Nan Yang did not often venture out.
Having made the considerable effort to travel far today, she found herself in a small boat deep within the lotus pond, where plump, white lotus roots were in season. As the saying goes: since you’re already here.
She pushed the bobbing horse’s head in the water farther away with her wooden oar.
“Amitabha,” Nan Yang murmured a Buddhist chant. “Buddha above, for this horse that fell to its death here, and that person who fell to his death on the shore, may you both swiftly reach the Pure Land and smoothly reincarnate. Please do not linger long in these mountains where you met your end… I’m going to gather lotus roots now. Amitabha.”
The oar dipped into the water, turning the boat as it glided lightly through the vast expanse of crimson-pink lotus flowers and emerald-green lotus leaves blooming under the sunlight, heading toward the shallows.
Nan Yang could swim, but she was not particularly skilled. Gathering lotus roots in deep water where her feet couldn’t touch the bottom was risky, so the shallow coves near the shore were much safer.
The shallow inlet she was rowing toward was almost right across the shore.
The riverbank from which she had set out lay far behind, separated by a stretch of water half-covered in lush green leaves and lotus flowers.
The opposite shore was surrounded by mountains, the terrain noticeably much steeper.
Nan Yang rowed slowly closer, her gaze involuntarily drifting to the right, sweeping over the motionless dark figure lying prone by the water’s edge.
Narrow sleeves, black robes—clearly a man, with a trail of blood behind him.
He must have fallen along with his horse…
A dull thud sounded as the oar struck something again. Instinctively, Nan Yang gave it a push, shoving aside the half of a shattered saddle floating in the water.
The saddle drifted away with the current.
She stopped rowing, staring for a moment at the motionless figure in black robes on the shore—presumably dead from the fall along with the horse—then glanced back at the saddle bobbing in the water.
Though broken and battered, only half of the saddle remained, but what was left still revealed some details.
For instance, the saddle was inlaid with gold and silver, and the pommel was adorned with white jade pieces.
This was no ordinary saddle.
Even in its shattered state, a few fragments of jade still clung to the half-saddle, floating and sinking in the shimmering water, their reflections glaring.
She stared a moment longer until her eyes began to sting, forcing her to look away and continue gazing blankly at the male corpse lying prone by the water’s edge.
A saddle inlaid with gold, silver, and jade was a common accessory for young nobles when traveling, not uncommon in the capital or major cities across the provinces. Father owned one himself.
However, such things were rare in rural towns.
Who knew which wealthy young lord had come to this small town to enjoy the scenery, without even a single attendant? Now, having carelessly fallen to his death by the water, there was no one to collect his body.
Nan Yang’s gaze shifted, following the trail of blood behind the corpse into the distance.
The mountains encircling the water’s edge rose and fell, with several abrupt, steep rocky slopes—about fifty or sixty feet high, not particularly tall.
But if one were galloping too fast along the mountain path, an outsider unfamiliar with the terrain might fail to rein in the horse in time, tumbling down the steep side of the slope. Falling from such a height, both horse and rider would be killed several times over.
Who knew from which slope this unfortunate young lord had fallen… The horse died horribly, and the man likely fared even worse.
The boat drifted leisurely closer to the shore.
Nan Yang stopped the boat about five feet from the bank, not daring to look closely at how the man had been crushed into a pulp. She whispered, “Amitabha, may you be reborn in paradise. You go to your Western Pure Land, and I’ll dig my lotus roots and lotus seedpods. Let’s not interfere with each other.”
Leaning over the side of the boat, she rolled up her sleeves, revealing pale, slender arms. She shook a few lotus seedpods vigorously, then reached into the water to feel for the lotus roots beneath.
So plump and sturdy. So many, and so plump and sturdy.
She untied the sickle and began cutting lotus roots with single-minded focus.
The bow of the boat gradually filled with over a dozen freshly picked tender, large lotus seedpods and seven or eight plump, white lotus roots.
Nan Yang sat back down in the small boat, panting, and wiped the fine sweat from her forehead. The sun was too fierce; in just a short while, her arms exposed to the sunlight had already turned red.
Something in her field of vision seemed off.
