557: Time Passing Like Flowing Water 557: Time Passing Like Flowing Water Editor: TheSloth Nero found that this boss was really meticulous.
At the very least, when she habitually reached into her pocket, she could still feel that chewy bubblegum she always liked to eat.
She unwrapped it, swallowed a piece and chewed, then closed her eyes and flattened her right palm.
A stream of crimson energy welled up from her palm, and at the same time, tiny particles began to rise from the earth beneath her hand.
These were trace iron elements hidden in the riverbed soil.
Soon after, the iron elements began to fuse, elongate, transform, take shape, and finally formed into the original appearance of the Yama Sword.
Nero picked up the pleted blade, flicked it stylishly, seeming rather satisfied.
Luo Qiu watched with keen curiosity.
Nero shook the Yama Sword in her hand, rather smug.
“Everyone in the Club thinks I’ve only reached the first stage—but that’s not true.
From the Second Order onwards, the Yama Sword is no longer confined by its outer form.
What Uncle Kuck took was just an empty shell, but the Club probably won’t realize that until they’ve failed to find a successor at least eight or ten times.
And maybe they won’t ever find out.”
But Boss Luo only shook his head, gazing instead at the jet-black lump Nero was forming next to her new blade.
“This?” Nero blinked, then squatted down and started packing a nearby mix of charcoal and dirt onto the black lump.
“Uncle Kuck is very careful; e morning, he’ll probably e by to check if the body count adds up.
If he finds one missing, I’m in deep trouble.”
Nero shook her head.
“Uncle Kuck in that state…
best to avoid him from now on whenever possible.”
“You’re pretty cautious too,” Luo Qiu said, not without admiration.
Once the arrangement was finished, Nero clapped the dirt from her hands, then jogged off some distance and dug up a box from under a tree root—a box Boss Luo had once given her for soul storage.
Inside was also a round disk for tracking the iron whistle, and a small pouch.
“I knew Uncle Kuck would go through my stuff.
Glad I hid these early.”
She opened the soul-storage box, grabbed the last of the remaining souls, and rushed to Luo Qiu, “This one’s the fake San Er’s, this is the fake Xiao Zhi’s, and these are for healing…
Ah, I’ve used them all up, just like that.”
Luo Qiu said calmly, “Actually, you don’t need me to heal you on purpose.
With Yama Sword’s second form, at least, you can’t die.”
Nero shook her head.
“But I have no interest in lying around in this wilderness for months.
I need to get out quickly.
And not leave a single trace for Uncle Kuck to find.”
“Oh, right, I think I get a discount, don’t I?
Haven’t I still got some left?” Nero suddenly looked at Luo Qiu and asked.
“Just a small thing.
Ms.
Nero, are you planning to use your discount too?” Luo Qiu replied coolly.
“Of course, what’s the problem?” Nero said curiously.
“The discount’s in my hands—it’s up to me how I use it, right?
Besides, if I finish the discount ahead of time, won’t it make it easier for you people to exploit me?”
Luo Qiu had no intention to banter; he spoke softly, “Guest, this is what’s left.”
He handed Nero a soul-light ball.
Nero shook her head.
“I’ll use this to buy a little good luck…
for that mother and daughter.”
Luo Qiu said gently, “Ms.
Nero, how thoughtful of you.”
Nero shot him a dissatisfied look.
“Don’t judge by appearances, I’m a woman too, you know?
Never mind, there’s really no point talking like this with you.
That’s it, impressive boss.
I’m leaving…
Next time I’ve nowhere to go, I’ll e back and lean on you, BYE~!”
Another air kiss, utterly worthless in the view of the boss.
And so, the tyrant of the Michael Club had successfully faked her death and made a temporary escape from the Club.
…
…
If he remembered correctly, it was about this hour yesterday when Kuck, quietly seated in his room, slowly opened his eyes…
Recalling the odd sensations he’d felt last night, Kuck already understood what had happened.
“Leaving here is fine, at least she won’t make trouble for me again,” Kuck muttered, not too lightly, and turned to look at the room’s door.
Even when not fully recovered, as Mr.
Markem he was innately alert—let alone now.
Those approaching footsteps naturally couldn’t escape his hearing.
The steps paused outside his door for some time, then came a soft knocking, followed by San Er’s voice: “Markem, are you asleep?”
Kuck was silent for a long moment before casually replying, “What’s up?”
San Er, assuming she wouldn’t get an answer, was about to leave disappointed.
