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The pleasure boat sailed steadily forward, and the river gradually widened. The deep, vast waters stretched endlessly into the horizon, creating an expansive view. Though the waves of the Long River were not as tumultuous as ocean waves, they still carried a certain vigor. This was precisely why Di Jiang had conjured such a large vessel. A small boat would have been easily capsized in these turbulent waters, even with a ferryman at the oars. She certainly didn’t want to wake up drenched like a drowned rat.
“Where did you find such a massive boat? It looks oddly familiar.”
“Of course… we rented it from this boatman!”
From outside the cabin came Lord Wu Rui’an and Wen Yao’s conversation. Di Jiang initially tensed, fearing Wen Yao might blurt out something like, “The boss made it appear!” But thankfully, Wen Yao wasn’t completely foolish, and Di Jiang relaxed after hearing her response.
Inside the boat’s cabin, there were four rooms—two on each side—with a central corridor wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Each room contained a carved rosewood bed, neatly made with clean bedding and pillows identical to those found on the pleasure boats of Taiping Prefecture’s Baihua Pavilion.
After settling his white horse, Wu Rui’an returned to the cabin and chose the room opposite Di Jiang. He removed his armor, changed into casual clothes, and tidied his hair before stepping back out. By then, night had quietly fallen. Outside, the river was pitch black, devoid of any fishing lights. The shores were uninhabited, and even the full moon hid behind thick clouds.
On this calm night, everything was eerily silent.
“The weather seems a bit off,” Wu Rui’an muttered, catching Wen Yao’s attention.
“What do you mean, ‘off’? Isn’t it always like this when it gets dark?” Wen Yao replied.
“On a river, there’s usually some wind or sound of water. Don’t you find it strange that there’s none?”
“It is a bit odd…” Wen Yao verbally agreed but didn’t think much of it. After all, the boat was conjured by the boss, and the ferryman was someone the boss had brought in—things beyond ordinary comprehension. Against that backdrop, the calm river seemed trivial.
Wen Yao dismissed it, but Di Jiang also felt uneasy upon hearing Wu Rui’an’s words.
Di Jiang threw on her coat and went directly to the stern to find the ferryman.
“Is something wrong?” Di Jiang sat beside the ferryman and asked.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Truly nothing?”
“Nothing.” The ferryman shook his head. His dark eyes mirrored the pitch-black night, devoid of any light. He resembled a soulless husk—because that’s exactly what he was. Beneath his aged exterior, there was no soul, no emotions, only a heart that beat ceaselessly.
There were many such ferrymen, their heart-lamps glowing faintly with an eerie green light.
Along the banks of the Sanzu River, thousands of boats ferried souls across. Each boat had a ferryman, and each stern bore a heart-lamp. Their duty was to guide spirits into the River of Forgetfulness, where they would face judgment by the ten Yama Kings and their hundred judges before being sent into reincarnation. Day and night, they repeated this cycle, forging hearts impervious to worldly disturbances.
It was precisely the ferryman’s calm demeanor that made Di Jiang feel uneasy. To them, nothing mattered—big or small.
What could possibly be considered a major event for them?
Perhaps if the gates of hell collapsed, the flowers of the underworld withered, the bridge of奈何 (forgetfulness) crumbled, or the Sanzu River reversed its flow—only then might they furrow their brows.
Di Jiang sighed. Questioning the ferryman was futile; she’d just have to face whatever came next.
Gazing into the dark, tranquil waters, Di Jiang couldn’t even see the reflection of the candles from her own ship. She realized she was in serious trouble.
“What are you talking about? The atmosphere feels so oppressive.” At that moment, Wu Rui’an and Wen Yao joined them at the stern. Wu Rui’an approached Di Jiang, waving his hands in front of her face. “Doctor Di?”
After a long pause, Di Jiang snapped out of her thoughts and shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Just as Di Jiang finished speaking and turned to leave, she suddenly remembered something and turned back. “Your Highness, you should return to the cabin soon. The weather tonight is unusual—it’s best not to linger outside.”
“What’s going on?” Wu Rui’an frowned.
“What happened?” Wen Yao exclaimed, visibly shaken. Di Jiang feared Wen Yao would cause more trouble, so she refrained from elaborating. In contrast, the mortal Wu Rui’an remained composed.
Di Jiang could only shake her head. “I’m not sure either. I’m just giving you a heads-up, just in case.” As soon as she finished speaking, a bolt of lightning tore through the sky, splitting the heavy indigo clouds. Thunder rumbled immediately afterward.
“Ahhhh!” A piercing whinny from the white horse startled everyone. But there was no time to react. Almost simultaneously, thunder crashed down from the heavens, accompanied by a torrential downpour. In an instant, the sky and earth churned with wind and rain. Massive waves surged violently, resembling a storm-tossed sea too deep to fathom.
