RIIDMDR chapter 132

 

Nan Xu carried the food and knocked on the door before entering the room. This time, Jing Yuan wasn’t on the bed but leaning against the soft couch by the window. Several crystal-clear beads were beside him.

Nan Xu had been thinking about how he would respond if Jing Yuan asked about Tingchuan. However, Jing Yuan wasn’t surprised that only Nan Xu had come today. He got up and walked to the table as usual.

Nan Xu had woken up late that morning and had little time to cook. Fortunately, he had put the ribs on the stove to simmer overnight, so the meat was tender and easily separated from the bone. He stir-fried two vegetable dishes, which would be more than enough for the two of them.

He first served Jing Yuan a bowl of soup before sitting down and picking up his own chopsticks. Usually, Tingchuan and Jingyuan bickered during meals while Nan Xu ate quietly. Therefore, despite having eaten at the same table for nearly a month, they were not close; their last interaction had been on the night of the full moon.

The room was quiet. Jingyuan ate slowly and deliberately, perhaps because he lacked the energy and desire to eat heartily. Nan Xu, on the other hand, was starving and stuffing food into his mouth, wishing he could chew it a couple times before swallowing.

He ate so heartily that Jingyuan, sitting at the same table, ate a little more than usual. During the meal, Jingyuan glanced at Nanxu several times, perhaps wanting to say something, but unfortunately, he couldn’t find an opportunity to speak.

After the dishes on the table were cleared away, Nan Xu put down his chopsticks and patted his slightly bulging stomach. With his stomach full, his brain began to function again. Recalling his wolfish, hungry state, Nan Xu smiled awkwardly at Jingyuan. “Are you full?”

Jing Yuan finished the last bite of rice in his bowl, put down his chopsticks, and slowly chewed before replying, “Yes, I’m full.”

Nan Xu wasn’t sure if he was just being polite. As he cleaned up, he said, “I’ll bring you some snacks this afternoon. I made some red jujube paste last autumn, and I’ll use it to make jujube pastries for you today. I think you’ll like them.”

Jing Yuan sat by the table, lifting his head slightly to look at Nan Xu. His dark hair, stirred by a gentle breeze through the gauze, fell loosely over his temples, adding a hint of color to his pale face. He seemed lost in thought and didn’t respond.

Nan Xu carried the cleaned dishes out. Just as he reached the door, he remembered something and said, “Wait for your snack this afternoon—don’t sleep too deeply again. You didn’t get to eat the flower cakes I made for you yesterday.”

Jing Yuan seemed to laugh softly. His voice was calm when he spoke again. “Didn’t you end up eating them yourself? They weren’t wasted.”

Nan Xu was instantly speechless.

Jing Yuan had been unconscious since yesterday afternoon and had only woken up at dawn today.

Nan Xu had taken the cakes away in the middle of the night. His stomach had been growling, and he thought it wasn’t right to leave them out overnight, so he just ate them himself. There wasn’t anything really wrong with that, but hearing Jing Yuan state it so plainly made Nan Xu feel embarrassed.

While he was still feeling awkward, Jing Yuan suddenly asked, “What filling was it?”

Nan Xu snapped back without thinking, “From the roses growing in the side courtyard.”

Right after he said it, he pressed his lips together in regret. Tingchuan caught fish, and Nan Xu picked flowers. The two of them really acted like they owned the place in front of Jing Yuan.

Nan Xu braced himself, expecting Jing Yuan to be annoyed. But there was no anger on Jing Yuan’s face. After a pause, he said, “That’s a monthly rose.”

Oh—so it was a Monthly rose!

“Monthly Rose can be made into a filling. It’s edible. I ate it. It’s not poisonous,” Nan Xu said seriously.

Jing Yuan didn’t reply. Seeing this, Nan Xu left with the dishes.

