RIIDMDR chapter 39

 

Soap? Nan Xu doubted his own eyes. The surprise hit him so suddenly.

These days, he worked tirelessly, his body constantly drenched in sweat. When he bathed, he always feared that he couldn’t scrub clean enough and wished that he could rub off a layer of skin. At times like these, he longed for soap.

He knew that making soap wasn’t overly difficult, but Nan Xu was uneducated. Most of the skills he possessed were learned through observation in daily life, so actual production was beyond his reach.

Opening the soap blueprint, Nan Xu discovered several methods listed. The lard-based soap was simple and common, but he lacked the necessary ingredients. Instead, the description mentioned things like soapberries. Given the system’s style, it likely wouldn’t reference items Nan Xu couldn’t obtain, meaning these materials were probably available in the mountains. Nan Xu decided to take advantage of having little work on hand and venture out for a stroll.

The pottery and candle blueprints he had obtained earlier produced items that were indispensable to his daily life, so he was constantly seeking new blueprints.

However, System 006 was perpetually glitching. Nine times out of ten, it wouldn’t respond to his inquiries, never indulging his curiosity.

The latest batch of blueprints also revealed a small trick to Nan Xu: there seemed to be an invisible experience bar within the system. Upgrading it offered a chance to unlock new blueprints—a decent discovery. This meant that as long as he kept using and crafting, new blueprints would eventually appear.

Due to material shortages, Nanxu couldn’t make soap immediately, which left him slightly disappointed.

But this mood didn’t linger long. Two days later, he received a system notification:

[You have gathered all materials. Would you like to upgrade your courtyard?]

At that moment, Nanxu was sitting under the eaves, weaving a palm-leaf fan. As the weather grew hotter, he faced the reality of having neither a fan nor air conditioning. Fortunately, the wooden cottage was comfortable; opening the back door of the main hall allowed for cross ventilation. At noon, when the sun was at its peak, he reclined on the lounge chair in the main hall. The breeze flowing through the house felt refreshing, making summer seem less unbearable. A single leaf fan was enough to get her through the sweltering season.

After entering the courtyard, Tingchuan placed the stone he had been carrying onto the pile. He walked over to Nanxu, took one of the finished fans, and gave it a couple of swipes. The breeze ruffled the dark hair at his temples.

“This one’s quite good,” Tingchuan praised.

Nan Xu readily accepted Tingchuan’s compliment. After all, he had polished the wooden handle and woven a straw rope around it for a comfortable grip. Creating maximum wind with minimal effort was the result of Nan Xu’s considerable research.

“Why so many?” Tingchuan inquired.

Five or six palm fans already lay beside Nan Xu, yet he continued weaving another fan without pause.

His hands never stopped moving. “One for each of us. Guests staying at the inn will need them, too. If nothing else comes up, we can make a few more to give to the canine tribe. They’re dexterous and will likely find inspiration in these to create even more beautiful things.”

Hearing this, Tingchuan set down his fan, suddenly losing interest.

Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, Nanxu tilted his head. “You were praising them just now. Why the sudden change?”

Leaning lazily against the doorframe, Tingchuan looked utterly disengaged. “Everyone has one. What’s so special about them? They’re disposable anyway.”

Nan Xu was speechless. How had he never noticed before that Tingchuan’s pride had become so extreme? After spending so much time together, however, Nan Xu had long since mastered how to handle him. He nodded slowly to indicate his understanding and said, “Theirs are woven from cattail reeds. Later, I’ll weave you a different one using bamboo strips.”

Tingchuan gave a cool nod.

Nan Xu chuckled inwardly, glancing at the pile of stones in the courtyard. “We have enough stones. No need to gather more.”

Tingchuan had been planning to make another trip for stones before nightfall. Upon hearing Nan Xu’s words, he leaned back more comfortably and looked visibly relieved. While hauling stones wasn’t particularly difficult for him, making endless trips without expending significant magical energy was utterly tedious. Why would a nine-tailed fox like him—one who expected adoration wherever he went—bother with such labor if not for Nan Xu’s need?

Out of obligation for favors received, he thought. Even if other demons found out, it wouldn’t mean that he lacked principles; he was merely repaying a debt of gratitude.

After chatting for a while, the sun began to set. Tingchuan noticed the water bucket in the kitchen was empty and carried it to the stream to fetch water. While Tingchuan was out of sight, Nanxu quickly entered the system and submitted the task.

