“Still insisting on going?”
*Seems like these six months haven’t cooled his head at all.*
Yu Rong squinted at him. “Yan Tuo, do you realize that’s a river?”
How could he not know that? Yan Tuo smiled as he got out of the water, grabbing a dry towel to wipe himself.
Yu Rong pressed on: “Do you understand that river water is constantly flowing? Especially during flood season, the current is very strong.”
Yan Tuo asked her, “Would you like something to drink?”
Yu Rong wasn’t falling for his deflection. “Even with my poor geography knowledge, I know China’s terrain slopes from west to east, and water flows eastward. We’re in the Yellow River basin, and that stream very likely flows into the Yellow River eventually.”
And then all rivers flow to the sea.
That’s all correct, Yan Tuo looked at her puzzled: “What are you trying to say?”
*Still playing dumb*, Yu Rong nearly laughed in exasperation. “Have you ever heard of anyone who fell into the rushing Yellow River being found in the same spot seven or eight months later? The body wouldn’t be there anymore, Yan Tuo.”
Yan Tuo said: “Are you one hundred percent certain?”
Yu Rong was momentarily speechless – who could be a hundred percent certain about anything?
Yan Tuo smiled, with a hint of triumph in his expression: “See, even you can’t say for sure. Whether A Luo is there or not, we’ll only know once we look.”
Nearby, Que Cha sighed and switched which leg was crossed over the other. On the way here, Yu Rong had said she would definitely knock some sense into Yan Tuo, but now it seemed unlikely.
Yu Rong’s stubborn streak emerged: “Yan Tuo, in your heart, do you still believe Nie Er isn’t dead?”
Yan Tuo answered her seriously: “They say seeing is believing. You can only accept something after seeing it with your own eyes, right?”
*This must be pure madness*, Yu Rong thought incredulously. “Didn’t you see with your own eyes when Pei Ke…”
Yan Tuo interrupted: “The lighting was dim then, and I was very emotional. I can’t be certain if A Luo died.”
“Didn’t Pei Ke tell you afterward?”
“She only said it with her mouth, she never provided concrete proof.”
Yu Rong drew in a sharp breath.
She finally witnessed what it meant to believe “nothing is true unless I accept it.” Yan Tuo was truly remarkable, desperately using a 1% possibility to overturn 99% of reality. Not only had he convinced himself, but he wanted to convince the whole world.
She asked: “If you never find Nie Er’s body, does that mean she’ll stay alive forever in your heart?”
Yan Tuo turned the question back on her: “Why do you say that… if there’s nobody, why insist someone is dead? Isn’t it better if they’re alive? I just haven’t found her yet.”
He continued drying his hair as he walked to the shower.
Yu Rong glared at his back, grinding her teeth. The old saying was right – you can never wake someone who’s pretending to sleep. This man was addicted to his pretense, plugging his ears and acting as if the thunder in the sky didn’t exist.
Que Cha tried to console her: “Let it go.”
Yu Rong: “Why can’t he just give up?”
That single question suddenly stirred many feelings in Que Cha: “In this world, too many people give up too easily. Back then, when I took Sun Zhou away, Ya Qiao gave up on him without much struggle. And you saw how easily Lao Jiang and I gave up on each other. Now that we have someone who refuses to give up, isn’t that a good thing?”
“But he’s not thinking clearly.”
Que Cha said: “If being unclear makes him happier, then let him be unclear. His lack of clarity isn’t hurting anyone else, so why force him to change? Besides, how do you know he’s not clear-headed? Perhaps he’s more clear-headed than anyone.”
Perhaps he was more clear-headed than anyone, but he repeatedly refused to accept the truth, like a stubborn child, delaying the inevitable for as long as possible.
They arrived at the mountain entrance again.
Sun Li and several others had also come, partly to help, to visit Jiang Baichuan.
Six months wasn’t long enough for everything to change – the local mule drivers were still around, the mules were still there, and the team had even grown larger.
The mule drivers still recognized Yu Rong and greeted her enthusiastically: “Professor Yu, here for research again?”
