The Weight of Life

Then she suddenly smiled.

"Zhang Mo," she said, "are you stupid?"

Zhang Mo did not speak.

Ning Rongrong said, "If you were doing this for a mission, you would have urged me long ago. But you didn't. You let me think for myself, let me consider it slowly."

She paused, her voice softening:

"I knew it the day you gave me the spirit bone. If you were truly doing this for a mission, you wouldn't have given that thing to me."

Zhang Mo looked at her.

She shifted her gaze, looking out at the surface of the lake.

"So," she said, "I won't overthink it."

Zhang Mo was silent for a long time, then said softly:

"Thank you."

Ning Rongrong was stunned for a moment, then her face flushed slightly.

"What are you thanking me for?" she muttered. "I haven't agreed yet."

Zhang Mo nodded: "I know."

Ning Rongrong turned her head to glare at him: "What do you know?"

Zhang Mo said: "I know you need time."

Ning Rongrong opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end, she only let out a huff.

She turned back around, continuing to look at the lake.

After a long while, she suddenly asked:

"Zhang Mo, tell me, what if I never agree?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment and said: "Then you don't agree."

"And what about the two worlds?"

"We'll find another way."

Ning Rongrong turned to look at him, her expression complex.

"Aren't you afraid?"

Zhang Mo said: "I am. But I cannot force you."

Ning Rongrong stared at him for a few seconds, then looked away.

Her eyes were a little red.

But she did not let the tears fall.

She took a deep breath and stood up.

"Let's go," she said, "back to eat steamed buns. I'm hungry."

Zhang Mo stood up and followed by her side.

The two walked slowly back along the edge of the lake.

After a few steps, Ning Rongrong suddenly reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

Just like before.

Zhang Mo looked down at her hand, then at her.

She still didn't look up, just held his sleeve and whispered:

"Zhang Mo."

"Hm?"

"I've remembered what you just said."

Zhang Mo did not speak.

She continued:

"You remember what I said, too."

Zhang Mo asked: "What did you say?"

Ning Rongrong paused, her voice even quieter:

"I'm not doing this for a mission."

After she finished speaking, she quickened her pace, pulling him along by his sleeve.

Zhang Mo looked at her back, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.

The two of them walked one after the other, passing through the streets in the night.

The streetlights stretched their shadows long, one tall and one short, tightly connected together.

Back downstairs at the studio, Ning Rongrong suddenly stopped in her tracks.

She turned back to look at Zhang Mo, her eyes shining under the streetlights.

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"Tomorrow during training, teach me that ancient martial art."

Zhang Mo was stunned: "Didn't I already teach you a few self-defense moves?"

Ning Rongrong shook her head: "I want to learn the full set."

Zhang Mo looked at her.

Her expression was very serious.

"In the future," she said, "if you can't win a fight, I'll be able to step in and help."

Zhang Mo was silent for a few seconds, then nodded:

"Alright."

Ning Rongrong smiled.

The smile was fleeting, but genuine.

She turned and headed upstairs, skipping along, her skirt swaying with every step.

Zhang Mo followed behind, watching her bouncing figure, and suddenly felt—

Tomorrow didn't seem quite so terrifying anymore.

Early the next morning, the two of them stood at the entrance of the ruins again.

Ning Rongrong had changed her clothes—a thin jacket over a white T-shirt, paired with that newly bought skirt. Zhang Mo glanced at her but said nothing.

Ning Rongrong felt uncomfortable under his gaze and looked down at herself: "What's wrong?"

Zhang Mo said: "Training in a skirt?"

Ning Rongrong blushed, stubbornly retorting: "I, I'll change later! Can't I wear it for now?"

Zhang Mo didn't say anything more, pushed open the iron gate, and walked inside.

Ning Rongrong followed behind, muttering under her breath: "So bossy..."

Inside the ruins, sunlight shone onto the maze. The obstacles made of concrete blocks were still there, as were the steel rebar tripwires on the ground. As the wind blew, the wild grass rustled.

Zhang Mo walked to an open space and turned to look at Ning Rongrong.

"You said yesterday you wanted to learn ancient martial arts?"

Ning Rongrong nodded.

Zhang Mo said: "Ancient martial arts are different from spirit master techniques; without spirit power, you can only train the body. Your foundation is decent, but there isn't enough time to learn anything too complex."

He paused, then added: "Today, I'll teach you a few simple moves first. In case you get into close quarters tomorrow, you'll have something for emergencies."

Ning Rongrong listened intently.

Zhang Mo assumed a starting stance—legs slightly bent, hands positioned one in front of the other, palms facing each other.

"This is the opening move of Taiji. It looks slow, but it can borrow force to strike back."

He slowly performed a set, his movements as fluid as flowing water. As he reached the final move, he suddenly accelerated, throwing a punch—

Bang!

A dull thud echoed through the air.

Ning Rongrong stared, wide-eyed.

