SES Chapter 142 Part 2

Qingshan explained that everything had seemed fine when he’d shown them to their room last night, but when he got up in the morning, both were gone.

He led Luo Ren to their room. “See? I figured they might come back, so I didn’t clean much—just folded the blankets.”

It was an ordinary room, no sign of a struggle. Mudai hadn’t disappeared here.

But leaving in the middle of the night, taking all their belongings, and then vanishing completely—something was off.

“After they arrived, did they meet anyone?” Luo Ren asked.

Qingshan smiled awkwardly. “Lots of people came and went. They met plenty.”

“Anyone they talked to for a while?”

“Yeah. The eldest daughter of the Cao family. They chatted with her for quite some time—uh, Cao Jinhua.”

Cao Jinhua. A name as infamous as it was familiar.

“Anyone else?”

Qingshan scratched his head. “That girl also met my Yafeng for a bit… but not long. My seventh aunt said they only exchanged a few words before she left.”

Seeing Luo Ren’s confusion, Qingshan added shyly, “Yafeng is my fiancée.”

His fiancée?

Luo Ren’s heart skipped. Could she be the bride who’d been kidnapped?

It was too late to visit Cao Jinhua now, so Luo Ren asked to stay the night.

The house had spare rooms, and Qingshan agreed right away—then started peppering him with questions.

“So you’re friends with my cousin Dazun too?”
“I thought my cousin sent his friends ahead to help him sneak in—guess they left in the middle of the night, huh?”
“You haven’t heard from them either? Yeah, there’s no signal around here.”

Yes. Why had they left in the middle of the night?

If they’d rescued the bride, that would’ve made sense—but the bride was still here. Which meant everyone who came to help her had now disappeared.

That thought stayed with Luo Ren long after he lay down to sleep, hands tucked behind his head, mind restless.

Maybe it wasn’t the bride who was the problem. Maybe it was the village itself.

Outside, the rain drummed harder and harder.

Bored, Luo Ren lifted the curtain. The courtyard’s drainage was poor—water had already pooled ankle-deep. Raindrops struck the surface, rippling and splashing.

Just as he was about to drop the curtain, something broke the stillness.

A hand—pale and human—reached up from the shallow water.

Even Luo Ren, who’d seen his share of horrors, jolted in shock.

He’d walked across that same yard earlier—it was solid-packed earth, not mud. There shouldn’t be anyone under it.

The hand clawed upward weakly. Then, through the rain, a head broke the surface, as if someone were trying desperately to climb out.

First the crown, then the forehead, then the whole face. The person’s head hung low, drenched in rain.

It looked like a scene straight out of a nightmare.

Luo Ren told himself, Impossible.

Then the figure raised its head.

Rain streamed down a face smeared with blood.

A deafening roar filled Luo Ren’s head—he couldn’t even hear the rain anymore.

It was Yiwansan.

Without thinking, Luo Ren kicked the door open and sprinted out into the storm. Rain hammered down like sheets of ice. He dropped to one knee in the flooded yard, frantically searching through the water.

Cold drenched him to the bone. The shock cleared his mind. He stood again, stepped back.

Solid Earth. Half an inch of water. No one there. Maybe it had been an illusion.

But one thing was certain—Yiwansan was in danger.

Mudai lay curled in the corner of the mountain cave, sleeping fitfully.

She dreamed she was back in her own room, lying on her ornate “Marquis-on-Horseback” carved bed. Then, suddenly, the bed began to rock. She rubbed her eyes—and saw water all around her.

Animals floated past in pairs: doves, white geese, two monkeys swimming frog-style, even moles huddled together on their backs.

In the distance, a massive ship waited. The animals all swam toward it.

Noah’s Ark, she realized. The forty days’ flood from the Bible—and only Noah’s family and the animals made it aboard.

Mudai sat alone on her bed, thinking, I won’t get on the ark. Luo Ren’s not here. I can’t form a pair.

Then a giant wave surged—and her bed flipped.

She plunged into the icy water.

And woke up.

Water. Cold. Real.

She sat up in shock, groped for her flashlight—it still worked, waterproof. When she turned it on, the cave floor glistened with rising water.

It must be raining heavily outside. Streams of runoff cascaded from the rock wall, pooling at the bottom of the cave. The waterline was rising fast. Thankfully, she had chosen a higher spot to sleep; otherwise, she might’ve drowned in her dreams.

Mudai struggled to her feet, limping toward the wall. A high rock diverted the flow like a makeshift channel.

She tilted her head, caught some in her mouth. It tasted of earth, but it was water nonetheless—better than nothing after a day without a drink.

She swept her flashlight around. She’d need a clean container to store water soon.

At the lower end of the cave, a small pond had already formed.

When the beam of light passed over it, she froze.

Bubbles. Rising and popping—like someone was underwater, struggling.

Her scalp prickled. The uneasy feeling she’d had all along turned real.

A human head broke the surface—lifting slowly, eyes meeting hers. A hand reached toward her. The face was twisted in pain and desperation.

“Yiwansan?”

Mudai didn’t hesitate. She lunged forward to grab him.

But her hand met only emptiness—and she fell hard into the cold water.

Splashing, shivering, she climbed up again, hair dripping.

She looked toward the wall.

The exit was thirty meters above.

She had to find a way out. Yiwansan was in danger—maybe worse.

Mudai pressed against the wall, breathing hard. “Come on. You can do this.”

She jumped, right hand gripping a ledge, body lifting upward. But the pain in her left hand flared sharp as a knife, her injured leg gave out—and she fell back, crashing into the pool below.

For a moment, everything went dark. Then she forced herself up again, soaked and gasping.

She looked down at her left hand.

Only one finger was truly injured, but the pain made her feel like her whole arm was useless. Her leg, too, was unbroken, but barely able to move.

If only I weren’t afraid of pain, she thought.

If only I could split off another version of myself—one that feels nothing at all.