RIIDMDR chapter 130

 

Nan Xu was reluctant to accept that he had suddenly become a demon after being human for more than twenty years. The place he once considered his hometown was now just a strange land where he had wandered for over two decades. Truthfully, his arrival in this other world was simply his way of going home.

This world was far too unfamiliar to Nan Xu, and the catastrophe that had taken place in the demon realm over three thousand years ago weighed heavily on him.

Deep down, though, he understood that if demons could enter the Sea Realm and Zhu Yu Mountain truly belonged to him, many things he once found hard to understand could be explained.

No other demon who entered Zhu Yu Mountain’s formation could come out alive. However, the system told him that he could. The main peak, known as the dragon’s lair and tiger’s den of the demon realm, did not harm him. And how could a human, unrelated to the demon realm, possibly cook food infused with spiritual energy? Whose dream was it that he experienced within the formation, and why did he feel no discord while in it?

…

One question after another formed a labyrinth. Nan Xu’s body seemed to float in midair as he looked down at the whole picture. However, his soul was trapped within the maze, unable to find an exit, torn between two worlds.

Perhaps he had been thinking too deeply, or maybe he had just eaten well and his body felt exceptionally comfortable. As he lay on the bed, Nan Xu unknowingly fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke, there wasn’t a trace of light outside.

His shoes, socks, and coat had been removed. A thin blanket covered his abdomen. The room was dimly lit, with only a few luminous pearls on the wall casting a faint glow. The room, both inside and out, was silent.

Nan Xu spent a long time trying to remember where he was. Then, overcome by a strange feeling, he sat up abruptly, jumped off the bed, and walked barefoot toward the door without bothering to put on his socks.

When he opened the door, the courtyard was utterly still. The stones that had seemed dull during the day now gave off a faint glow under the dim light—hazy and soft.

Nan Xu looked around, but he saw no sign of Tingchuan. He didn’t know where Tingchuan had gone, and the isolated island in the middle of the sea only made him more uneasy.

After hesitating for a few seconds, he walked toward the gate. When Tingchuan had brought him here earlier that day, his mind had been elsewhere, so he hadn’t paid attention to his surroundings. Now, he wasn’t sure if he could find Jing Yuan’s residence again.

Other than that place, he couldn’t think of anywhere Tingchuan might go.

As he stepped out of the courtyard gate, he realized he had been overthinking. Jing Yuan’s residence was indeed a small palace. From the gate, the two paths leading left and right looked identical. Under the dim gemstone light on the walls, he could see that each path split into more paths further ahead.

It seemed that if he went out tonight, he was destined to get lost.

Still, Nan Xu didn’t want to stay alone in the courtyard. He picked a direction at random and started walking, a hint of self-deprecating humor flashing through his thoughts. In the human world, he had lived for over twenty years, surrounded by hardship and poverty with few choices in life. Yet now, with so many paths before him, he felt no joy.

After walking for half an hour, Nan Xu looked up at the moon. It had shifted considerably in the sky, and he felt utterly exhausted. It was strange—back in Zhu Yu Mountain, he could walk all day without getting tired, but now, no matter how much he slept, he never felt rested, and his stamina had dropped sharply.

He found a stone bench by the wall and sat down to rest for a while. The surroundings were quiet, with only the distant sound of waves hitting the rocks reaching his ears. This strange, soothing rhythm eased the restlessness in his chest.

After wandering through this small palace for so long, perhaps he had grown somewhat familiar with it. He no longer felt as uneasy as he had when he first woke up. Sitting in a secluded alleyway and gazing at the moon, he felt a faint sense of calm.

When he had rested enough, he stood up with the help of the wall, only to feel that something was off beneath his fingers. Earlier, he’d noticed that the jade-brick walls seemed polished daily—smooth and warm to the touch. Yet now, he could feel carved markings.

Leaning in for a closer look, Nan Xu saw that the wall had indeed been scratched by a sharp object. The deep grooves pointed in a certain direction. Since he had no idea where else to go, he decided to follow them.

At the next intersection, he searched the wall again and found another set of carved arrows pointing the way.

After following the markings for about fifteen minutes, the surroundings began to look familiar. Before long, he was standing outside the courtyard gate of Jing Yuan’s home, uncertain whether to continue.