[Courtyard upgrade complete. Current level: 2. Prosperity +5.]

In the blink of an eye, the courtyard’s layout shifted slightly. Where there was once only a wide crossroad leading straight to the gate, a narrower gravel path now ran perpendicular to it, dividing the space into four sections. The upper left corner now had a lawn and nursery area, and the right side boasted vibrant loquat trees. Near the house, the eastern section featured a stone table and grape arbor. To the west, not far from the stone mill, a well had been added.

Nan Xu dropped his fan and ran to the well. Kneeling halfway down the edge, he peered inside. Below the narrow opening, the wind rippled the water’s surface. His face was reflected in the shimmering light.

It really was a decent, functioning well.

Nan Xu rose and circled the well to inspect it. He had bought a bundle of hemp rope from the marketplace and was just about to try drawing water when he remembered that Ting Chuan had taken the family’s only bucket. He sat by the well, waiting for Ting Chuan to return.

Idly, he sat on the ground leaning against the rock by the well opening and gazed toward the courtyard gate. He calculated how many more buckets he needed to make, plus a well cover. When he wasn’t drawing water, he could cover the opening to prevent Guan’er and the chicks from falling in or flying down.

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, footsteps sounded outside the courtyard, followed by the creak of the gate opening. Ting Chuan walked in, carrying a bucket. He took only two steps before suddenly halting. His gaze swept around and landed on Nanxu, who was sitting by the well. The expression that flashed across his face was indescribable.

Renovating the house and courtyard at night was one thing, but doing so in broad daylight was another matter entirely. He had merely stepped out to fetch a bucket of water.

Seeing his expression, Nan Xu realized that he was no longer guarding against Ting Chuan. He remembered the last time he upgraded the courtyard. He’d stayed up late, waiting for Ting Chuan to return to his room before making any changes. This time, however, he sat boldly in the courtyard, facing the other’s astonishment head-on.

This thought made Nan Xu flash Ting Chuan a bright smile tinged with a hint of “Please don’t ask me anything.”

Whether Tingchuan received the message or not, he paused for a few seconds before carrying the bucket straight to the kitchen as usual.

Watching his retreating figure, Nan Xu’s lips curved upward. Then, as if remembering something, he called out to Tingchuan, “Tingchuan, remember to bring the bucket out for me.”

Tingchuan’s footsteps faltered slightly at the request, as if sighing. Not long after entering the kitchen, he emerged again, carrying the empty bucket and handing it to Nan Xu.

Nan Xu tied the hemp rope securely to the bucket. Standing by the well, he slowly lowered the rope. When the bucket touched the surface of the water, he tugged on the rope. His hand moved with deft precision, tipping the bucket over. Soon, the rope in his hand grew heavy.

He slowly hauled the bucket up from the well and eagerly tipped some water into his palm. Cupping it to his lips, he tasted a sweetness that was distinct from stream water—even more refreshing. For some reason, this made the previously delightful stream water seem impure by comparison.

“Delicious,” Nan Xu declared, turning to Ting Chuan. “Want to try some?”

Ting Chuan remained silent, seemingly uninterested.

Nan Xu splashed the water from his palm and scooped more into his hand. “Seriously, I’m not lying. Don’t say your innkeeper didn’t share with you. Come on, come on.”

With that, he held his hand forward toward Ting Chuan.

Tingchuan stared at the hand extended before him. After hesitating for a moment, he lowered his head and licked the water from Nanxu’s palm.

The cool well water tasted sweet and refreshing, with a faint hint of spiritual energy.

Bird songs rang crisply in the distance. Neither spoke in the courtyard. Tingchuan savored the water in silence while Nanxu flinched belatedly, his trembling hand dripping the last drops onto Tingchuan’s chest.

“Sorry, my hand shook,” Nanxu said, retracting his hand. There was a touch of embarrassment in his voice.

His gaze lingered on the damp spot on Tingchuan’s shirt. His fingers curled slightly; the tingling sensation lingered in his palm. Tingchuan’s tongue really was soft.

Nanshu’s thoughts drifted far away.

Tingchuan glanced down, unconcerned. This little bit of water would dry in fifteen minutes. “It’s fine. It really is delicious.”

After seeing Nan Xu feed Tingchuan water, Guan’er licked a couple of droplets off the ground. Then, as if amused, it tugged at Nan Xu’s pant leg and whined.

