RIIDMDR chapter 127

 

If not for Tingchuan’s words, Nan Xu wouldn’t have noticed that the gate to the Sea Realm had opened. He was even more surprised when Tingchuan took his hand and walked straight into the seawater.

Nan Xu instinctively wanted to roll up his pant legs but then realized how ridiculous that would be given the depth of the sea.

Trusting that Tingchuan wouldn’t harm him, Nan Xu stepped into the water without hesitation.

Yet the sensation was nothing like he expected—there was no feeling of seawater soaking through his shoes and socks. Instead, the ground beneath his feet was soft, almost as if he were stepping on a waterbed.

Startled, Nan Xu widened his eyes and looked down. The sea surface was indeed beneath him, but it seemed as though an invisible, transparent film had been spread over the water, holding him up effortlessly.

Nan Xu’s astonishment was plain to see. Tingchuan glanced at him, smiled, and asked, “Are you afraid?”

Nan Xu shook his head, but Tingchuan’s hand, which held his, suddenly gripped back tightly with no sign of letting go.

Tingchuan didn’t call him out on it; he simply continued leading him forward. At first, walking on the water felt awkward. It wasn’t as steady as walking on land, and Nan Xu staggered with every step. But after walking for more than an hour, he gradually adapted to the soft, buoyant feeling. His nervous heart slowly relaxed, and his pace grew faster.

The vast sea stretched all around them, endless and boundless. Without Tingchuan leading the way, Nan Xu was certain he would have lost himself in this expanse. The emptiness felt unsettling, so to distract himself, Nan Xu started a conversation.

“Did you leave the serow by the shore because it can’t enter the sea?” he asked, missing the old companion that had carried him for more than twenty days.

“Tired?” Tingchuan asked.

Nan Xu shook his head and then nodded, looking a little embarrassed. “I’m a bit hungry, but I can still walk.”

Over ten hours had passed since his last meal, and he had forgotten to eat before entering the sea. His stomach was empty and his energy was fading. The food they had brought was long gone. Without nourishment to replenish his strength and with all the fatigue that no amount of rest could shake, he couldn’t help but feel drained.

Tingchuan’s eyes flickered with regret. “I’ll carry you. Save your strength.”

Before Nan Xu could refuse, Tingchuan crouched down. From afar, Tingchuan always looked slender and lean, but up close, Nan Xu could feel the subtle outline of firm muscles beneath his clothes. He was far from frail.

Tingchuan never gave Nan Xu much of a chance to decline, so he didn’t argue and climbed obediently onto Tingchuan’s solid back.

Though this wasn’t the first time Tingchuan had carried him, Nan Xu still felt his face grow warm. Fortunately, as they moved forward, the sea wind grew stronger, quickly blowing away his embarrassment.

Perhaps Nan Xu’s slower pace had been holding Tingchuan back earlier because, once he was on Tingchuan’s back, his steps grew noticeably faster. The ripples beneath his feet didn’t hinder him at all, he walked swiftly and steadily.

“The serow may be somewhat intelligent, but it isn’t truly a demon,” Tingchuan said after a while, remembering Nan Xu’s earlier question. “It can’t walk on the sea—it would be swallowed by the water.”

“So only demons can walk on it?” Nan Xu asked, confused.

Tingchuan nodded. “Yes, that’s the rule of the Sea Realm.”

Lying on Tingchuan’s back, Nan Xu froze, puzzled, and began to doubt his entire existence.

“So… I’ve mutated?” he asked in disbelief.

Tingchuan: “…”

If his hands weren’t supporting Nan Xu’s legs, he might have clapped for that line of thought.

“You’re a demon,” Tingchuan said.

Nan Xu shook his head firmly. “No, I’ve lived in the human world for over twenty years. I think I know what I am.”

Tingchuan fell silent again. Somehow, that sentence sounded oddly self-deprecating.

“I don’t know how you ended up in the human world,” he said slowly. “And I truly can’t sense any demonic aura in you now. But you are a demon. We met more than three thousand years ago.”

Nan Xu didn’t rush to refute him this time, though he clearly didn’t believe it. Three thousand years ago? Impossible. He was just a child, abandoned at the entrance of a dilapidated village. Found as a baby, barely a few months old, by an old woman who carried him from village to village, looking for his parents. She ultimately confirmed that he had been abandoned.

There were no cows or sheep in the village and no nursing mothers, so the kind villagers found a way to feed him: milk stolen from piglets. When Nan Xu was almost two years old, the old granny was taken by her family to live in the city, leaving him behind. He grew up begging for meals from household to household, somehow surviving to adulthood.

The elders in the village could all vouch for this history. Nan Xu clearly remembered how he’d grown over the past twenty-plus years—from a baby to who he was now. It was human growth, unlike anything he knew of in the demon world.

Tingchuan must have mistaken him for someone else.