To match her professor image, Yu Rong hadn’t dressed too flashily, trading her colorful headscarf for a plain one and wearing glasses without prescription lenses.
She pushed up her glasses and replied: “Yes, the university’s research tasks are heavy, so I’m back again.”
…
Yan Tuo had purchased quite a bit of equipment that needed to be transported on several trips. Most were standard underwater gear like air tanks, diving suits, weight belts, and diving flashlights. Many of the newest equipment couldn’t be brought in because the entrance to the Golden Man’s Gate was too narrow – even the underwater propulsion devices had to be collapsible and lightweight models.
Yan Tuo and Yu Rong formed the advanced team, taking some equipment in first.
On the way, they inevitably discussed Pei Ke again. Six months had passed – they wondered if her plans were progressing smoothly, and how many of the missing companions had already been “reborn” as white-eyed ghosts.
Yu Rong suddenly said: “I don’t know about the others, but Xing Shen… he probably adapted well. That person always felt born in the wrong era. Down there, maybe he finally found where he belonged, like a fish in water.”
Yan Tuo said nothing. If things had come to this, being able to adapt was good. He hoped those standing on cliffs would see flowers bloom there, and those in the abyss would find beauty even in those depths.
After a while, he asked: “Will there be a chance to see him again?”
Yu Rong answered casually: “Probably. If he’s like Pei Ke and gets the urge to visit the stream, there’s a chance we’ll see him. But better not – if he wants to take me down there to ‘enjoy the good life,’ I’ll have to decline.”
Yan Tuo only heard the first part of what she said.
—*Probably*.
If there was a chance to see so many others again, heaven should be fair and give A Luo a chance too.
The group rested for a night in the outer cave, and the next day they started work, each with their tasks.
Yan Tuo, Yu Rong, and Que Cha led the way carrying equipment to the stream. Sun Li and the others split into two shifts, taking turns guarding the Golden Man’s Gate, receiving new supplies from the mule drivers, and transporting them to the stream in batches.
The Golden Man’s Gate had been sealed for several months. When it reopened, the air felt stagnant. Perhaps because it was the dry season, the wind had died down, and looking around, everything was deathly still.
Sun Li asked nervously: “Sister Rong, where did Uncle Jiang go?”
Yu Rong said: “It’s huge down here, he doesn’t necessarily stay in one place. Could be anywhere. Don’t worry, we’re staying for a while this time, we’ll surely see him.”
She then called Yan Tuo and Que Cha to get moving.
Yan Tuo had brought several assembling carts. Though the ground below wasn’t even, having carts was better than carrying everything by hand. He and Yu Rong took turns pulling the cart, with Que Cha helping occasionally.
Every so often, Yu Rong would climb up high and whistle, trying to draw out Jiang Baichuan. Que Cha felt conflicted, both wanting to see him and feeling it might be better not to.
Halfway through, with still no response, Que Cha couldn’t help asking: “Yu Rong, what if there’s no food down here and Lao Jiang… starved to death?”
Before she could finish, Yan Tuo suddenly grabbed a gun hanging from the cart, pointed it forward, and shouted: “Who’s there?”
*Damn*, something’s wrong? Yu Rong cursed herself for being careless and also grabbed her gun. Though everyone assumed things were peaceful in the Green Soil, they had to prepare for the worst. They brought even more equipment than last time, including tear gas.
After the shout, not only was there no reaction, but even the strange sound Yan Tuo had heard stopped.
Yan Tuo swallowed and made a gesture to Yu Rong, then slowly moved around the high wall blocking their view, gun raised.
A moment later, he exhaled and lowered his gun, though his expression remained complex. He said: “It’s Li Yueying.”
Li Yueying?
Yu Rong took several seconds to react, instinctively walking forward.
This was another “old friend.”
Li Yueying was crouching behind the high wall, looking much smaller than before due to severe emaciation.
She was clutching half a rat – or at least that’s what Yan Tuo guessed from the thin tail still dangling between her fingers. It was only “half” because the head was gone, and Li Yueying’s mouth was full.
