Chà Chà Novel

The sharp smell of disinfectant filled the hospital room. Wen Shilan turned his cool gaze toward the door. A young man with delicate features stood there, smiling in delight. The dimples that appeared and disappeared in his cheeks made him look instantly likable.

Tang Wan set down the nutrient drink in his hand, walked to the bedside, and took Wen Shilan’s hand. Wen Shilan had not thought his own hand was cold, but the warmth of Tang Wan’s touch felt unexpectedly pleasant.

His eyes narrowed slightly. Then his gaze dropped to their joined hands.

“How dare you.”

Wen Shilan’s expression turned sharp. For all the softness of his features, he suddenly radiated such authority that Tang Wan’s heart gave a jolt. He released Wen Shilan at once.

Taking a step back, Tang Wan bowed. “I overstepped, General. Please punish me.”

He said it, but he was certain Wen Shilan would not. Of all Wen Shilan’s subordinates, Tang Wan alone was an exception.

Wen Shilan was gentle with everyone, though he kept his distance. With Tang Wan, it had always felt different.

This was hardly their first physical contact. Tang Wan was both his subordinate and one of his admirers. Wen Shilan had many people pursuing him, but Tang Wan was different: Wen Shilan ate the food he made. When Tang Wan occasionally pushed his luck and clung to him for a hug, Wen Shilan never scolded him. Before this battle, Tang Wan had almost believed Wen Shilan was ready to be with him.

This was the first time Wen Shilan had rebuked him so sternly, even if he had said only two words.

Hurt, Tang Wan straightened and looked at him, pressing his lips together with a hint of pride.

Wen Shilan raised the hand Tang Wan had touched. Without so much as a glance at him, he pulled a disinfectant wipe from beside the bed and carefully cleaned his hand. Palm, back, between each finger—he wiped every part of it thoroughly, though it had not been dirty.

Tang Wan’s eyes widened. Hurt and disbelief filled them.

“General!”

His voice rose sharply, grating on the ears.

Only when Wen Shilan was satisfied did he toss the wipe into the bin. He looked up at Tang Wan. His usually warm, expressive eyes held no emotion at all, as though he were looking at an inanimate object.

“What is the penalty for a subordinate who oversteps his rank?”

Oversteps his rank…

The Federation enforced a strict hierarchy, but Tang Wan had always assumed those rules applied to other people. He thought he was special to Wen Shilan.

Surely Wen Shilan could not bear to punish him. The sudden change in his manner left Tang Wan shaken. He could only answer the question.

“Twenty lashes.”

Wen Shilan feigned surprise. “Twenty lashes?”

It sounded so genuine that Tang Wan nearly believed he hadn’t known the penalty.

But that was impossible. Wen Shilan knew every Federation rule and punishment by heart. He was its general, the interstellar God of War. How could he not know?

“General, I—”

“Shh.”

Wen Shilan put a finger to his lips. A faint smile touched his mouth, and his voice grew almost casual.

Just as Tang Wan began to think it had been a joke, Wen Shilan spoke again.

“You overstepped, Tang Wan. Go to the disciplinary chamber and receive your punishment.”

Tang Wan searched his face for the slightest sign that he was joking. There was none. Wen Shilan had already turned away to look at the blue sky beyond the window, no longer sparing him a glance.

Tang Wan stood rigid for several seconds. At last, he nodded.

“Yes, General.”

Tang Wan was about to leave when three senior Federation officials came through the open door.

They had just left a meeting room in the hospital, and all three wore grave expressions.

Tang Wan lowered his head. “Commissioners.”

Only then did Wen Shilan seem to notice them. He turned, his face as still as undisturbed water.

“Go on, Tang Wan.”

Tang Wan’s expression darkened further. He turned and left in a huff, pulling the door shut with a dull thud.

Wen Shilan acted as though he hadn’t heard it. “I apologize for the scene, Commissioners.”

The commissioners governed the Federation, though they were not its most powerful people. They oversaw the allocation of everything outside combat. In this interstellar society, mental power determined a person’s standing, so Wen Shilan was under no obligation to bow to them.