She paused, her gaze shifting to the right, glancing toward the shore.
About five feet away on the bank, a bloody trail where a man and horse had fallen and struggled still remained. The male corpse lying quietly face-down by the shore…
The corpse moved!
The male corpse, which had originally been lying face-down by the water’s edge, had somehow shifted two feet on its own. Now, half of its body was still on the shore, while the other half had fallen into the water!
Nan Yang was so startled by this that she stumbled and fell back into the boat. The slender, narrow lotus-picking skiff rocked violently in the water.
She clung to the gunwale, breathless, her eyes still fixed on the male corpse that had suddenly moved on its own.
In broad daylight, under the blazing sun—a corpse had come back to life!
After holding her breath for a moment, she watched as the suspicious corpse, its upper half submerged in the water… moved again.
Bloodstained fingers curled, clenched into a fist, then opened, the five fingers like sharp blades digging deep into the water, gripping the sand and stones at the bottom.
Ripples spread across the water’s surface.
About four or five feet away on the water, the lotus-picking skiff swayed with the current. Inside the boat, the young girl lay flat against the gunwale. From beneath the pointed bow, a pair of cautious, dark almond-shaped eyes peered out.
The water’s surface had turned murky. The movements of the reanimated corpse had stirred up sediment from the bottom, and blood stained the water red.
The male corpse, lying face-down in the water, seemed to exert all its strength and finally managed to turn itself over.
The corpse was now floating face-up in the water.
Nan Yang: …
Floating face-up might, perhaps, be more comfortable for the corpse?
For a while after that, there was no movement. Nan Yang cautiously raised herself a little, peeking half her head over the bow, still keeping a close watch on the suspicious male corpse.
The sun was dazzling, and from just four or five feet away, the scene on the shore was crystal clear. She could now see the other person clearly.
Although the male corpse had suffered a severe fall, his face covered in blood and his body a mess of cuts and bruises from sharp stones, it was far from the “smashed into a pulp” state she had imagined. At the very least, she could clearly make out his facial features.
The corpse wasn’t old, likely in his early twenties. Despite the blood covering his face, his forehead was broad and full, his nose bridge straight. If his face were washed clean, he would probably be a rather handsome young lord.
Nan Yang thought regretfully, what a pity, so young…
Suddenly, the water around the corpse rippled.
In broad daylight, it had come back to life again.
Nan Yang held her breath and crouched at the bow, watching as the corpse abruptly grabbed two lotus seedpod stems, propping itself up a few inches. Its straight nose bridge emerged from the water—and it took a deep, long breath.
This slight movement seemed to have exhausted all its reanimated strength.
The corpse’s upper half fell back into the water with a splash, stirring up large ripples, and once again lay motionless.
Nan Yang: …
In a flash of insight, she finally understood.
This bizarre scene before her wasn’t a reanimated corpse at all! After struggling for so long, exhausting all its strength just to take a deep breath—clearly, this person wasn’t dead!
She finally let out the breath she had been holding.
It was good that he wasn’t dead.
She couldn’t handle exorcising ghosts or dispelling evil spirits. If a corpse had truly come back to life in broad daylight, she would have had no choice but to abandon this entire patch of plump, fresh lotus roots and frantically row back home—what a shame that would have been.
The lotus-picking skiff cut through the water and came to a stop beside the lotus pond, where ripples still shimmered faintly. A severely injured man lay submerged beneath the surface, his eyes tightly shut, his bloodstained hands still gripping the stem of a lotus seedpod. The plump, tender seedpod swayed ceaselessly in the sunlight.
Nan Yang casually sliced the large lotus seedpod free with her sickle.
The man’s hand, which had been clutching the stem, suddenly grasped at empty air. Instinctively, it loosened its grip and reached out mid-water, trying to seize something. Nan Yang reacted swiftly, catching the man’s wrist.
It was truly a ghastly sight of a hand.
Both palm and back were a mangled mess of torn flesh, revealing crimson tissue beneath. The pinky finger was nearly stripped to the bone. The wrist was the only clean part left.
“Your horse fell to its death, yet you somehow survived…”
Nan Yang anchored the boat by the water’s edge, jumped into the shallow water, and tugged at the man’s wrist. Using the buoyancy of the river, she dragged him toward the shore.
