I'm Not Leaving

Days passed by like this.

Before the morning light had fully spread, Yun Jingheng got up, dressed, stood by the door for a few moments, and then walked towards the edge of the purplish-black mist deep in the valley.

The soles of my boots trod through the damp mud, my steps were lighter than a month ago, but the curve of my shoulders and back was still taut, like a bamboo strip that had been repeatedly bent and could not spring back.

Ye Xinglan stood at the door of the low house, watching him walk away, leaning against the door frame.

After taking a few steps, he would tilt his head back slightly, wave his right hand at her with a small gesture, his fingertips hooking in her direction, and then turn back to continue walking.

The Trial of Ruin Trial takes place in a clearing shrouded in purplish-black mist deep in the valley, where Yun Jingheng spends four hours every day.

Ye Xinglan had never been inside. She could only stand outside the circle, separated by the churning dark mist. She could only hear muffled collisions coming from inside, and occasionally a few familiar low growls, curses squeezed out with obvious pain and anger, stretched and distorted in the mist, their outlines indistinguishable by the time they reached her ears.

As soon as the sound rang out, she gripped the old red rope wrapped around her wrist, her other hand clutching the handle of the food box until her knuckles turned white. She waited for the sound to subside, then released her grip and waited for the next moment.

She went in to deliver lunch at noon.

As she walked through the fog, a faint aura of Destruction swirled around her clothes, but she paid it no mind. She walked to the edge of the clearing, placed the food box on a flat rock, and sat down to wait for him.

When Yun Jingheng emerged from the depths of the mist, the injuries on his body were different every day: one day there was a purplish-black bruise on his left shoulder, the next day there were three parallel burns below his right rib, and the day after that the light gray line on the outside of his forearm had deepened a bit, as if it had been repeatedly drawn.

His movements as he sat down to eat became increasingly smooth, but his left hand would occasionally tremble while eating, making it difficult to hold the food with his chopsticks. He would then use the tips of his chopsticks to poke at the food and bring it to his mouth. If he couldn't get it in after a couple of tries, he would give up on that dish and move on to the next one.

Ye Xinglan sat beside him and watched him eat.

She moved the dishes and bowls away from him, making them easier for him to reach with his less injured arm.

He didn't talk much while eating, so she didn't either. But after he put down his chopsticks, she would pull out a handkerchief from her sleeve.

It was the same spot, but the light blue flowers had faded considerably from washing, and the edges of the petals were blurred, like ink that had seeped through after being soaked in too much water. I reached over and wiped the grease from the corner of his mouth.

The thin cut at the corner of his mouth scabbed over and then cracked open, then scabbed over again. Now it feels like a small, hard bump. When the handkerchief is placed on it, the corner of his mouth twitches slightly, but he doesn't flinch.

After finishing his meal, he got up and went back into the mist, while she cleared away the dishes and went back to the low house.

She spent most of her afternoons alone, either sitting on the wooden steps in front of the house washing the handkerchief, the clear water in the basin turning a faint rusty red. She would wash it once, then change the basin, and wash it again, the light blue flower fading more and more with each wash.

Alternatively, participate in other trials.

She went to pick him up in the evening while Yuanen Yehui was dealing with those disgusting ingredients. Tang Wulin and the others would wait for them to come back before eating.

She was already very familiar with this route. From the entrance of the low house, she walked into the depths of the valley, past two dead old trees, around a grayish-blue boulder half-buried in the soil, and then turned left along the arc of the edge of the purplish-black mist. After walking about six hundred steps, she reached the outside of the circle.

When she arrived, Yun Jingheng was usually already lying on the ground, face up, limbs outstretched, his chest heaving much more heavily than when he left in the morning. His body was covered with new wounds, old wounds piled on top of new wounds, like a piece of iron that had been repeatedly hammered, covered with crisscrossing lines and dents.

She crouched down, scooped him up from the ground, helped him turn slowly around, and gently carried him on her back.

He was lighter than before, and the spot where his shoulder blades pressed against her chest was more uncomfortable than before; the edges of the bones were hard and there wasn't much flesh covering them.

She carried him back, taking small, slow steps, making sure each step was firm before switching to the other foot.

He lay on her back, his chin resting in the hollow of her right shoulder, his breath falling on the skin of her neck, warm but shallower than a month ago, Sisi shallow as wisps of steam rising from the bottom of a deep well, not quite enough.

After dinner, she had him lie face down on the "bed" and massaged his body.

The oil lamp in the room had a very thin wick, and its light could only cover a small area along the edge of the bed. Her shadow was cast on the wall, swaying gently with the movement of her hands.

