Comments

I’ll also add here the comments from previous chapters

58

Actually, this chapter gave me more of a feeling of peeking into the old merman’s world. These hobbies and refinements belong to Yu Chen himself, his personal charm stripped of his identity as a ruler. They also remind people of him during his princely days. Some related items have appeared before, like the muzzle corresponding to Xiao Yi’s ambition and perseverance, the milk truck corresponding to Xiao Yi’s compassion and desire for control. But the garden feels like Yu Chen’s inner world. He collects seeds, nurtures their growth with his own devotion, observes them, uses them. Like the plants, he grew from a seed into a towering tree, but the flourishing bloom and maturity belong to the plants, not to the merman who cultivates among them. He is the Little Prince of planet B612. He is also the rose within the prince’s glass dome. Finally, he sees the bird he has set his heart on, and can’t wait to open the glass dome, inviting him to fly into this abundant garden and build a nest. Watching this, I even want to become a leek in the garden, standing in the soil doing nothing, just watching him spend time in the garden, walking back and forth, rubber boots stepping through puddles from watering the soil, grabbing my newly grown leaves to cut [very self-aware]

59
I’m crying my eyes out, the old merman also shed tears for the little bird in his past life.
I’ve been sobbing violently over the updates these past two days!! Thankfully the little bird didn’t commit suicide. Until the very last moment of his life, he was like sparks hidden in ashes, struggling and dancing. That comforts me a little. Feeling, ah, good, he’s still so strong. He doesn’t need my sympathy or sorrow, only the glory befitting a hero.
Yesterday I carefully reviewed the previous memories and the little bird’s memories, and thought the merman’s heart only held things like sadness and despondency, but! He shed tears for him! One tear, a tear called indifference. The merman lied.
The shining pearl that hadn’t appeared since adulthood rolled down his cheek before its owner even noticed, accompanying the bird as it fell into the lightless underground.
Yesterday’s wild rose was also for the little bird, right? So fitting for him, covered in thorns yet possessing a fragrance different from numbness.
Another day of thinking the little bird is super cool! Really like the little bird, tenacious as grass, fervent as fire, a delicate yet wild little heroic fuzzball!
Very curious how the merman transformed from the cold, labeling guy of his past life into daddy. Obviously, he can’t clearly remember his past life, so why is he so gentle with the little bird in this life?

60
1: Re-reading the earlier parts, I realize everything was foreshadowed. Traces of the past life leave deep imprints on the present. Whether it’s the milk truck, the veal, or the dark night hen’s tomatoes, because of the regrets of the past life, this do-over feels all the more precious.
I usually read without much thought, rarely reread a story, but going back I discovered so many missed details, so much emotion. Even parts I didn’t understand smoothly before found reasonable explanations in the context. Maybe this is one reason for this story’s readership issues; sometimes readers just want entertainment. The author intricately wove a subtle story that requires a certain patience to fully read and understand. For some, it might seem too intricate and lengthy, unlike certain “fast-paced” stories that offer direct, exhilarating pleasure, suiting my “fast-food stomach.” Not comparing which is better, just saying, thank you to the author for sharing such a story with us. I will remember the dandelion bird, the blue-tailed merman, the tall statue in a corner providing shelter from wind and rain, the pink dusk, the empire’s harsh winter, the flower garden atop the tower.
Also, combining the guesses from sisters in the comments about the past life’s cause of death, I boldly guess that Xiao Yi’s seventh pearl from his past life was picked up by Stump Bird. That’s why Bai Ling reacts so strongly to the pearl snatching. If I’m wrong, pretend I didn’t say anything.

2: Ahhh what to do what to do, from the pigeon coop to the various strategies, it’s all so Soviet, even the fate of those aging soldiers is the same… The helplessness at the moment of selling one’s own medal… Can’t stop crying 55555
Love the author so much, it hits me right in the feels.

61
1: Why must you kill me with Stump Bird? The medal is a soldier’s glory, the sparkling gold, also Stump Bird’s last vestige of dignity and pure land. Ashamed of his own ugliness, unable even to meet as a friend and give a gift openly and generously, only able to “give” in this roundabout way that erases dignity, he really, he was so willing…
Mr. D and Stump Bird, a mistaken gift of fate, the scent of jasmine amidst mildew. This time, no veal, no warm nest, only a pot of wild roses and a medal inlaid with gold, destined to be only bitter, piercing thorns, and the empty eight-credits jasmine bottle.

2: Let me share a fun fact: The Soviets once issued the “Hero of Socialist Labour,” made of pure gold, personally awarded by the grand leader, to commend soldiers with significant contributions to the nation. However, after the Soviet Union collapsed, the only value of these medals was melting down the gold on them for sale.

3: I’m freaking out, I’m freaking out, get married already! This is killing me!
One involuntary hot tear from the little bird, and I cried too, awww so heartbroken for our little fuzzball.
Revealing his long-buried vulnerability to him, offering hisonly treasure. Silently surrendering to him, offering hislast shred of dignity.
I inexplicably felt it too. If such a confession wasn’t treasured and was casually discarded, it would be heartbreaking. Heartbreaking to the point where for a moment you don’t even know what sadness is, only know to sit there like wood. But if it is treasured, it would be so blissful! The ugliest, most fragile thing being gently embraced, letting me know that hearts can find lodging in another, letting me know that we are tightly embracing at every moment, letting me know that the Tower of Babel in this world hasn’t yet collapsed, that people can still merge into one. The little bird is being treasured now!
Speaking of which, the little bird reminds me of a nine-year-old black-and-white cat I saw recently who was adopted after years on the streets. The frailty and illness, sensitivity, certain stubborn habits brought on by early homelessness, but also showing kindness in her own unique way, worrying you’ll eat slowly and get your food stolen, earnestly keeping watch for you. The young lady owner gently accommodates her little quirks, gradually correcting her unhealthy habits, fulfilling a promise from college to give her a warm home.
Veteran and homeland, the poor little bird and gentle daddy, kswl. Author, go faster, the kid is anxious, the kid’s tears are swirling crazily, I’m going to kick up a fuss, I’m going to start kicking up a fuss.

4:Wuwuwu, late at night, I cried my tears out! It’s all your fault! Wuwuwuwu.
Big blue tail, quickly pick up the dirty little bird from the mud, clean him up properly, let him live in the softest place in your heart.
There’s truly an indescribable feeling. My poor, broken self, arriving with the most perfect appearance I could muster, yet feeling intimidated before flawless you, becoming part of the filthy mud. My destitute being, examining myself, searching my whole being, offering you the most precious wealth I possess, yet pretending to worry you might find it unworthy of your touch. Trembling, with the most humble posture, the most unsightly words,
exchanging things, only to prevent flawless you from seeing such an ugly, broken me, afraid that one glance would forever stain you with blemishes.
Wuwuwuwu X﹏X

5:I’m really going to cry myself to death. Everything in the past life is like a wounded bone on a gloomy, rainy day, always aching with a fine, persistent pain, unending. Fate entangled the two of them, yet always missed the mark. What if he had met Mr. D at his best age, in his twenties? What then? Thankfully, they met early in this life, which is comforting. All the shortcomings will be made up for in this life.