vncnus Chapter 3: A Prelude to Youth Amidst Light and Darkness
Chapter 3: A Prelude to Youth Amidst Light and Darkness
Chapter 3: A Prelude to Youth Amidst Light and Darkness (Revised Edition)
The wind in Donghai City smells fishy.
The bronze bell on the clock tower clangs loudly, sounding like it's about to fall but never actually does. Every time I pass by, I look up at it, wondering when it will finally fall. But it hasn't. Maybe it won't fall this year, maybe it won't fall next year. It'll just hang there, I guess.
Mo Runshu leaned against the railing, tapping away. There was no rhythm, just random tapping. That's just how he is; his hands are never idle. Sometimes he taps on the railing, sometimes he turns the soul guide core, sometimes he flips through a lighter. He can't stop. If he stops, he seems to not know where to put his hands.
After a long while, he said, "Twenty years."
Then he stopped talking.
Yuemian stood next to him, the wind blowing her hair back. She didn't move. That's just her personality; she can stand there motionless for ages, like a statue. Once, I stood in one place for ten minutes talking to her, and my legs were aching while she remained in that position.
He said, "Mianmian, do you still remember the first time we met?"
I remember. She said, "You were so arrogant back then, with your twin martial souls, you didn't care about anyone. And you just had to drag me out of there."
Mo Runshu turned around, leaned on the railing behind her, and looked down at her.
No. He said. It wasn't that I was being arrogant back then. It was just that this college was so boring, and you were the only one—he paused here, as if searching for the right words—the only one who made me think, um, I could hit you.
He reached out and touched her face.
The hand stopped there.
His eyes seemed to see the past. I don't know if he really saw it. Maybe he could. Anyway, I can't. The past can only be thought about, not seen.
It was summer then. Hot. Not just hot, it was truly hot. Thousands of people were standing in the square in front of Mingde Hall. A magnifying glass hung overhead, bringing all the sunlight down, making it feel like a sauna. I was there that year. Standing at the very back, I couldn't see anything even on tiptoe. All I could hear was a buzzing sound coming from ahead.
Mo Runshu was twenty that year. He wore a silver school uniform, collar open, twirling a soul guide core in his hand. His expression practically screamed: "Don't mess with me." That's how he was back then. He didn't respect anyone. He always had that "Who do you think you are?" look on everyone he met. But there was nothing he could do; he possessed twin martial souls and all five soul rings were black, giving him the right to be arrogant. "You try being arrogant with my five white rings," he thought.
The referee called out a name when he announced the next game.
The ink-stained book faces the moonlit night.
The referee hesitated for a moment when reading out the name "Yue Mianmian." He himself was taken aback. He probably wasn't familiar with the name. Yue Mianmian was a new student, a transfer student, and nobody knew her.
A buzz started from the audience. Some said Yue Mianmian was the transfer student. Others said her martial soul was called Eternal Night Angel, which sounded rather sinister. Still others said she had injured people elsewhere and wasn't someone to mess with. And some said Mo Shao's twin martial souls meant this match wouldn't be very interesting.
Mo Runshu stopped what he was doing and looked up at the other side.
There was a girl standing across from me. She was dressed in black. Thin. Unnaturally pale. Her hair was long and black. She stood there motionless, seemingly from another world. I didn't see her at the time because I was behind her, but I heard about her later. They said that as soon as she stood there, people automatically kept three steps away from her. Either someone was shooing her away, or nobody wanted to stand next to her. There was something about her that made people not want to get close.
Monthly delivery.
Mo Runshu jumped onto the stage. He casually flicked his sword.
"Hey," he said, "I heard you're afraid of light? Want me to give you a few pointers? Or maybe I can get you an umbrella?"
There were a few laughs from below.
Yue Mianmian looked up at him. How to describe that look? It was just a glance, nothing more. No anger, no shyness, no curiosity, just a glance. It was as if she was confirming there was something standing opposite her, and once she confirmed it, that was it.
"No need," she said. "Let's begin."
Mo Runshu smiled.
Five spirit rings lit up beneath his feet. They were all black. A burst of energy exploded, causing those nearby to squint. I was even blown away by the energy from behind. My clothes fluttered.
He swung his sword. A golden blade of light, carrying the wind, hurtled straight for her face. It was about fifty percent of his strength. Later he told me it was fifty percent. I said, "Fifty percent and you're this fierce?" He said, "Of course, what else could it be?"
The baby didn't move during the month.
She only raised her hand when the sword light was about to touch her. Her right hand, fingers spread, palm black.
Suddenly, the light on the arena seemed to be extinguished. Black mist surged up from beneath her feet, completely enveloping the golden sword light.
It hissed a few times. White smoke rose up.
Mo Runshu was taken aback.
His luminous soul power is disappearing. Not being pushed back, but completely gone. Like pouring water into sand. It absorbs all the water you pour in. Not a drop is left.
He smiled.
This time, I genuinely laughed. Not the condescending laugh from before. I genuinely found it amusing.
