RIIDMDR chapter 121

 

Tingchuan sat by the bedside, carefully recalling scenes from thousands of years ago. Even though Nanxu was sleeping beside him and knew he had returned, Tingchuan felt an unbearable sharp pain in his heart.

Those memories had been revisited countless times over the past three thousand years. Back then, however, he hadn’t confirmed the little demon’s true form. He also didn’t know that his spiritual power shared the same origin as heaven and earth. Because of this, he had overlooked the pain the little demon experienced at that time.

All of these regrets seemed to stem from his negligence, he had never truly tried to understand the little demon’s likes and dislikes. He only knew in a shallow way that the little demon was stubborn and longed for the human world. He thought knowing this counted as affection and missed the chance to comfort the little demon, failing to realize that the words he spoke before the great calamity were a farewell.

In the years that followed, every time Tingchuan recalled the look on the little demon’s face, urging him to find Jingyuan, he would lose himself in thought for a long time. It was clearly a face smiling at him and speaking comforting words about waiting for him in the same place, but those eyes—usually bright and lively—had stared at him for a long, deep moment.

It wasn’t that he suddenly wanted to see human fireworks—he was simply saying that they would never see each other again.

A faint sound came from the candlestick in the room. The candle’s shadow on the wall flickered a few times. When the last drop of wax burned away, the room turned pitch dark.

Tingchuan leaned against the headboard of the bed for a long time, unsure how much time had passed. When the person sleeping soundly beside him turned over because of numb limbs, he instinctively reached out to grab Tingchuan’s arm. He found his hand and pulled it close to his face. He rubbed against it twice before falling back asleep.

Tingchuan’s eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, and he could see the person’s movements clearly.

During the day, recalling so much inevitably brought his mood down. He wasn’t sure how important the New Year was to humans, but considering their lifespans barely lasted a hundred years, he could more or less understand its significance.

On a whim, he decided to make fireworks for him on New Year’s Eve—even though he had never seen them himself, only piecing together their image from the few words the little demon had spoken thousands of years ago.

Just as he was preparing, Nanxu’s sudden embrace caught him off guard. It felt as though his thoughts had been seen—but that wasn’t the case. Nanxu was delighted by the little surprise he had given him.

He also saw the grand sight the little demon had once described. When the colors exploded in the air, he thought that even if the demons’ death meant no more reincarnation—their separation in the past and the little demon lighting human fireworks atop Zhuyu Mountain—perhaps Yunyi and the others could see it, too.

The next morning, Nanxu woke up early. The wine he had brewed himself was mellow and rich. Even though he had drunk too much the night before, he didn’t have a headache. The wine had even helped him sleep well through the night.

However, they had said they would stay up late the night before, but he had failed to keep that promise.

Nanxu sat up. The spot beside him was flat and cold. Tingchuan must have gotten up even earlier. Looking at the faint morning light outside, Nanxu felt puzzled.

He got dressed, opened the door, and stepped outside. The air was still damp, but it was clear that the weather would be nice today. The snowfall last night had washed away all the rain, leaving the sky especially blue. Nanxu looked around the small courtyard but didn’t see Tingchuan. The chickens in the coop were fat and lively. When they saw him walk over, they crowded around him, chirping loudly for food.

Even the chicks hadn’t been fed yet, which was definitely strange. Nanxu returned to the courtyard, ready to scoop some grain for the chickens, when Tingchuan walked in through the gate. He was wearing a long robe today, a simpler color than usual, which made his figure look even more elegant and ethereal.

The hem of his robe was damp, and his shoes were stained with yellow mud. When they met face-to-face, Tingchuan looked slightly surprised, as if he hadn’t expected Nanxu to be up so early.

Nanxu asked, surprised, “You didn’t sleep at all last night?”

“I slept for a while, but I woke up early. I’ll feed them—you go wash up first.” Tingchuan said, taking the earthen bowl of grain from his hands.

Nanxu wanted to ask more questions, but he saw Tingchuan walking toward the back of the house, deliberately avoiding further questions but not in any hurry. He shook his head, deciding he was overthinking things, and went to wash up.

The dumplings made that morning were meant to be eaten during last night’s New Year’s Eve vigil, but Nanxu had drunk too much, so that plan failed. The dumplings were left for breakfast instead.

After breakfast, Yaolin and You’an played chess by the window while Nanxu sat idly on the threshold. To him, the first day of the New Year in the demon realm wasn’t much different from the human world’s.

He didn’t have a family, so he usually spent this day alone at home, reheating the feast he couldn’t finish the night before to avoid wasting it. Now, at least, he no longer had to eat leftovers on New Year’s Day.

Thinking of this, Nanxu found it amusing.

He thought the day would pass peacefully, but around noon, Xule came up the mountain with Yi Shui, carrying a live duck that was still stretching its neck and quacking. Xule said he had caught it by the stream a couple of days ago. In winter, such birds rarely approached the frozen stream. This one, desperate and starving, had wandered too close and met its misfortune with Xule.

