Three People Walking

Ning Rongrong was woken up by the noise.

She opened her eyes and heard Yang Wudi's booming voice coming from the living room, buzzing away like a swarm of bees.

"This one won't do; the age isn't sufficient."

"This one is passable, but the preparation method is all wrong."

"You people in this world really know how to waste good things."

She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and saw that it was already bright outside the window. Sunlight squeezed through the gap in the curtains, drawing a golden line across the floor.

She climbed out of bed and pushed open the door.

The scene in the living room left her stunned.

The coffee table was piled high with medicinal herbs, big and small, dry and damp, covering the entire surface. Several bulging cloth bags sat on the floor. Yang Wudi was perched on the sofa, holding a withered root in his hand and inspecting it against the sunlight. Zhang Mo sat beside him, holding a book, but his eyes were fixed on Yang Wudi as if listening intently.

Yang Wudi didn't even turn his head, continuing his buzzing.

"Look at these rings; it takes three years to grow one. This one has thirty rings, exactly thirty years."

Zhang Mo nodded.

Yang Wudi continued, "How much is a thirty-year-old ginseng worth in your world?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment. "If the quality is good, a few tens of thousands."

Yang Wudi's eyes widened. "A few tens of thousands? Just that?"

Ning Rongrong walked over, wanting to squeeze in next to Zhang Mo. But the sofa was covered in medicinal herbs, leaving no room. She had no choice but to perch on the edge of the armrest, far away from Zhang Mo.

Yang Wudi glanced at her.

"Awake?"

Ning Rongrong nodded.

Yang Wudi lowered his head to look at the herbs again, ignoring her further.

Ning Rongrong sat for a while, wanting to talk to Zhang Mo, but he was listening to Yang Wudi talk about herbs, and she couldn't get a word in.

She cleared her throat.

No one paid her any mind.

She cleared her throat again, louder this time.

Yang Wudi looked up at her. "Is your throat uncomfortable?"

Ning Rongrong shook her head.

Yang Wudi lowered his head and went back to the herbs.

Ning Rongrong pursed her lips, stood up, and went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. When she returned, she deliberately placed the glass on the coffee table right in front of Zhang Mo, brushing against his hand.

Zhang Mo looked up at her.

"Hungry?" he asked.

Ning Rongrong wanted to say no, but her stomach let out a growl at that exact moment.

Zhang Mo stood up and walked toward the kitchen.

Ning Rongrong followed behind him.

Yang Wudi said without looking up, "Make extra. I'm hungry too."

Ning Rongrong glared at his back, but he didn't see it.

In the kitchen, Zhang Mo tied on an apron and began to chop vegetables.

Ning Rongrong leaned against the doorframe, watching him.

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"How long is that Yang Wudi staying?"

Zhang Mo thought about it. "I don't know. Probably until the fight with Chen Xin is over."

Ning Rongrong pouted.

Zhang Mo glanced back at her, said nothing, and continued chopping.

Ning Rongrong stood there for a while, then said:

"He's so noisy."

Zhang Mo replied, "He is a bit."

Ning Rongrong said, "Ever since he arrived, you haven't been paying any attention to me."

Zhang Mo paused, turning to look at her.

She was leaning against the doorframe, head lowered, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt over and over.

Zhang Mo said, "I haven't been ignoring you."

Ning Rongrong looked up at him, her eyes brightening for a moment.

"Then why have you been listening to him talk the whole time?"

Zhang Mo said, "He is talking about medicinal herbs. I don't understand those things, so it's good to listen and learn."

Ning Rongrong let out an "oh" and lowered her head again.

Zhang Mo finished chopping the vegetables and began to heat the pan.

Ning Rongrong stood to the side, watching his back.

She suddenly said:

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"After we finish eating today, teach me that ancient martial art."

Zhang Mo turned to look at her: "Isn't Yang Wudi supposed to teach you body tempering?"

Ning Rongrong pouted: "His method is too bitter."

Zhang Mo smiled but didn't say anything.

Breakfast was prepared and brought to the table.

Yang Wudi stood up from the sofa, walked to the table, and plopped down. He picked up his chopsticks, took a mouthful of vegetables, and chewed.

"Not bad," he said. "Tastes better than the kitchen back at our place."

Zhang Mo ladled a bowl of porridge for him.

Yang Wudi took it and slurped it down, making a loud noise.

Ning Rongrong frowned but didn't say anything.

She lowered her head to eat, occasionally glancing up at Zhang Mo.

Zhang Mo ate slowly, one bite at a time.

Yang Wudi ate quickly; he finished one bowl of porridge in a few gulps and ladled another.

Halfway through the meal, he suddenly set down his bowl and looked at Zhang Mo.

"Let me see that sword of yours again."

Zhang Mo put down his chopsticks and went into the inner room to retrieve the Fish Gut Sword.