She first pressed her fingertips on the back of his neck, then slowly pushed down along the neck muscles on both sides, stopping at the edge of his shoulder blade. She then used the side of her thumb to rub in circles at the tendon attachment point on the upper edge of that bone.

The muscles there were as hard as stone; when you pressed down with your fingertips, you couldn't feel any elasticity or retraction, only a layer of stiff, hardened fibers that deformed slightly under her force.

She massaged very patiently, spending the time it takes to drink a cup of tea in one spot before moving on to the next. The pressure from her fingertips went from light to heavy, and then back to light, as she repeatedly pushed, pressed, and plucked, loosening the muscle fibers that had been tense all day, one by one.

Yun Jingheng lay on the bed, his face turned to the side, one eye half-open, his gaze fixed on her shadow cast on the wall.

He wasn't asleep, but he didn't speak either.

My breathing was more steady than on the way back; it was no longer so shallow and fragmented, but became longer and deeper, with my chest rising and falling slowly on the bed with each breath.

Ye Xinglan moved her hand down from his shoulder blades to the five burn marks on his back.

The wounds had scabbed over, but the skin underneath was still red and warm.

Her fingertips avoided the scab and gently pressed along the edge of the wound, slowly rubbing away the tension in the surrounding skin.

Her touch was extremely light, as light as if she were touching the edge of a thin piece of paper, afraid of breaking something.

Is she tired? She is very tired.

These days, every night when she lies down, she can feel her spirit like a string that has been stretched taut for a month.

When she closes her eyes, the despair she experienced in the Nightmare trials or the resentment in the Abomination trials flash before her eyes.

Sometimes she would wake up in the middle of the night and feel like there was something moving outside, but when she went to check, there was nothing there.

She lay back down, but couldn't fall into a deep sleep for the rest of the night. Her ears were perked up, listening to the wind, the rustling of trees, the chirping of insects, and any footsteps that might be mixed in with the sounds outside.

But she still went to pick him up every day.

In the morning, I stood by the door frame watching him walk away; at noon, I carried a food box through the fog and sat on a big rock to wait for him; in the evening, I squatted outside the circle, picked him up from the ground, and carried him back.

She never missed a single visit, never arrived late, and never kept him waiting too long while he lay on the ground waiting.

None of the things she did were complicated: carrying a lunchbox, carrying a person on her back, massaging someone's back—each one was so simple as to be negligible on its own.

But after a month, these simple things piled up and formed a low wall. Every day when he came back, he would lean against it to catch his breath, and then go out again the next morning.

That evening, as she carried him back home, it got dark faster than usual.

The clouds thickened, and the orange and tangerine light disappeared from the west, leaving only a hazy, dark blue-gray pressing down from the direction of the mountain ridge.

The wind was stronger than usual, making her clothes and trouser legs flutter loudly, and also blowing his stray hairs away from his forehead, revealing the old, scabbed wound on his brow.

She tilted her head slightly, turning her right ear toward him, searching for his breathing in the wind.

His breath brushed against her neck, a little more steady than yesterday, with an even rhythm. Though still shallow, it no longer carried that delicate, strained quality.

"I don't seem as breathless today," she said.

The sound was punctuated by the wind, becoming somewhat shorter as it reached her own ears.

Yun Jingheng's chin moved slightly in the hollow of her shoulder.

After a few breaths, his voice came from beside her neck, through her collar. "... Hmm. I'm almost there. I can suppress them completely now."

Ye Xinglan smiled.

I continued walking forward, my steps still slow, making sure each step was firmly planted before switching to the other foot.

The wind pushed her from behind, propelling her and his weight forward, which ironically made her steps a little more steady.

The warm yellow light shining through the window of the low house gradually appeared in the mist ahead. At first, it was a small, blurry blob, then it slowly expanded, its edges becoming clearer and clearer, turning into a square window bathed in warm light.

The wind subsided a bit when she carried him to the door.

She turned to the side, used her shoulder to push open the half-closed wooden door, stepped over the threshold, and entered the small area bathed in warm light.

Tang Wulin and Xie Xie came forward from the left and right, with all four hands reaching out at the same time. Tang Wulin supported Ye Xinglan's right elbow, while Xie Xie supported Yun Jingheng's drooping left arm from the other side.

Both of them moved with obvious urgency. Xie Xie paused when his fingers touched the light gray line on the outside of Yun Jingheng's forearm. His fingertips hovered above the line for half a breath before gently falling down, avoiding the line itself and supporting it below his wrist bone.

"Let me do it, let me do it," Xie Xie said, his voice tinged with barely suppressed urgency. "You've had a long day."