The inn’s food stores were plentiful, and Nanxu had eaten well all winter. He wasn’t craving meat, but seeing the noisy duck gave him an idea.

They had built an oven and a roaster before, but only the oven had been used. Now, it seemed, it shouldn’t be left idle any longer.

Turning a live duck into roast duck took Nanxu only half an afternoon. Since they hadn’t cooked lunch that day, the roast duck came out in the late afternoon, its fragrance spreading for miles. Nanxu didn’t wait until nightfall; he set out thin pancakes, cucumber strips, and sauce.

After slicing the duck, he demonstrated how to eat it. Spread some sweet bean paste on a thin pancake. Add two or three slices of duck and a few cucumber strips. Roll it up and take a bite. The crispy skin, tender meat, and refreshing cucumber balanced each other perfectly. The sauce was the true soul of the dish—so delicious that one hesitated to swallow, savoring every bite.

Nanxu narrowed his eyes in satisfaction, quickly made one for Tingchuan, and handed it to him before the others got too skilled, feeding him a few more times. It was a pity there were no scallions, as the flavor would have been even better otherwise.

Though the duck was plump, there were too many mouths to feed, especially Yaolin, who had a bottomless stomach, so they could only have a small bite, not a full meal.

Xule loved visiting the mountain, not only because Nanxu was kind, but also because he could always enjoy new, delicious food. This time was no exception. After seeing a noisy duck turn into such a delicacy, Xule licked the sauce from his fingers and began thinking about the ducklings at home.

They had worked hard to keep their ducks alive through the winter, gathering straw and other materials despite their inexperience. But now, after tasting roast duck, Xule’s view of those troublesome ducks had completely changed. He decided to take better care of them once he got home.

Nanxu didn’t know that a single roast duck had changed little Xule’s mindset. Otherwise, he surely would have laughed—it was just like Tingchuan raising chickens.

After the New Year, the temperature seemed to start rising. Clear days became more frequent. You’an couldn’t sit still. After half a month, he grew restless again, said his goodbyes, and set off to travel. He even tried to persuade Zhixing to join him. Zhixing had been recovering in Zhuyu Mountain for six months, and his health had greatly improved. A short trip wouldn’t be a problem, but he was worried about the herbs he was growing. After living in the mountains for so long, his homebody nature had fully awakened. No matter how much You’an persuaded him, Zhixing refused. So You’an left, disappointed.

After the snow melted in the mountains, two more waves of customers came to the inn, one after another. One of them was a tiger. This tiger demon is a little too fat. His face is full of flesh, and his eyebrows are ready to grow out of his head. At first glance, he was intimidating, though not in a flattering way.

From the moment he entered, the tiger demon acted like a lord, barking orders at Nanxu as if he were a servant from his clan. Nanxu, adhering to the principle of hospitality, did his best to serve him.

However, the tiger demon was anxious and impatient because he had failed to find his bride. He became increasingly irritable. After spending the night and learning that Nanxu had met the cat demon before, the tiger demon repeatedly interrogated him. Nanxu truly didn’t know, and even if he had, it wasn’t his habit to reveal guests’ whereabouts.

This only angered the tiger demon more. Without warning, the tiger demon grabbed Nanxu by the collar, lifted him effortlessly off the ground, and raised his massive fist in threat.

At that time, Yaolin was out gathering herbs with Zhixing, and Tingchuan was nowhere to be seen, probably restless after being indoors all winter. So Nanxu was alone in the inn.

The tiger demon’s fierce face loomed close, his huge fist just inches away. However, Nanxu wasn’t afraid; in fact, his thoughts wandered. Tingchuan had once said that the tiger clan’s ancestors were wealthy and had vast lands. But after the shrewd elders passed away, only gluttonous fools remained—useless, undisciplined, and lazy in cultivation. They looked strong but were like embroidered pillows, bullying the weak and fearing the strong.

Using the system’s defensive item on such a fool felt wasteful, but Nanxu had no martial skills or demon power. Other than using his “cheat,” he had no choice.

With a sigh of regret, just as the fist was about to strike his face, a syringe appeared in his hand out of thin air. He twisted his wrist and drove it into the tiger demon’s flesh.

Almost instantly, the massive tiger demon’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground with a loud thud, nearly shaking a hole in the floor. Dust rose, choking Nanxu. He crouched down, his hand now empty—the syringe had vanished after the tranquilizer was used.

Nanxu nudged the motionless tiger demon with his foot and wondered how long it would sleep. According to the system, the duration depended on the target’s strength and could be anywhere from a few hours to half a month.

 

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Author’s note:

Tingchuan: The old ones have fallen here. The fireworks set off in Zhuyu Mountain—I bet everyone has seen them by now.

Jing Yuan, far away in the South Sea: You’ve forgotten me. I’m not dead yet. (Smiley face.)

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The tiger demon who’s been asleep for over ten days: System-certified weakling.”

 

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