Yan Tuo remained silent for a long while after Que Cha’s words.
Yu Rong looked at Que Cha curiously. “How did you come up with that?”
Admittedly, Que Cha’s reasoning was unique. When Yu Rong had heard about how the flesh membrane couldn’t be torn or cut, she had considered suggesting that Yan Tuo try using a gun.
Que Cha began, “That’s because…”
She trailed off, lost in thought.
In the early days of her relationship with Jiang Baichuan, she had been enthusiastic and dizzy with love, full of plans and hopes for the future, wanting to have a child with him.
During those two years, she had read numerous materials and followed many parenting bloggers. When visiting the hospital, she would deliberately detour to the obstetrics department, watching new mothers practicing walking in the corridors, holding their babies, and exchanging experiences.
She remembered their chitchat—how they said newborns were so ugly at first that they could barely look at them, feeling no maternal love, but after holding and nursing them a few times, things changed. That skin-to-skin contact made their hearts melt with tenderness.
The parent-child promotional posters in those corridors, each showing warmth and love, suggested that matters of life and receiving new life were deeply sacred.
Yu Rong waved her hand in front of Que Cha’s face. “Que Cha?”
Que Cha snapped back to reality, noticing both Yan Tuo and Yu Rong staring at her questioningly. She blushed. “Well… I don’t understand all this talk about flesh and soil, but I just think that Nüwa creating humans is similar to being a mother. Isn’t a mother giving birth also creating humans?”
“A mother naturally protects her children. From what Yan Tuo said, whether humans, Di Xiao, or even dogs—they’re all there. What mother would easily hand over her child to others? If you want to take someone away, you need to be sincere—how could you just forcibly grab them? If it were that easy to remove people from there, wouldn’t everyone in that cave be taken out for exhibition once it’s discovered?”
Seeing Yan Tuo and Yu Rong listening intently, she suddenly grew self-conscious, her words becoming hesitant. “I… I don’t know, I’m just thinking aloud. Don’t take it too seriously.”
The mutton soup on the fire was almost boiled away. She hurriedly went to adjust the firewood and added more water to the pot.
Yu Rong pondered for a while before saying, “It might be the right approach. They say women are emotional creatures—their thoughts are more delicate than ours.”
Yan Tuo found her comment amusing. “Aren’t you a woman?”
Yu Rong glanced at him. “Me? Well…”
She left it at that.
Sometimes she felt like a woman, sometimes more like a man. Sometimes being a woman felt troublesome, other times being a man seemed terrible.
People said Nüwa was the deity of creation—she wanted to ask what the purpose was in creating someone like her.
But then she thought, what did it matter? In that underwater cave, both Di Xiao and the dogs were worthy of protection. She lived life with vigor—that was meaningful enough.
She said to Yan Tuo, “If you’re sure that snake won’t harm you, maybe you should try again. Some things in life are heaven-sent—you can’t steal them, force them, or even imagine them into being. Perhaps this is meant to be your destiny. However…”
Yu Rong changed her tone, tempering his expectations: “What if there’s no way to bring her out?”
Yan Tuo gently set down his empty bowl and said, “Then I’ll visit her often. When I’m old and near death, I’ll remove my air tank there and ascend to heaven on the spot, asking Nüwa to keep me in the cave too.”
Yu Rong was truly impressed by him.
He was like an indestructible cockroach—when it came to Nie Jiuluo, he seemed incapable of despair.
Yu Rong thought to herself that if Nie Er did successfully come out and they got together if they ever had conflicts and wanted a divorce, Nie Er wouldn’t be able to leave.
When it came time for marriage, she’d have to remind Nie Er to think carefully.
***
Given their physical limitations, immediately re-entering the water cave wasn’t possible. The three spent the night there, and early the next morning, they began preparing for another cave dive.