Zhang Mo finished the move and walked back to her side.

"You give it a try."

Ning Rongrong mimicked his posture, legs slightly bent, hands one in front of the other.

Zhang Mo stood by, correcting her form.

"Bend your knees more."

"Your hands are too high, lower them."

"Keep your back straight."

Ning Rongrong was being adjusted this way and that, her face growing redder by the second. But she gritted her teeth and followed his instructions without a word.

Once the stance was set, Zhang Mo said: "Stay like this, stand for a quarter of an hour."

Ning Rongrong was stunned: "Just stand here?"

Zhang Mo nodded: "The horse stance is the fundamental skill. Only by standing properly will your base be stable."

Ning Rongrong wanted to say something, but swallowed the words before they reached her lips.

She stood there just like that.

One minute, two minutes, five minutes.

Her legs began to ache.

Eight minutes, her legs started to tremble.

Ten minutes, sweat beaded on her forehead.

Zhang Mo watched from the side, saying nothing.

Twelve minutes, Ning Rongrong could no longer hold on and plopped down onto the ground.

"No, I can't do it anymore..."

Zhang Mo walked over and reached out a hand.

Ning Rongrong pulled on his hand to stand up, her legs still shaking.

Zhang Mo said, "Twelve minutes for your first time is not bad."

Ning Rongrong panted, looking up to glare at him, "How long could you stand for your first time?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment, "Half an hour."

Ning Rongrong was stunned, "An hour?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

Ning Rongrong fell silent.

After resting for a while, Zhang Mo pulled the Fish Gut Sword from his robes.

The sword was short, its body covered in dark green rust, yet under the sunlight, the blade shimmered with a chilling light.

Ning Rongrong leaned in to look.

"Is this that two-thousand-year-old sword?"

Zhang Mo nodded and handed the sword to her.

Ning Rongrong took the sword and held it in her hand. It was very light, much lighter than it looked. She tried swinging it, and a faint whistling sound cut through the air.

"So fast..." she whispered.

Zhang Mo said, "The material of this sword is not ordinary bronze. No one knows exactly what it is."

Ning Rongrong stared at the sword for a long time, then suddenly asked, "How many people have you killed with it?"

Zhang Mo was taken aback, then said, "You are the first."

Ning Rongrong froze, looking down at the sword in her hand, suddenly feeling as if it were burning her palm.

She returned the sword to Zhang Mo.

Zhang Mo took it, then suddenly remembered something.

"Try using your amplification."

Ning Rongrong didn't catch on, "What?"

Zhang Mo held the sword horizontally in front of him, "Use your Martial Soul and see if you can amplify this sword."

Ning Rongrong hesitated for a moment before summoning the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda.

Seven-colored light condensed in her palm, and four soul rings revolved slowly around her. She took a deep breath and released the power of amplification toward the Fish Gut Sword—

The seven-colored light landed on the blade.

Then, a miraculous thing happened.

The Fish Gut Sword began to glow.

It wasn't reflected light; the blade itself was emitting it. A faint golden hue spread from the hilt to the tip, as if the entire sword had been plated in gold.

Both of them were stunned.

Ning Rongrong's mouth hung open, "This, this..."

Zhang Mo gripped the sword and could feel a warm energy flowing from the hilt. He swung it casually—the tip of the blade sliced through a nearby concrete block like it was tofu, leaving a deep mark.

Ning Rongrong ran over to look at the mark, then ran back to look at the sword in Zhang Mo's hand, her eyes shining with frightening intensity.

"It can absorb the amplification!"

Zhang Mo nodded.

Ning Rongrong spun around in place, excited, "That's great! This way, I can help you when you're wielding it!"

Watching her spin, the corners of Zhang Mo's mouth curled up slightly.

For the time that followed, the two began practicing their coordination.

Ning Rongrong stood at a distance, using Heart Separation Control to amplify Zhang Mo. Zhang Mo gripped the Fish Gut Sword, moving rapidly through the maze, practicing various stabbing, hacking, and slashing motions.

At first, their coordination was poor. Ning Rongrong's amplification was always a half-beat slow; sometimes Zhang Mo had already struck before the boost arrived. Other times, the amplification was too strong, and Zhang Mo couldn't control his momentum, nearly tripping over.

But as they practiced, it became smoother and smoother.

Ning Rongrong discovered that as long as she kept her eyes on Zhang Mo's movements and anticipated his actions, her buffs would land at the exact moment he struck.

Zhang Mo also realized that if he slowed his rhythm just a little to let Ning Rongrong keep up, their coordination became significantly more seamless.

The sun moved from the east to directly overhead.

The two of them had been training all morning.

During their midday break, Ning Rongrong sat on the ground, gulping down water.

Zhang Mo sat beside her, resting the Fish Gut Sword on his knees and examining it closely.

The golden light on the blade had faded, returning it to the appearance of a rusted, ancient sword. Yet, upon closer inspection, faint specks of golden light still lingered on the edge.

