Then she suddenly smiled.
"Zhang Mo," she said, "are you an idiot?"
Zhang Mo didn't say anything.
Ning Rongrong said, "If you were doing this for the mission, you would've been rushing me ages ago. But you didn't. You let me think it over on my own, let me take my time."
She paused, her voice softening.
"When you gave me that Spirit Bone, I knew. If you'd really been doing it for the mission, you wouldn't have given it to me."
Zhang Mo looked at her.
She turned her gaze away and looked at 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 froze for a moment, then her face turned faintly red.
"What are you thanking me for?" she said under her breath. "I haven't agreed yet."
Zhang Mo nodded. "I know."
Ning Rongrong turned to glare at him. "What do you know?"
"I know you need time."
Ning Rongrong opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end, she only gave a soft snort.
She turned back and continued looking at the lake.
After a long while, she suddenly asked, "Zhang Mo, what if I never agree? What then?"
Zhang Mo thought for a moment. "Then don't agree."
"What about the two worlds?"
"We'll figure something else out."
Ning Rongrong turned to look at him, her expression complicated.
"Aren't you afraid?"
"I am. But I can't force you."
Ning Rongrong stared at him for a few seconds, then looked away.
Her eyes were a little red.
But she didn't let the tears fall.
She took a deep breath and stood up.
"Come on," she said. "Let's go back and eat steamed buns. I'm hungry."
Zhang Mo stood up and walked beside her.
The two of them slowly made their way back along the lakeside.
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. She just held onto his sleeve and said softly, "Zhang Mo."
"Hmm?"
"I'll remember what you said just now."
Zhang Mo said nothing.
She continued, "You remember what I said, too."
"What did you say?"
Ning Rongrong paused, her voice growing even quieter.
"It wasn't because of the mission."
After saying that, she quickened her pace, pulling him along by the sleeve.
Watching her from behind, Zhang Mo's lips curved slightly.
The two of them walked one in front of the other through the streets in the night.
The streetlights stretched their shadows long, one tall and one short, joined tightly together.
When they reached the building where the studio was, Ning Rongrong suddenly stopped.
She turned to look at Zhang Mo, her eyes shining beneath the streetlight.
"Zhang Mo."
"Hmm?"
"Tomorrow at training, teach me that ancient martial art."
Zhang Mo was taken aback. "Didn't I already teach you a few self-defense moves?"
Ning Rongrong shook her head. "I want to learn the whole thing."
Zhang Mo looked at her.
Her expression was serious.
"From now on," she said, "if you can't beat someone, I can jump in and help, too."
Zhang Mo was silent for a few seconds, then nodded.
"Okay."
Ning Rongrong smiled.
The smile was brief, but genuine.
She turned and bounded upstairs, her skirt swishing with every step.
Following behind her and watching her bouncing figure, Zhang Mo suddenly felt—
Maybe tomorrow wasn't so scary after all.
Early the next morning, the two of them stood at the entrance to the ruins again.
Ning Rongrong had changed into different clothes—a white T-shirt beneath a light jacket, and the new skirt she'd bought. Zhang Mo glanced at her but said nothing.
His gaze made Ning Rongrong feel awkward. She looked down at herself. "What is it?"
"Training in a skirt?"
Ning Rongrong's face reddened, but she stubbornly retorted, "I-I'll change in a bit! Can't I wear it for now?"
Zhang Mo said nothing more. He pushed open the iron gate and went inside.
Ning Rongrong followed behind him, muttering under her breath, "You're so bossy..."
Inside the ruins, sunlight fell across the maze. The obstacles made of piled-up concrete blocks were still there, as were the tripwires made of rebar on the ground. The wind blew, and the wild grass rustled.
Zhang Mo walked to an open space and turned to look at Ning Rongrong.
"Yesterday, you said you wanted to learn ancient martial arts?"
Ning Rongrong nodded.
Zhang Mo said, "Ancient martial arts are different from being a Soul Master. There's no Soul Power; you can only train your body. You've got a decent foundation, but there isn't enough time to learn anything too complicated."
He paused, then added, "Today, I'll teach you a few simple moves. They might come in handy if you end up in close combat tomorrow."
Ning Rongrong listened intently.
Zhang Mo assumed a starting stance—his legs bent slightly, one hand held before him and the other behind, palms facing each other.
"This is the opening stance of Tai Chi. It looks slow, but you can use your opponent's force against them."
He slowly performed the set, his movements flowing like water. At the final move, he suddenly sped up and threw a punch—
Bang!
A dull boom rang through the air.