Nan Xu snapped back to reality. Looking down, he saw Guan’er staring intently at the hand he’d used to feed Tingchuan. Feeling amused and exasperated, he crouched down, ruffled the dog’s fur, and said, “Just a sip of water, and you’re already jealous. Wait a moment; I’ll give you a taste, too.”

With that, Nan Xu poured a little more water into his palm. Guan’er buried his head and began licking Nan Xu’s hand. Nan Xu rested his chin on his knees and watched Guan’er drink contentedly. He was completely absorbed. He felt nothing particularly special in his palm—just a few licks from a dog’s tongue. But why had he felt so overwhelmed when Tingchuan licked him earlier?

Nan Xu thought to himself as he lifted his gaze to look at Ting Chuan. He saw Ting Chuan staring at him as he gave water to the dog, his expression somewhat peculiar.

Was he hurt? Or was he finding something hard to accept?

Glancing at him twice, Nan Xu asked with some confusion, “What are you thinking about?”

Ting Chuan looked at Nan Xu, then at the water bowl. He composed himself, cleared his throat, and replied, “Nothing.”

He then reverted to his usual aloof and uncommunicative demeanor, walking straight toward the lounge chair.

Nan Xu was puzzled but not overly concerned. Maybe he was tired from hauling stones today. Ting Chuan often suddenly lost energy and took a nap.

Summer nights fell early, but Nan Xu’s rumbling stomach reminded him that it was getting late. He washed his hands and carried a bucket of water to the kitchen.

After drinking his fill from the well, Guan’er became quite lively. He rolled around on the newly sprouted grass in the courtyard, playing by himself, pouncing and biting. Then he trotted over to Tingchuan.

The sun, which had been slanting westward just moments ago, had vanished entirely, leaving only a half-sky dyed with an evening glow. Tingchuan lay on the lounge chair with his eyes closed, recharging his spirit. The sound of vegetables being chopped drifted from the nearby kitchen. Everything felt exceptionally peaceful.

Suddenly, his robe was tugged. He opened his eyes and saw Guan’er clutching his hem, seemingly amused by something. He sat up and swiftly grabbed Guan’er by the scruff of his neck and lifted him up.

Guan’er’s legs twitched as he was held in the air. He froze, staring at Tingchuan with wide eyes. Tingchuan met his gaze.

After a moment, Tingchuan murmured, “You sure know how to beg for food.”

[Main Quest 2-3: Rewards issued—Blank Flyer, Blind Boxes*2]

Nan Xu was busy cooking. She flipped the ingredients in the wok with a spatula while reading the introduction on the blank flyers.

[When you feel lost, write down your wish. Blank Flyers will appear on every demon’s mountain peak, and kind travelers will come to make your dreams come true.]

Nan Xu: …

It’s just a flyer, why did the system add a marketing slogan?

Nan Xu grumbled inwardly but was satisfied with the reward. His business was truly sluggish right now. Tingchuan mentioned that the billboards outside the mountain were about ten meters tall. When unfamiliar demons passed by, they emitted a strange glow. Nan Xu guessed that they were probably advertising screens from the human world. That kind of colored light could only travel a limited distance. Unless a demon happened to be passing by, it was difficult to catch a glimpse of them.

However, the Blank Flyer item solved the distance problem. He could design the advertisement content himself, though it could only be used once.

[Main Quest 2-4: Diverse Menu (Harvest at least five types of crops)]

[Main Quest 2-5: Ways to Make Money (Develop at least two new business ventures)]

After receiving the quest reward, Nan Xu was given two consecutive main quests, so many that he wondered if he had switched systems.

Speaking of which, he had indeed grown quite a few vegetables. Most, however, were still unripe. According to the requirements, he had to harvest the crops, turn them into dishes, and serve them at the table to complete the task.

Had this quest appeared a month or two later, completing it would have taken just one meal’s time. Now, however, it posed a real dilemma. Was he really supposed to wait that long? Or was this precisely why the system had issued two quests consecutively?

The next morning, after completing his daily tasks, Nan Xu grabbed a basket and went to the vegetable garden behind his house. He had already planted a variety of vegetables there.

The plot was large, yet a small section remained untouched. He snipped some baby greens and picked seven or eight green peppers. Then, he began wandering the garden. Eventually, he harvested sweet potato vines because he couldn’t find anything else edible.

