Xi Yi wasn’t accustomed to wearing something so restrictive. After she helped him fasten the sash of the skirt, he twisted uncomfortably several times, though he managed to resist the urge to tear it off.
Sha Yi also found the sight of him in her nightgown utterly unbearable.
Earlier, she had noticed a relatively loose and oversized bathrobe in the bathtub, but she hadn’t taken it out. The main reason was that the fabric wasn’t pure cotton, which wouldn’t be good against his wounds. Secondly, its thickness wasn’t suitable for the sweltering weather these days—though it might work as a cover at night. Lastly, she was reluctant to ruin another piece of clothing like this.
After all, this was the ancient past, not modern times where she could just buy replacements. Here, once something from the modern world was gone, it was gone for good. She had to take precautions.
By the time Xi Yi had mostly adjusted, the sky was growing darker. The two tidied up and continued their journey.
Sha Yi figured there must be a temporary dwelling not too far ahead. Otherwise, Xi Yi wouldn’t have chosen to keep moving at this hour—traveling at night was highly unwise.
Before long, they left the forest behind and entered a vast, misty grassland of short, lush vegetation that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Xi Yi tugged at her, speaking a stream of ancient words while gesturing toward the grassland, signaling her to follow him.
Sha Yi felt that Xi Yi’s ancient speech was as good as gibberish to her. From his gestures, she only grasped one thing—they couldn’t walk freely through the grassland; she had to stick to his path.
She had no objections. When it came to leading the way, she trusted his judgment. She was a stranger here, with no right to dictate. Of course, if there was anything she could help with, she’d do her best.
The path Xi Yi took was strange, looping in small circles every few steps. He moved slowly, sometimes pausing to observe carefully before continuing.
Sha Yi didn’t understand, but she didn’t disturb him. He didn’t seem as calm and relaxed as usual—instead, he appeared tense and serious.
Her instincts told her there was hidden danger in this grassland, though she couldn’t spot anything.
Subconsciously, she worried about snakes. They were far too common in this world. In just the few days since her arrival, she’d already encountered three, big and small. No wonder she was paranoid.
After what felt like an eternity, when Sha Yi was nearly exhausted, they finally left the grassland and arrived at the edge of a rocky cliff. Below it flowed a relatively clear river.
Compared to the lakes and streams she’d seen earlier, this river was spectacular. At their current vantage point, it was already about ten meters wide, growing even broader farther downstream. Like the grassland, its end was nowhere in sight.
Sha Yi guessed that the dry riverbed they’d encountered earlier might be one of its tributaries. The water level here was high, clearly rising. A few more heavy rains, and the downstream areas would surely flood.
No wonder Xi Yi had insisted on relocating. She’d assumed it was mainly due to the risk of lightning strikes in their previous spot, with the rainy season bringing only minor floods. Given the vastness of the primeval forest, she hadn’t thought that area would be completely submerged. But now she realized the real threat was this river.
If this river overflowed, combined with the rainy season, the lower forest would indeed become uninhabitable—not just for shelter, but even for food. Finding something edible would be the least of their worries; the real fear was becoming prey themselves.
That forest was teeming with snakes, after all—creatures that thrived both on land and in water.
Sha Yi suddenly recalled how damp the grassland they’d crossed had been. Could it have been affected by the river? Or had the recent heavy rains already flooded parts of it? Or was the grassland’s foundation perpetually connected to the river?
Yet the path Xi Yi had led her through wasn’t particularly wet. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the intense sunlight that day or if the soil and grass there were simply thicker. Curious, she stepped back to test a patch of soft grass nearby, wondering if it would seep water.
Her experiment didn’t go as planned.
The moment she moved, Xi Yi stopped her. Seeing her confusion, he set down what he was carrying, picked up a large rock, and threw it onto the spot she’d been about to step on.
Shortly after the rock landed, the grass there split apart, revealing a mix of brownish-yellow mud and shallow water slowly rising. Just as the rock was about to sink completely, a thick, dark green liquid bubbled up from beneath the mud, reflecting the setting sun with an eerie glow.
A foul stench hit Sha Yi’s nose—something vaguely reminiscent of rotten eggs. But at that moment, she could only guess it was some kind of chemical-like substance, unable to pinpoint its exact nature.
Through Xi Yi’s practical demonstration, she understood: this grassland was essentially a swamp. Xi Yi had likely chosen their path based on the grass’s growth and color—the areas they’d walked through were greener, while the patch he’d exposed as a swamp had a faint brownish-yellow tinge. Sha Yi suspected the thick, stinking sludge was responsible.
Of course, without careful observation or prior knowledge, it would’ve been impossible to tell.
As for the rest, she felt a wave of relief. A grassland like this was unlikely to harbor animals. If not for the seasonal floods bringing nutrient-rich silt and fresh water, she doubted even this grassland could survive.
Fortunately, this was just a passing route, not a place to linger. She didn’t need to dwell on it further.
Beside her, Xi Yi, seeing she’d lost interest in testing the grass, quickly pulled her attention to two spots by the river, explaining something while sweeping his arm in a wide arc toward the distant, unseen end of the river.
Sha Yi had long given up trying to decipher Xi Yi’s verbal communication. Due to the language barrier, she rarely spoke a word of Chinese unless absolutely necessary. Xi Yi, however, was the opposite—even when gesturing, he insisted on muttering incomprehensible ancient words. She didn’t think her comprehension or memory were particularly strong.
So… after Xi Yi finished, she pressed her lips together and glared at him—a look reserved for idiots.
Sha Yi was sure Xi Yi understood her silent message. After receiving her glare, he froze for a moment before hesitantly repeating his earlier gestures. Finally, he patted the ground, pointed across the river, and then directed her attention to a tree stump.
This time, he didn’t waste a single unnecessary word. His expression carried a hint of resignation.
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