The boat began to rock violently. Instinctively, Wen Yao grabbed the railing to steady herself, while Di Jiang, momentarily careless, stumbled and fell onto the open deck between the cabin and the stern. Her elbow hit the wooden planks, sending a jolt of numbness through her right arm, leaving it useless.
“Boss!” Wen Yao panicked, but she could barely hold on herself, gripping the railing tightly to maintain balance. Everyone aboard wore expressions of shock—except the ferryman, who remained steadfast, as if rooted to the boat.
Di Jiang regained her senses briefly. Just as she tried to stand, another massive wave struck, causing the boat to lurch and fling her to the other side.
But this time, instead of landing on the hard wooden deck, she fell into someone’s arms.
Wu Rui’an lunged forward and caught her securely. The next moment, there was a loud crash as both of them tumbled heavily onto the left side of the boat. Their gasps were drowned out by the roaring waves and thunder. Drenched by the pouring rain, they looked utterly disheveled.
“Are you alright?” Wu Rui’an asked, concern etched on his face.
Di Jiang shook her head. “I’m fine.” She lifted her dizzy head and noticed blood trickling from Wu Rui’an’s forehead, quickly washed away by the rain.
“You’re bleeding,” Di Jiang said.
“Just a minor wound. I’m glad you’re okay.”
The pleasure boat continued to rock amidst the waves. Ahead, the river was shrouded in darkness, making it impossible to see where they were heading.
“Hold tight!” The usually expressionless ferryman’s eyes widened as he issued a rare, urgent warning to the others.
Instinctively, Wen Yao clung tighter to the railing. Wu Rui’an tightened his grip on Di Jiang with one hand while securing himself with ropes tied around them multiple times.
At that moment, a sense of weightlessness swept over them. The world spun chaotically as the boat trembled violently in the storm.
“Ahhhh!” Wen Yao screamed, her face pale with terror. Di Jiang, however, remained lucid. Though her head was buried in Wu Rui’an’s arms, her eyes were wide open, taking in the sudden chaos.
A massive waterfall cascaded down from the mountaintop, and their boat plummeted straight down from the summit. The height difference between the mountain peak and the valley below was staggering—tens of zhang. The boat, like a free-falling wooden box, finally landed back on the water after what felt like an eternity.
The pleasure boat cut through the waves, braving the storm, sailing steadily atop the turbulent waters. The ferryman’s face remained calm, without a trace of hesitation. The candles inside the cabin had long extinguished, leaving only the eerie green glow of the lamp in his right hand. His left hand shielded the lamp, its faint light the sole beacon amidst the raging river.
They lost track of how long they endured the storm. Gradually, the sky began to lighten, revealing a pale dawn. The thunder subsided, and purple morning light spread across the river, painting the post-storm world in soft hues.
The waves stilled, becoming as smooth as a mirror. A cold breeze swept across the river, sending shivers through everyone on board.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry. With me here, there’s nothing to fear,” Wu Rui’an reassured Di Jiang, holding her tighter. However, he didn’t notice his own voice trembling as he spoke.
Throughout it all, Di Jiang kept her brows furrowed and her eyes wide, staring at him.
Why was Wu Rui’an so certain she needed his protection?
This was something Di Jiang couldn’t comprehend.
Slowly, the horizon brightened. Eventually, a golden ray pierced through the thick clouds, and sunlight bathed the earth. The torrential rain tapered off into a drizzle, and soon the skies cleared, showing no trace of the storm.
The ferryman smiled faintly, rehung the green lamp at the stern, and settled into a seat.
Seeing the storm had passed, Wen Yao rushed to Di Jiang’s side, untangling the ropes binding them. “Boss, are you alright?”
“I’m fine…” Di Jiang’s voice was weak but indicated no injuries.
Wen Yao, seeing how well Wu Rui’an had protected her, finally relaxed.
Wu Rui’an and Di Jiang had clung to each other all night, their hands numb. Wu Rui’an managed a faint smile as he staggered to his feet, helping Di Jiang up.
“If everything’s fine now, go back to the cabin to rest. I’ll keep watch here,” the ferryman announced. Exhausted from the night’s ordeal, everyone agreed. After checking that no one was seriously injured, they retreated to their respective rooms.
Di Jiang changed her clothes and collapsed onto the bed, falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
Wen Yao followed suit, drifting off shortly after.
Wu Rui’an, however, remained cautious. After changing clothes, he inspected the boat inside and out for damage, then fed the white horse some grain.
Only after completing these tasks did he finally sit beside the ferryman. “Old boatman, it’s clear you’ve weathered countless storms. Your composure in the face of danger is admirable. Thank you for saving our lives.” He bowed deeply.
The ferryman said nothing but gave Wu Rui’an a wide, toothless grin.
His smile, etched into his weathered face, looked more like a grimace than anything else.
Wu Rui’an was startled. There was something unsettling about the ferryman—though alive, he seemed more terrifying than the dead.
Unable to bear it any longer, Wu Rui’an fled in panic.
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