Ye Xinglan didn't let go. She slightly shifted her shoulder to steady Yun Jingheng's weight on her back before saying, "No need, it's just a few steps to the bed. Just hold his arm and make sure he doesn't slip off."

Xie Xie opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Tang Wulin gave him a look from the other side. He saw it, swallowed his words, and obediently supported Yun Jingheng's left wrist, following Ye Xinglan's steps to move towards the bed.

As Yun Jingheng, perched on Ye Xinglan's back, was being led into the house by the three people, the edge of the scabbed mouth twitched slightly.

His gaze moved past Ye Xinglan's nape and landed on a new abrasion on Tang Wulin's forehead. The edges of the wound were still moist and red, as if it had just been treated recently.

He glanced at Xie Xie again and saw that Xie Xie's right hand had a bandage wrapped around the web of his hand. The edges of the bandage revealed dark bruises underneath. The bandage was not wrapped neatly, and in some places it was loose, with the ends of the bandage sticking up slightly in the air.

The walk to the bedside wasn't long, but each step was accompanied by overlapping footsteps: the dull thud of Ye Xinglan's boots on the wooden floor, Tang Wulin and Xie Xie's footsteps following on either side, and occasionally the rustling of fabric.

Xu Xiaoyan walked over from the corner of the room, carrying a rough porcelain bowl that was already half-filled with hot water.

Ye Xinglan squatted down by the bed, Tang Wulin supported Yun Jingheng's back from the side, and Xie Xie supported him from under his left arm. The three of them worked together to slowly lower him from Ye Xinglan's back onto the bed.

The moment Yun Jingheng's back touched the mattress, his right shoulder blade sank slightly into the bed, his neck tilted back, his Adam's apple slid across his neck in an arc, and then his whole body relaxed, like a string that had been released.

Yuanen Yehui turned around from the stove, holding a rough ceramic plate in her hand.

On the plate are several pieces of processed food, irregularly shaped, dark in color, and covered with a thin layer of soy sauce.

She walked to the bedside and stood there, looking down at Yun Jingheng lying on his back. The corners of her mouth curved slightly, a small smile, but one that carried her signature mix of teasing and habitual gentleness.

"Would you like to try this one last serving?"

She said, handing the plate to him within reach, "I added some sauce to mask the stench of those things, so it shouldn't be too unpalatable."

Yun Jingheng turned his head and his gaze fell on the dark-colored blocks on the plate.

His nostrils twitched slightly as he caught a faint aroma of soy sauce and some other unidentifiable scent. The aroma was mild, without the pungent, fishy smell that had made his stomach churn in the past few days.

"Would you like some water first?" Xu Xiaoyan walked to his bedside.

Yun Jingheng gently shook his head.

He raised his right hand from his side, clenched his knuckles before releasing them, reached out and picked up a piece, his hand still trembling slightly as he brought it to his lips, his fingertips wobbling slightly near the edge of his lips.

He took a bite.

A moment later, he picked up the water from Xu Xiaoyan's hand and drank it down in one gulp.

Looking at Yuanen Yehui's face, he said with extreme seriousness, "It tastes even worse."

Gu Yue, who was busy at the stove, was taken aback. It was called a stove, but it was actually just a stone platform with plates and bowls on it.

"Really? Is it that bad?" Gu Yue stood up suspiciously.

Yun Jingheng looked at her, "You know what this thing tastes like on its own, and then there's this sauce..."

Gu Yue walked around the stone platform, a few dark crumbs still clinging to her apron. As she walked, she wiped her hands on the apron. When she reached the bedside, she leaned forward slightly and glanced into the rough pottery plate.

There were two untouched pieces left on the plate, the dark brown sauce glistening slightly under the lamplight, and a few tiny white sesame seeds sprinkled on top, probably for decoration later.

She reached out and picked up a piece.

The movements were natural; he pinched the edge of the dark, lumpy object with his fingertips, brought it to his mouth, took a small bite, chewed it a couple of times, and his brows furrowed slightly at first, then relaxed, furrowed and relaxed again, as if trying to discern the different components of the flavor.

She chewed for a long time before swallowing, and after swallowing, she licked the roof of her mouth with the tip of her tongue, as if savoring the lingering aftertaste.

"... It really won't work."

She concluded with a tone of objective regret, "The sauce flavor and its base flavor didn't blend together; they were separate. When you taste it, you first encounter the sauce, and then the base flavor comes up, with no transition between the two layers."

Yuanen Yehui stood by the bed, the rough pottery plate in her hand still there.