Light spilled from the room, but no voices could be heard. Tingchuan didn’t seem to be there—perhaps they had simply missed each other.

Just as Nan Xu was hesitating, he heard the sound of a window opening. Through the window, he saw Jing Yuan’s thin figure standing before the moon. His expression was calm and focused as he lost himself in thought.

Relieved that he hadn’t been noticed, Nan Xu held his breath. In the next instant, however, their eyes met. For a moment, both faces mirrored the same startled expression.

Nan Xu hadn’t expected to be spotted, even while standing in the shadows. Recovering quickly, he nodded slightly in greeting to Jing Yuan. Jing Yuan stared at him silently, not responding.

Since he had already been seen, Nan Xu stopped trying to hide and turned to leave. But then he heard that same hoarse voice as before: “Come here.”

Not understanding, but sensing no hostility, Nan Xu followed the command.

He stepped into the courtyard and stopped beneath the window. The two faced each other, separated only by the wooden frame, neither speaking.

Up close, Nan Xu could clearly see Jing Yuan’s face—it resembled the face from the dream within the formation, but only half as much. The features were similar, but the boy in the dream had been younger and had shown traces of youthful courage and recklessness. Even when he tried to appear calm and mature, his eyes had betrayed him.

Now, the man before him was gaunt, like an ancient pine tree on the verge of collapse—upright but desolate. His eyes were filled with weariness and detachment.

Nan Xu didn’t know if all the great demons of the demon realm carried such an aura—ancient and heavy yet dignified. At least, that was how he had felt when he first met Tingchuan.

“What are you doing here?” Jing Yuan asked, interrupting Nan Xu’s thoughts.

Nan Xu came back to himself. “I was looking for Tingchuan, but I got lost. I saw markings on the walls that led me here. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Jing Yuan seemed momentarily dazed. He looked at Nan Xu, but his gaze seemed to pass through him as if he were looking at someone else entirely.

Nan Xu frowned slightly. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Jing Yuan replied after pausing. “Tingchuan has already returned. You should—” He stopped mid-sentence, then changed his mind. “I’ll walk you back.”

Nan Xu wanted to decline, but Jing Yuan was already heading toward the door.

He walked slowly, each step feeling as heavy as lead. Still, he looked more relaxed outside than he had inside the room. Nan Xu occasionally glanced sideways, worried that he might collapse from exhaustion.

“I often walk outside to feel the sea breeze,” Jing Yuan said. “I take this path every few days.”

Nan Xu realized he was trying to reassure him. “Thank you,” he said softly.

After turning through several alleys, Nan Xu suddenly heard a familiar set of footsteps. Without thinking, he quickened his pace, soon leaving Jing Yuan behind.

Moments later, a tall figure appeared at the end of the path. Nan Xu’s eyes lit up—it was Tingchuan!

Relief and joy flooded him. The walk with Jing Yuan had been quiet and awkward, surrounded by unfamiliar scenery and company. Seeing Tingchuan felt like finally returning home.

Nan Xu hurried forward, ready to greet Tingchuan. But before he could speak, Tingchuan said, “It’s one thing to wander off, but did you have to forget your shoes as well?”

Nan Xu looked down and realized he had indeed been walking barefoot all night. Thankfully, the island’s temperature was mild, unlike the cold of Zhu Yu Mountain, and the ground was paved with smooth bricks. His feet had only felt slightly cool, not uncomfortable.

Tingchuan crouched down, lifted Nan Xu onto his back, and carried him toward the small courtyard. Suddenly, Nan Xu remembered Jing Yuan. Looking back, he saw the man standing at another crossroads, walking in the opposite direction.

His thin back stretched long under the moonlight, leaving Nan Xu with a pang of regret.

He was annoyed with himself for walking too fast earlier and not saying goodbye or thank you.

Resting his chin on Tingchuan’s shoulder, Nan Xu murmured, “Jing Yuan was the one who brought me back.”

“I know,” Tingchuan said.

Nan Xu blinked, surprised. He hadn’t seen Tingchuan and Jing Yuan interact earlier and thought Tingchuan hadn’t noticed.

Of course—demons’ senses were far sharper than those of humans. How could Tingchuan not have known?

“Where did you go? When I woke up, you were gone,” Nan Xu asked.