The sound he had heard earlier was from her “eating.” She had stopped when they startled her.
After staring at each other for a while, Li Yueying continued eating as if nothing had happened, the chains on her wrists jingling as they touched.
Yan Tuo felt sick. He said: “Let’s go.”
After walking some distance, he looked back. Li Yueying was still crouching there, her shoulders slightly moving as she took small bites.
Yan Tuo asked: “Do we… have to be like this with them?”
Though he didn’t finish the thought, Yu Rong understood. Anyone who had witnessed that scene would feel downhearted. She replied glumly: “There’s no choice. We can’t coexist.”
They couldn’t coexist.
She couldn’t even find a proper, dignified place for Jiang Baichuan – how could she possibly look after Li Yueying?
They reached the stream again.
The dry season indeed presented a different scene – the water level had dropped about a meter, and to the naked eye, the water appeared almost still. Of course, “still” was just an illusion. Yan Tuo knew that once in the water, you could immediately feel the omnipresent pushing force.
The small cart stopped by the water’s edge, with a camp light hanging from it for illumination. In the pitch-black surroundings, this lone light looked like an isolated flame in the wilderness. Gradually, it revealed the luminous paint Yan Tuo had left nearby.
—*A Luo, are you here?*
—*I left some luminous paint here, can you answer me?*
Yu Rong looked around: “Where do we start?”
Yan Tuo raised his hand, pointing to a rope arrow suspended above the river: “There. That’s where Pei Ke stood to make offerings to A Luo. That must be where she threw A Luo in.”
He had to start there. Everywhere the water flowed was where he needed to search, inch by inch.
Since they were exploring the river, with limited depth, it was much easier than actual diving. They didn’t need depth gauges or compasses, and only symbolic weights were necessary. Yan Tuo put on his full diving suit and boots, strapped on his diving knife, carried air tanks and propulsion device, and attached a diving line to his waist. Usually in underwater cave exploration, the line prevents divers from getting lost, but now with just one stream flowing in one direction, getting lost was unlikely. The line was just a safety precaution.
As usual, Yu Rong would spot him from above.
Yu Rong had originally decided not to discourage him anymore, but as he prepared to enter the river, seeing the dark, gleaming water made her nervous. She asked: “Yan Tuo, have you really thought this through? Listen, this isn’t an artificial lake, there are no small fish or shrimp here. What if there are prehistoric giant crocodiles or something…”
Thailand had many crocodiles and horror adventure movies, and Yu Rong instinctively felt that anything involving underground rivers couldn’t be peaceful.
Yan Tuo hesitated briefly. If this journey yielded nothing and he ended up feeding some monster, then his six months of planning would just be delivering dinner to some water beast.
But he only hesitated briefly before smiling and saying: “I’ve thought it through.”
Yu Rong sighed as she watched Yan Tuo enter the water.
…
This stream was very long, and searching the riverbed wasn’t a task for just a day or two. Yu Rong and Que Cha were prepared for long-term operations.
As Yan Tuo moved through the water, they followed along the shore, going ahead to wait for him at the next section. Afraid that Sun Li and the others might not find them when delivering supplies, they sprayed directional arrows with luminous paint on the ground.
Most of their other time was spent providing logistical support for Yan Tuo.
—Like making fires for him to warm up by. In the autumn and winter dry season, the underground river was very cold. Even with a diving suit, Yan Tuo would surface with purple lips, shivering. None of the battery-powered heating equipment proved as practical as a fire.
—Like cooking, trying to prepare hot meals when possible. People need proper sustenance; they can’t let their surface soak wet only to eat compressed biscuits every meal.
—Like preparing new diving flashlights and air tanks, and replacing the propulsion device’s batteries.
—Like keeping watch – this was the stream, the boundary, they needed to stay vigilant.
Once, seeing how hard Yan Tuo was working, Yu Rong offered to take his place for a section.
Yan Tuo immediately refused.
Yu Rong misunderstood his meaning: “What, only you can work meticulously? You don’t trust my work?”
Yan Tuo hesitated before saying: “That’s not it. I’m afraid there might be something in the water.”