He pushed off with his foot, piercing through the black mist, the sword tip aimed straight for her throat. Seventy percent of his strength. Later, when he told me he used seventy percent of his strength, I asked him if he really wanted to kill her. He said no. I said, "Seventy percent of your strength and you call that no?" He said she could dodge it.
Yue Mianmian still didn't dodge. She turned slightly to the side, and a silver glint flashed in her left eye.
Just as the sword was about to touch her—perhaps by a hair's breadth—she twisted her body at a strange angle, narrowly avoiding it. She then slapped him across the chest with her backhand.
A blast of cold air rushed into his body. He paused for a moment.
Just for a moment.
The two separated and each took several steps back.
Mo Runshu was panting. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked at Yue Mianmian, his eyes shining. I'd never seen that kind of brightness in his eyes before. It wasn't murderous intent, nor excitement, just a pure, unadulterated gleam. Like he'd discovered some treasure.
"You saw it beforehand?" he said. "You could predict it?"
Yue Mianmian's face was pale, and her forehead was sweaty. She didn't say anything.
Mo Runshu stared at her for two seconds, then burst out laughing.
"Interesting," he said. "Finally, someone in this godforsaken place who can fight."
He sheathed his sword and strode over.
Someone in the audience shouted, "Be careful!"
He walked up to her and extended his right hand.
"Ink flows through the book," he said. "From now on, you will be my rival, and also my friend."
Yue Mianmian looked at him.
For twenty years, all she heard was—that girl is strange, stay away from her, don't be around her. She heard these words for twenty years. Twenty years means that from the time she could remember, no one had said anything else to her. No one approached her. No one spoke to her. She was alone.
No one had ever told her they were friends.
She hesitated for a moment, then slowly reached out and placed her hand in his.
...monthly delivery.
He gripped it tightly. Quite firmly.
If anyone tries to harm you in the future, he'll say, "I'll handle it."
After that fight, he always hung around her. Like a plaster. Once it was on, he couldn't take it off. Wherever Yue Manman went, he went. He followed her when she was forging iron, he followed her when she ate, and he escorted her back to her dormitory. When others asked him what he was doing, he said he was just strolling around. And he'd just strolled around until he reached the girls' dormitory.
About three months later, still in the academy. In a workshop.
The stage was covered with parts. Mo Runshu, wearing goggles, was carving lines on a piece of metal with a carving knife.
Here, three degrees to the left.
A hand reached out from behind and grasped his wrist.
Yue Mianmian was standing a little too close. Her hair was draped over his shoulder.
She had already gotten used to being close to him. She wouldn't have done that with anyone else. But he wasn't just anyone.
To the left? He didn't turn around. Why?
Your soul power is light, and this is obsidian, which absorbs light. She spoke right next to his ear. If it's not adjusted, the energy will refract inside, significantly reducing its power. Draw it like this now—
It will explode in three seconds.
Do you know that it's engraved?
I do not believe.
boom.
The core was smoking; it had cracked.
Mo Runshu's face was covered in soot. A few strands of his hair stood on end. He paused for two seconds, then burst into laughter, a loud, hearty laugh that bent him over.
He turned to look at her, his expression a mixture of helplessness and something else. It was hard to put into words. It was that feeling of "I can't do anything about you."
He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her.
"Fine," he said. "You win. Let's team up."
What are we going to do together?
Let's get this academy up and running. You'll be my partner.
Yue Mianmian took the handkerchief. Her heart skipped a beat. I later asked her what she felt at that moment. She said her heart just skipped a beat. I asked, "And then?" She said, "Nothing."
Partner. She had never imagined that word would be related to her. Before, people would call her Yue Mianmian, or that someone, or simply not at all. No one called her partner.
She looked down at the handkerchief, and after a while said, "But I... my approach is different from yours."
Mo Runshu reached out and lifted her chin, making her look at him.
"It's different, that's different," he said. His tone was very ordinary, not like he was saying anything profound. "If it's not suitable, we'll adjust it. If we can't adjust it, I'll come over."
Yue Mianmian looked at him.
I glanced at it for a few seconds.
Her eyes welled up with tears.
A tear fell and landed on the back of his hand.
……good.
You were quite annoying back then.
Yue Mianmian pulled her hand back, but her fingertips lingered on his palm for a moment.
Annoying? Mo Runshu chuckled, leaning closer to her. "Back then, I felt it was too cold for you to carry this alone. I'm warmer."
So you've been burning it for twenty years?
Hmm. Burning it for another twenty years would be fine too.
The wind was blowing. The clock tower was quiet for a moment.
No one spoke. The wind blew, and the bell rang, clanging and jingling. It sounded like it was about to fall, but it didn't.
After a while, Mo Runshu straightened up and took her hand again. This time he held it much tighter.
"Let's go," he said. His tone changed, returning to one of serious business. "I've kept my promise to you. Now—go and deal with those who want to harm our child."
Yue nodded and squeezed his hand in return.
Two people jumped from the clock tower and disappeared into the night. I leaned on the railing and looked down, but I saw nothing. Just darkness. The night in Donghai City is mostly dark, with few lights. I have no idea where they landed.
The clock tower is still chiming. Clanging and clanging.