Yang Wudi took the sword and held the blade up to the light. It was still a dark red, just like last night.

He nodded and returned the sword to Zhang Mo.

"It's ready," he said. "The medicinal power will last for seven days. Within these seven days, this sword can break the defenses of a Title Douluo."

Zhang Mo took the sword and put it back in the inner room.

Yang Wudi continued to eat.

Once finished, he wiped his mouth and stood up.

"Little girl," he said, looking at Ning Rongrong, "time to train."

Ning Rongrong was stunned: "Now?"

Yang Wudi said: "Otherwise? Should I wait until you're full and have finished digesting?"

Ning Rongrong glanced at Zhang Mo.

Zhang Mo said: "Go ahead."

Ning Rongrong stood up sluggishly and followed Yang Wudi downstairs.

In the alley, Yang Wudi told her to continue holding the horse stance.

"You held it for an hour yesterday?" he asked.

Ning Rongrong nodded.

Yang Wudi said: "Today, you'll hold it for an hour and a half."

Ning Rongrong's face fell.

Yang Wudi ignored her, walked to the side, unslung the Soul Breaking Spear from his back, and began to practice.

With a single thrust, a sharp whistling sound tore through the air.

Ning Rongrong squatted there, her legs beginning to tremble, but she couldn't help but steal glances in his direction.

Yang Wudi's spear was fast.

So fast that she couldn't see it clearly at all.

She only saw a black shadow flash by, followed by the sound of the air being pierced. Thrust after thrust, continuous and unending.

She suddenly remembered what her father had said—

"The spear of the Breaking Clan moves only forward. It attacks without defending, which is why it is the fastest."

She gritted her teeth and remained in a squat.

The sun climbed slowly, scorching the top of her head.

Sweat trickled down, stinging her eyes. She wiped it away with her sleeve and kept squatting.

Yang Wudi suddenly stopped and walked over to stand before her.

"Get up."

Ning Rongrong froze for a moment, then stood up, her legs trembling.

Yang Wudi said, "Watch."

He assumed a stance, knees slightly bent, hands held in a hollow grip as if clutching a spear.

"This is the opening stance of my Breaking Clan," he said. "Watch closely."

He began to move.

His movements were very slow, every detail crystal clear. How the legs stepped, how the waist turned, how the hands thrust, and finally, how the posture was retracted.

After finishing the sequence, he looked at Ning Rongrong.

"Did you memorize it?"

Ning Rongrong nodded.

Yang Wudi said, "Practice it once."

Ning Rongrong mimicked his posture, knees slightly bent, hands held in a hollow grip.

Step, turn the waist, thrust the hands—

Thud.

She fell to the ground.

Yang Wudi looked down at her.

"Again."

Ning Rongrong scrambled up and continued.

She fell again.

"Again."

She fell once more.

After the fifth time, Ning Rongrong sat on the ground, refusing to get up.

"I'm not practicing anymore, I'm not..." she panted. "What kind of trash technique is this..."

Yang Wudi looked at her and suddenly smiled.

"Not bad," he said. "To fall five times before giving up on your first try, that counts as perseverance."

Ning Rongrong looked up and glared at him.

Yang Wudi said, "Rest for a quarter of an hour. Then continue."

Ning Rongrong wanted to say something, but swallowed the words back.

She climbed to her feet, walked to the base of the wall, and sat down, leaning against it to catch her breath.

Yang Wudi walked back to the center of the alley and continued practicing his spear.

The sound of air being torn rang out once more.

Ning Rongrong watched his back, and suddenly thought of Zhang Mo.

What is he doing right now?

Is he still reading that dusty old book?

Has he been thinking of her?

Just as she was thinking this, a figure appeared at the entrance of the alley.

Zhang Mo was carrying a bag, walking over slowly.

Ning Rongrong's eyes lit up.

"Zhang Mo!"

Zhang Mo walked over, squatted down beside her, and took a bottle of water out of the bag.

Ning Rongrong took it and gulped down a few mouthfuls.

"Why are you here?"

Zhang Mo said, "To deliver water."

The corners of Ning Rongrong's mouth curled upward.

She glanced at Yang Wudi, then lowered her voice and said:

"He is so fierce."

Zhang Mo smiled.

"Training is like this."

Ning Rongrong pouted, then suddenly said:

"Sit with me for a while."

Zhang Mo sat down beside her.

They leaned against the wall, watching Yang Wudi practice his spear.

Sunlight streamed in from the alley entrance, casting their shadows on the ground, side by side.

Ning Rongrong suddenly reached out and tugged his sleeve.

Just like before.

Zhang Mo looked down at her hand, saying nothing.

Yang Wudi finished a round of spear practice and glanced back.

Seeing them sitting together, he paused for a moment, then turned and continued.

The sound of air being torn apart rang out again.