If there was something in the water, it would be terrible if Yu Rong got hurt. He was willingly risking himself – why drag Yu Rong into it?
Jiang Baichuan appeared on the fourth day of river exploration. That day, Yu Rong was bored waiting on the shore and whistled again to try calling him. At first, she thought it was another futile attempt, but after a moment, strange sounds gradually came from the opposite shore.
The opposite shore? Yu Rong and Que Cha both tensed up – one loaded her gun, the other nocked an arrow. Que Cha even considered putting on her makeshift mask so she could deploy tear gas if things went wrong.
After about five minutes, Jiang Baichuan appeared.
Thinking about it, it wasn’t strange – a stream couldn’t stop much. Jiang Baichuan could be on either side of the stream. He had already transformed into a beast, neither human nor owl-beast, so it didn’t matter if entering the Black and White Stream would change him or not.
Perhaps the food was better on that side. Unlike Li Yueying, Jiang Baichuan was actually plump and strong, his fur glossy. He’d grown larger than before, his sharp, twisted face displaying an aggressive, weapons-drawn ferocity.
Que Cha was struck speechless, feeling that not meeting would have been better than this meeting. The post-transformation Jiang Baichuan who had lost his mind, the Jiang Baichuan who had surprisingly adapted to the Green Soil – these new images were gradually squeezing out and distorting the Jiang Baichuan in her memories.
She could barely remember what the Jiang Baichuan she had fallen in love with in her youth looked like anymore.
Jiang Baichuan paced anxiously on the opposite shore, scratching the ground and panting, probably unable to find a way across. After a while, he ran off to one side.
Yu Rong roughly guessed that since there were no rope bridges in this area, Jiang Baichuan was probably looking for a rope bridge to cross the water.
Sure enough, shortly after, Jiang Baichuan came bounding along their side of the riverbank toward the two of them. His manner seemed quite jubilant. Yu Rong threw him a large piece of meat that had just been delivered that morning. Jiang Baichuan pounced on it mid-flight, circling the meat excitedly as if celebrating New Year’s.
Que Cha murmured: “I won’t come next time.”
She didn’t want to see Jiang Baichuan again. Even though their love was long gone, she had hoped they could both maintain their dignity and not end up like this.
Even the longest river has an end. On the seventh day, they finished the “open-air” portion of the stream, or rather, reached where the stream flowed into the end of this underground cavern called Green Soil.
What lay ahead was truly underground: one could no longer surface for air when tired or when air tanks were depleted. They were about to enter a completely water-filled cave passage.
The air tanks could support about an hour underwater, the same as the propulsion device. Even if he could maintain a calm state, using minimal air while swimming to assist the propeller, he could only extend that time by twenty minutes at most.
Eighty minutes, and accounting for the return journey, divided by two – he could only go in for forty minutes at most. And because the return would be against the current, requiring more air and propulsion power, forty minutes was already the limit.
From the courtyard to the stream, from the stream to river exploration, he had reached the final leg.
Over these seven days, Yu Rong had watched the light in Yan Tuo’s eyes gradually dim. She felt Que Cha was right – Yan Tuo was clear-headed, more clear-headed than anyone. Just that when others wouldn’t give him confidence or dreams, he created one for himself.
Now, he had reached the edge of that dream. Go any further, and the dream would shatter.
She wanted to leave him some hope, and delay as long as possible: “How about we go back, find more equipment, and come again next time?”
Yan Tuo sat by the riverbank holding the propulsion device with its newly changed battery, lowered his head, unwrapped a piece of chocolate, and put it in his mouth, saying: “Let’s make this the last time.”
Yu Rong didn’t look at him: “Yan Tuo, we’ve come this far, can we be honest? After these forty minutes, if we still find nothing, can we learn to let go?”
Yan Tuo said: “It’s not that I can’t let go, it’s just that I haven’t given my all yet. If someone gives up without trying their best, they’ll regret it for life.”
Yu Rong felt a mix of emotions: “No, we’re about to give it our all now, forty minutes, Yan Tuo.”
