Chapter 37: Daily Life (2/2)

Huang Muzhi put down the basket and sat on the beach beside Nanxi, her eyes sparkling.

“The fish vendors from town come tomorrow; these can exchange for quite a bit of money.”

As she spoke, she suddenly remembered something, took out an item from her bosom, and handed it to Nanxi.

“Young master, this is for you.”

It was a seashell.

A very ordinary white seashell, palm-sized, with wave-like patterns on the surface, glowing with a faint pearl luster under the morning light.

“I picked it from the seabed; thought it looked pretty, so……”

She didn’t finish, but the meaning was clear.

Nanxi took the seashell, weighed it in his hand; the shell was very light, the edges polished smooth—it must have been specially handled by her.

“Thanks.”

After hearing the words from the person beside her, Huang Muzhi’s face bloomed into a smile—that smile very pure, very childlike.

The two sat on the beach for a while, watching the tide slowly rise. Huang Muzhi buried her feet in the sand, secretly glancing at Nanxi’s profile.

The morning light outlined the young man’s exquisite contours, long lashes casting faint shadows under his eyes—beautiful beyond words.

She suddenly thought of that question.

That question she had held in her heart for a long time.

“Young master…… after your injury heals, are you really going to find your master?”

Nanxi turned to look at her and lightly responded.

“Mm.”

“Then…… after finding her? Where will you go?”

Nanxi was silent for a while.

“Don’t know. Maybe find a place to seclude ourselves, or maybe continue wandering—I’ll follow my master’s wishes.”

“Then…… can I go with you?”

After asking, she regretted it, wishing she could swallow the words back.

What was she? A coarse fisherwoman, no money, no skills, couldn’t even read fully—what right did she have to follow them?

Nanxi looked at her, said nothing.

Huang Muzhi’s heart sank bit by bit.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked……”

She lowered her head, her voice almost inaudible.

“Miss Huang, you saved me—this kindness I’ll remember. Once I find my master and settle down, I’ll find a way to repay you. If you want money, want to leave here—I can help with all that.”

“But I can’t take you with me.”

Huang Muzhi’s shoulders trembled.

“Why?”

She asked, her voice carrying a sob.

“Because I’m far more dangerous than you imagine. But about that aspect, I don’t want to say more.”

“Also, you’re a good person; you should live a peaceful life, not follow me, living in constant fear, not knowing if you’ll see tomorrow.”

Of course, in this chaotic world, her peaceful life could easily be shattered.

Huang Muzhi said nothing more.

She lowered her head, her fingers digging into the sand, nails filled with grains. After a long time, she闷闷 said.

“I understand.”

The atmosphere was somewhat heavy.

Nanxi didn’t feel good inside either, but he knew these were words that had to be said—better short pain than long.

He stood up with the crutch.

“Let’s go back; the sun is getting strong.”

“Mm.”

Huang Muzhi picked up the basket and followed behind him. 

The two walked one in front, one behind on the beach, their shadows stretching long behind.

Back at the thatched hut, Huang Muzhi poured the fish into the water vat to keep them alive, picked out two big ones for lunch. 

Nanxi sat by the door, starting to make a bamboo basket.

The materials were bamboo Huang Muzhi chopped from the back mountain a few days ago, already split into thin strips and soaked in water to soften. Nanxi picked out a few, his fingers flying, beginning to weave.

His movements weren’t fast, but steady; the bamboo strips seemed alive in his hands, interlacing and threading, gradually taking shape.

The prototype of a round-bottomed basket slowly appeared.

“Young master, where did you learn this?”

Huang Muzhi had always been a bit puzzled about this; in her impression, Nanxi should be a young master from a great family, not knowing these things.

“In the past, to supplement the household, my master taught me.”

“Really amazing……”

Huang Muzhi said softly, her gaze stuck on Nanxi’s hands. 

Those hands white and slender, knuckles distinct, made even more refined against the rough bamboo strips. 

As she watched, her face reddened again.

