Unarmored | Chapter 24 | Light from the Marsh | Novela.app

The spring chill had only just dissipated, and the first greens of summer were beginning to emerge—days that should have been filled with the scent of flowers and the song of birds. Yet, the marshlands had never known such things. All around was an endless expanse of green. Deep green, pale green, yellow-green, and brownish-green—all tangled and interwoven, blanketing the earth and blotting out the sky. It was a verdant hell. Zou Sifang felt as though his chest were about to burst. He had been running at full tilt for nearly the time it took a stick of incense to burn. He remembered the paths here. In his youth, he had trodden upon every inch of this land. He had hauled pine logs here one by one, constructing wooden boardwalks over the mud pits and hidden pools for the herb-gatherers to use. In this emerald palace, he had been the sole king. If there was any chance of turning the tide today, it had to be here. No one could defeat him in this swamp. He would find a way to survive... *Squelch.* A soft sound came from beneath Zou Sifang’s feet. His legs froze. He knew that sound; it was the sound of stepping into the floating weeds that masked a mire. How could this be? He clearly remembered there being wooden planks here. It must have been the rain—that damned rain. The faint sound of the woman’s footsteps came from behind. Zou Sifang struggled to steady his sinking body, his hand tightly clutching that piece of emerald green. At least he had managed to bring the jade out. Xiao Nanhui pushed aside the endless reeds and immediately saw Zou Sifang, half his body already submerged in the mire. Sweat poured down his face in streams, and he possessed the pallor of total exhaustion, yet his eyes remained wide and fixed, radiating a desperate hunger for life. “You want this, don’t you? Save me, and I’ll give it to you.” Xiao Nanhui’s gaze fell upon the palm-sized piece of emerald treasure. She was no fool; she knew Zou Sifang would never hand it over unless he was at his wit's end. Rescuing someone from a mire was no easy feat, but if she did nothing now, there would be no room left for maneuver. There wasn't even a usable branch to be found in the vicinity. She could only reach out and grab Zou Sifang by the shoulder, attempting to pull him horizontally toward firmer ground. She was immensely strong, but because of that, the ground beneath her own feet instantly bore double the weight. The damp, fragile mud began to collapse and sink rapidly. The muddy water around Zou Sifang instantly rose to his neck; he only had time to let out a broken whimper before the pressure of the sludge made it impossible to breathe. It happened too fast for any deliberation. Xiao Nanhui lunged toward the sinking patch of mud, snatching the jade seal into her hand at the very last second. In the next heartbeat, Zou Sifang’s stiffened fingers were swallowed by the filth, and she, following close behind, fell into the mire as well. Because she had lunged forward to jump further, her body dropped almost vertically, causing her to sink even faster. She tried to grab the surrounding reeds and wild grass, only to find that the marsh lacked any deep-rooted plants; everything she touched gave way. The sludge soon rose above her chest. Her breathing became labored, and the sensation of her heart struggling to beat left her dizzy, her ears ringing. She remembered how she used to joke with Bolao, saying that if she died on the battlefield and her body couldn't be found, they should have someone carve a stone statue to bury instead—and that the sculptor should make her look beautiful. Now, she hadn't died on a battlefield, but it seemed likely she wouldn't even leave a statue behind. Taking a deep, forced breath, she prepared for one final struggle. Raising her only movable arm, Xiao Nanhui fought to crawl upward against the sludge. To her surprise, a slender, pale hand suddenly caught hers. It was a somewhat frail hand, and a string of prayer beads adorned the wrist. *Is this the hand of the Buddha?* Xiao Nanhui thought lightheadedly, before a cold male voice snapped her back to reality. “Hold on tight. I don’t have the strength to haul up a corpse.” Her wandering gaze finally focused on Zhongli Jing’s face, which was inches away. Sweat and splattered mud had robbed that jade-like countenance of its pristine clarity. His hair was slightly disheveled, and because he was pressing himself low against the ground, he looked somewhat bedraggled. Yet, in that moment, she suddenly felt that the fragility which usually made her keep her distance had vanished. The air of pampered nobility brought about by his refined features was gone, replaced by a sense of resolve and iron will. Unconsciously, Xiao Nanhui tightened her grip on his hand. Because of the external intervention, her sinking stopped. However, because he was holding her, the ground beneath Zhongli Jing began to subside. He slowly adjusted his body, lying as flat as possible against the fragile mud. Finally, the two of them reached a point of equilibrium, suspended in the mire. But this balance was so precarious that the slightest movement would shatter it beyond repair. In the distance, the shouts of Ding Weixiang and Bolao drifted through the reeds, their positions impossible to discern. Xiao Nanhui wanted to shout back with all her might, but after a few cries, she dared not move again. At this moment, even the slightest breath or tremor could cause them to sink rapidly. Her shouts were swallowed by the damp, cold air, seemingly failing to travel any distance at all. There was not a breath of wind in the reed beds. Moisture condensed, and a thick mist gradually began to rise. The voices grew distant, and silence settled over the area. The two people on the cold, wet mud were like two joined stones, utterly motionless. An unknown amount of time passed. The last sliver of daylight faded from the marsh, and the temperature began to drop. Xiao Nanhui had a strong constitution and could still endure, but Zhongli Jing was no martial artist. He was at the end of his tether; she could feel his hand trembling. She spoke softly, “Let go.” He didn't speak, but he didn't move either. She felt a momentary surge of emotion, but then she remembered the jade seal clutched in her other hand and understood his persistence. Even so, as she recalled that hand wearing the prayer beads, she still felt it was the hand of the Buddha. *Buddha protect us, we must not die here.