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ArabicHonkai Star Rail: My Death Feeds Their Madness — Chapter 30
Chapter 30: Why Must You Fail Me Too
When the spacecraft reached the preset coordinates and the heavy hatch hissed open, Ruan Mei stood at the precipice of the boarding ramp. The biting wind whipped past her, carrying a flurry of white. She overlooked the snowy expanse below, her usually placid gaze freezing in place.
Returning to her native soil after several Amber Eras, she had assumed her childhood home would be nothing but dust and buried memories. Ordinary architecture, left uninhabited and stripped of maintenance, simply could not withstand the cruel erosion of time.
Yet, there it stood.
It rested quietly amidst the howling wind and driving snow, its silhouette perfectly discernible from her high vantage point. Not far from the main estate, a modest Bamboo House had been erected. After cross-referencing the latitude and longitude etched into her delivery logs, Ruan Mei confirmed that this Bamboo House was Kagashi’s current residence.
He didn’t move into her home… Hmm?
Through the fluttering curtain of snow, her sharp eyes locked onto a moving figure in the distant courtyard. Six hundred years had passed since they last saw each other. From this altitude, the person was merely a dark speck against the white earth. But she recognized him instantly. Her student. Kagashi.
The spacecraft began its steady, silent descent.
As the altitude dropped, the details of the landscape sharpened. She noticed the mountain path extending from the frozen banks of the Duyue River all the way to her front door. It was remarkably clear, standing out starkly despite the heavy accumulation of ice and snow. Along the winding route, the thick branches of the ancient, towering trees bore precise, deliberate traces of pruning.
Was it pruned by A’Mu?
The ship finally touched down in the open clearing just a short distance from the estate. As her boots stepped onto the soil of her homeland once again, a faint ripple disturbed the flawless, indifferent mask she always wore. Unknowingly, several Amber Eras had slipped through her fingers just like that. Unfortunately, she still hadn’t achieved the grand design she set out for back then—to resurrect the family who loved her, and the family she loved, allowing them to ‘return’.
Ruan Mei halted before the main gates.
“An energy lock?”
She sensed a specialized barrier enveloping the entire perimeter, currently humming in a sealed state. She didn’t even need to analyze the frequency to know it was her student’s handiwork.
Stepping over the threshold, she took in the familiar layout of the courtyard. The memories that had been blurred and buried by the relentless march of time suddenly snapped into sharp focus. From the backyard, the rhythmic, sweeping sound of a broom against snow echoed through the quiet air.
Ruan Mei did not call out. She walked naturally through the winding sandalwood corridor, her eyes fixing upon that familiar back.
Before the syllable “Mu” could slip past her lips, a flicker of doubt crossed her exquisite features.
That was not her student, Kagashi.
The reason it evoked such a deep sense of familiarity was that, during her nearly six hundred years of isolation, a very similar figure had accompanied her day and night, managing her daily life in place of the student she had left behind.
At the exact moment Ruan Mei processed this, the mechanical puppet ceased its sweeping and turned around. Their eyes met, but the gaze looking back at her was entirely devoid of life.
“Hello, Madam Ruan Mei. Hundreds of years have passed, and you have finally returned.”
Ruan Mei detected no scanning lasers or optical sweeps from the puppet’s artificial eyes. Had it completed its identity verification the very second it laid eyes on her?
“I am a creation of Kagashi. I am a mechanical puppet powered by his Remembrance, acting in accordance with his meta-instructions.”
Ruan Mei felt no surprise. She had never taught Kagashi the intricacies of mechanical puppetry, but he had studied her original design blueprints back in the day. It was hardly strange that a scholar of his caliber could replicate the technology. Having an automated assistant by one’s side would save vast amounts of unnecessary time.
“Where is A’Mu?”
Just like Yu Qingtu all those years ago, Ruan Mei remained entirely oblivious to the truth hanging in the air. She asked for her student’s whereabouts with a perfectly calm expression, never once imagining that the puppet’s next string of words would instantly shatter the icy indifference she had maintained for centuries.
“Madam Ruan Mei, Kagashi has passed away. It will soon be exactly four hundred and eighty-nine years.”
What did it just say?
Ruan Mei stood frozen in the snow-dusted courtyard. A foreign, suffocating emotion she had never experienced before began to well up in her eyes, stinging fiercely.
It said… A’Mu is dead?
…Impossible!