Ning Rongrong stared, wide-eyed.
Zhang Mo returned to his stance and walked back to her.
"Give it a try."
Ning Rongrong copied his stance, bending her legs slightly and holding one hand before her and the other behind.
Zhang Mo corrected her posture from the side.
"Bend your legs a little more."
"Your hands are too high. Lower them."
"Keep your back straight."
Zhang Mo adjusted her posture this way and that, and her face grew redder and redder. But she gritted her teeth and followed his instructions without a word.
Once she was in position, Zhang Mo said, "Stay like that for fifteen minutes."
Ning Rongrong froze. "Just stand here?"
Zhang Mo nodded. "Horse stance is the foundation. Once you've got it down, your lower body will be steady."
Ning Rongrong wanted to say something, but swallowed her words.
She just stood there.
One minute, two minutes, five minutes.
Her legs began to ache.
At eight minutes, they started to tremble.
At ten minutes, sweat appeared on her forehead.
Zhang Mo watched beside her without saying anything.
At twelve minutes, Ning Rongrong couldn't hold on any longer and dropped onto the ground.
"I-I can't..."
Zhang Mo walked over and held out his hand.
Ning Rongrong took his hand and stood up, her legs still trembling.
Zhang Mo said, "Twelve minutes on your first try is pretty good."
Panting, Ning Rongrong looked up and glared at him. "How long could you stand the first time?"
Zhang Mo thought for a moment. "Half an hour."
Ning Rongrong froze. "An hour?"
Zhang Mo nodded.
Ning Rongrong fell silent.
After resting for a while, Zhang Mo pulled the Fish Gut Sword from his clothing.
The sword was short, its blade covered in dark green rust, but its edge gleamed with a chilling light in the sun.
Ning Rongrong leaned closer to look.
"Is this the sword that's over two thousand years old?"
Zhang Mo nodded and handed it 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 it made a faint whooshing sound as it cut through the air.
"So fast..." she murmured.
Zhang Mo said, "It isn't made of 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're the first."
Ning Rongrong froze, then looked down at the sword in her hand. Suddenly, it felt hot to the touch.
She handed it back to Zhang Mo.
Zhang Mo took it and suddenly remembered something.
"Try boosting it."
Ning Rongrong didn't understand. "What?"
Zhang Mo held the sword horizontally in front of him. "Use your Martial Soul and see if you can boost this sword."
Ning Rongrong hesitated, then released her Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda.
Rainbow light gathered in her palm, and four Spirit Rings revolved slowly around her. She took a deep breath and sent her boosting power toward the Fish Gut Sword—
Rainbow light fell upon the blade.
Then something miraculous happened.
The Fish Gut Sword began to glow.
It wasn't reflected light. The blade itself was shining. A faint golden hue spread from the hilt to the tip, as though the whole sword had been gilded.
They both froze.
Ning Rongrong's mouth fell open. "Th-this..."
Holding the sword, Zhang Mo could feel a warm power coming from its hilt. He gave it a casual swing—the tip passed through a nearby concrete block like a knife through tofu, leaving a deep groove.
Ning Rongrong ran over to look at the groove, then ran back to stare at the sword in Zhang Mo's hand, her eyes shining with excitement.
"It can absorb boosts!"
Zhang Mo nodded.
Ning Rongrong spun around excitedly. "That's great! This way, I can help when you're using it!"
Watching her spin, Zhang Mo's lips curved slightly.
For the rest of the time, the two of them practiced working together.
Ning Rongrong stood at a distance and used Heart Separation Control to boost Zhang Mo. Gripping the Fish Gut Sword, Zhang Mo darted through the maze, practicing thrusts, chops, and slashes.
At first, their teamwork was poor. Ning Rongrong's boosts were always a beat too slow. Sometimes, Zhang Mo had already attacked before the boost arrived. Other times, the boost was too strong, and Zhang Mo couldn't control his strength and nearly fell over.
But as they practiced, they got better and better.
Ning Rongrong realized that as long as she kept her eyes on Zhang Mo's movements and anticipated what he was about to do, her boost landed at just the right moment—when he struck.
Zhang Mo realized that if he slowed his pace a little to let Ning Rongrong keep up, the two of them worked together with far better coordination.
The sun moved from the east to directly overhead.
They practiced all morning.
During their lunch break, Ning Rongrong sat on the ground, gulping down water.
Zhang Mo sat beside her, the Fish Gut Sword resting across his knees as he examined it closely.
The golden light on the blade had faded, and it had returned to being a rust-covered ancient sword. But on closer inspection, a few faint golden specks still clung to the blade.