But then she turned back, approached the door again, and said quietly, “Are you…
leaving tomorrow?”
“Mm.”
“…Will you eat breakfast before you go?”
“I’ll be gone before daybreak.”
“You’ve regained your memory, haven’t you?
When you came back, you felt different,” San Er whispered, pressed against the door.
He really was different; his expression, her own feelings—everything had changed.
San Er’s keen senses picked up on it.
“Mm.”
She weighed her thoughts, and finally summoned the courage: “Markem.
Won’t you…
stay?”
Inside, there was no answer for a long, long time.
San Er knew what the answer was.
She slid down to sit by the door, hugging her knees.
She didn’t know if the man who’d entered her life was sitting inside or leaning against the door too.
Nor could she guess what he was thinking right now.
After a long while, San Er finally looked up and spoke quietly: “Xiao Zhi…
will probably be pretty sad.”
Kuck’s voice came, “Kids forget people and things very quickly.”
San Er suddenly tilted her head and asked, “What about adults?”
Kuck, hand on the door from the other side, replied calmly, “After enough time, adults are the same.”
San Er smiled forlornly, paused, then spoke again: “True.
If I didn’t look at photos, I think I’d already have forgotten what my husband looked like.”
Kuck said nothing.
San Er thought about all that had happened, from when Xiao Zhi found this man in the river, to when he stubbornly moved into their home.
It was nice, at first, to have a man at home…
When she was sick…
When there was nowhere else to lean.
All sorts of moments.
Though rumors had started up, more and more, there was also laughter that hadn’t been heard in years, returning to this little tofu shop.
“Feels like so much has happened—like a dream,” San Er smiled, remembering some awkward moments from before.
“Mm,” Kuck replied simply.
For him, everything that had happened as Mr.
Markem was also…
something he couldn’t quite let go of for now.
“I’ve never imagined so many things could happen to me before,” she said.
San Er cupped her face.
“I got married young, had a kid, had a pretty good husband.
Then he died, and all I could think about was raising my child.
You know, sometimes I wonder—after ten or so years, will I be like those aunties next door, starting to worry about my daughter’s own marriage?”
“Ten years?
That’s way too early,” Kuck said calmly.
“Too early?” San Er blinked, then couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Kuck frowned.
San Er laughed harder, her eyes growing misty.
“I just feel like laughing, what’s wrong with that?”
“Suit yourself.” Kuck said blandly.
“Markem, are you always this cold?”
“There’s nothing worth laughing about,” said Kuck, also sitting against the door—his back leaning there almost unconsciously.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never had anything to be happy about?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, just think it’s kind of sad,” San Er shook her head.
“Even me, I used to have a lot to be happy about.
Ah, I really miss high school sometimes…
Hey, you know once in class, a bunch of cheeky boys in our class slipped a dirty CD into the Chinese teacher’s textbook.
The teacher’s wife found it, and he couldn’t sleep all night.
Next morning, those boys got sent to run laps on the field, yelling ‘I swear I’ll never watch dirty CDs again!’ We were all watching—it was hilarious!
How e you don’t even react…”
Kuck said, “What’s so funny about that?”
San Er countered, “You don’t think it’s funny?”
San Er thought for a bit, “There was another time—this time you definitely have to laugh.
Let me tell you…”
The woman spoke outside the door, sharing the precious memories of her youth; the man sat silent inside, not smiling, just shaking his head and making the occasional brief ment.
“Not funny either?” San Er tirelessly asked again and again.
“No.
Wouldn’t you just tell the teacher directly?”
…
“How about that one?”
“It’s just average.”
…
A long, long time passed.
Without realizing it, San Er fell asleep right at the doorway.
Inside the room, suddenly the light switched on, and there came a string of faint, continuous sounds.
Slowly, morning came.
…
…
Later, San Er woke up to the chill of morning air.
She stood and quietly opened the door—inside, the place was empty; no sign of anyone remained.
San Er lightly hugged her own arms, looking at the perfectly folded quilt, as if it had never been slept in, the neatly stacked clothes on top, then walked to the room’s single table.
A wooden swan, larger than a palm and lifelike, was sitting there; underneath the table’s basket, shredded wood shavings from being carved.
San Er tapped the wooden swan’s head, then went to pull open the curtains, and opened the window, letting in even colder air.
She leaned at the window and watched the sun rise as usual, a faint smile on her lips.
The years flow by like water.
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