Tacit Understanding

Ning Rongrong was woken up by the glare of the sunlight.

She opened her eyes to see the room flooded with light. The sun shone in through the window, spreading a vast patch of gold across the floor. She was lying on the sofa, wrapped tightly in a blanket.

She blinked, dazed, and slowly sat up.

The room was very quiet. There was no sound from the kitchen, and no one was in the living room.

She turned her head to look at the chair Zhang Mo usually sat in—it was empty.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she hurriedly stood up and walked toward the kitchen.

She stopped at the kitchen doorway.

Zhang Mo was standing in front of the stove, cooking something. The water in the pot was bubbling and steaming, and he was stirring it with a spoon. His movements were slow because his left arm was still not very flexible.

His back was turned to her, but Ning Rongrong could see the gauze wrapped around it. It was white, with a few spots where blood had seeped through, staining it a small patch of red.

She stood at the doorway, not making a sound.

As if sensing something, Zhang Mo turned his head.

Their eyes met.

Ning Rongrong froze.

His face looked much better than it had last night, but it was still a bit swollen. His left eye socket was bruised purple, and there was a split wound at the corner of his mouth, crusted over with a dark red scab. A piece of gauze was taped to his forehead, and his hair was a mess.

He looked at Ning Rongrong, stunned for a moment, then said:

"Awake?"

Ning Rongrong nodded.

She walked in, stood beside him, and looked into the pot.

He was cooking porridge—white rice porridge with chopped greens and minced meat, bubbling away.

Zhang Mo said, "It'll be ready soon."

Ning Rongrong hummed in acknowledgment, but didn't leave.

She just stood there, watching him cook.

After a while, she suddenly reached out and lightly touched his left arm.

Zhang Mo looked down at her.

She asked in a low voice, "Does it still hurt?"

Zhang Mo said, "Much better."

Ning Rongrong didn't speak; she touched the blood-stained gauze on his back again.

"And this?"

Zhang Mo said, "It's nothing."

Ning Rongrong withdrew her hand and lowered her head, lost in thought.

The porridge was ready. Zhang Mo ladled it into two bowls and carried them to the living room.

Ning Rongrong sat on the sofa, holding the bowl and taking small sips.

After a few mouthfuls, she suddenly said:

"Your injuries... they're all my fault."

Zhang Mo paused.

She kept her head down, staring at the porridge in her bowl, her voice muffled:

"If you hadn't tried to save me, you wouldn't have taken so many punches."

Zhang Mo set his bowl down and looked at her.

"It's not your fault," he said. "I chose to fight."

Ning Rongrong didn't look up.

Zhang Mo continued, "Fighting Huyan Li was my own choice. It has nothing to do with you."

Ning Rongrong was silent for a few seconds, then whispered:

"But..."

"There are no 'buts'," Zhang Mo interrupted. "If it had been anyone else, I would have fought just the same."

Ning Rongrong looked up at him.

Her eyes were a little red.

"Then..." She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed the words back.

Zhang Mo watched her, waiting for her to finish.

She looked away and continued drinking her porridge.

After a few sips, she suddenly said:

"Let me see your hand."

Zhang Mo extended his right hand.

Ning Rongrong set down her bowl, cradled his hand in both of hers, and examined it closely.

There were several gashes on the back of his hand that had already scabbed over. His knuckles were swollen and bruised a deep purple. She pressed down lightly, and Zhang Mo's brow twitched.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little."

She didn't let go, continuing to hold it just like that.

After a moment, she suddenly lowered her head and blew gently on the wounds.

Zhang Mo froze.

She blew a few times, then looked up at him.

"When I got hurt as a child, my mother would blow on it like this," she whispered. "If you blow on it, it doesn't hurt anymore."

Zhang Mo looked at her, saying nothing.

Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, she let go of his hand and lowered her head to continue drinking her porridge.

Her ears were bright red.

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

The two finished their porridge in silence.

Ning Rongrong took the bowls into the kitchen, and when she came out, she saw Zhang Mo sitting on the sofa, staring blankly into thin air.

A purple light was flickering in his right eye.

She walked over and sat down beside him.

"Are there enemies again?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

He pulled up the system panel for her to see.

[Third "Crisis Summon" detected--]
[Target: Yang Wudi]
[Identity: Patriarch of the Breaking Clan, wielder of the Soul Breaking Spear]
[Soul Power Level: Level 82 Soul Douluo]
[Spirit Rings: Yellow, Yellow, Purple, Purple, Black, Black, Black, Black]
[Trait: Extremely high attack power, indomitable, never defends]
[Arrival Time: 48 hours]
[Arrival Location: TBD]
[Mission: Kill Yang Wudi]
[Reward: World Origin Point x800, Random Spirit Bone x1]
[Failure Penalty: Dual World Collision accelerated by 80 days]

After reading it, Ning Rongrong's expression changed.

"Yang Wudi..." she whispered. "The patriarch of the Breaking Clan."

Zhang Mo looked at her: "You know him?"

Ning Rongrong nodded, then shook her head.

