The Three of Them

Ning Rongrong was woken 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. It's not old enough."

"This one's decent, but it wasn't processed properly."

"You people in this world ruin good things."

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

She got up and opened the door.

The sight in the living room made her freeze.

The coffee table was piled high with medicinal herbs of all shapes and sizes, some dry and some damp. Several bulging cloth bags sat on the floor. Yang Wudi sat on the sofa, holding up a withered root to examine it against the sunlight. Zhang Mo sat beside him with a book in his hands, though his eyes were on Yang Wudi, as if listening to him.

Without even turning his head, Yang Wudi kept buzzing on.

"Look at these rings. It grows one every three years. This one has thirty rings, so it's exactly thirty years old."

Zhang Mo nodded.

Yang Wudi went on, "How much is a thirty-year-old ginseng worth here?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment. "A few tens of thousands, if it's good quality."

Yang Wudi's eyes widened. "A few tens of thousands? That's it?"

Ning Rongrong walked over, hoping to squeeze in beside Zhang Mo. But the sofa was covered with herbs, leaving no room. She had no choice but to perch by the armrest, far away from him.

Yang Wudi glanced at her.

"You're awake?"

Ning Rongrong nodded.

Yang Wudi lowered his head and went back to examining the herbs, ignoring her.

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

She cleared her throat.

No one paid her any attention.

She cleared her throat again, louder this time.

Yang Wudi looked up at her. "Is something wrong with your throat?"

Ning Rongrong shook her head.

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

Ning Rongrong pursed her lips, stood up, and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. When she came back, she deliberately set it on the coffee table in front of Zhang Mo, right beside his hand.

Zhang Mo looked up at her.

"Hungry?" he asked.

Ning Rongrong was about to say no, but her stomach growled just then.

Zhang Mo stood up and headed for the kitchen.

Ning Rongrong followed him.

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

Ning Rongrong shot him a glare, but he didn't see it.

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

Ning Rongrong leaned against the doorframe and watched him.

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"How long is that Yang Wudi going to stay?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe until we've fought Chen Xin."

Ning Rongrong pouted.

Zhang Mo glanced back at her without saying anything, then went on chopping.

Ning Rongrong stood there for a while, then spoke again.

"He's so noisy."

"A little," Zhang Mo said.

"Ever since he got here, you haven't paid any attention to me."

Zhang Mo paused and turned to look at her.

She leaned against the doorframe with her head lowered, twirling the hem of her clothes around her fingers.

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

Ning Rongrong looked up at him, her eyes brightening.

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

"He's talking about medicinal herbs. I don't know anything about them, so I might as well listen."

"Oh," Ning Rongrong said, lowering her head again.

Zhang Mo finished chopping the vegetables and started heating the wok.

Ning Rongrong stood nearby, watching his back.

Then she suddenly said:

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"After we eat, will you teach me that ancient martial art?"

Zhang Mo turned to look at her. "Wasn't Yang Wudi going to teach you body tempering?"

Ning Rongrong pouted. "His training is too grueling."

Zhang Mo smiled but said nothing.

Breakfast was ready, and he brought it to the table.

Yang Wudi got up from the sofa, walked over, and plopped down. He picked up his chopsticks, took a bite, and chewed.

"Not bad," he said. "Better than the food in our clan's canteen."

Zhang Mo served him a bowl of porridge.

Yang Wudi took it and slurped it down noisily.

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 a bowl of porridge in a few gulps, then served himself another.

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

"Let me see that sword of yours again."

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

Yang Wudi took the sword and held it up to the light to examine the blade. It was still dark red, just as it had been the night before.

He nodded and returned the sword to Zhang Mo.

"That'll do," he said. "The medicine's potency will last seven days. During that time, this sword can pierce a Titled Douluo's defenses."

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

Yang Wudi went back to his meal.

When he finished, he wiped his mouth and stood up.

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

Ning Rongrong blinked. "Now?"

