RIIDMDR chapter 63

Nan Xu assumed Tingchuan was too cold to speak and continued forward, straining his strength. The cold wind howled like a wild animal, its sharp blades threatening to cut off Nan Xu’s ears. In this situation, neither of them could speak, so they just kept moving forward.

Holding his breath, Nan Xu finally managed to walk closer, only to realize that it wasn’t the mountain peak he was looking for, but rather, yet another high slope. It was bare and bald, not a single tree or blade of grass could be seen.

Nan Xu stopped in his tracks and stared silently at the barren slope covered with thick white snow. He had been hungry and thirsty for a whole day. It wasn’t that he couldn’t endure it, in an instant, all the hope in his chest collapsed, and the breath he’d been holding was released.

It was too cold, even the sound of the wind was piercing.

In the pitch-black night, all he could see was a vast field of white. Being in the snow for so long was truly unbearable, whether because of the endless road or the sunless, bone-piercing cold.

Nan Xu suddenly recalled past events. One winter, the small, broken house he had lived in for two years was on the verge of collapse. One day, a man in a black jacket stood at the doorway with his hands behind his back for a while. The next day, a crew came to tear the house down.

He carried his tattered belongings and wandered everywhere. The old men sitting outside the iron gate of the village all looked at him with pity. Nan Xu felt lost, yet he smiled at everyone he met along the way. Someone leaned on a cane and sighed as they went back inside their courtyard. More people just kept watching as his figure slowly walked farther away. Then, they quietly whispered things behind his back. Nan Xu heard some very familiar words: “orphan,” “abandoned,” “pitiful.”

Was he pitiful? He had no idea. After all, he was seven or eight years old, and his life was clearly only getting better and better!

Nan Xu circled the village again and again. The village didn’t have any large, ruined temples, only two very small Earth God shrines existed, each of which could fit just one person under its eaves. As for abandoned, broken houses like the one before, they had gradually been torn down in those years—he couldn’t find a second one.

When the sun set, smoke curled from every household’s chimney. Dogs in the village barked one after another, welcoming those returning from labor. Nan Xu also found a new place to rest.

It was an abandoned construction site outside the village. The iron sheds where the workers had lived had been dismantled, leaving only several cement cylinders lying on their sides. The space wasn’t big—not comparable to the little broken house he had lived in before—but it was big enough for him to lie flat inside. At that time, he was malnourished and barely over a meter tall. At eight years old, he looked no taller than six-year-olds in the village.

Nan Xu spread his quilt inside, then crawled in. He told himself it wasn’t cold, but the wind whistled through and froze him.

He had nothing to eat. After spending the whole day searching for a place to stay, he hadn’t gone into the village to help anyone with work, so no one gave him a single cornbread bun.

Hugging his knees, he sat inside the cylinder for a while. Then he crawled out, found some stones, and blocked both ends of the cylinder. Finally, the wind was gone.

That night, the first heavy snow of winter fell. At dawn, he woke up frozen, curled into a ball and wrapped in his quilt. He listened to the wind roaring outside. He pried open a brick and saw that the ground outside was already covered in white. The wind blew in, so he hurriedly blocked up the small opening again.

The next morning, when he crawled out of the cylinder, he could tell that his clothes, which had been warm enough yesterday, couldn’t block today’s cold. But there was no choice. He hadn’t eaten the day before, and if he didn’t move today, he would starve another day—and that was unbearable.

An old woman who limped was shoveling snow at her door, so he ran over to help her. He broke out in a sweat from running back and forth, and the snow soaked his clothes. The old woman went inside and poured him a bowl of hot water. She held half a steamed bun in her hand.

“Eat quickly. I thought you moved somewhere else. We’ve already finished breakfast. We planned to save this bun for Da Huang¹大黄 (Dà Huáng) means “Big Yellow,” it’s a common dog’s name, but I’ll split it with you,” the old woman said.

“Ah, thank you, Auntie,” Nan Xu replied with a smile as he accepted it.

He didn’t mind sharing a bun with Da Huang at all. Besides, Da Huang had gone to play with the other dogs in the village that morning and hadn’t bitten into the bun yet.

One sip of hot water, one bite of steamed bun—he ate with great relish. Much of the cold in his body was driven away, and his empty stomach was finally filled.

The old woman leaned on her shovel and stood at the door, watching him eat, lost in thought.

After eating, Nan Xu had some strength, so he went to help the next household. The next household was a lonely old man with inconvenient legs and feet and nothing to give in return—something Nan Xu already knew.

He shoveled snow and carried water, busy at one house after another for half a day. As he worked, his body wasn’t so cold. By sunset, he had a cornbread bun and two flatbreads in his pocket.

Returning to the cylinder, the winter cold in that region was especially damp after snow. The branches and dead grass on the ground were wet and wouldn’t light. Wrapped in his quilt, he gnawed on the frozen, hardened flatbread, hoping for the arrival of the next dawn.

But perhaps the sweat from the busy day had soaked the old clothes underneath, or maybe his daytime clothes could no longer withstand the cold. That night, he developed a high fever and a dry mouth. He alternated between drowsiness and dizziness and mumbled unintelligibly.

Don’t die. Absolutely don’t die. He had worked so hard just to grow this big. Every bite of food wasn’t easy to come by. He had to live, Nan Xu thought.