"Not exactly. But I've heard of him." She bit her lip. "He is a friend of my father. He is the patriarch of the Breaking Clan, one of the Four Single-Attribute Clans. His martial soul is the Soul Breaking Spear, and his attack power is so immense that it's said even a Title Douluo wouldn't dare take his spear head-on."

Zhang Mo was silent for a few seconds, then asked: "What are his weaknesses?"

Ning Rongrong thought for a moment and shook her head.

"He has no weaknesses," she said. "He never leaves himself a way out when he fights; he only moves forward. Either he dies, or his opponent dies. Even Title Douluos are unwilling to fight him."

Zhang Mo didn't speak.

Ning Rongrong looked at him and suddenly asked:

"A Level 82 Soul Douluo... how much stronger is he than Huyan Li?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment: "Huyan Li is Level 65, and he is Level 82. That's a 17-level difference."

Ning Rongrong fell silent.

After a long time, she whispered:

"We can't beat him."

Zhang Mo looked at her.

She kept her head down, staring at the floor, her voice growing quieter and quieter:

"Huyan Li, we almost died. That Yang Wudi is so much stronger than Huyan Li... how can we fight him?"

Zhang Mo didn't speak.

Ning Rongrong looked up at him.

"Tell me the truth."

Zhang Mo thought for a moment and said, "We can't win a head-on fight."

Ning Rongrong was stunned for a moment: "Then what do we do?"

Zhang Mo said, "We'll find a way."

"What way?"

Zhang Mo looked at her and suddenly asked, "You said he likes alchemy?"

Ning Rongrong nodded.

"The Breaking Clan is a family of alchemists. Yang Wudi himself is a top alchemist, and he'll do anything for medicinal ingredients."

Zhang Mo seemed lost in thought.

Ning Rongrong realized: "You mean... use medicinal ingredients to lure him?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

Ning Rongrong frowned: "Would he even care about the medicinal ingredients in this world?"

Zhang Mo said, "There's one thing he'll definitely care about."

"What?"

Zhang Mo stood up and walked into the inner room. After a while, he came out with a wooden box.

He opened the box, revealing a dark, fist-sized, irregularly shaped root. Its surface was wrinkled, but it emitted a faint medicinal fragrance.

Ning Rongrong leaned in to smell it, but found nothing special.

"What is this?"

Zhang Mo said, "Millennium Fleeceflower. I bought it at the Traditional Chinese Medicine Expo last time. It cost me nearly two hundred thousand."

Ning Rongrong's eyes widened: "Two hundred thousand?"

Zhang Mo nodded: "This thing is almost extinct in this world. And—" he paused, "—sense it carefully. Is there anything special about it?"

Ning Rongrong closed her eyes and used her spiritual power to sense it.

After a while, she opened her eyes, her face full of surprise.

"There's... Spirit Power fluctuation inside?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

"The environment where this Fleeceflower grew was special. It absorbed hundreds of years of heaven and earth spiritual energy. Although this world doesn't have Spirit Power, the energy it contains is very similar to Spirit Power."

Ning Rongrong stared at the Fleeceflower, her eyes lighting up.

"If Yang Wudi sees this, he'll go crazy."

Zhang Mo closed the box and put it back in the inner room.

When he came out, Ning Rongrong was standing by the window, looking outside.

The sunlight shone on her, dyeing her hair a light gold.

Zhang Mo walked over and stood beside her.

She suddenly said:

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"Do you think that Yang Wudi is reasonable?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment and said, "I don't know."

Ning Rongrong was silent for a few seconds, then said:

"What if he's unreasonable and insists on fighting?"

Zhang Mo said, "Then we'll fight."

Ning Rongrong turned to look at him.

He was looking out the window, his expression very calm.

"Even if we can't win, we'll fight?" she asked.

Zhang Mo nodded.

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

She suddenly reached out and tugged at his sleeve.

Just like before.

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

She was still looking out the window, but her ears were flushed red.

"Then," she said softly, "I'll go with you."

Zhang Mo didn't speak.

She continued, "You said, two people together, can win."

Zhang Mo was silent for a few seconds, then said softly:

"Mm."

The two stood by the window like this, watching the sunlight outside.

Birdsong drifted from afar, and the cries of vendors came from downstairs.

Everything was as usual.

But Ning Rongrong knew that something was about to happen again.

She tugged his sleeve, and suddenly felt that she wasn't as scared anymore.

Someone was with her, after all.

She raised her head and looked at the sky outside the window.

The sky was very blue, with a few white clouds drifting by.

She suddenly asked:

"Zhang Mo, do you think that Yang Wudi is scary-looking?"

Zhang Mo was stunned for a moment, not expecting her to ask this.

He thought for a moment and said, "I don't know."

Ning Rongrong pouted.

"I hope he's not too scary," she said softly. "If he's too scary, I'll be afraid."

Zhang Mo couldn't help but chuckle.

Ning Rongrong glared at him. "What are you laughing at?"

Zhang Mo stopped laughing, but the corners of his mouth were still turned up.

"Laughing at you," he said.

Ning Rongrong's face flushed red. She wanted to say something, but in the end, she just snorted.

She tugged his sleeve and continued to look out the window.

The sunlight shone in warmly.

The two stood there like this.

Waiting for the arrival of two days later.