SES Chapter 148 Part 2

He loosened two more stones beside it, then wedged his heel into a gap and pushed hard.
With a crack, the three stones gave way, leaving a gap wide enough for his hand.

He inserted the dagger, twisted, and pried upward. The stone popped free and rolled aside.

Underneath lay another layer of stones, carefully arranged so their seams didn’t align—each upper rock pressed down on the joints of the layer below. If you tried digging from above, you’d only ever hit solid stone.

Mu Dai’s heart pounded. That couldn’t be natural. Someone had placed these intentionally.

What were they covering—an escape tunnel? A hidden chamber? Treasure?

She looked at Luo Ren.

He gave her a teasing glance. “Still want to climb out the hard way?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Still think this won’t work?”

“Not anymore,” she said honestly.

“Good.” He handed her the dagger. “Then you can help dig.”

Mu Dai sighed and crouched down. She’d barely pried up one rock before complaining, “Luo Ren, at this rate, my fingers are going to fall off.”

He glanced at her hands—still injured—and said nothing. Then he grabbed her by the collar and pulled her back.

“Hey!” she protested.

“Out of the way,” he said, half exasperated, half amused.

Mu Dai burst out laughing, looping an arm around his waist. “Luo Ren, you know what? I really like you.”

That caught him off guard. A quiet warmth spread through him, but all he said was, “Sit over there. Be ready to help.”

It was slow work. By the time he cleared the first layer completely, his phone alarm went off—set to mark the passing of time in the lightless cave.

Lunchtime.

He took a soft, body-warmed chocolate bar from his inner pocket, unwrapped it, broke off a piece, and rewrapped the rest.

“Meal time,” he said, handing it to her.

Mu Dai hurried over, feigning guilt.
“I sat around all morning avoiding work,” she said solemnly. “That’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Very wrong,” Luo Ren said dryly. “Eat.”

——

The afternoon passed in monotony—stone after stone. But beneath the second layer, they finally hit soil.

Strange. If it were just dirt, why seal it with two layers of stone? And those stones had clearly been there a long time, fused with the surrounding rock. If not for the flooding, they might never have discovered it.

With both of them working—two people, two tools—it suddenly didn’t seem impossible to dig through, assuming the tunnel wasn’t endless.

The thought lifted her spirits. She dug harder.

“Careful,” Luo Ren warned. “Watch your hands.”

Mu Dai grinned. “What’s the worst that could happen digging dirt—?”

Before she could finish, the ground beneath her gave way. Her foot plunged into empty air.

She yelped. Luo Ren lunged forward, caught her by the waist, and rolled them both away. When he came up, his dagger was already in hand, held defensively.

Nothing moved. No sudden attack. Just the crack in the earth where Mu Dai had been standing—a hole the size of a bowl, spreading beneath her foot.

“Bring the pack and flashlight,” he said quietly.

She scrambled to obey, still shaken.

He took the flashlight and aimed it toward the hole. The dirt had crumbled, revealing a crescent-shaped opening—like an eye slowly opening in the dark.

“Hold the light steady,” he said.

Bracing himself, he kicked at the edge. The ground collapsed further, revealing a narrow passage about half a person high. A heavy, stale air wafted out—old and damp.

Luo Ren opened his pack, pulled out a box of matches, scraped the wax off one match, and lit it. He tossed the burning strip inside.

The small flame flickered, then went out.

“Needs time to breathe,” he said. “There’s probably been no airflow in there for years.”

Mu Dai peered curiously at the matchbox. “Why not just use a lighter?”

He smiled faintly. “Matches and flint are more reliable. Lighters fail in extreme weather. Matches coated in wax don’t ignite by friction and are waterproof.”

She leaned closer. “What else do you keep in there? Teach me.”

He sat with her and unpacked the tactical kit piece by piece. Everything was compact but practical: curved needles for stitching or fishing, a pouch of medicine, waterproof glow sticks, even blocks of salt.

Mu Dai examined each item with fascination. When he tossed another short strap into the hole, the flame this time held longer, flickering stubbornly in the dark.

“Almost ready,” he murmured.

When he looked back at her, she was neatly repacking everything—each item in its proper place.

He watched her for a while before saying quietly, “Mu Dai… I’ve seen that video.”

She froze. “What video?”

“The one from that night—when you and Dr. He talked before we left Nantan.”