The boat the two spoke of was, at best, a raft.
The raft drifted with the current, water splashing against its edges, revealing waves through the gaps as if intent on capsizing the entire thing.
Du Lao pulled Nan Shiying aboard.
He pointed at the swaying raft, which nearly sank under their combined weight, and said to her, "Don't let this boat fool you with its flimsy appearance, as if any gust of wind or wave could overturn it. It's actually quite sturdy."
As if to prove his words, he stomped heavily on the raft. The raft lurched, and Nan Shiying swayed with it.
Her face grew pale, its color increasingly resembling that of the raft beneath her feet.
Even the calls of the wild geese flying overhead sounded like curses.
Du Lao fell silent and took the oar from Qing Yi Bai. Qing Yi Bai glanced at Feng Luan, unable to comprehend the master-disciple dynamic: what sort of arrangement was this, with the disciple standing while the master rowed?
Although he hadn't returned for years, he still remembered the way.
After half a day traversing the abyss, the waterway suddenly widened. The cold wind carried dampness, soaking their clothes, which were then frozen into ice by the frigid air. Nan Shiying shivered, shaking the ice shards from her hem. She looked over and saw a few ice crystals clinging to the old man's eyebrows. She reached out, took the oar from his hand, and placed her left hand on his back, circulating her inner energy and pouring it into him.
Her voice held a hint of coldness, whether from suppressed breath or the howling wind, she didn't say, "You don't tell me when you're cold."
Du Lao chuckled, unbothered by her somewhat cold tone. It seemed that after enduring so many hardships, nothing could break his spirit, only his body had failed him. What was there to say?
"When did it start?"
Seeing Du Lao did not reply, Nan Shiying pressed on.
She remembered that before the year's end, he hadn't been so sensitive to the cold.
"Just recently!"
Du Lao's answer was vague.
Nan Shiying glanced at him again.
They stood at opposite ends of the raft, and Du Lao's confident assertion of its sturdiness required maintaining an even distribution of weight. Seeing that the old man was unwilling to elaborate, Nan Shiying decided to drop the matter. The wide waterway before them was divided by mountains into three paths. Nan Shiying asked, "Which one should we take?"
"The middle one!"
Du Lao replied.
Nan Shiying steered the raft into the central path. As they moved deeper, the waterway narrowed, and trees growing in the water appeared on both sides. Their roots were hidden beneath the water's surface, exposing only their lower trunks and withered branches.
The further they paddled, the more desolate the scenery became. Nan Shiying clicked her tongue but didn't stop rowing. When the waterway ahead became so narrow that even the raft couldn't pass, Nan Shiying ceased her rowing and turned to ask Du Lao, "Left or right?"
"Left!"
Du Lao's reply was concise.
Nan Shiying placed the oar on the raft, leaped to Du Lao's side, grabbed his arm, and together they sprang onto the mountain cliff on the left.
Her one hand gripping Du Lao, her other clinging to the stone wall.
She looked up at the towering peak.
Her voice, calm and unhurried, asked, "Straight up?"
Du Lao's voice drifted on the wind, "You can jump sideways if you want."
Tsk!
How could such a good person have such a mouth!
Du Lao took out a rope he had prepared earlier, tied it around his waist, and then tossed it upwards. The rope seemed to have eyes, landing on Nan Shiying's arm and coiling around it a few times from the momentum.
Nan Shiying tied a knot in the rope with one hand.
Alright, secure!