Passed away for nearly four hundred and eighty-nine years… Four hundred and eighty-nine… As a terrifying calculation formed in her mind, Ruan Mei’s flawless composure completely collapsed.
Kagashi was sixty-four years old when he completed his apprenticeship. She had personally measured his biological limits back then; his natural lifespan would allow him to live to one hundred and seventy-five. The day his biological clock ran out would be exactly one hundred and eleven years after they parted ways. Add the number four hundred and eighty-nine… Six hundred.
In other words, he hadn’t used a single method to extend his life!
“Why… why must you fail me too…” Ruan Mei murmured softly, a dark, heavy shadow casting over her beautiful face. “I told you we would meet again after the research ended. Why didn’t you listen…?”
Her brilliant mind unconsciously scrambled for a logical explanation, an excuse to justify Kagashi’s absence. Maybe… it was an accident? Her chest tightened painfully, clinging to one final, desperate glimmer of hope.
“A’Mu died in an accident, right? Tell me, who did it?” Ruan Mei stared fixedly at the puppet, her voice trembling with a dangerous, quiet intensity.
The automaton was not equipped with an emotion simulation module. When faced with Ruan Mei’s desperate interrogation, it responded in a flat, synthetic tone.
“Kagashi did not die in an accident. He passed away naturally when his biological lifespan reached its absolute limit. Based on my emotional readings at the time, the conclusion is: he left peacefully and calmly.”
Ruan Mei instinctively stumbled backward, her usually graceful steps faltering as she nearly lost her balance.
At that moment, the puppet stepped forward, executing a sequence of movements almost identical to its encounter with Yu Qingtu years prior. It unlatched its chest cavity, reached into the folded spatial pocket within, and extracted a sleek preservation box.
“This is the only item Kagashi left for you before his vital signs ceased. Unfortunately, its structural shelf life is only one hundred and fifty years.”
Ruan Mei’s hollow gaze dropped to the opened container.
Resting inside was a single plate of familiar, delicate pastries. Visually, they showed absolutely no signs of decay. She accepted the box with trembling fingers, picking up a single piece and bringing it close to her face. The unique, crisp fragrance of plum blossoms filled her senses, as rich and fresh as the day they were baked.
But right now, she had no heart to taste them, let alone analyze their composition.
“What else did A’Mu say…?”
“He said nothing.”
Hearing this absolute denial, Ruan Mei instinctively bit down on her lower lip. A deep look of disappointment flashed across her face, an expression so raw she didn’t even realize she was making it.
She wanted to demand why he hadn’t even left a single word for his teacher before abandoning her in this universe. But then the memory struck her like a physical blow. She was the one who had commanded A’Mu never to disturb her again. After his apprenticeship ended, aside from the jars of Plum Blossom Wine delivered every single year, he had never written her a single letter. The remarks column on every shipping manifest had always been blank.
From what angle could she possibly criticize A’Mu?
…Wait.
Her eyes widened. That’s right, the Plum Blossom Wine!
Ruan Mei suddenly remembered that the latest batch of Plum Blossom Wine had arrived right on schedule this very year, its flavor identical to the centuries past. If A’Mu had been dead for nearly five centuries, where were these wines coming from?
Several logical deductions rapidly surfaced in her mind. The first, naturally, was that Kagashi wasn’t actually dead. But the second truth, the one she dared not think too deeply about, was tied directly to the mechanical entity standing in front of her.
“Tell me. What are the meta-instructions A’Mu programmed into your core?”
The puppet’s optical sensors glowed faintly as it recited:
“Instruction One: Periodically cultivate the plum grove, harvest the plum blossoms, brew wine according to the preset algorithmic program, and finally dispatch a three-year supply of the finished product to your designated coordinates.”
“Instruction Two: Periodically maintain your home and the Bamboo House, executing daily cleaning protocols.”
“Instruction Three: Periodically prune the vegetation on both sides of the mountain path, starting from the banks of the Duyue River and leading directly to your front door.”
“Instruction Four: Aside from the specified schedules above, I am to remain stationed in front of your home and activate sentry mode, preventing any situation that might cause damage to the residence.”
Listening to the emotionless, synthetic voice list off the commands one by one, Ruan Mei’s chest felt as though it were being crushed under a complex, agonizing weight. The possibility she was most terrified to believe had, in the end, been the absolute truth.
“Why did A’Mu do this?”
“No relevant Remembrance located in the database. Unable to answer.”