Ning Rongrong, still holding Zhang Mo's sleeve, whispered:

"Zhang Mo."

"Mm?"

"After we finish with Grandpa Sword, will you go out and play with me?"

Zhang Mo said, "Okay."

"To that park."

"Okay."

"Drink milk tea."

"Okay."

Ning Rongrong's lips curved upwards.

She let go of his sleeve and stood up.

"I'm going to continue practicing."

Zhang Mo nodded.

Ning Rongrong walked to the middle of the alley and struck her starting pose.

This time, she didn't fall.

Although her movements were wobbly, she didn't fall.

Yang Wudi glanced over and grunted.

"Not bad."

Ning Rongrong's lips curled up.

She looked back at Zhang Mo.

Zhang Mo sat at the base of the wall, holding his book, looking down at it.

Sunlight bathed him, gilding his profile.

She turned back and continued practicing.

Her legs still trembled, but her heart no longer did.

That night, Ning Rongrong had a dream.

In her dream, she was back at the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, standing in the plaza before the main hall. The sun was bright, making the white jade railings sparkle. Grandpa Sword sat on the steps, polishing his Seven Kill Sword. Grandpa Bone stood beside him, his face stern but with a hint of a smile in his eyes.

She wanted to run to them, but her legs felt rooted, unable to move.

Grandpa Sword looked up at her, his eyes full of worry.

"Rongrong, where have you been?"

She tried to call out, but no sound came.

Grandpa Sword stood up and walked towards her. But his face slowly changed, becoming unfamiliar, becoming cold.

"Why didn't you come back?"

He raised his sword.

The blade of the Seven Kill Sword pointed at her chest.

Ning Rongrong's eyes snapped open.

It was still dark outside, the sky a hazy grey. She lay on the sofa, covered by a blanket, her heart pounding fiercely.

She sat up, gasping for air.

The living room was very quiet. Yang Wudi was sleeping in the inner room, while Zhang Mo slept on the other sofa—he had been sleeping there for the past few days, giving up the bed to Yang Wudi.

She turned her head to look in Zhang Mo's direction.

He was sleeping soundly, his breathing steady. Moonlight leaked through the gap in the curtains, shining on his face and outlining his silhouette in a faint silver.

She watched him for a long time.

Then she stood up gently, walked over to his side, and crouched down.

She looked at his face, then suddenly reached out and lightly touched his eyebrow.

He didn't wake up.

She touched his nose.

He still didn't wake up.

She withdrew her hand and just stayed crouched there, watching him.

As she watched, her eyes grew a little red.

She thought of Grandpa Sword in her dream. She thought of that Seven Kill Sword pointed at her. She thought of the question Grandpa Sword had asked—

"Why won't you come back?"

She didn't know how to answer.

She lowered her head and buried her face in her knees.

She didn't know how much time had passed when a hand pressed down on the top of her head.

She looked up and saw Zhang Mo with his eyes open, looking at her.

"What's wrong?"

Ning Rongrong was stunned for a moment, then shook her head.

Zhang Mo sat up and looked at her.

In the moonlight, her eyes were bright and glistening, as if they had been wet.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked.

Ning Rongrong nodded, then shook her head again.

Zhang Mo didn't speak; he simply reached out, pulled her up, and had her sit on the sofa.

He went to pour a glass of warm water and handed it to her.

Ning Rongrong took it, held it in her hands, but didn't drink.

After a long silence, she suddenly said:

"Zhang Mo, I dreamed of Grandpa Sword."

Zhang Mo looked at her.

She continued, "He asked me why I wouldn't go back. Then he pointed his sword at me."

Her voice trembled slightly.

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

"That was a dream."

Ning Rongrong shook her head: "He is coming soon."

Zhang Mo didn't speak.

Ning Rongrong looked up at him.

"If he really points his sword at me, what should I do?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment and said:

"Then let him point it."

Ning Rongrong was stunned.

Zhang Mo said: "You just stand there and don't move. He won't strike."

Ning Rongrong stared at him, her eyes turning even redder.

"How do you know?"

Zhang Mo said: "Because you call him Grandpa Sword."

Ning Rongrong froze.

Zhang Mo said: "The fact that he could come to this world for your sake shows that he treats you like family. Family does not kill family."

Ning Rongrong lowered her head and looked at the cup in her hands.

After a long time, she whispered:

"But he wants to kill you."

Zhang Mo didn't say anything.

She looked up at him.

"If he wants to kill you, what am I supposed to do?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment and said:

"Then you stop him."

"Can I stop him?"

"Even if you can't, you must."

Ning Rongrong stared at him, and finally, her tears fell.

She set down her cup, lunged forward, and hugged him, holding on with all her might.

Zhang Mo remained still as she held him.

After a long while, he gently patted her back.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "There is still one day left. We will find a way together."

