Only I Walk Alone

Xing Chen suddenly stopped making animations, disbanded his studio, and began to live a reclusive life.

Many people said he was affected by the passing of the literary master. When they visited him, they found Xing Chen working alone on his creations.

The news that the master animator Xing Chen was working solo spread, and many breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he hadn’t put down his pencil.

But five years passed without any news from the master. Now 45 years old, Xing Chen’s hair and beard had turned grey, but he seemed unaware of his aging, still striving in his creative efforts.

Visitors often heard him saying, “Soon, Master, my animation will be completed.”

Everyone awaited the master’s work, but after three more years without news, people gradually began to forget about Xing Chen. Occasionally, fake news of Master Xing Chen’s death surfaced online for attention.

In the 50th year, Xing Chen turned 50, stepping onto death’s threshold, as few werewolves lived past this age. Realizing his time was running short, he murmured, “Have I really grown old?”

Master Xing Chen made a public appearance after ten years. His fans, still adoring him, awaited his work. But this time, Xing Chen wasn’t announcing a new release but seeking help from society.

“My time is limited. Please help me; this will be my last work!”

The werewolf nation mobilized to assist Master Xing Chen at his request, with the highest leaders and the archbishop, who grew up on his works, offering their help without hesitation.

It was a national effort to help Master Xing Chen create his final animation, with Xiao Chao also playing a role.

Countless werewolves who admired Xing Chen’s animations came together, with many younger animators joining the effort. They sought no compensation, halting their own projects to assist the master.

But they couldn’t grasp Master Xing Chen’s vision, which soared through endless space, beyond his own ability to depict with a brush, let alone for the younger generation.

Even with the nation’s effort, they couldn’t create that world, a true world reflecting the Star Worm’s 1,300-year life, from birth to death.

Incomprehension and inability to express the grandeur plagued Xing Chen, who often scratched his head in frustration, unable to convey the magnificent world in his mind.

“Did I fail? Should I give up?” he pondered.

Then, he remembered Wu Ge’s words: “Xing Chen, is your animation complete?”

Clutching his teeth, Xing Chen wished he could tell Wu Ge, “It’s done, look, Master, it’s done!”

He faced familiar despair, thinking national support might complete his project, but even that couldn’t express the world within him.

Then, a literary genius emerged, a 15-year-old novelist whose sci-fi works captivated readers with a portrayal of loneliness that tore at the heart.

Seeing his work, Xing Chen felt as though he saw his master’s shadow.

“Is there reincarnation in this world? If not, how could two such similar souls exist?”

Not long after, Xing Chen, deeply troubled, received a visit from the genius young man, the handsome youth with wolf ears and tail. Compared to the fully-furred Xing Chen, who seemed like a primitive man, the youth’s brain was filled with divine wisdom.

The young man said, “Master, I’ve always admired you and have seen all your works. Your unparalleled imagination amazes me. So, I’d like to ask you to describe the world in your heart with words. Then, I can write it down and finally create an animation based on that text. What do you think?”

The youth’s tone carried a hint of arrogance, but Xing Chen didn’t mind, given the young man’s early success and the proposal opening new perspectives.

Recalling Wu Ge’s teachings that words can indeed be less direct in conveying the author’s world but can inspire readers’ imaginations to build their own worlds, Xing Chen understood. He said, “Come every day. I’ll gradually describe the world in my mind, but you must show me the drafts. If I find parts that don’t match, you must revise them!”

Xing Chen wanted to authentically create his world because it was his own!

The young man agreed, visiting the master’s home daily, a place not just anyone could enter since Xing Chen was now the most precious animation master in the werewolf nation.

At fifty-two, Xing Chen had crossed the threshold of death and was moving towards the abyss.

One day, the young man asked, “Master, with your contributions to society, you surely have the opportunity to ascend to heaven and gain eternal life. Would you want to?”

Xing Chen shook his head, “No, if I die, I’d like my works to be buried in the infinite starry sky. I came from there, and I want to return.”

The young man nodded, understanding quietly.

Without hearing him, Xing Chen continued describing his world.

Three years passed, and a sci-fi book titled “Star Worm” was born. Countless people rushed to buy it, but the young man declared all proceeds would fund the animation production, and he would personally oversee it.

With this sci-fi book, people’s thoughts drew closer to the master’s. Many animators set aside their work to start on this animation.

This time, the master expressed no complaints; the animation was a success under the young man’s strict supervision, insisting it be completed as the master wished.

The young man took the master’s place, as the master was bedridden but persisted until the world in his mind was animated.

He wanted to say “Master, my animation is complete!”.