After hearing Gu Yue's evaluation, she remained silent for a moment, then turned her head to look at Yun Jingheng. The teasing tone in her expression was still there, but beneath it was a layer of seriousness, as if she were confirming something.

"What's the base flavor? Can you taste it? You just said the flavors are mixed up, but where exactly are they mixed? I want to know exactly what the difference is between its original flavor and the sauce flavor."

Yun Jingheng's right hand was still resting on the edge of the bed, with a little bit of dark brown liquid on his knuckles.

His gaze shifted from Gu Yue back to Yuanen Yehui's face. He thought for a moment, then spoke.

His voice was still hoarse, but after a month, hoarseness had become a fundamental characteristic of his speech.

"The first taste is of sauce, salty with a hint of sweetness, which is fine."

He spoke slowly, pausing briefly on the tip of his tongue before each word landed. "Then, after about two breaths, its inherent flavor began to rise from the back of my tongue. The taste was rather bitter, with a hint of... the astringency that comes out when something has been steeped for a long time."

"When the sauce flavor and the base flavor come into contact in the middle, they don't mix. They appear one after the other, but the transition between them is broken, so when you swallow, there are two flavors fighting in your mouth."

Yuanen Yehui listened attentively, his fingers unconsciously stroking the edge of the rough pottery plate, his fingertips brushing against the rough glaze of the rim, making a very fine rustling sound.

After listening, she nodded, as if she had memorized what he said. Then she turned around and walked back to the stone platform, put the plate down, picked up a piece of raw material that had not yet been processed, and sniffed it.

She furrowed her brow slightly, put the object back in its place, picked up another one, and repeated the actions of observing and smelling it.

Tang Wulin watched all of this from the side. His gaze moved back and forth several times on the short distance from the stove to the bedside. Finally, he saw Yun Jingheng finish the water in the bowl and Xu Xiaoyan take the empty bowl and put it back on the low table before he walked to the bedside.

He stood at the foot of Yun Jingheng's bed, hands on his hips, the abrasion on his forehead gleaming faintly in the lamplight.

"Tomorrow is the last day?" he asked.

"Um."

Yun Jingheng turned to look at him. "Tomorrow is the last confirmation. If things stay stable, this phase will be over."

Tang Wulin nodded, pursing his lips as if considering whether or not to say something.

Xie Xie tied a knot at the end of the re-wrapped bandage from the corner, then walked over, squatted down on the floor beside the bed, rested his right elbow on his knee, and looked up at Yun Jingheng, who was lying on his back.

"Then you can leave this awful place tomorrow. When you're done and come back, shouldn't we have a good meal together?"

Yun Jingheng laughed, "Nonsense... What good food could you possibly find in this godforsaken place?"

Xie Xie looked up and sighed, "That's true."

"When you get back, remember to treat yourself to something good. You've suffered terribly these past few months."

Xu Xiaoyan chimed in, "Yes, yes, we definitely need to have a good meal."

Yun Jingheng looked at the group of people in front of him, smiled, and shook his head. "I'm not going back. I'm waiting for you."

Everyone was stunned for a moment.

"Not going back?"

Tang Wulin spoke first, his voice filled with obvious doubt, "You've finished your trials, why aren't you going back and staying in this godforsaken place?"

Yun Jingheng's smile hadn't completely faded; the faint curve lingered on the edge of the scab at the corner of his mouth, a faint but undeniable trace.

He didn't answer immediately. He glanced at Ye Xinglan by the bedside, then looked away from her, sweeping his gaze over Xie Xie was squatting on the ground, Tang Wulin who was standing at the foot of the bed, Xu Xiaoyan who was sitting by the low table, and finally his gaze fell on Yuanen Yehui was still fiddling with raw materials on the stone platform and Gu Yue who was leaning against the side.

"I've completed the trial; theoretically, I can leave now."

His voice was still hoarse, but his speech was slower than before, each word landing steadily on his tongue, "But, I need to get something."

Xie Xie blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Normal food," Yun Jingheng said.

"Far from Devil Island, there are normal seas where the fish, shrimp, and shellfish are normal food sources, untouched by Destruction pollution."

He lowered his hand, his knuckles returning to the bed. "I'll go get some more, so you can have something normal to eat."

"The key to the Ruin Trial lies in the life energy within these ingredients, so you must eat this disgusting stuff."

"I was among the first to begin the Ruin Trial, so I haven't accumulated much life energy. Yours, on the other hand, haven't been depleted, making the Ruin Trial easier for you."

"But remember this: even if I bring you normal food, you'll still have to eat this disgusting stuff, or you might end up in the same sorry state as me."