He was the strongest person in the Federation. Even its leaders greeted him with smiles. Despite that, Wen Shilan had always treated the commissioners with respect. He had never let his power make him arrogant.

And in the end, not one of them—not a single person—remembered his kindness or what he had given up for them.

The three officials noticed nothing different about him. They merely exchanged looks, each trying to make someone else speak first.

Wen Shilan watched them pass the responsibility back and forth. When no one said anything, he sat up, rested his chin on one hand, and regarded them lazily.

At last, they pushed a plump commissioner forward. Looking embarrassed, he adjusted the glasses perched on his fleshy face and asked with concern, “Shilan, are you still in pain anywhere?”

Wen Shilan nodded. Remembering how he had felt when he first arrived in this body, he sounded faintly aggrieved.

“Yes. It hurts terribly. Everything hurts.”

Mental power was both a measure of fighting strength and a reflection of physical health. Someone with enough of it could heal a wound almost instantly. Wen Shilan had once possessed that kind of power.

Nearly all his injuries—even wounds deep enough to expose bone—would disappear within a day. This time, however, he had been unconscious for three days, and every cut and wound remained. Even the smallest scratch on his wrist had not healed.

At his words, the room fell silent. All three officials looked as though someone had seized them by the throat.

Wen Shilan seemed to find their reaction amusing. His smile widened, his bright eyes curving like crescents. He spoke almost as if he were reassuring them.

“I know what you’re going to say. My mental power is gone, isn’t it?”

Not damaged. Gone.

Even if a person lost ninety percent of their mental power, they still had a chance to regain their former strength with time. But once it vanished entirely, there was nothing left to recover.

In the original course of events, Wen Shilan had exhausted his mental power to suppress the insectoid queen. He had believed he still had a trace remaining, but he had miscalculated. That final trace had been consumed repairing the damage to his internal organs.

His mental power would never return.

The smile stayed on Wen Shilan’s face, as though he hardly cared. The Federation officials, on the other hand, were stunned.

Commissioner Liu—the plump man who had spoken—rested a hand on his belly, which made him look seven or eight months pregnant. His voice trembled.

“You… you know?”

The original Wen Shilan hadn’t known. Yan Shiqing did. Wen Shilan nodded, though his smile faded. He lowered his head, his brows drawing together as his voice grew quiet.

“How could I not know what’s happening to my own body? Besides…”

He removed the necklace from around his neck. Its pendant held a red gem no larger than a fingernail. The stone had lost all its luster. It looked dull and gray, as though buried beneath a thick layer of dust that let no light through.

“I can no longer summon my divine stone.”

Anyone with mental power could form a divine stone. The stronger their power, the brighter the stone shone. It could merge with its owner’s body, be summoned at will, and hold all their mental power.

Wen Shilan’s stone now held no trace of that power. It was nothing more than a useless rock. It could no longer merge with his body; all he could do was wear it around his neck like a rather plain ornament.

Behind Commissioner Liu stood a man with a well-proportioned build and unremarkable looks. Pity flashed through his eyes at the sight of Wen Shilan. Wen Shilan was the interstellar God of War and the pride of the entire Federation. The commissioner stepped forward and gave his shoulder a comforting pat.

For the first time, through the loose hospital gown, he noticed how slender Wen Shilan really was.

“Shilan, even without your mental power, you’re still a Federation general. People across the stars will be grateful for everything you’ve done for them.”

Such lovely words. Almost lovely enough to believe.

But only someone as trusting as the original Wen Shilan would believe them. Before long, these people would forget what they had said and everything Wen Shilan had done. All they would remember was that a Federation general had become a powerless man.

Their attitude had already begun to change. Otherwise, why would the commissioner dare pat him on the shoulder?

In the past, none of them would have offered Wen Shilan the sort of reassuring gesture reserved for a junior or a low-ranking soldier.

Wen Shilan closed his fingers around the divine stone and looked up at the commissioner, who seemed moved by his own words. Then Wen Shilan smiled again.