“Woof, woof, woof…”

It sounded like a dog barking by his ear. Was it Da Huang? He had shared half of his bun with it. Had it chased him here to scold him?

“Child, child, wake up…”

“Nan Xu, Nan Xu, can you hear me? Don’t sleep.”

All kinds of sounds entered his ears, and his mind became increasingly chaotic. Did he ever see the second dawn afterward?

He must have, because he grew up and found a job in the county later.

His first boss wasn’t kind, he demanded that every worker devote all their time and energy day and night. Nan Xu worked there for more than a year, but he became too exhausted and fell ill, so he changed jobs.

His second boss was much better. Though the work was hard, Nan Xu could rest enough. He met many people at work and got along well with them. He lived frugally, saved a lot of money, and almost managed to open a shop.

However, he was struck on the head by a stone. When he woke up, he was in a different place: a vast mountain range with an inn of his own and an employee who claimed to be a nine-tailed fox, although Nan Xu had never seen the fox’s tails.

Nan Xu’s thoughts were scattered like a torn book, its pages fluttering and covering the ground. Pick up one fragment, and it was one scene; pick up another, and it was another.

At one point, his colleagues were joking around with him. The next moment, he saw a tall figure chopping wood in the courtyard. Then, a lively young voice spoke in his ear.

“I have no memory of past lives. Transformation is just something that happens in an instant. Why do you ask so much? I didn’t deceive you.”

“If I could choose, I think being human is best: You get to experience bitter cold and scorching heat, wear different clothes, and taste all kinds of food. Though it’s only a few decades, one can savor a hundred flavors.”

“…”

His head throbbed painfully. Nan Xu didn’t know who was speaking beside him, and the scenes felt unfamiliar.

Unconsciously, Nan Xu knocked his head. How did he get through that night of fever in the freezing winter?

It seemed he burned with fever the entire night and was unable to crawl out of the cylinder at dawn the next day. He didn’t show up in the village. By afternoon, the old woman who limped, accompanied by Da Huang, found him curled up in the cylinder. His face was flushed red from the fever.

“Child, child, wake up quickly…”

Nan Xu wanted to respond, but another voice interrupted his thoughts as if time and space had split apart. That voice was resolute and fierce yet seemed to carry endless worry and urgency.

“Nan Xu, don’t fall asleep!”

“Nan Xu, if you sleep, it’ll be cold!”

…

Amidst the repeated calls, the limping old woman patting him awake in Nan Xu’s vision was replaced by a world of white.

His vision wavered. He was no longer in an endless night, unable to wake up.

No, no.

“Nan Xu, it’s dawn. Don’t sleep.” A man’s voice was hoarse and almost inaudible yet utterly firm and tireless.

He didn’t know how many words he had spoken, nor how much cold wind he had inhaled.

Nan Xu clearly remembered being in the night, but the bare slope in the distance was gone, replaced by a different scene. The only constant was the knee-deep snow.

His vision wavered. He was no longer in the dark, sleepless night.

Nan Xu’s eyes suddenly grew hot and his nose became slightly sour. Ting Chuan had carried him on his back all night, calling to him in the howling, cold wind.

“Mm.” Nan Xu rubbed his eyes against Ting Chuan’s shoulder and finally responded.

Ting Chuan paused, but didn’t immediately put him down, as if doubting whether he’d heard correctly.

After waiting a few seconds, he tentatively called out again in a hoarse voice, “Nan Xu.”

Nan Xu’s heart ached sourly. Perhaps last night’s memories were too vivid, that chaotic recollection had confused his sense of time and space. Familiar memories, distant recollections, and strange voices mixed together, making it difficult to wake up.

He didn’t know how he had lost consciousness so suddenly last night or if collapsing had frightened Ting Chuan. But he knew Ting Chuan must have wanted to take him away from the winter of this array toward the next season, so he carried him through the night without stopping.

“Ting Chuan, I want to see a fox tail,” Nan Xu said.

After he awoke, he recalled those messy memories. After he started working, he would bring things back to the village every holiday to visit the villagers who had given him warmth and to help the limping old woman. He had done all he could. So now, surviving in another world, he didn’t feel too regretful.

Amidst all his thoughts, only one regret remained—that he hadn’t seen the nine-tailed fox’s tail.

Ting Chuan seemed to laugh lightly and continued to step forward. “Then don’t fall asleep. When we get out of the array, you’ll have a chance to see a fox tail.”

Only then did Nan Xu recall that spells couldn’t be used inside the array. He really wouldn’t be able to see a fox tail.

Last time, when he entered the array with Zhi Xing, he was worried about the chickens, rabbits, and sheep. This time, he worried about seeing a fox tail.

Nan Xu found it a little funny, but he couldn’t laugh. Only his eyes felt sore.

From beginning to end, Ting Chuan had never owed him anything. He hadn’t even paid him a day’s wage. Why would Ting Chuan treat him so well with so much care?

“I’ll walk myself,” Nan Xu said.

Ting Chuan didn’t stop, he only said, “The snow is too deep. You don’t have the strength to walk.”

Nan Xu thought he still had some strength left, but the sharp pain in his stomach forced him to face reality.

Why did he always have to starve every time he entered an array?

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  大黄 (Dà Huáng) means “Big Yellow,” it’s a common dog’s name