The propulsion device and air tanks had been replaced with new ones. To prevent breaking, the safety line was now double-stranded. Jiang Baichuan had been called back by Yu Rong—yesterday when the rope snapped, his burden was gone, and he had wandered off somewhere with the long rope trailing behind him, only casually returning late at night.
They would need Jiang Baichuan’s strength again, so Yu Rong tossed him a large meat steak.
Yan Tuo still felt uncomfortable about using Jiang Baichuan, but circumstances left no choice. He went specifically to Jiang Baichuan’s side and said, “Thank you, Uncle Jiang.”
Jiang Baichuan continued eating, paying no attention.
***
This time, Yu Rong and Yan Tuo agreed on a fifty-minute one-way limit—success or failure, he must return on time.
Compared to the first attempt, this timeframe was much more generous. After all, the first time involved searching and checking along the way, while this time they could head straight for the target.
As she helped Yan Tuo into the water, Yu Rong repeatedly confirmed: “The snake… really won’t eat you?”
Yan Tuo reassured her: “The snake was right in front of me then. If it wanted to eat me, I’d have been done for in one bite. It withdrew on its own.”
Yu Rong couldn’t fully relax—after all, it was a snake. Who knew what it was thinking?
She said, “Anyway, when time’s almost up, I’ll get in the water. At fifty minutes, we start pulling—work with us. Bringing Nie Er back is a win, you coming back alone is breaking even, and neither of you returning is a loss.”
Yan Tuo smiled, then said solemnly: “Yu Rong, thank you.”
Due to his experiences, he had been wary of opening up to people. Though he knew many people over the years, he had almost no friends he could trust with his life.
He felt that now, Yu Rong was one of them.
Yu Rong wrinkled her nose and said, “Ugh, that’s so sappy.”
…
As Yan Tuo expected, this one-way journey was quite smooth. By the thirty-seventh minute, he had reached the cave.
Like yesterday, it was as silent as the deep sea, with only his diving light and presence disturbing the stillness.
Que Cha had said to approach with “reverence,” so Yan Tuo went all in, raising his clasped hands above his head toward the cave ceiling—he remembered the white giant snake had appeared from there. Whether it understood the gesture or not, at least he had shown proper respect.
After the ritual, Yan Tuo floated directly up to Nie Jiuluo’s side and removed his right diving glove.
The underground water was bone-chillingly cold, the freezing sensation instantly spreading from his right hand throughout his body. Yan Tuo couldn’t help but shiver before reaching out to slowly touch the almost transparent flesh membrane.
Bare-handed contact was completely different from wearing gloves. Gloves provided a barrier, giving psychological security—who knew if this substance was poisonous or could corrode skin?
It felt soft to the touch, and where his fingertips pressed, countless blood vessel-like thin lines spread outward in rippling waves, the sensation returning to his fingertips and raising goosebumps all over his body.
But what next?
He had shown proper respect, acted politely, demonstrated sincerity and genuine intention—then what? No miracle occurred. It wasn’t like the legends where true sincerity could move mountains and restore Nie Jiuluo to him.
Fine beads of sweat began forming on Yan Tuo’s back. Feeling helpless, he unconsciously pressed his fingertip slightly into the flesh membrane.
It went in—he could see it. But at that same moment, an excruciating pain shot through his fingertip. Yan Tuo jerked back as if struck by lightning.
The bare hand seemed more effective than the knife, but only marginally so. The knife couldn’t cut through, and his fingers… well, they couldn’t get through either.
Another wasted attempt?
Yan Tuo looked up at the cave ceiling. It remained pitch black, with no sign of the white snake emerging.
Did this mean his actions weren’t considered offensive?
Yan Tuo looked at his hand, hesitated, then tried again to push it into the membrane.
That heart-piercing pain returned. This time, Yan Tuo gritted his teeth, but he could only get to about the second knuckle before the pain nearly brought tears to his eyes, forcing him to withdraw his hand as if fleeing for his life.
Fortunately, the pain didn’t pursue him—it vanished quickly once he pulled back.