The original Wen Shilan had rarely smiled. At his rank, every word and gesture had to be measured. A God of War was not supposed to show personal feelings. He had to appear stern to command respect.

Today, though, Wen Shilan seemed unusually fond of smiling.

“Thank you, Commissioner. But I have no mental power left. I’d like to leave Federation service and focus on my recovery.”

The third official, who had been silent until now, stepped forward in alarm. “Shilan, you’re a Federation general. How can you leave?”

They all looked so deeply concerned that Wen Shilan found them both ridiculous and tiresome. He yawned and answered lazily.

“A general with no mental power? Don’t be absurd. The last thing I can do for the people of these stars is give up my post, so someone more capable can become their new God of War.”

Leave while he was still revered, and everyone would remember the good he had done.

The original Wen Shilan’s greatest mistake had been his soft heart and his readiness to trust others. He had abandoned the idea of leaving the Federation because he believed their empty promises.

The commissioners exchanged looks, still hoping to persuade him, but Wen Shilan waved a hand.

“Thank you for your concern. I’ve made up my mind. My deputy, Tang Wan, has both the mental power and the combat experience to serve as a senior general. Rather than waste time on someone powerless like me, you should send him to the trial furnace as soon as possible.”

Every rise in Federation military rank required passing a different trial furnace. Tang Wan did have talent. He had worked his way up to deputy at a young age; being favored by fate alone could not have taken him that far.

If the original Wen Shilan had not been a few years older, Tang Wan might well have matched him at the same stage of life. Tang Wan was still young, though. He lagged behind in experience and in his control of mental power.

That small gap was enough.

In the original course of events, Wen Shilan had remained behind the scenes after losing his mental power, while Tang Wan took command at the front. With Wen Shilan teaching him everything he knew and Tang Wan gaining experience leading soldiers on his own, Tang Wan had improved rapidly.

When two people started out close in ability, but one kept rising while the other declined, the difference soon became obvious.

Before long, Wen Shilan was no longer needed at all. He became invisible within the Federation. Reports stopped coming to him and went straight to Tang Wan instead. No one thought it strange. To them, it was only natural.

They forgot that Tang Wan would never have grown so quickly without Wen Shilan’s wholehearted guidance. Tang Wan himself believed he owed it all to his own hard work.

This time would be different. With the abilities Tang Wan had now, could he handle everything so smoothly without Wen Shilan teaching him? Could he still become the celebrated hero everyone claimed had surpassed Wen Shilan?

Yan Shiqing was truly looking forward to finding out.

In the original timeline, Wen Shilan had been abducted while Tang Wan was undertaking the trial furnace. As Wen Shilan suffered torment so terrible he wished he were dead, everyone else was cheering Tang Wan’s success and his appointment as the Federation’s new senior general.

This time, Yan Shiqing would let Tang Wan enjoy being placed on a pedestal a little sooner…

The higher he climbed, the harder he would fall.

The commissioners looked at one another. At last, Commissioner Liu sighed.

“If your mind is made up, we won’t try to change it. But Shilan, you’ll always be one of us. You’ll always be Silan’s God of War.”

Wen Shilan closed his eyes, looking tired. They thought little of it, exchanged a few more pleasantries, and left.

None of them noticed Tang Wan at the turn in the corridor outside. He had been there the whole time, listening.

With the mental power Wen Shilan once possessed, he would never have failed to sense him…

Lost his mental power…

Wen Shilan had lost his mental power…

Tang Wan understood every word separately. Together, they made no sense.

Wen Shilan was the interstellar God of War. How could all his mental power be gone?

And Wen Shilan wanted him to become a senior general?

Only moments ago, he had rebuked Tang Wan so harshly. Yet before the commissioners, he had spared no effort in recommending Tang Wan to take his place.

How could Tang Wan possibly become a senior general?

It was too much to take in. His strength seemed to leave him, and he slid down to the floor, his thoughts in chaos.

Perhaps he was dreaming…

He had to be dreaming…