Tingchuan replied, “You slept for too long. I was afraid you’d be awake all night, so I tried to wake you up in the afternoon. No matter what I did, though, you didn’t respond. You didn’t stir when I took off your coat and shoes either. I thought something was wrong, so I went to find Madam Bai to check on you. She was preparing medicine for Jing Yuan and couldn’t leave, so I waited for her. But when I returned, you were gone.”

Nan Xu said, “I must have been too tired from traveling these days and slept too deeply.”

“She’s still in the courtyard. I’ll have her check your pulse later,” Tingchuan said, still uneasy.

Nan Xu nodded. “Alright.”

“These walls all look the same,” he added. “If not for the markings, I’d be lost for hours. But those jade bricks are so valuable. Who would dare carve into them?”

Tingchuan replied, “Those marks were made by Jing Yuan himself.”

“What a waste,” Nan Xu sighed.

When they returned, Madam Bai took his pulse for a while and said he was simply fatigued and needed rest. Tingchuan brought a basin of water for Nan Xu to wash his feet. After crawling back into bed, Nan Xu yawned deeply, muttered something about being tired, and fell asleep again before Tingchuan could reply.

Meanwhile, in a distant pavilion, Jing Yuan sat alone. The sea breeze stirred his robes and hair. Remembering the figure he had seen earlier, his thoughts drifted to another person.

That man had always lingered in the shadows, never knocking on the door. When Jing Yuan opened the window and saw him, he would smile and say, “These courtyards all look the same. I can never find my way back home. I’m afraid I must trouble you again.”

—

When Nan Xu woke up again, it was past noon. His stomach growled with hunger. When he got up and pushed open the door, he saw Tingchuan sitting beside the pond in the corner of the courtyard. Tingchuan was holding something in his hand and tossing it into the water.

Nan Xu went over and peeked inside. He was surprised to find that it wasn’t just an ordinary pond—the water underneath was connected to other areas. The design was ingenious, allowing fish to swim freely between courtyards. Tingchuan held fish feed in his hand, and several fish lifted their heads, waiting for him to feed them.

Nan Xu clicked his tongue in amazement. Just then, he saw Tingchuan toss a handful of fish food into the pond. Tingchuan swiftly reached in and decisively grabbed a fat fish that had let down its guard in its greed.

Startled by the fish’s flapping tail, Nan Xu asked, “What are you catching it for?”

Tingchuan replied, “You’ve been staring at it for a while, and you’ve swallowed a few times. If you tell me now that you were just admiring its beauty, I definitely won’t believe it.”

Having his thoughts exposed, Nan Xu felt a little embarrassed.

The fish was unusually plump. Considering that the waterways connected the courtyards, Nan Xu believed Jing Yuan must have raised it with care. Cooking it without more consideration felt wrong, so he hurriedly waved his hand, urging Tingchuan to let it go.

“It’s just one fish. He’s not that petty,” Tingchuan said. He stood up with the fish in hand and headed to the kitchen to end its life.

Nan Xu followed close behind, muttering under his breath about how killing is bad—like a monk chanting scriptures—not sure if he was trying to convince himself or persuade Tingchuan to stop.

But when Tingchuan cleanly chopped off the fish’s head with one stroke of his knife, Nan Xu fell silent immediately. Seeing that Tingchuan was about to make a few more cuts, Nan Xu hurried to stop him. “Let’s just make pickled fish today. There’s a jar of pickled greens in the pantry that’s been fermenting for a while.”

Tingchuan turned back to look at Nan Xu, half smiling, half mocking. He was amused that Nan Xu had already thought through how to cook the fish despite preaching about not killing it.

The fish was delightfully fat, with lots of meat and few bones. Nan Xu cooked a large potful, and soon the fragrance of pickled fish filled the courtyard. Once the fish was ready, he sprinkled scallions, coriander, and Sichuan peppercorns on top. Then, he heated a ladle of oil until it sizzled and poured it over the dish. The sharp “sizzle” that followed completed the perfection of the meal.

Remembering that he hadn’t thanked Jing Yuan yesterday and that he had eaten his fish today, Nan Xu decided to show some courtesy and share the dish with him.

After hearing this, Tingchuan was silent for a few seconds. Then, under Nan Xu’s hopeful gaze, he nodded. “All right, serve the rice. We’ll eat at Jing Yuan’s place.”

Nan Xu: “?”

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