“Stop messing around.”
Tian Zheng remained silent for a while, then slapped Bai Xia on the head, attempting to calm her.
After trekking for half a day, they had finally reached their destination. With the underground ruins now within sight, she actually wanted to turn back? Had she eaten so much plain rice that she was now just looking for trouble?
Of course, Bai Xia hadn’t endured half a day’s journey merely because she was full and desired a stroll. Yet, she wasn’t entirely jesting either; she was simply… experiencing a severe bout of acrophobia.
However, she couldn’t be blamed. The current elevation was simply staggering! Though the ruins loomed not far opposite them, the aerial steps bridging the chasm between the two sides were in an utterly dilapidated state. One could almost imagine a single misplaced step sending them crumbling into the abyss!
How was anyone supposed to traverse such a treacherous path?
Beyond their decrepitude, these dozens of steps, defying gravity as they floated above the abyss, were also separated by considerable gaps between each precarious stone.
Bai Xia glanced down at her own short legs, gravely doubting whether she could even manage to step across.
Even if she could leap across, mustering the courage to do so remained an entirely separate challenge.
It wasn’t the first time she had lamented that a game’s excessive realism wasn’t always a blessing. It was akin to watching a horror movie: the experience delivered by shoddy, ‘five-cent’ special effects (TL Note: A Chinese slang term for low-budget, poor quality visual effects) paled in comparison to that of a true blockbuster, the intensity they evoked differing by a chasm.
Now, this overwhelmingly realistic game environment left Bai Xia’s legs feeling like jelly as she gazed upon the stone slabs before her—stones that were more accurately described as floating rocks than mere steps.
Indeed, she was terrified.
Bai Xia had never been particularly brave; standing on the edge of a mere three-story building made her dizzy, let alone confronting the current predicament.
Though she knew it was merely a game, who ever said one couldn’t feel fear while playing? It had little to do with the game itself; the sheer height, the perilousness, and the hyper-realistic environmental rendering simply combined to trigger an instinctive terror.
“…Could it be, Bai Xia, that you’re afraid of heights?” Tian Zheng, noticing his teammate’s inexplicably pale expression, mused aloud after a brief silence.
Bai Xia froze, then instinctively retorted.
“Huh? What nonsense are you spouting? I merely find these steps ahead too perilous to cross… Whoa!? What are you doing!”
Before she could even finish her sentence, Tian Zheng gave her a gentle push from behind. The sudden action startled Bai Xia, sending a shiver through her as she instinctively grabbed his arm, her grip as desperate and strong as a drowning person clutching at a lifeline.
Their eyes met, and Bai Xia remained silent for a long moment before finally ceasing her struggle, her head bowed, her expression clouded with gloom.
“Alright, I admit I am a little bit afraid of heights.”
‘Just a little bit?’
Observing his arm, still clamped in an unyielding grip, Tian Zheng wisely chose not to press for further details.
His gaze shifted forward, and a slight frown creased his brow.
Judging by Bai Xia’s state, it was clearly impossible for her to traverse such a lengthy path alone. Yet, having come all this way, abandoning their progress and turning back was equally unthinkable—that would be no different from sheer foolishness. Therefore…
“Then there’s no other choice. I’ll carry you across on my back.”
Tian Zheng’s eyes scanned the various steps, estimating their state of disrepair and the distances between them before offering his suggestion.
Since the steps were arranged in a downward slope, even with the gaps between them, carrying someone—either in his arms or on his back—should make it possible to leap across.
“Carry me on your back?” Bai Xia paused, not immediately refuting the idea, as it was indeed a sound solution. But… would she be subjected to his inappropriate touches again?
‘Damn it, wasn’t groping her chest and butt enough before? Was he going to continue here? This guy was definitely one of those harem protagonists from novels who could effortlessly flirt with girls!’
Tian Zheng, naturally oblivious to having been branded a ‘harem protagonist,’ noticed Bai Xia’s continued hesitation and asked, slightly puzzled, “What’s wrong? If you’re afraid of heights, just close your eyes. It’s not a long distance, and it won’t take much time.”
As he spoke, Tian Zheng instinctively half-squatted, yet Bai Xia did not immediately move. Instead, she gazed at his back, her expression suddenly distant and lost in thought.
For in her memories, the only person who had ever carried Bai Xia on their back was her father. The most vivid recollection was from when she was very young, suffering from a high fever in the dead of night amidst a torrential downpour. Her father, barely dressed, had risen to carry her to a small clinic for treatment.
The rain outside was heavy and cold, yet she would never forget the warmth radiating from that broad, strong back. Though she had been delirious with fever, the profound sense of security had never wavered, lingering until the very end.
But now…
Bai Xia’s spirits sank, for it was highly probable she would never again see those cherished individuals from her memories who had gifted her such beautiful recollections.
No family, no friends.
In this alien world, even the most insignificant trifles often triggered an overwhelming sense of suffocation within her, her heart beginning to ache with an uncontrollable spasm.
“Bai Xia?”
However, her tumultuous thoughts were swiftly broken by Tian Zheng’s voice. She subconsciously wiped the corner of her eye, only to meet the man’s peculiar gaze. “I mean, even if you don’t want me to carry you, there’s no need to cry, is there?”
“…Who’s crying?”
Tears were absent in the game, a setting Bai Xia was immensely grateful for at that moment, as she disliked exposing her vulnerable side to others.
Taking a deep breath, she composed her stirred emotions. “It’s just that your actions just now reminded me of my dad.”
“Do I look that old?”
“…I meant that in my memories, only my dad ever carried me on his back, which is why I suddenly thought of him. By the way, are you trying to take advantage of me?”
“How could I?” Tian Zheng quickly waved his hand. While he sensed an unusual shift in Bai Xia’s mood, he chose not to probe further, lowering his body as he urged, “Alright, let’s not waste any more time. Hurry up and get on.”
“First, a declaration: no touching where you shouldn’t, or I’ll hack you to death!”
Ultimately, Bai Xia chose to compromise. Though it felt somewhat awkward, with the ruins directly before them, abandoning the quest was naturally out of the question. Thus, she could only temporarily endure the discomfort, though a prior warning remained absolutely essential.
Tian Zheng cast her a rather helpless glance, then stated with a perfectly straight face, “Am I that kind of person?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Alright, I am.”
“…Just how thick was this man’s skin!” Bai Xia was utterly speechless, yet she had to admit that bantering with Tian Zheng for a few moments had indeed alleviated much of her previously suppressed emotions, even if the urge to kick him into the abyss had only intensified.
Of course, kicking him was out of the question—at least for now. She would see if an opportunity arose later.
After a moment of internal debate, Bai Xia finally climbed onto the man’s back, then gripped her dagger and pressed it against his neck.
“If you touch anywhere you shouldn’t, I’ll take you down with me!”