That noon, Tingchuan tasted a new dish: stir-fried sweet potato vines. He heated oil until the garlic cloves released their fragrance, then tossed in the blanched sweet potato vines. He added a handful of green pepper strips to the mix. The vines absorbed the garlic-infused oil and a hint of spice. A pinch of salt was all that was needed—no other seasoning was required. Plated, the dish glistened with vibrant green, instantly whetting the appetite.

The sweet potato vines, just over forty days old, were crisp and tender—exceptionally refreshing to eat and Tingchuan’s new favorite.

Meanwhile, Nanxu ate the dish before him, his mind elsewhere. He was intently studying the system in his mind. The task completion rate showed only two dishes: stir-fried sweet potato vines and green vegetable soup.

The other dish on the table, tiger-skin green peppers, wasn’t recorded by the system. Upon reflecting on the differences in the ingredients of each dish, he realized that only the green pepper seeds hadn’t been purchased from the system. They had been sprouted and planted from seeds found in a mystery box. Could the system not recognize crops grown this way?

Staring at the three remaining tasks, Nan Xu fell deep into thought and missed several of Tingchuan’s remarks.

After dinner, Nan Xu sat in a recliner and flipped through the system. The mall hadn’t added any new items. He carefully reviewed the crop section again and bought a packet of chive seeds. Similar to baby greens, chives could be harvested in less than a month. Whether stir-fried plain or used in chive pancakes, they were a delicious treat.

Mentioning stir-fried chives made Nan Xu’s eyes light up. He’d almost forgotten about the popular vegetable—bean sprouts.

After buying a packet of mung beans in the grains and oils section, Nan Xu skipped his afternoon nap altogether. He grabbed a wooden basin, filled it with water, and sprinkled in the mung beans. Then he rummaged through the storage area to find gauze to cover the basin. Fresh bean sprouts should be ready in four or five days.

–

For the next few days, the inn remained quiet. During the hot afternoons, Nan Xu sanded planks in the shaded courtyard, crafting new wooden barrels. In the cooler mornings and evenings, he took his jar into the mountains to search for plants he had overlooked before. After nearly a week of this routine, guests finally returned to the inn—familiar faces he had met before.

The hedgehog demon couple pushed open the courtyard gate once more, this time accompanied by a teenager. Though only eight or nine days had passed, they found the courtyard transformed beyond recognition. The couple exchanged glances, each seeing a hint of astonishment in the other’s eyes.

Making such a significant change in such a short time must have consumed a great deal of spiritual energy. Yet, in the demon realm, using spiritual energy was an extravagant affair. They wondered why the innkeeper would choose to do this. But, recalling their previous experiences at this inn, it wasn’t entirely incomprehensible. If not for the inn’s unique qualities, they wouldn’t have left the mountains immediately and brought their child back here.

At that moment, Nanxu and Tingchuan were standing outside the pigpen. The two pigs inside had gotten into a fierce fight the night before, somehow.

A few days prior, Nan Xu had castrated the wild boars with a swift stroke of his knife. The disinfection must have been thorough because the wounds healed without issue. However, once the wounds closed, the two boars became even more ferocious than when they were first captured. Despite their injuries, they kept thrashing and charging about, nearly breaking through the pen. Fortunately, anticipating their restlessness, the pen had been built exceptionally sturdy. After several days of futile escape attempts, the boars went on a hunger strike.

Zhuang Wu rushed to inform Nan Xu about the strike. Nan Xu pondered briefly, then inquired about the recovery of the boars’ wounds. Upon hearing that the wounds were healing well, he casually remarked, “If they don’t want to eat, don’t feed them. Wait a couple of days. If they still refuse, we’ll see then!”

Zhuang Wu waited a long time, only to receive this answer. He thought that Nan Xu was as heartless as the fox demon. Having endured hunger firsthand in the Zhuyu Mountain array, he still vividly remembered the experience. He never wished to experience it again. Now, upon hearing that two castrated boars were being denied food for throwing a minor tantrum, he felt a pang of sorrow, as if his own brother were being mistreated.

Unable to sleep all night out of concern for the boars, Zhuang Wu rose and slipped out under cover of darkness to bring them food. The moonlight was dim, making the path difficult to see. After groping his way to the pen, he lifted the feeding bowl, but was suddenly kicked by a starving boar. The bowl, filled with steaming pig feed, landed squarely on his head, drenching him in food as he fell to the ground.