The timer showed forty-three minutes. He had seven minutes left.
Yan Tuo stared at Nie Jiuluo sealed in the cave.
Tearing didn’t work, neither did the knife, and guns would probably be useless too. Bare-handed touch was lethal—the membrane was thick enough that he’d need to reach in at least one hand’s length to touch Nie Jiuluo.
But he could barely manage two knuckles deep before it became unbearable.
The timer suddenly flashed—forty-four minutes. Six minutes left in the countdown. He couldn’t waste time on idle thoughts.
Yan Tuo’s gaze fell on Nie Jiuluo’s hand.
He remembered how she would habitually curl her fingers while sleeping, but now, sealed by the flesh membrane, they lay still.
He desperately wanted to hold her hand, even if he couldn’t bring her out yet. He wanted her to know he was here, so very close to her.
A thought suddenly flashed through Yan Tuo’s mind.
He could touch her—theoretically, if he could endure the pain, he could reach her. As long as he withdrew his hand before the pain killed him, he wouldn’t die.
Five minutes left on the countdown.
Yan Tuo’s heart began racing wildly. He sniffed, swallowed hard, and reached out again.
This time, he didn’t look at his hand. Instead, he focused on the diminishing distance between their hands, finding motivation in watching it decrease.
The pain arrived right on schedule.
Yan Tuo lost control of both the propulsion device and his ability to tread water. His chest pressed against the propulsion device while his left hand desperately gripped the rough cave wall. His right hand continued reaching forward. For a moment, he considered ending it quickly by thrusting his hand in all at once, but he couldn’t. The pain had seemingly vaporized his entire arm—he had no strength, and could only advance millimeter by millimeter, almost purely by inertia.
Large drops of sweat rolled down his forehead. Yan Tuo’s vision went dark, then golden, then blood-red. The diving helmet’s visor gradually fogged up from his accelerated blood circulation and rising body temperature.
Soon his body curled up, feeling like a shrimp being slowly fried in hot oil.
Then his legs began shaking uncontrollably, disturbing the water around him. He almost thought the pain had made him lose control of his bodily functions.
Reason screamed at him to stop and withdraw his hand, but a persistent thread of determination kept urging him on having endured so much already, why not hold out a bit longer?
Eventually, he could neither see nor hear. The propulsion device drifted away, and the air tank on his back felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, constantly pulling him deeper. His left hand lost its grip and slipped. A string seemed to snap in his brain with a piercing sound that nearly penetrated his skull.
In that instant, just as consciousness was completely fading and his body was sinking, he felt it—his hand touched Nie Jiuluo’s.
And just like before, her hand reflexively moved slightly, grasping his in return.
***
At the forty-eighth minute, Yu Rong got into position in the water, again at the river’s center to ensure a straight line with Yan Tuo’s exit path.
On the riverbank, Jiang Baichuan was also ready, his upper body tightly bound, waiting for Yu Rong’s signal.
This time, besides Que Cha, Sun Li and another person were watching. They had come to deliver supplies and, happening upon this scene, decided to stay and watch, using the opportunity to spend time with Jiang Baichuan.
Que Cha looked back and forth between Yu Rong in the water and Jiang Baichuan on the shore, knowing she shouldn’t laugh but finding it amusing—the setup resembled a school sports meet, with competitors in position waiting for the starting gun.
At the fifty-minute mark, Yu Rong tested the rope and felt that Yan Tuo showed no signs of returning.
Since he had lasted until fifty-two minutes the first time, Yu Rong wasn’t too anxious despite passing the agreed time. She just couldn’t help complaining: “Damn it, not a single reliable man among them. Expecting him to be on time is just… he just has to create trouble every single time…”
Before she could finish, an odd sensation rose in her heart.
She stared at the dark entrance and suddenly shuddered.
Something seemed wrong in there. Though she couldn’t quite sense it yet, the water flow felt off.
