Ye Lingxi stared blankly at Mingzhou.
She understood.
He was saying that this coffin was for her to sleep in, because it was cold outside, and sleeping inside would keep her warm. They would stand guard outside, and there was no danger.
So…
They really wanted her to sleep in a coffin…
Ye Lingxi’s mental storm began anew.
What did it mean that they wanted her to sleep in a coffin?
It meant they thought sleeping in a coffin was normal!
What kind of people would think sleeping in a coffin was normal?
Vampires!
Only vampires used coffins as beds!
And they wanted her to sleep in one too!
Were they trying to raise her to become a vampire?
Or maybe, after sleeping in the coffin, there would be some ritual, and then she’d become a Blood Slave?
The more Ye Lingxi thought about it, the more terrified she became. Her head shook like a rattle-drum: “No no no no no, I won’t sleep in a coffin, I won’t become a Blood Slave, and I don’t want to be turned into a vampire. I won’t sleep in a coffin. You all sleep in it yourselves, really, you sleep, I won’t, I won’t fight you for it…”
Mingzhou watched her reaction, his brow furrowing even deeper.
“Coffin?”
He repeated the word Ye Lingxi had said, not understanding its meaning, but the word “coffin” had an extremely high repetition rate from her.
He looked at the hibernation pod, then at Ye Lingxi’s terrified expression, and suddenly understood something.
Did the Guide… not recognize a hibernation pod?
She might come from a backward civilization, might have never seen a hibernation pod before, and so mistook it for something terrifying?
He thought for a moment, stood up, walked to the hibernation pod, personally opened the hatch, then pointed inside, then at himself, made a lying-down motion, and then came back out.
He looked at Ye Lingxi and said, “Guide, you see, I lay down in it and nothing happened. There’s no danger.”
Ye Lingxi watched him go in and come back out, and became even more horrified.
He was demonstrating!
He was really demonstrating how to sleep in a coffin!
Wasn’t this just the daily routine of vampires!
Sleep in a coffin during the day, come out at night.
Even though it was nighttime now, maybe they were on a different schedule.
After finishing his demonstration, Mingzhou walked slowly to Ye Lingxi, looked at her with eyes so gentle they could practically drip water, pointed at the hibernation pod again, and made an inviting gesture. “Guide, the hibernation pod is very safe.”
Ye Lingxi shook her head desperately. “No no no no, you sleep in it.”
Mingzhou pointed outside again, made a shivering motion, then hugged himself. “It’s cold sleeping outside.”
Ye Lingxi continued shaking her head. “I can’t. I can’t sleep in a coffin.”
Mingzhou pointed at the sentinels around them, making a guarding gesture. “We will all stand watch over you, protect you.”
Ye Lingxi still shook her head, her head shaking so hard it nearly fell off. “No, I really can’t. Our sect’s tradition forbids living people from sleeping in coffins.”
The two of them went back and forth—him gesturing, her shaking her head—for a full five minutes.
Although they couldn’t communicate through language, through this back-and-forth exchange, they somehow managed to convey seven or eight tenths of their meaning to each other.
The surrounding sentinels watched this scene, exchanging bewildered glances.
“Why doesn’t the Guide want to sleep in the hibernation pod?” Pei Jin asked in a low voice.
“No idea,” Ji Xiao shook his head.
“Maybe she thinks the pod is uncomfortable?” Shi Qi guessed. “Should we add a few more layers of soft padding?”
Lin Chuan silently watched the exchange between the two, then suddenly spoke: “Commander, the Guide seems… very resistant to sleeping in the hibernation pod.”
Mingzhou glanced back at him, then looked at Ye Lingxi again, and finally gave up.
He stood up and said to Lin Chuan, “Carry the hibernation pod back.”
After a pause, he added, “Bring out several more thermal blankets, and find some soft cushions.”
Lin Chuan nodded, and with Shi Qi and Ji Xiao, carried the hibernation pod back to the ship.
Ye Lingxi watched them carry the “coffin” away, and her tense body finally relaxed. She let out a long breath.
That scared her to death…
Mingzhou walked back to her side. This time, he didn’t make any inviting gestures. He simply pointed at the mats and blankets spread on the ground, then at her.
A floor bed. This one was acceptable to sleep on.
Ye Lingxi nodded frantically.
This works! No problem with this!
Mingzhou watched her nod like a chicken pecking at rice, and the corners of his mouth curved slightly, though a complex emotion flickered in his eyes.
He didn’t understand what she was afraid of, but he didn’t want to force her.
And so, the night settled into silence in this manner.
Ye Lingxi lay on a simple floor bed, cushioned by layer upon layer of soft padding, covered with a temperature-regulating blanket. It was comfortable and warm.
Around her, the twelve sentinels sat scattered.
Shi Qi crouched on a rock not far from her, chin resting on his hand, idly staring at the blood moon.
Pei Jin and Ji Xiao leaned against each other, speaking in low voices.
Lin Chuan stood a bit further away, his gaze sweeping the surroundings from time to time.
Mingzhou sat closest to her, one leg stretched out, the other bent, his posture casual—but those dark eyes never once strayed from her direction.
The other Sentinels each found a place to sit or lean, loosely encircling the small area.
Ye Lingxi was wrapped in a blanket, only her head peeking out.
…
Time trickled by.
The night wind swept across the wasteland, and the blood moon hung silently in the sky.
Shi Qi jumped down from the rock, tiptoed over to Ye Lingxi, crouched down, and stared at her sleeping face for a long while.
Then he stood up, walked back to his spot, and whispered to Ji Xiao, who had leaned in: “The Guide is asleep.”
Ji Xiao nodded, but couldn’t help glancing over again.
Lin Chuan walked over, his gaze sweeping past Ye Lingxi, then looking at the Sentinels seated around, his brow slightly furrowed.
“What’s wrong?” Pei Jin asked.
Lin Chuan was silent for a moment, then said in a low, somewhat remorseful voice: “We haven’t taken good care of the Guide.”
Pei Jin was taken aback.
Lin Chuan continued: “Letting the Guide sleep on the ground is our failure. She’s a Guide—she should be properly protected, properly cared for, not out in the open like this, like one of us Sentinels.”
Pei Jin fell silent.
Shi Qi fell silent too.
The Sentinels around them all fell silent, one by one.
Yes, they were Sentinels—thick-skinned and tough, sleeping out in the elements was no problem.
But the Guide was different.
Guides were so precious, so fragile—how could she sleep on the ground?
Even with a soft mat beneath her and a blanket over her, it was still the ground.
They should have let the Guide sleep inside the ship, on a warm bed, with climate control, a soft mattress, and clean pillows.
But the Guide hadn’t wanted to go up.
It was their fault—they hadn’t done well enough, hadn’t earned the Guide’s trust, hadn’t made her feel safe, which was why she refused to board the ship.
It was all their fault.
Shi Qi hung his head, silver hair falling forward to cover his eyes.
Ji Xiao pressed his lips together, his brow furrowed tightly.
Pei Jin clenched his fist, then released it.
The other Sentinels all wore expressions of self-reproach as well.
Mingzhou sat in place, listening to the murmured words behind him, saying nothing.
He simply watched that small figure wrapped in the blanket, his gaze deep.
After a long moment, he said softly: “We need to decipher the Guide’s language as soon as possible. Only when we can communicate can we find a way to earn her trust.”
His voice was quiet, but in the stillness of the night, every Sentinel heard it clearly.