Ning Rongrong leaned in to take a look.

"It seems to... remember me?"

Zhang Mo nodded. "It's possible. This sword has a spirit; it might have left a mark after absorbing your buffs earlier."

Ning Rongrong reached out and gently touched the blade.

The sword trembled slightly, emitting a faint hum.

Startled, Ning Rongrong pulled her hand back.

Zhang Mo was also stunned.

He looked at the sword in his hand, then at Ning Rongrong, and suddenly said:

"It recognizes you."

Ning Rongrong's eyes widened. "Recognizes me?"

Zhang Mo nodded. "Ancient swords have spirits and will choose a master. That reaction just now was it responding to you."

Ning Rongrong stared at the sword, her expression complex.

After a while, she whispered:

"Then what about you?"

Zhang Mo asked, "What do you mean, what about me?"

Ning Rongrong said, "It recognizes me now. If you hold it, will it still listen to you?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment and handed the sword to her. "Try it."

Ning Rongrong took the sword and held it in her hand.

The blade trembled again, this time with a greater intensity, as if it were cheering.

Ning Rongrong was stunned.

Watching this scene, Zhang Mo suddenly smiled.

"It likes you better."

Ning Rongrong looked up at him, not knowing what to say.

Zhang Mo said, "Then you keep it."

Ning Rongrong was taken aback. "I keep it? Isn't it you who needs to use it tomorrow?"

Zhang Mo said, "You will use it tomorrow."

Ning Rongrong didn't quite process this.

Zhang Mo continued, "When Huyan Li comes tomorrow, I will hold him off head-on. You find an opening and use this sword to strike him."

Ning Rongrong looked down at the sword in her hand, then back up at Zhang Mo.

His expression was calm, as if he were discussing what to have for dinner tomorrow.

She suddenly felt a sting in her nose.

"You... aren't you afraid I'll miss?"

Zhang Mo said, "I believe in you."

Ning Rongrong opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but the words stuck in her throat.

She lowered her head, staring at the sword in her hand for a long time.

Then, she took a deep breath and looked up.

"Okay," she said. "I'll strike tomorrow."

Zhang Mo nodded.

Ning Rongrong gripped the sword tightly.

The blade trembled slightly, as if responding to her resolve.

Afternoon training resumed.

But this time, it was different. Ning Rongrong held the Fish Gut Sword, and Zhang Mo was empty-handed.

The two practiced close-quarters coordination—Zhang Mo used ancient martial arts to entangle a hypothetical enemy, while Ning Rongrong looked for an opening from the side to deliver a fatal blow.

At first, she didn't dare to thrust. Every time Zhang Mo said "thrust," she hesitated.

Zhang Mo stopped and looked at her.

"What are you afraid of?"

Ning Rongrong said, "I'm afraid of hitting you."

Zhang Mo said, "You won't hit me. I'll be moving; you can wait until you see my movements clearly before you strike."

Ning Rongrong bit her lip and nodded.

They continued to practice.

This time, she was much braver. As soon as Zhang Mo moved, she locked her eyes on his motions, searching for an opening to strike.

Once, twice, three times.

Slowly, she began to grow proficient.

By the time the sun slanted to the west, Ning Rongrong was already able to accurately strike the target behind Zhang Mo—a piece of concrete marked with a sign—the moment he moved.

She gripped the sword, panting heavily, yet a smile graced her face.

Zhang Mo walked over, looked at the sword marks on the concrete, and nodded.

"That will do."

Ning Rongrong smiled even more happily.

But as she laughed, she suddenly remembered something.

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"Tomorrow... he still has five subordinates."

Zhang Mo nodded.

Ning Rongrong asked, "When I go to strike him, what will you do?"

Zhang Mo said, "I will hold them off."

Ning Rongrong was stunned for a moment.

Zhang Mo said, "You only have one chance to strike. If you hit, we win. If you miss, we'll be in trouble."

Ning Rongrong fell silent.

After a long while, she said softly:

"I won't miss."

Zhang Mo looked at her.

She raised her head, her eyes shining brightly.

"I will definitely hit him."

Zhang Mo nodded.

The setting sun began to sink.

The two packed up their things and slowly walked back.

When they reached the entrance, Ning Rongrong suddenly stopped and looked back at the ruins.

The setting sun shone on the concrete blocks, dyeing them a deep orange-red. As the wind blew, the wild grass rustled.

She watched for a moment, then turned around to catch up with Zhang Mo.

"Let's go," she said, "back for dinner. There's a big event tomorrow."

Zhang Mo nodded.

The two walked side by side into the twilight.

Ning Rongrong held the Fish Gut Sword, gripping it very tightly.

The blade trembled slightly, as if it were anticipating tomorrow right along with her.

PS: I don't know if this style of writing suits everyone's tastes; it was mostly a sudden whim, so feedback is welcome!