After a while, even those on shore developed a strange feeling. Que Cha, who trusted her instincts, felt her skin crawl and couldn’t help saying, “Yu Rong, maybe you should come up first, I have a bad feeling…”
Before she could finish, Yu Rong’s face changed drastically. She released the wheel and swam frantically toward the shore: now she was absolutely certain something was wrong in the cave, and whatever it was seemed about to emerge…
She had barely grabbed the riverbank, not yet having climbed up, when surging waves burst from the cave mouth. The water spray shot up several meters high, catching Yu Rong off guard and pushing her under.
In her panic, she grabbed the safety line attached to Jiang Baichuan, but even with his great strength, how could he match the force of the surge? In an instant, his claws lost their grip on the ground, and howling, he was dragged into the water, struggling desperately.
Que Cha and the others were almost stunned by the wave that soaked them, taking a full five or six seconds to react. Fortunately, no second wave followed, and the counter-current water began flowing back.
Sharp-eyed Sun Li pointed at the middle of the water, shouting, “Sister Rong is there! There, Uncle Jiang is, hey, there are two more people! Two more!”
Yu Rong had just surfaced, still disoriented, when she heard “two more people.” Her spirit suddenly alert, she swam several powerful strokes and grabbed hold of Yan Tuo in his diving helmet.
Grabbing one meant grabbing both—Yan Tuo’s arms were locked tightly around Nie Jiuluo.
Yu Rong felt her scalp tingle: he had brought her out!
The next moment, she roared at the shore: “What are you standing there for? Don’t you know how to help?”
***
After much chaos, everyone made it to shore.
The bonfire was lit again, and Que Cha laid out ground mats with an extra blanket on top so Yan Tuo and Nie Jiuluo could lie comfortably.
Both were unconscious, though breathing steadily. The difference was that Nie Jiuluo’s expression was peaceful, like someone in sleep, while Yan Tuo’s brows were tightly knitted, his body occasionally spasming as if he had endured great suffering.
Jiang Baichuan suffered the worst—afraid of water, after his ordeal he was like someone struck by lightning. Even on shore, he remained curled up and shivering, taking a long time to recover.
…
When the meat soup first began to boil, Yan Tuo woke with a start, sitting up as if in a dream. After two seconds, he looked around.
Fortunately, his first glance found Nie Jiuluo. Yan Tuo stared at her for a long while before collapsing back down, breathing heavily.
Yu Rong came over and crouched beside him. “What happened?”
Yan Tuo couldn’t explain clearly. He only remembered grabbing Nie Jiuluo’s hand, then suddenly a shadow loomed over them, a great force surged, and before losing consciousness, he had held onto Nie Jiuluo with all his might, with only one thought: they couldn’t be separated again.
Seeing Yan Tuo’s silence, Yu Rong thought he was still dazed from nearly drowning. “What’s wrong?”
After a long while, Yan Tuo murmured, “This must be what childbirth feels like.”
What nonsense was this? Yu Rong rolled her eyes, muttering “Still not fully awake” as she went to check on the soup with Que Cha.
Yan Tuo lay with his eyes open, staring upward, listening to Nie Jiuluo’s breathing beside him. His heart slowly expanded, seeming to stretch endlessly, filled with peace, like a long-crumpled paper finally smoothed out, every wrinkle at last pressed flat.
At first, after hearing Que Cha’s words, he had thought bringing Nie Jiuluo back was like receiving a new life, comparable to childbirth.
Usually in childbirth, it’s the mother who endures the pain.
But he hadn’t expected that retrieving Nie Jiuluo from the stone cave would require such suffering from the one receiving her.
This must be what childbirth feels like.
Nüwa’s flesh had protected these injured lives but wouldn’t easily release them. No life comes easily into this world—not newborns, nor the lives he wished to reclaim from death.
It was fair.
The suffering was worth it, and he accepted it with peace in his heart.