Zhuang Wu nearly broke his back. Lying on the ground, he watched the painstakingly prepared food go to waste. Overcome with anger, pain, and regret, he howled in the empty night for a long while.

Zhuang Si went out searching when he didn’t see his brother return. What he found was Zhuang Wu, transformed back into his original form, wailing on the ground. The wild boars inside the pen stared in terror at the demon outside the fence. The demon outside the pen silently shed tears. For a moment, Zhuang Si thought his brother was so foolish that he didn’t want to acknowledge him.

With his waist injured from the boar’s kick, Zhuang Wu couldn’t feed the pigs for the next two days. The task fell to Zhuang Si.

Thus, upon hearing about the two pigs fighting, Nan Xu came to the pig pen. Zhuang Si told him about the subsequent developments involving the wild boar.

“After going hungry for two days, it calmed down considerably. It started eating properly and stopped ramming the pen. But last night, the two got into a disagreement and started fighting,” Zhuang Si reported matter-of-factly.

Nan Xu grew concerned. “Is it because it’s sick and acting aggressively?”

Zhuang Si paused for two seconds before replying with a blank expression: “Not exactly. They’re both reaching mating season. After being castrated, they haven’t adjusted yet. Since there are no sows in the pen, the larger pig tried to mount the smaller pig. The smaller one resisted, so they fought.”

Nan Xu choked on his own spit at this revelation, his tone tinged with curiosity. “The big one’s that wild?”

Zhuang Si had expected his boss to find such talk taboo, but he was momentarily stunned by this reaction.

Tingchuan glanced at Nan Xu. His eyes sparkled and his eyebrows were slightly raised. He found the whole thing oddly fascinating. Humans really were open-minded.

Zhuang Si, a burly man, exchanged glances with Nan Xu for a few seconds before responding, “The larger one is more dominant, but it hasn’t gained much of an advantage. The smaller one has a worse temper and is fiercer. He’s bitten the larger one in many places.”

Since arriving in the mountains, Zhuang Si had been mostly quiet, speaking with a serious, earnest expression that accentuated his simple, honest features. It was rare for him to steer the conversation back on track.

Nan Xu gave the smaller boar a few more glances, murmuring his admiration before getting down to business. “I still have some disinfectant. Bring it over later so we can treat the larger one’s wounds from the fight.”

Zhuang Si nodded at his words.

Nan Xu watched the two pigs quietly eating in the pen. After days of confinement, they had visibly plumped up. At this rate, there would surely be plenty of pork before the New Year.

“When it gets hot, give them extra water. If any get sick, you must come tell me.” Although he had successfully delegated the task of raising pigs on his first try, Nan Xu still felt a bit guilty. However, with his hands full of other work, he couldn’t always keep a close eye on things, so he could only offer additional reminders.

Tingchuan, standing by the chicken coop, remained silent. He wasn’t interested in pork. If Nan Xu hadn’t insisted, he wouldn’t have come at all.

Fiddling with the artificial tree in the coop, he suddenly glanced toward the wooden hut and said, “We have visitors.”

Nan Xu turned to leave the courtyard but paused to glance back at the battered boar. Under his breath, he muttered, “What a waste of a big frame. Can’t even carry a little pig. Good thing they castrated him early; otherwise, the boar’s reputation would be utterly ruined.”

Demons have keen hearing. Though Nan Xu spoke softly, his words were clear. Both demons present heard him perfectly.

The veins on Zhuang Si’s forehead throbbed uncontrollably. He thought his master was even wilder than the huge boar, while Tingchuan halted in his tracks, puzzled by where Nan Xu could conjure such chaotic notions.

Back in the courtyard, the three-person hedgehog demon family stood waiting. Spotting Nan Xu approaching through the back gate, their faces lit up in welcome.

Nanxu couldn’t fathom why their arrival brought them such joy, but business was business—he greeted them with a smile.

Last time, it had been just the couple, but now there was an additional youth who looked rather inexperienced. Nan Xu gave him a second look. The youth had pale skin and hair; his exposed skin was a cool white with little color in his face. Upon seeing people, he pressed his lips tightly together, giving the impression that he was another demon who wasn’t keen on communicating.

Seeing an entire family this socially anxious made Nan Xu wonder how the couple had met in the first place.

Once again, the middle-aged man spoke up, requesting two guest rooms upstairs and meals for three days.