"When else? After you've eaten your fill and digested it?"

Ning Rongrong glanced at Zhang Mo.

"Go on," Zhang Mo said.

Ning Rongrong dragged her feet as she got up and followed Yang Wudi downstairs.

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

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

Ning Rongrong nodded.

"Today, you'll hold it for an hour and a half."

Ning Rongrong's face fell.

Yang Wudi paid her no mind. He walked over to the side, took the Soul Breaking Spear off his back, and began practicing.

His spear thrust through the air with a sharp whistle.

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

Yang Wudi's spear was fast.

So fast she couldn't make out what he was doing.

She only saw a dark blur flash by, followed by the whistle of air. One thrust followed another in an endless stream.

She suddenly remembered what her father had once said—

"The Breaking Clan's spear never turns back. It only attacks and never defends, which is why it's the fastest."

She gritted her teeth and kept crouching.

The sun climbed higher, baking the top of her head.

Sweat trickled down and blurred her vision. She wiped it away with her sleeve and kept crouching.

Yang Wudi suddenly stopped and walked over to her.

"Get up."

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

"Watch closely."

He struck a pose, legs slightly bent and hands held as if gripping a spear.

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

He began to move.

His movements were slow, every detail clear. How to step, how to turn the waist, how to thrust the hands, and how to draw them back at the end.

After demonstrating it once, he looked at Ning Rongrong.

"Remember it?"

Ning Rongrong nodded.

"Do it once."

Ning Rongrong copied him, bending her legs slightly and holding her hands as if gripping a spear.

She stepped, turned her waist, thrust her hands—

Smack.

She fell flat on the ground.

Yang Wudi looked down at her.

"Again."

Ning Rongrong scrambled up and tried again.

She fell again.

"Again."

She fell again.

After five falls, Ning Rongrong sat on the ground and refused to get up.

"I'm done, I'm done..." she panted. "What kind of lousy technique is this?"

Yang Wudi looked at her and suddenly laughed.

"Not bad," he said. "You fell five times before giving up on your first try. That counts as perseverance."

Ning Rongrong glared up at him.

"Rest for fifteen minutes," Yang Wudi said. "Then we'll continue."

Ning Rongrong wanted to say something, but the words died on her lips.

She got up and walked to the wall, where she sat down and leaned against it, panting.

Yang Wudi returned to the middle of the alley and went back to practicing his spear.

The whistle of air rang out again.

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

What was he doing now?

Was he still reading that lousy book?

Did he miss her?

As she wondered, a figure appeared at the mouth of the alley.

Zhang Mo walked over slowly, carrying a bag.

Ning Rongrong's eyes lit up.

"Zhang Mo!"

Zhang Mo came over and crouched beside her, taking a bottle of water out of the bag.

Ning Rongrong took it and gulped down several mouthfuls.

"What are you doing here?"

"Bringing you water," Zhang Mo said.

The corners of Ning Rongrong's mouth lifted.

She glanced at Yang Wudi, then lowered her voice.

"He's so mean."

Zhang Mo smiled.

"Training was always like this."

Ning Rongrong pursed her lips, then suddenly said:

"Sit with me for a while."

Zhang Mo sat down beside her.

The two of them leaned against the wall, watching Yang Wudi practice with his spear.

Sunlight streamed in from the mouth of the alley, casting their shadows on the ground, close together.

Ning Rongrong suddenly reached out and tugged at his sleeve.

Just like before.

Zhang Mo lowered his head and glanced at her hand, but said nothing.

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

He saw the two of them sitting together and froze for a moment. Then he turned around and continued practicing.

The sound of the spear tearing through the air rang out again.

Still holding Zhang Mo's sleeve, Ning Rongrong said softly:

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"After we're done with Grandpa Sword, take me out to have some fun."

"Okay," Zhang Mo said.

"To that park."

"Okay."

"And we'll get milk tea."

"Okay."

The corners of Ning Rongrong's mouth lifted high.