* ****** ****** ****** *Tap. Tap. Tap.* Something was approaching. Xiao Nanhui snapped her eyes open, her ears twitching. *Tap. Tap. Tap.* The sound drew closer, coming from behind her. She could faintly hear the subtle snapping of vegetation being crushed. It sounded like hoofbeats. Xiao Nanhui felt a surge of joy. Jixiang had the keenest nose; perhaps Bolao had brought the horse to help. “Jixiang?” The sound behind her stopped. Then, a warm breath puffed against the back of her neck, and a damp nose sniffed at the crown of her head. It wasn't Jixiang. Jixiang knew her scent; he would never sniff her like that. Panic began to set in. She squeezed Zhongli Jing’s hand hard. He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze falling behind her head, but he said nothing. She strained her eyes, trying to see what monster was behind her. In the next instant, she felt the clothes on her shoulder gripped by a massive force and pulled toward the edge of the mire. Her hand, which had been locked with Zhongli Jing’s, was wrenched apart by this external power. Before Xiao Nanhui could struggle, she was dragged out of the mud. Her long-compressed lungs finally found relief; she gasped for air, propping up her body—heavy with caked mud—and looked up. It was a young stag with large, liquid eyes. It gently tossed its massive antlers and stepped toward Zhongli Jing, pulling him out in the same manner. She hurried forward to help Zhongli Jing up. When she looked again, the deer had already moved off. Its antlers vanished into the waist-high wormwood like a lonely phantom. In this wondrous moment of survival, Xiao Nanhui finally let out a long breath and whispered two words: “Thank you.” She didn't even know if she was speaking to the deer or to Zhongli Jing. At that moment, the latter had no time to care about what she said. He was struggling to remove his outer robe. The mud had soaked through the fabric, and the ties were all tangled together; it wrapped around him, wet and heavy, impossible to shed. Seeing this, she didn't think twice. She stepped forward, grabbed the fabric at his chest with both hands, and yanked it apart. The "mud-garment" instantly tore into two pieces. Zhongli Jing froze, then looked down at the inner tunic he was wearing. When he looked up again, the expression on his face was exceedingly strange. Belatedly looking at the two rags in her hands, Xiao Nanhui wondered if she had frightened him. She explained patiently, “You couldn't have gotten it off like that; you'd just be wasting your strength. When you're out in the wild, don't worry so much about propriety.” He remained silent for a moment before slowly uttering two words. “Forget it.” Having said that, he didn't look at Xiao Nanhui but stood up and began to scan their surroundings. She simply took his behavior as a sign of his awkward temperament. She reached down to pick up the jade seal she had obtained with such difficulty, cradling it in her arms as she followed his gaze. “What, do you know the way out?” “I do not.” He answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Xiao Nanhui nearly couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. “You certainly don't look like someone who doesn't know...” Zhongli Jing didn't reply but took a few steps to stand behind her. She suddenly realized that when this man stood straight, he was quite tall. His spine was straight, his shoulders broad and level. Though he wasn't as robust as a martial artist, he was by no means a sickly weakling. He stood very close, his chest almost touching her back—close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. That unique scent of his became even more pronounced. For some reason, she instinctively held her breath, while the man behind her gestured for her to look deep into the marsh. Clouds surged across the sky tonight, and the moonlight was dim. Every plant and tree in the swamp had lost its silhouette, turning into a chaotic blur. Suddenly, a speck of pale blue light flickered within the chaos. It rose slowly, circling and lingering among the rotting water plants and shallow streams. Another blue light sparked, chasing after the first, followed by a third, a fourth... Blue lights flickered one after another, wandering and dancing through the grass, causing the swamp—originally shrouded in darkness—to shimmer with ghostly glimmers. “Fireflies.” “Mhm.” Zhongli Jing took a few steps forward. She grabbed him nervously. “The light isn't any better than during the day. If you walk like that, we’ll both be back in a pit in no time.” Zhongli Jing looked down at the hand gripping his arm, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible. “Weixiang searched nearby during the day; he won't return for a short while. Staying here is just waiting for death.” Only then did Xiao Nanhui realize that the body beneath her hand was shivering. The temperature had plummeted. As someone with no martial arts foundation, he had lain in the mud with her for hours, and now he was only wearing a soaked inner tunic. They truly couldn't wait any longer. But what could they do? Find something to probe the path? In this pitch darkness, how long would that take? “Have you heard the saying, 'decayed grass becomes fireflies'?” Xiao Nanhui nodded. Fireflies loved rotting, damp water plants; they would come out to feed whenever night fell. “If we avoid the places where the fireflies are, that should be the firmer ground.” *** **Glossary** Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation --- | --- | --- 腐草为萤 | Decayed grass becomes fireflies | An ancient Chinese belief that fireflies are born from decaying organic matter. 吉祥 | Jixiang | Xiao Nanhui's horse. 翠绿玉玺 | Emerald Jade Seal | The object stolen by Zou Sifang.