Yan Tuo shook his head: “No, maybe in a few years, with more advanced technology, we won’t be limited to just forty minutes. Then I can come back. Even now, there’s a normal-pressure diving suit that can work underwater for fifty hours.”
He had checked the price – about eight million, which he could afford. It was just too big to get through the Golden Man’s Gate and needed a ship for support – impractical.
But in the future, who knows? If computers could go from desktop to micro-sized, he always had hope.
Yu Rong smiled bitterly: “I can see now that you’re probably never going to give up.”
When she had complained about this to Que Cha earlier, Que Cha had said: “Yan Tuo has more endurance than both of us. Just think about how he endured seven years by Lin Xirou’s side for revenge, and you’ll understand.”
Yan Tuo smiled: “That’s not true, I will give up.”
Last time, he had given up, swallowing a folded star.
He would give up when his heart died and his will was extinguished, but right now, his heart wasn’t dead yet – it was still beating strongly.
He smiled and waved goodbye to Yu Rong and Que Cha, then entered the water once again.
This time was different from before. Ahead was pitch black, the cave entrance like an opened mouth. The diving light pierced straight in, very much like when a doctor shines a light to examine one’s throat during a checkup.
Yan Tuo steadied the propulsion device and kept his body as still as possible while letting the water push him, gradually slowing his breathing rate and air consumption as he advanced deeper into his throat.
The journey was extremely quiet. Yan Tuo was very careful with his movements and fin kicks to avoid unnecessary disturbance that might stir up sediment and reduce visibility, though his flashlight model could reach six thousand lumens at maximum brightness and sustain that for one hundred and twenty minutes – even muddy water wouldn’t be a problem.
There were plankton in the water, both plants and animals, though he couldn’t identify what they were. Some were in clumps, others in strands, all floating gently past Yan Tuo. If not for the blue-glowing numbers on the pressure gauge and timer constantly reminding him, he would hardly notice the passage of time.
Twenty minutes.
Thirty minutes.
Forty minutes.
The maximum limit.
Yan Tuo hung suspended in the water, neither up nor down, without support, his flashlight beam illuminating the path ahead, his arms gradually trembling. How unwilling he was – there was still a path ahead, why, why couldn’t he continue?
Just four more minutes – he could hold his breath for four minutes now, could trade that for a few more steps forward.
Yan Tuo steeled himself and continued forward, the pressure and timer numbers jumping irritatingly.
At two minutes and ten seconds, something seemed different at the edge of his flashlight beam.
He couldn’t quite describe it – vague and shadowy, the riverbanks were uneven, not as smooth as the sections they’d passed through in previous days. Of course, “smooth” was relative – the riverbed could never be as smooth as a mirror.
Yan Tuo’s heart began to pound. He tried to suppress this emotion – when relying on air tanks, an accelerated heartbeat wasn’t good, it would increase air consumption.
At two minutes and twenty-seven seconds, Yan Tuo couldn’t suppress his heartbeat anymore – it was beating even harder than before.
He thought he saw a grotto.
Yes, a grotto. Influenced by Nie Jiuluo, Yan Tuo now spent his free time looking at materials about grotto sculptures and watching documentaries. Though he couldn’t see yet, he vaguely felt this underground grotto was huge and dark, its style somewhat like Dunhuang and Longmen, with niches carved into the walls, one after another, seeming to contain stone and clay sculptures.
Being underwater and in a low position, looking up created an extremely oppressive feeling as if countless deities and Buddhas were bearing down from above, making an individual feel as insignificant as an ant, instantly inspiring reverence.
What was this? An underground project? Or was it originally a surface grotto complex that had sunk underwater due to geological movement?
Yan Tuo tried not to breathe heavily, unconsciously increasing the propulsion device’s power.
Closer, a bit closer.
Yan Tuo realized these might not be carved, but naturally formed: this section of the river wall, perhaps due to the rock composition, just happened to have many niche-like shallow pits about one to two meters in length and width. Because they were densely packed, one after another, and contained figures, viewed from a distance, it inevitably created the feeling of being in a grotto complex.