Nan Xu’s inn rarely had customers, so today was a big deal. He led them inside. From the two mystery boxes he’d received as mission rewards last time, one contained yarn, and the other held a small blackboard and chalk. He didn’t need the yarn right now, but the blackboard was perfect for writing the menu. He hung it on the wall in the main room and listed prices for guests to order meals.

On the topic of writing, the demon realm’s script differed from that of the human world. Nanxu had never seen demonic writing before and was unaware of its distinctiveness. One sleepless night, while browsing the system, he stumbled upon an inconspicuous translation feature. Only then did he realize that the demonic script must have evolved uniquely. He entered some characters and found that the translations had different strokes.

Later, whenever insomnia struck, Nan Xu would translate demonic scripts to become familiar with their forms. He deeply understood the importance of literacy. Back in the human world, despite lacking the means to attend school, he sought out a young teacher who came to the town to volunteer and learned to read. Now, living in the demonic realm, he certainly wouldn’t neglect this aspect.

Whether due to his innate aptitude or his foundation in human script, Nan Xu learned rapidly. Within a month, he recognized numerous characters, and his handwriting was neat and legible.

On the day of their arrival, the hedgehog demon family ordered several dishes from the chalkboard menu. The braised spare ribs glowed a golden hue, and the sweet and savory sauce released an enticing aroma that wafted through the air and out the window into the courtyard. Anyone who caught the scent couldn’t help but pause for a moment and take several deep breaths. Nanxu ladled the ribs from the pot into a clay jar and simmered them for another half hour before serving. Though coated in caramelized glaze, the meat remained pleasantly firm. Yet, with a gentle poke of chopsticks, the bone easily separated from the flesh. One bite filled the mouth with savory sauce, delivering profound satisfaction.

Tingchuan, who usually disliked pork, tried a few pieces that evening. He glanced over at the family at the next table. All three of them were eating with great relish, especially the slightly frail-looking boy whose bowl was already piled high with bones. As they ate, the parents seemed to notice their child’s hearty appetite. They barely touched their own food, busy serving him dish after dish.

Nan Xu thought the couple was spoiling their child, but it wasn’t his concern. He merely glanced over a few times without commenting.

Tingchuan followed Nan Xu’s gaze to the next table. His eyes lingered on the youth for a few extra seconds before shifting away. He was lost in thought.

That night, Nan Xu climbed into bed. Tingchuan changed into his pajamas and leaned back against the headboard. After sharing a bed for so long, the human and the demon had grown accustomed to each other’s presence—a stark contrast to the awkwardness of just a few months ago.

Nan Xu pondered the system’s tasks. Perhaps due to the warm weather, the scallion seeds he’d planted had sprouted, and the bean sprouts would be ready to eat tomorrow. Only one vegetable remained to be harvested—he wasn’t sure if the pumpkin vines would mature first or if the Chinese cabbage would be ready sooner.

The options were too limited. He’d have to plant more vegetables. Only when the autumn harvest came could he expand his selection. Besides, preparing for winter meant he couldn’t leave that small patch of garden fallow.

After mulling this over, Nan Xu was about to head to the mall to buy more seeds when he glanced over and saw Ting Chuan leaning against the headboard with his eyes closed. He wondered why he hadn’t just lain down.

“What are you thinking about?” Nan Xu asked him.

Tingchuan opened his eyes and shifted his gaze slightly to glance at Nanxu. He said indifferently, “Nothing. I just suddenly remembered an old friend.”

Nan Xu was a little puzzled. Yaolin had told him that Tingchuan had rarely left the East Sea for thousands of years, and he had never heard him mention having close personal relationships with any demon clans. Furthermore, Tingchuan was rather aloof and had never mentioned anyone during his time at Zhuyu Mountain. Nan Xu had assumed that Tingchuan was too focused on raising his nephew to bother making friends.

“Hmm? A friend from long ago?” Nan Xu asked.

Tingchuan’s reply was somewhat dismissive. “Quite a while,” he said.

Seeing that he didn’t want to elaborate, Nan Xu didn’t press him further. “Oh.”

Silence settled over the room. The candle flame flickered in the breeze drifting through the window, setting the shadows dancing across the walls.

Thinking of the family upstairs, Nan Xu asked Ting Chuan, “Are all hedgehog demons this shy? How do they find love?”

