RIIDMDR chapter 65

 

The two closed the door and sat back down by the fire. Looking again at the leaping flames, their smiles were no longer as pure, and the pleasant mood had been blown away by the raging wind outside.

After sitting face-to-face for a while, Nan Xu had made up his mind. If the strong wind did not stop, there was no other way. The three chances could last six hours. It seemed that this small array in the mountains had no intention of taking him to the heavens.

The human phrase “since we’re here, we might as well” is the best comfort. When there are no better solutions, the first step is to convince yourself. The worst-case scenario is a few more turns in the sky before landing perfectly flat on the ground. He has lived in two worlds, yet he still lacks this courage…

Nan Xu silently sighed again and said to the system in his heart: “006, even though I rashly charged into the array this time, you wouldn’t want to change hosts after only two upgrades, would you? Wouldn’t it be difficult for you systems to find another one? Hosts like me who don’t dislike you aren’t common—you should treasure it!”

He was making bitter jokes and did not expect the system to respond. Suddenly, the system screen in his mind went blank white.

Nan Xu was stunned. Had it just given up? Was dying in this small array really his fate?

A few seconds later, the system page displayed an increasing number of “…” until they filled the entire screen.

Nan Xu didn’t know what the system was trying to express. He pressed the close button on the interface and stopped teasing the broken system.

“Nan Xu?” Ting Chuan’s voice echoed in his ear.

Nan Xu suddenly came back to himself and looked at Ting Chuan, who was sitting opposite him with a confused look on his face. “Huh?”

Ting Chuan stared at Nan Xu’s face for a few seconds, shook his head, and said, “Nothing. What were you just thinking about?”

It turned out that Nan Xu had become so engrossed in his attempts to connect with the system that he didn’t respond even after being called several times, and his eyes were dull. After what had happened the previous night, this was truly terrifying.

After Nan Xu had inexplicable headaches and looked miserable for several days, Zhi Xing mentioned many legends about the human race to Ting Chuan. Actually, thousands of years ago, Ting Chuan had seen humans. At that time, they had not yet migrated to the human world. However, that memory was so distant that Ting Chuan didn’t remember much.

Ting Chuan’s interest in humans was also due to Xiao Yao[mfn]Little Demon[/mfn]. Whenever Xiao Yao spoke of his yearning for humans, Ting Chuan could not understand. However, he supported Xiao Yao’s preferences unconditionally. He had even thought that, if he had the chance, he would find a way to accompany Xiao Yao to the human world and experience its wonders.

However, his thoughts amounted to nothing. In the thousands of years after Xiao Yao’s death, Ting Chuan could only enter arrays time and again to learn about the world Xiao Yao had longed for.

Time could wash away many memories, yet when Zhi Xing brought up the topic again, Ting Chuan said that humans had short lifespans and fragile bodies. They sounded like glass dolls that would shatter at a touch. Without spiritual power to protect them, they had no ability to save themselves when accidents occurred.

When Nan Xu suddenly fainted in the snow, Ting Chuan held him in his arms and Zhi Xing’s words filled his mind: “If it’s too cold, they will freeze to death. If it’s too hot, they will die from the heat.”

When he first heard that, he thought, “Could they really be so fragile?” But, holding the unconscious Nan Xu, he dared not harbor the slightest doubt. His heart was filled with emptiness and panic.

He feared that Nan Xu’s fragile body would never wake up after a cold night’s sleep.

Fortunately, he still had a pulse, and the worst did not happen. In the pitch-black snow, he carried Nan Xu, hoping to reach the next climate. As long as they left this frozen land, perhaps Nan Xu would wake up.

“I was distracted. What did you call me for?” Nan Xu touched his head awkwardly. He couldn’t explain that he had just been negotiating with something inside him on how to keep his little life safe.

“Sweet potato.” Ting Chuan gestured for him to look down.

Nan Xu looked down and saw that the sweet potato he had thrown into the fire had already turned into a lump of black charcoal.

He quickly poked it out with a wooden stick and used his fingers to poke it. Seeing that the inside was soft, he calmly set it aside to cool.

The flatbread was only palm-sized, its surface roasted golden by the fire. Feeling that it was ready, Nan Xu took it down and cautiously took a bite. Remembering how he had chipped his tooth earlier, he did not dare bite down too hard.

After just one small bite, the roasted fragrance filled his entire mouth. Nan Xu squinted as he chewed. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was so hungry or if the flatbread roasted over the fire was truly delicious, but either way, he looked completely satisfied. After chewing a few times, he couldn’t wait to swallow and take another bite.

Seeing him hum in delight urged Ting Chuan to eat quickly. He copied Nan Xu’s way of eating.

It only took a few bites. Nan Xu was far less refined than Ting Chuan when eating. After finishing the flatbread, he felt a bit choked up, so he looked for the gourd.

Fortunately, the ice in the gourd had melted from the warmth of the room. The slightly cool water slid down his throat and gave him an inexplicable feeling of refreshment as he sat by the fire. Nan Xu gulped down half the gourd, wiped his mouth, and gave Ting Chuan a silly smile.

That look was truly clumsy—adorably clumsy.

The corners of Ting Chuan’s lips curved up, and the flatbread in his mouth even tasted better.