That afternoon, when Nan Xu brought over the freshly steamed jujube pastries, he was surprised to find that Jing Yuan hadn’t gone back to sleep after all. The sunlight was bright, and Jing Yuan was sitting in the courtyard trimming plants with scissors.

Nan Xu placed the pastries on the small table beside Jing Yuan, told him to eat them while they were still warm, and found a small stool to sit on nearby. He glanced around at the flowers Jing Yuan had been tending.

Honestly, Jing Yuan wasn’t very good at gardening. Even Nan Xu, a layman, could tell that the courtyard plants looked worse after Jing Yuan’s “pruning.”

Still, Nan Xu didn’t say anything to spoil the mood. After all, they weren’t his flowers. But if someone had done that to his own courtyard, Nan Xu would have blown up.

As he watched Jing Yuan focus on trimming, Nan Xu picked up a pastry and started eating.

When Jing Yuan finished trimming the uneven plant, he set down the scissors, observed it for a moment, and seemed satisfied.

Nan Xu could hardly bear to look. He brushed the crumbs off his clothes and hesitated, but he couldn’t lie and say it looked nice.

Jing Yuan washed his hands, brewed two cups of tea, and handed one to Nan Xu. Surprised to have been included, Nan Xu accepted it with both hands.

Jing Yuan sipped his tea with his pastry, looking refined. Nan Xu took a sip and froze—the taste was familiar. This was real tea!

When he first arrived on the island, the teapot in the side courtyard had been filled with raspberry leaves. Later, the fish demons sometimes used licorice or camellia leaves. Nan Xu had long accepted that tea leaves didn’t exist in the demon realm. Yet now, under the warm afternoon sun, he tasted that long-missed flavor again.

As he marveled at his cup, Jing Yuan suddenly asked, “When did you move to Zhuyu Mountain?”

“Late spring last year,” Nan Xu answered.

Hearing the name Zhuyu Mountain from Jing Yuan made his heart beat faster. He vividly remembered the twisted expression on Jing Yuan’s face the last time Tingchuan had mentioned it. Now that the topic had resurfaced, it felt as if the question he had been avoiding had suddenly been forced upon him.

“Where did you live before that?” Jing Yuan asked.

Nan Xu paused for two seconds, then answered honestly, “The human world.”

Jing Yuan put a half-eaten pastry in his mouth. His long lashes lowered slightly, concealing the emotion in his eyes.

“So, you went to the human world,” he murmured. “What’s it like there?”

The question was too broad. Nan Xu didn’t know how to answer at first. After a moment’s thought, he began recounting what he remembered from his childhood.

He described villages surrounded by farmland and forests, filled with the sounds of insects and birds, as well as bustling cities with tall buildings, schools, hospitals, endless streams of vehicles, and street vendors selling snacks.

Nan Xu had thought that after living on Zhuyu Mountain for so long, he would have forgotten that other world. But as he spoke, the memories flowed easily, as vivid as ever.

Jing Yuan listened quietly. The plate of pastries between them was soon empty. When Nan Xu finally paused with a dry throat, he lifted his now-cold cup of tea, only to notice that Jing Yuan had leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed.

Nan Xu’s heart jumped. His hands trembled, nearly spilling the tea. Setting the cup down carefully, he forced himself to stand up. His legs were weak, and sweat broke out on his back as he approached.

He stared at Jing Yuan, swallowed hard, and slowly reached out to feel for a pulse at his neck. Feeling the steady flow of blood beneath his fingertips, he finally breathed again.

But Jing Yuan slept too peacefully, and Nan Xu’s heart still pounded uncontrollably. Feeling uneasy, he extended a bit of his spiritual power to probe.

The moment he entered, a roaring wave surged toward him. Had he not reacted quickly, he would have been swallowed whole.

Barely evading it, Nan Xu lifted his spiritual sight. An endless ocean stretched before him, its waters dark blue and nearly black. The moment he saw it, his hands and feet turned cold. Beneath the surface, a bottomless abyss yawned, like a beast’s open maw, ready to devour him.