Ning Rongrong leaned over to look.
"It seems like... it remembers me?"
Zhang Mo nodded. "Possibly. This sword has a spirit. It may have left an imprint when it absorbed your boost just now."
Ning Rongrong reached out and gently touched the blade.
The sword trembled slightly and gave a faint hum.
Ning Rongrong jumped in fright and pulled her hand back.
Zhang Mo froze, too.
He looked at the sword in his hand, then at Ning Rongrong, and suddenly said,
"It recognizes you."
Ning Rongrong's eyes widened. "It recognizes me?"
Zhang Mo nodded. "Ancient swords have spirits and can choose their masters. That tremor just now was its response to you."
Ning Rongrong stared at the sword, her expression complicated.
After a while, she asked in a small voice,
"Then what about you?"
"What about me?" Zhang Mo asked.
She said, "It recognizes me. If you carry it, will it still listen to you?"
Zhang Mo thought for a moment, then held out the sword to her. "Try it."
Ning Rongrong took the sword and gripped it in her hand.
The blade trembled again, this time more vigorously, as if it were cheering.
Ning Rongrong froze.
Watching this, Zhang Mo suddenly smiled.
"It likes you more."
Ning Rongrong looked up at him, unsure what to say.
"Then you can carry it," Zhang Mo said.
Ning Rongrong stared at him. "Me? But aren't you the one who's supposed to use it tomorrow?"
"You use it tomorrow."
Ning Rongrong didn't understand.
Zhang Mo continued, "When Huyan Li comes tomorrow, I'll hold him off head-on. You look for an opening and use this sword to stab him."
Ning Rongrong looked down at the sword in her hand, then back up at Zhang Mo.
His expression was perfectly calm, as though he were talking about what to eat tomorrow.
Suddenly, she felt a sting in her nose.
"You... aren't you afraid I'll miss?"
"I trust you," Zhang Mo said.
Ning Rongrong opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat.
She lowered her head and stared at the sword in her hand for a long time.
Then she took a deep breath and looked up.
"All right," she said. "I'll strike tomorrow."
Zhang Mo nodded.
Ning Rongrong gripped the sword tightly.
The blade trembled slightly, as if answering her resolve.
Training continued in the afternoon.
But this time, things were different. Ning Rongrong held the Fish Gut Sword, while Zhang Mo was empty-handed.
They practiced close-quarters teamwork: Zhang Mo used ancient martial arts to tie up an imaginary enemy, while Ning Rongrong searched for an opening from the side and struck a fatal blow.
At first, she didn't dare to strike. Every time Zhang Mo said, "Strike," she hesitated.
Zhang Mo stopped and looked at her.
"What are you afraid of?"
"I'm afraid I'll hit you," Ning Rongrong said.
"You won't. I'll be moving, and you can watch what I do before you strike."
Ning Rongrong bit her lip and nodded.
They continued.
This time, she was much braver. As soon as Zhang Mo moved, she watched him closely, searching for an opening before thrusting the sword.
Once, twice, three times.
Little by little, she grew more practiced.
As the sun slanted westward, Ning Rongrong could strike her target accurately the moment Zhang Mo moved: a marked piece of concrete behind him.
She gripped the sword and panted, but a smile played on her face.
Zhang Mo walked over, looked at the sword mark on the concrete, and nodded.
"That'll do."
Ning Rongrong smiled even more brightly.
But as she smiled, something suddenly occurred to her.
"Zhang Mo."
"Hmm?"
"Tomorrow... he still has five men with him."
Zhang Mo nodded.
"When I strike him, what will you do?" Ning Rongrong asked.
"I'll hold them off," Zhang Mo said.
Ning Rongrong paused.
"You'll only get one chance," Zhang Mo said. "If you hit him, 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.
"I'll hit him."
Zhang Mo nodded.
The sun began to sink.
They gathered their things and slowly headed back.
When they reached the entrance, Ning Rongrong suddenly stopped and glanced back at the ruins.
The setting sun bathed the chunks of concrete in orange-red light. The wind passed through, rustling the wild grass.
She watched for a while, then turned and caught up with Zhang Mo.
"Let's go," she said. "Let's head back for dinner. We've got something big tomorrow."
Zhang Mo nodded.
The two of them walked side by side into the dusk.
Ning Rongrong held the Fish Gut Sword tightly.
The blade trembled faintly, as if looking forward to tomorrow with her.
P.S. I'm not sure whether this is the kind of thing everyone likes. I mainly wrote it on a sudden whim, so feel free to share your thoughts!
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