RIIDMDR chapter 83

 

Progress was about the same as Nanxu had estimated. After just over two days, all the rice in the fields had been moved into the yard. The lounge chairs and bamboo tables had been moved aside to create a large stone slab for drying the rice.

You’an was supposed to leave the mountain a few days ago, but Tingchuan kept him for two more days to help with the rice harvest. Now that he had finished, he couldn’t stay in this nearly isolated mountain area any longer.

You’an will leave the mountain tomorrow. To thank him for his efforts at the inn, Nanxu made him some traditional pastries using leftover mooncake ingredients. Tingchuan was an employee, so it was fine for him to help. However, You’an was just a passing tourist. Even though they were uncle and nephew, they couldn’t be treated the same.

The pastries were steaming in the pot. Nanxu sat on the doorstep weaving bamboo baskets while waiting for time. Zhixing went to the herb garden outside the courtyard to check on his precious herbs. Nanxu looked up and saw You’an following Zhixing closely. Zhixing quickened his pace, trying to shake You’an off. However, You’an’s legs were long, and he easily kept the same distance, not a step behind.

A quarter of an hour later, Zhixing hurried back to the courtyard, his face slightly flushed. Shortly after he arrived, You’an followed, looking cheerful and relaxed.

Nanxu raised an eyebrow, sensing that something was amiss.

That night, Nanxu returned to his room first. The busy days had been overwhelming, and he felt aches and pains throughout his body. Lying down, he felt like a salted fish on a chopping board: frozen and motionless.

After Tingchuan finished cleaning up and entered the room, he saw Nanxu lying there and asked with a smile, “What’s wrong?”

“Aches and pains,” Nanxu replied.

Tingchuan, a demon protected by spiritual energy, had never experienced aches and pains from exhaustion. However, whenever a demon’s spiritual energy increased, their unprepared body struggled to handle the increased power and had to slowly digest it, causing discomfort similar to that experienced by humans.

The demon world’s spiritual energy was weak, so Tingchuan hadn’t experienced that kind of discomfort in years. Hearing Nanxu complain about aches and pains made him recall his own discomfort and feel regret.

“Can I give you a massage?” Tingchuan asked, approaching the bed.

He was wearing the fine silk pajamas that Nanxu had painstakingly bought for him, revealing a patch of his chest. Nanxu’s gaze lingered there unconsciously for a moment, then drifted away as if nothing had happened.

Suddenly, Nanxu noticed Tingchuan looking at him, seemingly waiting for a response. Bewildered, Nan Xu realized that he hadn’t even heard what Tingchuan had said because he had been so focused on his chest. “What?”

Tingchuan’s gaze fell on Nan Xu’s face. He chuckled and smiled subtly. “I’ll give you a massage.”

Nan Xu felt guilty and his face flushed. “Oh, okay, thank you.”

He was being polite, trying to hide his lustful feelings.

Nan Xu rolled over and lay on the bed. Tingchuan was a nine-tailed fox demon of noble status who knew no massage techniques. He massaged him too hard, causing Nan Xu to groan. He then softened his pressure. Nan Xu, unable to resist the itch, smiled and dodged.

Regardless of whether Tingchuan’s massage was effective, Nan Xu had at least transformed from a salted fish lying flat on its back with its eyes closed into a living, throbbing fish—a breath of life.

Tingchuan’s hands truly had a miraculous effect.

Another surge of force pressed against Nanxu’s thigh. Nanxu arched his neck and clenched his teeth in despair against the pain. Since he was lying face down, only the front half of his body rose momentarily. The soreness in his waist forced him back down onto the bed. His fingers clutched the pillow, and his cries of pain were muffled by the thin blanket beneath him.

“No more,” Nanxu swallowed. “I want to live two more years.”

Tingchuan obediently withdrew his hand and sat on Nan Xu’s calf. He looked at Nan Xu, whose neck was red with pain, and said, “I’ll try another technique.”

Nan Xu: …

Before he could utter a “no,” Tingchuan’s hand dropped again. Just as he clenched his teeth, he suddenly felt a warm current flowing through his body. It was as if it were guiding the clogged blood in his body to flow freely. It made him feel so comfortable that he felt as if he were floating in the air.

Caught off guard, a sigh of satisfaction escaped his throat, sounding more like an ambiguous hum in the quiet night.

Nan Xu stiffened at the sound. Having lived in the information-explosion era of the human world for over twenty years, he naturally understood some of it, and his ears flushed with embarrassment.

He wanted Tingchuan to stop, but the feeling was too good to resist. He grabbed the pillow and placed it over his head, burying his face in it like an ostrich.

Thankfully, Tingchuan didn’t seem to notice anything unusual and continued.

Four or five minutes passed, and the pain gradually subsided. He removed the pillow, turned to Tingchuan, and said it didn’t hurt anymore.

Tingchuan withdrew his hand and moved to the side of the bed where he usually slept. Nanxu noticed that Tingchuan’s lips had dimmed slightly. Then, he realized that the warm current comforting him was spiritual energy.

Nan Xu suddenly grew anxious. He was just a little sore from working too hard, and he’d be back to normal in two days at most. Why would he need spiritual energy to heal it? That would be like using a butcher knife to kill a chicken!

Nan Xu felt sorry for Tingchuan’s lost spiritual energy. He rolled over, propped himself up on his elbow, and asked, concerned, “How are you?”