Ting Chuan seemed slightly taken aback by the question. After a few seconds, he replied, “Yes, the hedgehog demon clan is like that. The one who came to the shop today was likely from the Bai family of West Mountain.”

Nan Xu frowned. “You know them?”

Ting Chuan shook his head. “Not personally. But among the hedgehog demons, the West Mountain clan holds the highest status.”

“Why? They’re all hedgehog demons. Why rank them?” Nan Xu wondered aloud, then recalled Yao Lin mentioning that the bird clan revered the White Phoenix lineage. His question suddenly seemed rather unorthodox.

Tingchuan’s reaction was muted, but his gaze held profound meaning. “If a clan doesn’t have a decisive figure, it probably won’t last long.”

Nan Xu understood. The demon realm was far from peaceful. If no demon within a clan would submit to another, the clan would likely disintegrate at the first sign of trouble.

“The White Clan of the hedgehog demons, however, has a different reason for their revered status. The legitimate Western Mountain White lineage specializes in the art of rejuvenation,” Tingchuan explained.

“They actually practice medicine?”

Nan Xu hadn’t imagined that the demon realm harbored physicians whose skills were passed down through bloodlines. Indeed, every world maintained its own delicate equilibrium.

“With such abilities, it’s no wonder their status is so exalted,” Nan Xu mused. Then, as if recalling something, he inquired, “But the children of that couple didn’t seem to possess particularly vibrant energy. Could young hedgehog demons naturally appear that way?”

Tingchuan shook his head. “Not exactly. Treating other demons depletes them of vast amounts of spiritual energy. Over three thousand years ago, I witnessed the previous head of the Xishan Bai clan heal a tiger clan leader. Afterward, he didn’t descend from Xishan for nearly thirty years.”

Nan Xu was stunned by this revelation. In an era when spiritual energy was abundant, it took thirty years to recover from treating a gravely injured patient. If that were the case, wouldn’t the Bai Clan of West Mountain’s rejuvenation techniques be practically useless now?

As if reading Nan Xu’s thoughts, Tingchuan continued, “Over two thousand years ago, the previous head of the Western Mountain Bai Clan exhausted his spiritual energy and passed away shortly after. The position passed to his nephew, and since then, their clan has all but vanished from sight.”

Nan Xu felt a pang of regret imagining a master healer capable of curing any ailment yet constrained by inadequate resources.

“Did he have any children?” Nan Xu asked.

The demon realm places immense importance on lineage succession, especially for bloodlines like the Bai Clan.

Ting Chuan paused. “He is still young and has not taken a wife.”

Nan Xu detected an unfamiliar note of wistfulness in Ting Chuan’s tone—a nuance he had never heard before—and turned around instinctively.

In the flickering candlelight, Ting Chuan’s head was resting against the headboard of the bed. His profile was strikingly beautiful, almost otherworldly. His pupils were deep and still, as if Nan Xu had merely imagined that fleeting moment.

“What a pity,” Nan Xu murmured.

Tingchuan offered no comment. He continued, “The current head of the Bai family has two sons. The eldest is of average talent, but the younger possesses extraordinary gifts, just like that one. Whenever demons see him, they are reminded of the previous Bai family head who died young. I later heard that the current head intends to register the younger son into the lineage of the late head so that, in a thousand years, he may inherit the position of the next family head.”

“Is that younger son the youth upstairs?” Nan Xu inquired.

Tingchuan nodded slightly. “Yes, but before the ceremony could be held, unexpected calamity struck. The boy, deeply revering the late patriarch, resolved to follow in his footsteps by traveling the world to cultivate. By chance, he encountered the Azure Dragon Jingyuan in the South Sea, who was on the brink of spiritual collapse. After treating the Azure Dragon, the boy’s health began to deteriorate day by day. The Bai couple traveled far and wide, seeking effective medicine and skilled physicians, but to no avail.”

No wonder Tingchuan had referred to the couple upstairs as the Bai family of the Western Mountains. Upon hearing this, Nanxu realized that practicing medicine under their current circumstances was nothing short of self-sacrifice. This also explained why they hadn’t intervened in nearly a thousand years. But an Azure Dragon? Was it the kind of dragon he imagined?

His confusion prompted him to ask.

Tingchuan’s eyes darkened. “Yes, he is the last Azure Dragon demon in the world today. But his condition is dire. Despite that youth’s extraordinary talent, his cultivation is limited. He is merely delaying the Azure Dragon’s demise. News of his death could come at any moment.”