She let go of his sleeve and stood up.

"I'm going to keep practicing."

Zhang Mo nodded.

Ning Rongrong walked to the middle of the alley and assumed her starting stance.

This time, she didn't fall.

Her movements were still awkward, but she didn't fall.

Yang Wudi glanced at her and grunted.

"Not bad."

The corners of Ning Rongrong's mouth lifted.

She looked back at Zhang Mo.

He was sitting at the foot of the wall, holding that book and reading with his head bowed.

Sunlight fell on him, gilding his profile.

She turned back and continued practicing.

Her legs were still trembling, but her heart wasn't.

That night, Ning Rongrong had a dream.

In the dream, she had returned to the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect and stood in the square before the main hall. The sun shone brightly, making the white jade railings gleam. Grandpa Sword sat on the steps, polishing his Seven Kill Sword. Grandpa Bone stood beside him, wearing a stern expression, though there was a smile in the corners of his eyes.

She wanted to run over, but her legs seemed rooted to the ground. She couldn't move.

Grandpa Sword raised his head and looked at her, his eyes full of worry.

"Rongrong, where have you been?"

She tried to shout, but no sound came out.

Grandpa Sword stood and walked toward her. But his face slowly changed, becoming unfamiliar and 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 flew open.

It wasn't light outside yet; everything was gray and hazy. She was lying on the sofa with a blanket over her, her heart pounding violently.

She sat up and gasped for air.

The living room was quiet. Yang Wudi was asleep in the inner room, and Zhang Mo was asleep on another sofa. He'd been sleeping there for the past few days, giving his bed to Yang Wudi.

She turned her head toward Zhang Mo.

He was sleeping soundly, breathing evenly. Moonlight slipped through a gap in the curtains and fell across his face, tracing his features in faint silver.

She watched him for a long time.

Then she rose quietly, walked over to him, and crouched down.

She looked at his face, then suddenly reached out and gently touched his brow.

He didn't wake.

She touched his nose too.

Still, he didn't wake.

She drew her hand back and stayed crouched there, watching him.

As she watched, her eyes began to redden.

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

"Why didn't you come back?"

She didn't know how to answer.

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

After an unknown amount of time, a hand came to rest on her head.

She looked up and saw Zhang Mo watching her with his eyes open.

"What's wrong?"

Ning Rongrong froze for a moment, then shook her head.

Zhang Mo sat up and looked at her.

In the moonlight, her eyes gleamed as if they were wet.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked.

Ning Rongrong nodded, then shook her head.

Zhang Mo said nothing. He simply reached out, helped her up, and guided her to sit on the sofa.

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

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

After a long silence, she suddenly said:

"Zhang Mo, I dreamed about Grandpa Sword."

Zhang Mo looked at her.

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

Her voice trembled a little.

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

"It was a dream."

Ning Rongrong shook her head. "He's almost here."

Zhang Mo said nothing.

Ning Rongrong lifted her head and looked at him.

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

Zhang Mo thought for a moment, then said:

"Let him point it at you."

Ning Rongrong froze.

Zhang Mo said, "Stand there and don't move. He won't thrust it into you."

Ning Rongrong stared at him, her eyes growing redder.

"How do you know?"

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

Ning Rongrong went still.

Zhang Mo said, "The fact that he came to this world for you means he sees you as family. Family don't kill family."

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

After a long while, she said softly:

"But he's going to kill you."

Zhang Mo said nothing.

She lifted her head and looked at him.

"If he's going to kill you, what should I do?"

Zhang Mo thought for a moment, then said:

"Then stop him."

"Can I stop him?"

"Even if you can't, you have to try."

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

She put down the cup, threw herself at him, and hugged him tight.

Zhang Mo let her hold him without moving.

After a long while, he gently patted her back.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "We have one more day. We'll figure something out together."

Ning Rongrong nodded but didn't let go.

She just held him like that until she slowly fell asleep.