Ning Rongrong nodded, but she did not let go.

She just kept holding him like that, and as she held him, she slowly fell asleep.

Zhang Mo looked down at her.

Even in her sleep, her brows were furrowed, and tears still clung to her face.

He gently wiped away her tears, laid her down comfortably on the sofa, and covered her with a blanket.

Then he stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, the horizon had already begun to turn pale.

He stared in that direction, watching the light slowly brighten.

His right eye suddenly stung with pain.

A purple light screen popped up:

[Warning--]

[Target "Chen Xin" has arrived ahead of schedule!]

[Current location: Eastern SH City District, approximately 30 kilometers away]

[Moving toward this location]

[Estimated time of arrival: 30 minutes]

Zhang Mo's pupils constricted.

He turned around, intending to wake Ning Rongrong.

But she was already awake.

She stood behind him, staring at the glowing characters, her face pale.

"Grandpa Sword... is here?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

Ning Rongrong took a deep breath and turned to run into the inner room.

"Yang Wudi! Yang Wudi, get up!"

Yang Wudi's groggy voice came from the inner room: "What?"

"Grandpa Sword is here! We have thirty minutes!"

The inner room went quiet for a second, followed by a flurry of rustling sounds.

Yang Wudi rushed out clutching the Soul Breaking Spear, his hair a mess, but his eyes were terrifyingly bright.

"He's here?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

Yang Wudi grinned.

"Good!" he said. "Let me test this level 96 Title Douluo!"

He strode toward the door.

Zhang Mo blocked his path.

"Where are you going?"

Yang Wudi said: "To meet him, of course. Are we just going to wait for him to come here?"

Zhang Mo said: "Yes, we wait for him to come here."

Yang Wudi froze for a moment.

Zhang Mo said: "This is a city district. If he comes here, he will see these people."

He pointed out the window.

Outside the window, the sky had already brightened. People began to move about on the street; vendors pushing carts passed by, and those rushing to work hurried along.

Yang Wudi fell silent.

He watched those people for a few seconds, then slowly loosened his grip on the shaft of his spear.

"Then we wait," he said.

The three of them went downstairs and stood in the alleyway.

Morning light shone upon this narrow alley, illuminating the mottled walls and the pedestrians slowly increasing in number in the distance.

Ning Rongrong stood beside Zhang Mo, her hand clutching his sleeve tightly.

Yang Wudi leaned on his Soul Breaking Spear, standing in front of the two of them, staring at the entrance of the alley.

Time ticked by, second by second.

The entrance to the alley suddenly darkened.

It was not the dimming caused by clouds obscuring the sun, but a different kind of darkness—as if something were absorbing the light.

Then, a figure appeared at the alley entrance.

He walked very slowly, each step landing with absolute steadiness. He wore a white robe, had graying hair, and carried an ancient, simple longsword on his back.

He walked into the alley and came to a stop.

The sunlight shone from behind him, casting his face into shadow.

But those eyes were startlingly bright.

He looked at Ning Rongrong for a long time.

Then he spoke, his voice aged but carrying an unconcealable tremor:

"Rongrong."

Ning Rongrong's entire body stiffened.

She opened her mouth, wanting to call out "Grandpa Sword," but the sound stuck in her throat.

The old man took a step forward.

Yang Wudi blocked him with his spear held horizontally.

The old man stopped and looked at Yang Wudi.

"The patriarch of the Breaking Clan?" He frowned slightly. "Why are you here?"

Yang Wudi grinned.

"To kill you."

The old man was stunned for a moment, then he smiled.

The smile was faint, but it carried an indescribable nuance.

"You?"

Yang Wudi tightened his grip on the spear shaft.

"The three of us."

The old man looked at him, then at Zhang Mo behind him, and finally, his gaze settled on Ning Rongrong.

He looked at the hand Ning Rongrong was using to clutch Zhang Mo's sleeve, and his expression shifted slightly.

"Rongrong," he said, his voice turning deep. "Come back with me."

Ning Rongrong bit her lip and said nothing.

The old man took a step forward.

The tip of Yang Wudi's spear aimed directly at his chest.

The old man stopped and looked at Yang Wudi.

"Move aside," he said. "I do not wish to kill you."

Yang Wudi laughed.

"What a coincidence," he said. "I want to kill you."

In the alley, the morning light gradually grew brighter.

In the distance, the sound of car horns and the cries of street vendors drifted in.

But in this alley, it was so quiet that only the sound of breathing remained.

Ning Rongrong clutched Zhang Mo's sleeve until her knuckles turned white.

She looked at the old man, looked at the Seven Kill Sword strapped to his back, and looked at those familiar eyes filled with worry.

She took a deep breath and spoke:

"Grandpa Sword."

The old man's gaze fell upon her.

She let go of Zhang Mo's sleeve and took a step forward.

"I am not going back," she said.