Nan Xu’s eyes widened. So dragons truly existed! He was intensely curious about the legendary creature’s true form. Yet, Tingchuan’s words about its imminent peril filled him with regret.

The human and the demon chatted for a long while. Nan Xu’s knowledge of the demon realm remained limited. Since arriving in this world, he had never ventured beyond the mountains, finding everything outside to be unfamiliar and wondrous.

Half a candle burned down, and sleepiness overtook Nan Xu. He hadn’t even bothered to buy more seeds. Half-asleep, he thought of the frail youth upstairs. In his youth, he had also cared for all living beings, which is why he risked everything and used all his abilities to save the Azure Dragon. He was a decent demon. The next morning, Nan Xu would get up early and brew a cup of fresh goat’s milk to help the youth recover.

That night, Nan Xu dreamed he walked through a mountain forest bursting with wildflowers and arrived at a lake rippling with emerald waves. Several companions chatted and laughed beside him. Behind them, a youth clad in white listened to their conversation. A faint smile played on his lips. He was silent and still.

Waking early, Nan Xu felt a vague sense of loss. He hadn’t dreamed once in the months since arriving in the mountains. This sudden vision of mountain streams and waterfalls should have brought him relief, but it left him with a tinge of regret instead.

Back in the human world, he often visited nearby scenic spots on his days off. It seemed his prolonged stay in the mountains had truly begun to weigh on him.

After milking the sheep, Nanxu scooped two bowls of flour and started to roll out the dough. Tingchuan swept the courtyard while chicks trailed behind him. Occasionally, a bold chick would flap its wings in an attempt to hop onto Tingchuan’s shoe, but would be swept away by his broom before it could land.

Nanxu kneaded the dough while watching this scene unfold in the courtyard. It was a daily spectacle that he never tired of witnessing—he simply loved seeing Tingchuan playfully harassed by the flock of chicks.

As Nanxu slid the rolled dough into the pot, the sun peeked halfway over the opposite mountain ridge. Guests from the second floor rose and descended. After chatting with Tingchuan late into the night, Nanxu gained some insight into the family of three. Now, hearing the couple express concern over their child’s sleep, he felt the universal tenderness of parental love.

How could two hundred years of ceaseless wandering in search of medicine ever be summed up in mere words?

Scoop a spoonful of lard, add light soy sauce, salt, and chicken bouillon. Ladle the clear broth from the noodles into bowls and sprinkle with chopped scallions. The savory aroma of the broth wafts up. The noodles were firm and slippery. Adding a few greens completed the dish: a bowl of clear broth noodles, fresh and delicious, ready to be served.

In the courtyard, everyone had a bowl of clear broth noodles before them. Two tables held pickled vegetables and preserved dishes with eggs. There was little conversation in the morning courtyard, only the occasional crisp clink of chopsticks against bowls.

The noodles were flavorful and satisfyingly chewy. The greens Nanxu had grown himself were as vibrant and delicious as ever. It was a pity there were no eggs; adding a fried or poached egg would have made the meal even better.

As Nan Xu ate his bowl of noodles, he looked at the chicks in the yard. Grow up quickly, he thought. The important task of laying eggs will be yours!”

After breakfast, Nan Xu brought a bowl of warm goat’s milk to the young man sitting in the courtyard. He asked softly, “What’s your name?”

The other person looked surprised for a moment, then stood up to take the bowl and murmured a quiet thank you.

“Zhixing,” he murmured.

By the time he finished speaking, his ears had flushed crimson.

Nan Xu found this amusing and considered teasing him further. But then he noticed a gaze fixed on him—too obvious to ignore.

Following the direction of the gaze, he saw Tingchuan sitting beneath a loquat tree, playing with two golden loquats in his hands. His almond-shaped eyes gazed intently in Nanxu’s direction. Their eyes met, and Tingchuan asked, “What about mine?”

Nan Xu was prepared. He poured the jasmine-infused milk into a cup for Tingchuan.

Tingchuan took the cup with satisfaction and handed the loquats to Nan Xu. “Here. Reciprocation.”

Nan Xu turned and held out the loquats to coax the bashful child. “Come on, Zhixing. Eat your loquats.”

Tingchuan: …

 

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Author’s Note:

Tingchuan: Resentment.jpg

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Acargoreng: This chapter is so long, my fingers are crying 😭