Nan Xu put down the gourd and started on the roasted sweet potato. He yelped at the heat, but he refused to let go, juggling the hot sweet potato from hand to hand. Ting Chuan almost stepped in to help him.

After repeating this a few times, Nan Xu finally steadied the sweet potato and smiled at Ting Chuan. “The essence of roasted sweet potatoes is in this. Don’t be fooled by its charred exterior. Inside, it must be golden and fragrant.”

Using his scorched fingers, he split it open. As expected, the tempting aroma instantly filled the small room. Nan Xu recalled the street-side roasted sweet potato carts he’d seen after starting work, where the smell wafted from every corner. However, when he bought one, it never tasted as good as the ones he roasted by the fire as a child. It always felt like some flavor was missing.

Handing half to Ting Chuan, Nan Xu continued, “My favorite season when I was little was autumn. I probably never told you that. I had no relatives in the human world. I was abandoned at birth and grew up as an orphan, eating food from every household in the village. Most of those who stayed behind in the village were elderly, weak, women, and children who were barely able to feed themselves. Only in autumn, when the crops ripened in the fields, did life get easier. I could eat my fill. After September, when the sweet potatoes ripened, I never had to worry about being hungry again. By helping with chores every day, I could bring back several big sweet potatoes, roast them over a fire, and one would fill my belly.”

He spoke with such vigor, as if recounting a great achievement.

From these words, Ting Chuan understood Nan Xu’s past life. He asked: “Did you not find it bitterly poor? Or…did you never regret becoming human?”

Nan Xu was stunned for a few seconds, then smiled. “As long as I was full, I didn’t feel poor. When you’re starving, when is there time to think about that? As for your other question, I only learned after coming here that demons aren’t the only beings in existence. If you ask me now, I suppose I don’t regret it. I tasted a variety of foods, experienced the warmth and coldness of the world, met many kind people, and lived every day with hope. I don’t feel there’s anything in this life to regret.”

Ting Chuan was momentarily speechless. It seemed like a long time ago that he had heard similar words. Back then, they were filled with expectation. Hearing them again now, they were filled with satisfaction after many trials.

Yes, how could there be regret?

After eating the sweet potato, Nan Xu figured the two hours were almost up. He stuffed his dried clothes back into his backpack and tidied up the other things he had taken out. Ting Chuan checked outside again and found no difference from before.

Nan Xu could feel the raging wind outside through the gap in the door, and hesitated. “How about I extend it for another two hours? We still have two chances left!”

Ting Chuan shook his head. “Let’s go out and see first. We might need to rest later.”

Nan Xu thought about it and agreed. If they used up all their chances now, they wouldn’t have any left later.

After packing, they waited inside as time ticked away. To save weight, Ting Chuan didn’t take the large backpack this time, letting Nan Xu sling it over his shoulder instead.

Nan Xu shuffled closer to Ting Chuan and grasped his hand tightly.

A few minutes passed in the blink of an eye. Just as it had appeared, the house vanished into thin air, along with the fire that had not yet burned out.

A knife-like wind slammed into them. Unaccustomed to the cold, Nan Xu shivered and clutched Ting Chuan’s hand even tighter.

Snow, swept up into the air by the gale, smashed into their faces. When Nan Xu opened his mouth to speak, he got a mouthful of snow and spat several times. Ting Chuan shifted his body, shielding Nan Xu from the storm.

But it didn’t last long. The wind changed direction again, and Ting Chuan pulled Nan Xu into his arms and held him tightly.

Before Nan Xu could react, it seemed as if the wind and snow were no longer touching him. A large, faintly chilly hand covered his ears, and Ting Chuan unfastened his coat with one hand and wrapped Nan Xu inside it.

“We can’t stay like this forever!” Nan Xu said in a muffled voice.

“We just left the house. Adapt a little.” Ting Chuan replied.

The two embraced, their necks almost touching to avoid the wind and snow striking their faces. Nan Xu could feel Ting Chuan’s warm breath on his ear as he spoke.

“And you, put your clothes back on. Don’t freeze.” Nan Xu said, reaching to fasten them.

Ting Chuan stopped moving. “Don’t move. It’s cold.”

Upon hearing those words, Nan Xu instantly froze. Instead, he slid his hands inside Ting Chuan’s coat, hugging his waist tightly and leaving no space between them. He tried to give Ting Chuan some warmth, too.

In the distance, the wind sang louder, seeming even more piercing than before. Nan Xu sensed that something was wrong, but he didn’t dare move.

After a while, he gradually adapted to the wind and snow. He slowly lifted his head to look at the sky.

This time, Ting Chuan also sensed it without being reminded. The wind was stronger than before, wild enough to overturn the high slopes. Yet Nan Xu and Ting Chuan stood in the storm without swaying at all.

Nan Xu couldn’t help but recall when he had entered the array before. The great wind of the Golden Crow hadn’t blown him away, and his curiosity had driven him to become familiar with the Golden Crow. After leaving the array, he realized that he had entered someone else’s memory. He thought that it was the memory owner’s ability.

But now, the situation confused Nan Xu again. Could Ting Chuan’s strength be the reason this time?

He couldn’t help but ask: “For you great demons, can you still have this kind of ability inside arrays?”

Author’s Note:

Ting Chuan: Wake up.