“Seems you’re a lucky one. Next time, value your life a bit more and stay off galloping horses.”
After just a couple of tugs, the man seemed to stir. The wrist she held twitched faintly.
Nan Yang turned her head and was instantly startled into holding her breath.
The man’s hair had long since come undone. His dark, tangled locks drifted like waterweeds with the current. Amid the bloodstains covering his face, a pair of pitch-black eyes snapped open.
Submerged in the water, those dark pupils stared directly at her.
Caught off guard, Nan Yang met his gaze through the clear water. The look from beneath the surface was eerie, almost like a chilling wind rising from the depths. She felt a shiver run down her spine.
This scene felt less like a living person locking eyes with her and more like the Black Impermanence emerging from the water to claim her soul in the mortal realm…
In her shock, she instinctively raised her hand and—smack—slapped him across the face.
Water splashed everywhere.
The dark eyes that had opened amid the bloodstains closed once more.
The man, struck by the slap, fell completely unconscious.
Nan Yang withdrew her stinging palm, wiped the water droplets from her face, and let her rapid breathing gradually settle.
Splashed with water, she regained her composure.
Though the man in the water had a terrifying gaze, the pulse at his wrist, which she still held, beat faintly yet rhythmically… Clearly, he was still alive!
If he had died silently by the water’s edge, that would have been one thing. But fate had brought him to her, and he was still struggling to live. She couldn’t let him die in the water from her slap.
Nan Yang quickly pulled him back to shore and examined his injuries as gently as possible… then paused, somewhat bewildered.
His body was covered in wounds. His high-quality dark brocade robe was torn to shreds by sharp rocks, leaving barely any unbroken skin, with blood seeping everywhere.
But after a quick check of his major limbs—the crucial spine, shoulder blades, leg bones, knees, and ankles—none seemed to be shattered?
“Such incredible luck?” Nan Yang murmured to herself.
For her mother’s madness, she had read a few medical texts. She knew that even without fatal external injuries, severe internal trauma to the organs could still claim a life.
Nan Yang glanced up at the still-early sky, wiped the blood from the man’s face, and gave him a few sips of clean water.
She left the large lotus leaf she had been using for shade covering his face and placed a tender lotus root beside his hand.
“I’m no doctor. The boat is too small for two, so I can’t save you.”
Nan Yang placed the man’s hand on the lotus root and whispered, “I can only pass on a message for you, to have Doctor Huang from the town clinic come to your rescue. Doctor Huang favors wealthy patrons—with your gold and jade saddle, he’ll surely come. If you’re truly as lucky as you seem, hold on until then.”
The man’s fingers, resting on the lotus root segments, trembled slightly—it was unclear whether he was conscious or not.
Nan Yang waited a moment, but the other did not open his eyes. Concerned about Grandma at home, she hopped onto the small boat and rowed back the way she came.
This trip was a bountiful return.
Forty or fifty plump, large lotus seedpods, along with a dozen or twenty sections of fat, white, fresh lotus roots, filled a large sack until it was heavy and full. Enough to eat and sell, sufficient for four or five days of sustenance.
Nan Yang, eyes curved in a smile, dragged the sack off the boat.
The boat-watching woman, who had been cooling off in the shade of a tree, rushed over from afar. Nan Yang instinctively reached for her coin purse, ready to pay.
But the boat-watching woman’s first words were an exclamation: “Little girl, you’re lucky! Rowing close to the opposite shore and actually coming back alive!”
Nan Yang: …?
Was it so unusual that she had returned alive?
Seeing her confusion, the woman sighed. “Don’t the adults at home tell you anything? Didn’t you see anything frightening on the opposite shore?”
Long after the lotus-picking boat had disappeared.
The young lord lying on the shore stirred slightly. His hand, covered in bloodstains, clutched a tender lotus root and slowly brought it to his mouth, taking a large bite.
The tender lotus root was crisp and juicy. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he chewed carefully, savoring every drop of moisture and nourishment.
The large lotus leaf that had been shielding his head from the blazing sun was yanked off and tossed aside.
The man rasped, “…It’s her again.”