Zhang Mo lowered his head and looked at her.

Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed, and tears still clung to her face.

He gently wiped them away, helped her lie back on the sofa, and covered her with the blanket.

Then he stood and walked to the window.

Outside, the sky at the horizon was already beginning to pale.

He stared in that direction, watching the lights slowly grow brighter.

Suddenly, his right eye stung.

A purple screen of light appeared:

[Warning—]

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

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

[Moving toward this location]

[Estimated arrival time: 30 minutes]

Zhang Mo's pupils contracted.

He turned, intending to wake Ning Rongrong.

But she was already awake.

She stood behind him, looking at the glowing words, her face pale.

"Grandpa Sword... he's here?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

Ning Rongrong took a deep breath and ran toward the inner room.

"Yang Wudi! Yang Wudi, get up!"

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

"Grandpa Sword is here! He'll be here in thirty minutes!"

The inner room fell silent for a second, then a rustling sound came from inside.

Yang Wudi charged out with the Soul Breaking Spear in hand. His hair was a mess, but his eyes were frighteningly bright.

"He's here?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

Yang Wudi grinned.

"Good!" he said. "Let me take on this Level Ninety-Six Titled Douluo!"

He strode toward the door.

Zhang Mo stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

Yang Wudi said, "To meet him. What, are we going to wait for him to come to us?"

Zhang Mo said, "Yes. We wait for him here."

Yang Wudi froze.

Zhang Mo said, "This is the city district. When he gets here, he'll see all these people."

He pointed outside the window.

Outside the window, dawn had broken. People were beginning to stir in the street. A breakfast vendor pushed a cart past, while people hurrying to work strode by.

Yang Wudi fell silent.

He watched them for several seconds, then slowly loosened his grip on the spear shaft.

"Then we'll wait," he said.

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

Morning light spilled over the narrow alley, the mottled walls, and the pedestrians slowly gathering in the distance.

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

Yang Wudi leaned on the Soul Breaking Spear, standing in front of them as he watched the mouth of the alley.

Time ticked by, second by second.

The mouth of the alley suddenly darkened.

It wasn't the kind of darkness that came when a cloud covered the sun. It was something else—like something was sucking in the light.

Then a figure appeared at the mouth of the alley.

He walked very slowly, each step sure and steady. He wore a long white robe, had long gray-white hair, and carried an ancient-looking sword on his back.

He entered the alley and stopped.

Sunlight shone from behind him, leaving his face in shadow.

But his eyes gleamed startlingly bright.

He looked at Ning Rongrong for a long time.

Then he spoke, his voice aged, yet trembling with barely concealed emotion:

"Rongrong."

Ning Rongrong stiffened all over.

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

The old man took a step forward.

Yang Wudi leveled his spear to block him.

The old man stopped and looked at Yang Wudi.

"Clan Head of the Breaking Clan?" He frowned slightly. "What are you doing here?"

Yang Wudi bared his teeth in a grin.

"I'm here to kill you."

The old man froze for a moment, then laughed.

The smile was faint, but carried an indescribable meaning.

"You think you can?"

Yang Wudi tightened his grip on the spear shaft.

"The three of us can."

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

He looked at the hand clutching Zhang Mo's sleeve, and his expression shifted slightly.

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

Ning Rongrong bit her lip and said nothing.

The old man took another step forward.

Yang Wudi's spearpoint aimed at his chest.

The old man stopped and looked at Yang Wudi.

"Move aside," he said. "I don't want to kill you."

Yang Wudi smiled.

"Funny," he said. "I want to kill you."

Morning light slowly brightened the alley.

From far away came the honking of car horns and the vendors' cries.

But in this alley, all was so quiet that only breathing could be heard.

Ning Rongrong clutched Zhang Mo's sleeve so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

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

She took a deep breath and spoke:

"Grandpa Sword."

The old man's gaze settled on her.

She let go of Zhang Mo's sleeve and stepped forward.

"I'm not going back," she said.