Darkness is Being Generated…

Ruan Mobei roasted the wild chicken, giving most of it to He Songming while he had a small portion himself. Without any seasoning, the taste was indeed poor. The only comfort was that he had cleaned the meat thoroughly and cooked it all the way through, so he shouldn’t experience any stomach problems from it.

He struggled to swallow the last bite of chicken, which was so bland it almost felt like eating nothing. Just thinking about possibly eating this tasteless food for the next few months made him feel a wave of despair.

Ruan Mobei silently sighed to himself when suddenly he felt something tighten around his waist. Looking down, he saw a grass rope tied around him, and He Songming was standing behind him, awkwardly making a tight knot.

What was this about? Was he trying to tie him up to prevent him from running away?

“I’m not going to run away,” Ruan Mobei said, standing up. He could tell that the knot might be hard to undo for animals, but it came undone easily in his hands.

Ruan Mobei wrapped the grass rope around He Songming’s wrist a few times, twisted it into a bow, and smiled. “You can keep this for yourself.”

He Songming stared curiously at the manly bow on his wrist. He tugged on one of the loops but yanked too hard, pulling it off completely.

After the meat left his mouth dry, Ruan Mobei walked to the creek to drink some water. He Songming crouched by the water, staring at his reflection before glancing at Ruan Mobei, seemingly trying to compare their appearances, wondering if they were alike.

It was a bit warm in the jungle, and the humidity was high. Ruan Mobei had sweated while roasting the meat by the fire, feeling uncomfortable from the sticky feeling on his skin. He wanted to take a bath, but with He Songming standing right there and staring at him so intently, he felt awkward about undressing.

Seeing his companion hesitate by the water, glancing at him from time to time, He Songming suddenly seemed to realize something. He extended his hand and, without warning, pushed Ruan Mobei into the creek.

—It’s nothing to be afraid of. Just try it and see.

With a splash, Ruan Mobei tumbled into the stream, caught off guard.

Fortunately, the water only reached his waist. He scrambled to grab He Songming’s arm, trying to steady himself.

“What are you doing?!” Ruan Mobei grumbled, wiping the water off his face. His feet felt heavy, and he didn’t need to check to know his shoes were soaked through. His shirt and pants weren’t spared either. The thought of wearing these wet clothes for who knows how long left him feeling hopeless.

In his frustration, he splashed some water back at He Songming.

This guy really had no shame—he runs around naked, but he didn’t want anyone else to be comfortable in clothes.

He Songming raised his arm to shield his eyes, not even attempting to dodge. The water hit him, soaking his tangled hair and beard, and dripped down his broad shoulders and chest, leaving sparkling water streaks on his tanned skin.

This kind of playful moment was something Ruan Mobei had never experienced when he was alone. He Songming laughed, scooped up some water to retaliate, and splashed Ruan Mobei’s face.

“You’re getting bold now.” Ruan Mobei returned the favor, splashing He Songming until he was soaked through as well. He had been gentle with the younger He Songming, because after all, he was just a child. But now, dealing with the adult version of He Songming, his patience was wearing thin.

The man squatted by the shore, looking like a large, soaked dog. He shook his head, and his messy hair flopped around.

Ruan Mobei suddenly realized how much the wild man’s tangled hair and beard were bothering him.

He really needed to find a chance to shave him. What would be the best tool for that?

Since he was already wet, Ruan Mobei decided to just take a full bath in the stream. The sticky feeling on his skin vanished, replaced by a refreshing coolness. He tilted his head back, rubbing his neck and collarbone with his fingertips, cleaning the dirt off.

He Songming sat at the edge of the stream, staring at Ruan Mobei’s exposed neck without blinking.

Ten minutes later, Ruan Mobei climbed out of the creek, drenched. He took off his shirt and wrung out the water before shaking it off and putting it back on.

He repeated the process with his pants, wringing out the water. When he took off his underwear, He Songming kept staring at him, and then glanced down at himself. He seemed to confirm that they were the same type of creature, and then jumped up excitedly.

Ruan Mobei………………

Realizing that no matter how suffocating the situation was, the only one feeling awkward was him, Ruan Mobei let it go. After all, He Songming didn’t understand anything right now. The concept of shame didn’t exist in his mind, like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden—humans, innocent before eating the forbidden fruit, openly shared with one another, unaware of embarrassment.

His shoes were soaked and heavy, and drying them wasn’t something that could happen quickly. Ruan Mobei decided to take them off and, like He Songming, walked barefoot on the path.

The grass, twigs, and small stones jabbed at his feet, and it didn’t take long before Ruan Mobei felt pain. He couldn’t help but stop, lifting his foot to knock out a small stone lodged in his arch.

He had never had to endure this kind of hardship with his feet, being used to wearing shoes. He couldn’t compare to He Songming, who had likely been barefoot for years.

He Songming glanced back at him, seeing Ruan Mobei struggling to walk in pain. He stretched out his hand and, before Ruan Mobei could react, lifted him up over his shoulder!

Ruan Mobei!!!

In a blur, he was thrown onto He Songming’s shoulder, his stomach pressing against the man’s solid shoulder.

Ruan Mobei… ugh.

He Songming even gave a little bounce, adjusting to a more comfortable grip as he walked, carrying Ruan Mobei like a sack of potatoes.

The short distance of about a hundred meters felt like torture to Ruan Mobei, and when He Songming finally set him down, he was a bit dazed.

A gust of wind blew through, and the moisture on his clothes evaporated, taking the warmth with it. Ruan Mobei couldn’t help but shiver, rubbing his arms to get rid of the goosebumps.

It was getting dark, and the tall trees above blocked out the light. The visibility in the jungle was rapidly dropping. It wouldn’t be long before it became pitch black. The calls of nocturnal birds filled the air, along with the chorus of insects, signaling the arrival of night.

Unlike other animals, humans didn’t have good night vision, and the unknowns of the first night made Ruan Mobei uneasy. He quickly began gathering dry branches and dead grass from nearby to light a fire before it got too dark.

He Songming watched for a while and then joined in, picking up sticks. However, he didn’t understand that dryness was key, and many of the branches he collected were too damp to use.

Ruan Mobei made a ring of stones about half a meter in diameter, lining the bottom with dry grass. He propped up the sticks in a pointed pile and covered the top with more dry grass. He struck the flint, and the fire caught.

He quickly worked to clear fallen leaves and plants around the fire, digging a firebreak to prevent the sparks from setting the jungle ablaze.

By the time he finished, it was fully dark.

Little by little, fireflies began to light up in the nearby woods, their yellow-green glow flickering one after another, their faint light easing the fear of the darkness.

Ruan Mobei sat by the fire, his earlier anxiety slowly fading as the warmth from the fire dried his damp clothes. He Songming still remembered the painful burn from earlier in the day and kept his distance from the fire.

“Come over here,” Ruan Mobei called him.

He Songming glanced at the fire warily, then walked around it, finally coming to sit beside Ruan Mobei.

Ruan Mobei divided the remaining sticks into two piles—one dry, one damp—and took He Songming’s hands, guiding him to feel the difference in moisture between the two piles.

The dry ones felt warm, the wet ones were cold.

“These are dry, these are wet. Wet wood just creates smoke and might even put the fire out, so we don’t want them.” Ruan Mobei tossed the damp branches aside.

He Songming followed the wet branches with his eyes like a dog chasing a flying disc. Ruan Mobei turned his face toward him, pulling out two dry pieces of wood from the dry pile and putting them in the fire.

With a crackle, the new branches began to burn.