"Sizzle..."
In Lin Shisan's last shred of consciousness, nothing remained but pain and agony.
His bones felt as though someone had taken them apart and pieced them back together, and his internal organs burned like fire.
Even his breath carried a heavy reek of blood.
The Little Black Cauldron glowed faintly.
It held open a palm-sized pocket of space within the turbulent currents of time and space, like an oil lamp in a storm, teetering on the verge of going out.
After drifting for who knew how long, to who knew where, the Little Black Cauldron suddenly shuddered. Seven-Colored Rosy Light burst forth, tearing a rift through the chaos.
Sunlight poured in, carrying the briny smell of seawater.
Two people fell through the rift and slammed heavily onto a beach.
Waves washed over their ankles, one after another, then receded.
The sun moved from east to west, then rose again.
At dusk the next day, a boy of five or six ran across the beach barefoot, his sun-darkened skin gleaming.
He spotted the two figures on the sand and froze, then turned and called behind him, "Grandpa, Grandma, there are two people over there."
An old man approached with his back bent.
His face was covered in wrinkles like knife cuts, and he carried a bundle of firewood on his back.
He put down the bundle, reached out a rough hand to check Lin Shisan's breathing, then felt his pulse. He still had a breath left in him.
He moved over to check Bai Youyou as well. She, too, still had a breath left.
"Let's take them home. We can't watch two living people die on the beach."
The old woman said nothing more. She put down her bamboo walking stick and bent to help Bai Youyou up.
Little Stone