He stayed only a moment—just long enough to confirm that Jing Yuan’s life force remained—then he withdrew his power and collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. His thin clothes were soaked with sweat.

It took him a long while to calm his breathing. Even then, the terrifying image of the dark sea lingered in his mind.

The afternoon sun warmed him slightly. He looked back at the sleeping Jing Yuan, unable to ignore the truth in his heart.

He cared about Jing Yuan’s life—far more than whether he himself was a demon. That was why he had panicked so deeply when he saw Jing Yuan lying motionless.

Jing Yuan must have recognized his identity; that was why he no longer treated him with hostility. But when had that change begun? Thinking back, it seemed to have started the night they locked eyes in the shadows.

Tingchuan said Jing Yuan could be sharp-tongued and quick-tempered. Yet, in all this time, Jing Yuan had never said a harsh word to him. His tolerance seemed endless. Even listening to Nan Xu talk about the human world eased the furrows between his brows. He had fallen asleep peacefully, surrounded by the sea breeze and sunlight.

Unfortunately, he had lost his memories. The joy and ease they once shared were gone. Even if Tingchuan and he could love each other again, their old friendship could never be restored. Time had changed everything, leaving him trapped in a half-human, half-demon body and unable to hold onto Jing Yuan.

…

Perhaps because of his changed mindset, Nan Xu became less restrained around Jing Yuan over the next few days. Jing Yuan remained as quiet as ever, occasionally gazing at Nan Xu with his deep eyes.

Nan Xu pretended not to notice. Every dish and dessert from the human world came with a story or memory. However, as Jing Yuan slept longer and longer, Nan Xu stood by the sea each evening, staring toward the horizon.

He knew it was almost impossible, yet he still hoped that Tingchuan, who had gone out to sea, might bring back miraculous medicine. However, even the Bai clan of West Mountain, famed for healing bloodlines, was already on the island, so there was likely no hope left.

Finally, one early morning before dawn, Tingchuan returned after being away for half a month—dusty and travel-worn. He kissed the still-sleeping Nan Xu, then went straight to Jing Yuan’s quarters.

Jing Yuan had already woken up. Feeling Tingchuan’s presence, he rose and put on a robe. Tingchuan knocked twice, then pushed the door open without waiting for a response. Without a word, he tossed a small wooden box into Jing Yuan’s hands.

“It took a lot of convincing, didn’t it? After all, it’s Ting Shu’s heart’s work—there’s only one in the world,” said Jing Yuan, looking down at the box.

Tingchuan sat by the table, poured himself a glass of water, took two sips, and replied, “Mm. I paid a heavy price. Someday I’ll collect the debt from your South Sea.”

Jing Yuan chuckled, rarely letting such words pass without a retort.

“Take it when you’re ready,” Tingchuan said. “If I ever find a place rich in spiritual energy—or if I live to see the world’s spiritual energy revived—I’ll wake you then.”

Jing Yuan’s fingers brushed the box’s edge. “In the end, I still have to hand myself over to you. It’s hard to feel at ease. If that day ever comes, will you fear that I’ll compete with you and let me sleep forever instead?”

He thought that with Little Demon back and Tingchuan taking care of him, he had no regrets. However, over the past few days, Little Demon, who still hadn’t regained his memories, had become anxious and worried about his health. He had been busy with various tasks. Seeing that the day was truly approaching, he felt a pang of fear for his life.

Tingchuan scoffed. “Don’t judge me with your petty mind. I dared to bring him before you, so why would I fear your competition?”

They exchanged a glance, both understanding. Tingchuan didn’t want another close friend to die. Nor did he want Nanxu to regain his memories one day only to find that all his old friends were gone, which would cause him unbearable grief.

“Take him back tomorrow,” Jingyuan said.

“Yes, I hope we’ll meet again someday,” Tingchuan replied, standing up to leave.

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