Tingchuan hadn’t been so careless with his spiritual energy in a while. He looked tired, but the loss hadn’t harmed him. He smiled and said, “I’m fine.”

Nan Xu didn’t believe him, though, and continued to stare at him as if trying to discern the truth. Tingchuan didn’t care and accepted his gaze calmly. “I’ve lived in these mountains for so long, and my old injuries are already healing. The minor injuries I incurred tonight will heal after a good night’s sleep. Don’t worry.”

Nan Xu felt slightly relieved when he saw that Tingchuan’s expression didn’t seem fake. He suddenly remembered his ability to detect. Since acquiring it, he had only tried it on Zhixing and the loquat tree because he was exhausted. He hadn’t tried it on any other monsters since then.

Nan Xu reached out and grasped Tingchuan’s wrist. Tingchuan was startled and looked at him. Nan Xu smiled mysteriously at Tingchuan and focused on sensing his body.

Tingchuan was puzzled at first, but after a while, he seemed to understand. He looked at Nan Xu with a hint of surprise but then realized it made sense.

Time ticked by and the room fell silent, the only sounds coming from the two people breathing. Nan Xu’s expression grew calmer. For the first time, he clearly realized the difference between a great demon and a lesser demon like Zhixing.

Nan Xu couldn’t sense Tingchuan’s vital energy at all. It was like a towering, gnarled tree with thick, blurred rings. Some branches had yellowed and dried, while others were sprouting new buds. Nan Xu could not predict the strength of his vitality or guess how long he would live.

This was completely different from Zhixing’s simple, clear manifestation of vitality.

Moreover, Tingchuan’s spiritual energy wasn’t just a light, misty force. As soon as Nan Xu injected a fraction of his mental energy, it felt as if a small boat had been swept into the sea. Above him was a thick cloud blocking the sun, and beneath him was the boundless ocean. The mist itself evoked a strange sense of loneliness, as if things weren’t meant to be this way.

It turned out that the spiritual energy of a great demon was so vast that even when depleted, it remained imposing.

Momentarily engrossed, Nan Xu channeled more mental energy forward to observe. Only when he realized what was happening did he realize he had lost his way. Anxiety crept in and his brow furrowed. Then, the mist shifted, and the interspersed light pointed a path for him.

Nan Xu followed the cloud’s lead and, after an unspecified amount of time, finally reached its end. He withdrew his spiritual energy and breathed a long sigh of relief. His body felt hollow, and he collapsed against the head of the bed, drained of strength.

Tingchuan chuckled at this. Nan Xu paused for a moment before regaining consciousness. He had only briefly explored Tingchuan’s spiritual sea, yet he felt even more exhausted
than during his first attempts with Zhixing and the loquat tree—proof enough of their vast difference.

“Go to sleep!” Nan Xu said.

He wouldn’t worry foolishly again that Tingchuan’s spiritual output might harm him. It might be significant for others, but Ting Chuan was at least a hundred times stronger than anyone else.

Tingchuan laughed even louder. Nanxu lay in bed, his mind slowly recovering from the shock. His thoughts raced back to the towering tree with its trunk covered in patches of withered and dead branches and its vast expanse glaring. He could clearly sense that these weren’t signs of natural decay but rather the result of a profound setback—they had been forced to chop down their branches to survive.

“Okay,” Tingchuan replied, turning off the lights and lying down.

The room was quiet. After Nanxu’s heartache for Tingchuan, he found himself unable to sleep. His mind raced with thoughts of how many bamboo baskets would be needed to hold the harvested rice and how to store the sweet potatoes. He also thought about the strange scene he had witnessed that night.

Gently, Nan Xu reached out and tugged at Tingchuan’s shirt. “Are you asleep? Why is your nephew always obsessed with Zhixing?”

Tingchuan’s voice was clear and awake; he must have been deep in thought. Hearing this, Tingchuan asked, “What do you think?”

Nan Xu pondered for half a minute, then tentatively offered, “You once said that You’an often visited Tingshu as a child, and Zhixing happens to be related to Tingshu by blood.” “Maybe You’an misses Tingshu, so he uses Zhixing as a place to hang out and feel closer to him.”

Tingchuan fell silent upon hearing this, then sighed. “You think so. Maybe that’s it.”

His sigh made Nan Xu feel like he might have guessed wrong, but he couldn’t come up with another conclusion immediately. After all, if there was any connection between Zhixing and You’an, it was probably that.

“Do you have any other ideas?” Nanxu asked.

He waited for Tingchuan’s answer. Instead, Tingchuan said, “Although You’an has traveled extensively, he’s aloof and arrogant. He has few close friends and never actively seeks friendships. He considers Yun Yi his hero and emulates him in everything.”

Nan Xu: “Huh?”

Nan Xu was puzzled by Tingchuan’s sudden change of subject. He wanted to ask more questions, but Tingchuan said he was sleepy and didn’t say another word.

Nan Xu had no choice but to wrap himself in the quilt and fall asleep. Coincidentally, after Tingchuan returned, he wouldn’t feel cold in the morning when he woke up, even if he kicked the quilt to the end of the bed. Tingchuan seemed to be a true air conditioner; the temperature would rise several degrees at night with him around.

After You An left the mountain, Nan Xu moved the dried rice into the cellar. Remembering the system’s advertisement for the cellar and anticipating the upcoming rainy season, he led everyone in harvesting the watermelons and storing them in the cellar as well.

 

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Author’s Note:

Nan Xu: The world is vast, but watermelons are priceless.