of Priests to study thoroughly.
As he walked, Rong Mian felt lightheaded and dizzy, as if his soul were leaving his body. He finally understood why he would periodically experience dizziness and unquenchable thirst, unable to resolve that terrifying sense of hunger no matter how much water he drank. It turned out that everything was predestined by fate. Thinking of how he had gone through heaven-shattering, earth-flipping bouts with Titmos over the past period, Rong Mian touched his lower abdomen with lingering fear, wondering whether everything was still normal inside right now.
At the thought of a man walking around in the later stages with a round, protruding belly for several months, Rong Mian’s legs turned to jelly. Delba’s text had told him that this was the secret of every generation of High Priests, unknown to outsiders, meaning that even if he became pregnant, he could not let others find out.
Had the previous head of the temple also given birth to children in secret?
Having absorbed so much information at once, Rong Mian chewed it all over on his way back, staggering as he returned to the Temple of Priests, closed the door, and stared blankly at the book in his arms.
The hidden door, that must be the small red dot at the back of his neck.
How truly bizarre. No wonder every time his body underwent changes, that spot became so sensitive. When Titmos’s hand poked into it, that feeling made Rong Mian shrink back slightly, as though that touch had happened only yesterday.