But what were these figures?
Yan Tuo advanced another dozen meters forward, approaching the edge of the one nearest to him. What he saw shocked his mind, making him flip backward in the water, nearly losing his balance.
Not sculptures! It was a person! Head wrapped in black cloth with a crooked topknot, wearing leather armor around the torso, just like the terracotta warriors he had seen in the Qin Mausoleum.
Was this… a head-wrapped soldier from the Qin Dynasty?
At this moment, Yan Tuo no longer cared about air tank reserves or time limits – he would spend what he had. Steadying himself, he adjusted the propulsion device’s direction and moved closer to look.
It was – a person, a living man. No matter how lifelike a sculpture is, it couldn’t achieve such a distinct muscle definition. The person was covered in an almost transparent, slightly flesh-colored membrane that wrapped around the body and connected to the cave wall.
Looking even closer, Yan Tuo’s heart nearly stopped.
The person was breathing, and strangely, though his skin was rough and dark, there was a bowl-sized patch on his right cheek extending to his right nostril that was relatively pale and more delicate.
Yan Tuo reached out with trembling hands and, through his diving gloves, pressed the outer membrane.
Soft, elastic, seemingly flesh-like.
Yan Tuo’s heart jumped, and several words suddenly burst into his mind.
—Nüwa’s flesh?
He whirled around, his flashlight beam trembling uncontrollably, sweeping far and near, front and back, left and right, in all directions.
Not just people, but also beasts – beast-form ground owls, even strange-shaped water crocodiles, the ancient hunting dogs known as Guandong hounds, and more…
The flashlight beam stopped.
He saw Sun Zhou.
It was Sun Zhou. Yan Tuo clearly remembered he had been torn apart by the white-eyed ghosts and owl ghosts, losing an arm at the shoulder, but now that missing arm seemed to have grown back, sprouting a short length at the shoulder.
Yan Tuo suddenly understood.
No wonder that head-wrapped soldier’s right face was unusual – it must have been bitten off by some fierce beast and grown back. Because it never saw light or experienced wind and rain, its texture and color were different from other areas.
Nüwa’s flesh – the white-eyed ghosts, ground owls, Jiang Baichuan, and the others had all wanted to find Nüwa’s flesh but never could. What they got was only soil permeated with blood dregs from where Nüwa’s body had collapsed.
How had they never figured it out? This was a river – water flows year after year, how could Nüwa’s flesh stay in one place? Of course, it had been washed away. To find it, they should have followed the river’s flow.
But no one had done this, ever. Perhaps, like Yu Rong, they all believed that rivers flow endlessly, anything that falls in would be washed away, and all rivers flow to the sea.
No one could have imagined it would connect and settle here, establishing this grand hall.
Yan Tuo’s eyes grew hot. He suddenly reacted, frantically activating the propulsion device, and sweeping the flashlight around.
He saw her – saw Feng Mi. Her hair was in dirty braids, but where she had lost her scalp, the hair grew wild, sprouting a length that floated slightly.
There should be more, should be more people – he hadn’t found her yet.
Yan Tuo’s vision became blurry. He raised his hand to wipe his eyes, only then realizing he couldn’t through the diving mask.
He recited in his heart, telling himself to stay calm, to be calmer.
The flashlight beam stopped again.
That straight beam pierced the dark stream of water, slightly diffused at its end, its gentle, peaceful glow enveloped Nie Jiuluo.
She slept so peacefully, curled slightly on her side, as if in the womb, forever without worries.
Yan Tuo suddenly became calm. If his feet weren’t suspended without support, he would have wanted to kneel and kowtow, prostrating himself in worship.
Was this Nüwa?
The legendary world-creating deity?
In her eyes, there was no distinction between human and owl-beast, no separation of beast and fowl, no high or low, no superior or inferior, no favoritism, no judgment of who should live or die.
All were her children, all were life.
What did it matter if her physical body had collapsed? In this silent underwater corner, unknown to people, she still spread out an Eden for all beings. In life she could create humans, in death she still sheltered them.