This thought left Nan Xu feeling strangely disappointed. After all, no one likes being seen as someone else, especially by someone they like.

“I’m human,” Nan Xu murmured, resting his chin on Tingchuan’s shoulder.

Tingchuan sighed softly and stopped arguing. “Three thousand years ago, you said the same thing.”

Nan Xu’s chest tightened, and he fell silent, pretending not to hear. He dove into his consciousness, opened the system, and idly flipped through it.

Then, he noticed that the previously grayed-out “Retrieve Item” icon was now colored. When he opened it, the grid boxes were bright and numbers appeared in their corners. Small text at the bottom read: “Service fees are charged based on the item’s value and spatial distance.”

Staring at the cucumber icon, Nan Xu swallowed. His stomach growled, and for the moment, he didn’t care about any “service fees.” He tapped it.

The number in the corner decreased by one, and suddenly, a fresh cucumber appeared in his hand—green and crisp.

Nan Xu tilted his head and stared at it for a few seconds. Before he could process how it appeared, hunger took over. He lifted it to his mouth and took a bite.

The crisp crunch echoed in both their ears. Tingchuan paused in his steps. “What are you eating?”

He knew their pack contained only two changes of clothes and a gourd of water. What could Nan Xu possibly be chewing? Had he eaten the gourd?

Nan Xu froze mid-bite, his lips parted, unsure of how to explain. Juice threatened to spill from the corner of his mouth, so he quickly pressed his lips together, chewed, and swallowed.

In those few seconds, the thought that flashed through his mind wasn’t ‘Where did this cucumber come from?’ but an old ghost story.

“It’s my finger. Want a taste?” Nan Xu said gloomily.

Tingchuan: “…”

After a few seconds of silence, Tingchuan sniffed the air. “Your finger smells like cucumber.”

Nan Xu couldn’t help but laugh, forgetting his earlier gloom. He held the cucumber to Tingchuan’s mouth. “It’s a cucumber. Want some?”

Tingchuan thought: his stomach’s growling and yet he’s still being generous. At least he’s learned to share.

“Just that one?” he asked.

Nan Xu checked the system. “There should be over four hundred more.”

This made Tingchuan even more confused, but he took a bite anyway. The familiar flavor and trace of spiritual energy entered his mouth, and realization dawned on him.

“They’re from Zhuyu Mountain,” he said.

“Huh?” Nan Xu blinked, and then it clicked. No wonder the items in the grid looked familiar—they were all from his storeroom!

Nan Xu silently scolded himself. How could he have been so foolish as to think the system was gifting him food?

Still, it was a pleasant surprise to discover this feature while starving.

They couldn’t make a fire at sea, so they could only eat whatever was readily available. Along the way, Nan Xu took out two more cucumbers and a few pieces of dried persimmon and shared them with Tingchuan. It wasn’t much, but it filled their stomachs.

Perhaps it was the food, but Nan Xu felt his mind clear and his limbs regain strength. He wanted to walk on his own again, but Tingchuan insisted that he stay put.

As a demon, Tingchuan had extraordinary stamina. He walked for a full day and night without resting, and by dawn the next morning, Nan Xu finally saw land on the horizon.

It was a small, crescent-shaped island with reefs along its bay. Rocky hills rose in the center with sparse trees growing from cracks in the stone. Dense forest grew farther up the hills. Having seen plenty of mountain scenery, Nan Xu couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

After another half hour of walking, they reached the island. Nan Xu asked Tingchuan to put him down, and this time, Tingchuan didn’t refuse. He led Nan Xu inland. Crude stone steps had been carved into the rock—uneven, yet charming in their rusticity.

Nan Xu stepped onto the staircase, his hand still held by Tingchuan, and looked around. The sea wind roared just as fiercely as before. From halfway up the mountain, the endless sea stretched out in every direction.

He realized he’d been too quick to judge. Though the trees were lush, this place was nothing like Zhuyu Mountain.

Zhuyu Mountain was beautiful, grand, and vast—a sweeping range of peaks. But this island held a different kind of solitude: a loneliness wrapped in sea breeze and salt air, a single lonely boat on an endless ocean.

If Jingyuan had really lived there for over three thousand years, it must have been unbearably lonely.

The mountain wasn’t tall, and they soon reached the top. Scattered wooden huts stood there. Nan Xu said, “So this is where Jingyuan lives? It’s so simple.”

Tingchuan glanced back at him, his expression unreadable. Nan Xu didn’t understand why, but he would soon find out.

After turning a few corners and clearing the last of the trees, the view opened up. Nan Xu froze, his eyes wide.

Before him stood a small palace with walls made of jade and a roof of glazed glass that glittered in the sunlight.

 

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Author’s Note:

Jingyuan: I used to live in a palace under the sea. I can’t anymore, so I built a shabby little hut instead!

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