Nanxi pretended not to see and continued weaving the basket.

The afternoon sunlight was very warm, shining in from the door, casting bright spots on the ground. The house wafted the aroma of fish soup; the firewood in the stove crackled.

Huang Muzhi finished boiling the fish soup, ladled two bowls, and took out two coarse flour cakes—this was bought with money from selling fish; usually, she couldn’t bear to eat them.

The two sat by the door eating; the fish soup was very fresh, the cakes though coarse, softened when soaked in the soup and easy to swallow.

Halfway through eating, Huang Muzhi suddenly said.

“Young master, can you teach me martial arts?”

“What do you want to learn?”

The young man didn’t refuse—after all, this could count as repaying the kindness.

“Just…… self-defense. I have great strength, but don’t know how to fight. In the past, when bullied, I could only take it. If I know some skills, at least I can protect myself in the future.”

Nanxi looked at her, thinking of that day on the beach when she was surrounded by a few women throwing pebbles.

“Sure—after eating, I’ll teach you a few simple moves.”

“Really?”

“Mm.”

After eating, Nanxi began teaching Huang Muzhi the most basic punches and kicks in the open space in front of the house. 

Because of his leg injury, he could only sit and gesture, but explained in detail.

“When punching, be steady—power from the ground up. Don’t look at the arm, look at the waist; waist drives the shoulder, shoulder drives the arm.”

Huang Muzhi learned very seriously, practicing move by move. 

She had a good foundation, great strength; though her movements were clumsy, the momentum was strong. 

A punch out, with whistling wind.

“Yes, like that—practice more; enough to deal with ordinary people.”

Huang Muzhi practiced until sweating profusely, but her face carried a smile. It was a heartfelt, hopeful smile.

Nanxi watched her smile, the bit of guilt in his heart easing slightly.

At least, he could leave her something.

The afternoon passed in teaching fists and weaving baskets; as the sun set in the west, the basket in Nanxi’s hands was finished—round belly, narrow mouth, very suitable for holding fish.

Huang Muzhi’s fist techniques were also somewhat presentable—at least the stance was out.

“Young master, look!”

She excitedly performed the set of moves just learned; though the flow was still far off, each punch carried wind.

“Not bad—persist, and there’ll be results.”

Huang Muzhi smiled with eyes curved like crescents.

Dinner was the leftover fish soup from lunch, reheated, plus a steamed fresh fish. 

The two sat in the twilight eating; neither spoke, but the atmosphere was much more relaxed than morning.

After eating, Huang Muzhi went to wash the dishes; Nanxi sat by the door looking at the stars.

The night sky by the sea was exceptionally clear, stars twinkling, the Milky Way like a sash; distant tide sounds came wave after wave, like the breathing of heaven and earth.

Huang Muzhi finished washing the dishes and sat beside him, also looking up at the sky.

“Young master, so many stars in the sky. My dad used to say people turn into stars after death—you think that’s true?”

Nanxi was silent for a while.

“I don’t know, but if one really can turn into a star, that’s not bad. At least forever shining, forever there.”

Huang Muzhi mm-ed, said no more.

The two just sat like that, watching stars, listening to tides.

After who knows how long, Huang Muzhi said softly.

“Young master, I’ll remember you. No matter where you go later, I’ll remember—a very good-looking young master stayed at my home, taught me to weave baskets, taught me to punch, and protected me.”

“I’ll remember you too—remember a girl saved me, cooked fish soup for me, gave me a seashell.”

Huang Muzhi smiled—that smile under the starlight, exceptionally gentle.

The night deepened; the two went back to the house to rest.

Nanxi lay on the simple wooden bed, listening to Huang Muzhi’s even breathing from next door, unable to sleep for a long time.

Soft-hearted?

The voice popped up again.

No.

Who are you fooling? 

The way you look at that woman, gentleness dripping like water.

Shut up and sleep.

Fine, fine—I’ll shut up. Remind you one thing—something’s coming, not far.

How many days?

Within a month—prepare well, me.