Chinese Name: 夜无疆
English Name: Night Without Bounds
Type: Web Novel
Country: Mainland China
Author: Chen Dong
That day, the sunset never rose again…
The world was plunged into Eternal Night, an abyssal darkness that seemed poised to devour everything.
Daylight had long since become a relic of the past, a mere legend.
The vast frozen tundra was battered by bone-chilling winds, and heavy snow pounded the earth, piling half a person’s height in drifts.
Twin Tree Village lay half-buried in the snow.
This place had no more than forty or fifty households, a forgotten village seemingly untouched by time. The houses stood clustered together, their outlines barely discernible in the impenetrable night.
The howling winds rocked the rooftops, many of which trembled as if they could be torn away at any moment.
Qin Ming was weak, woken up by hunger. His stomach growled incessantly, and in the frigid night, he couldn’t help but salivate at the thought of any kind of food.
It didn’t matter if it was steaming hot meat, or sweet and juicy fruits—even a cold, hardened piece of bread would have filled his mouth with sweetness, making his mouth water.
The freezing cold pressed in from all sides, and the darkness both inside and outside the house was suffocating.
Qin Ming huddled tightly under a tattered quilt, but even the warmth from the heated brick bed couldn’t keep the biting chill at bay. Every breath felt like inhaling shards of ice, piercing his lungs with a sharp sting.
He forced himself to stop thinking about food; otherwise, the sour bile in his stomach would rise again.
After calming himself down, he suddenly realized that his mind was unusually clear. The groggy haze that had plagued him for so long had lifted. Could it be that the strange illness was finally leaving him?
Despite the hunger and cold, the glimmer of hope that his persistent illness might be waning brought a sparkle to his eyes as he waited for “Shallow Night” to arrive.
As time passed, the wind gradually died down, and the blizzard, once fierce and unrelenting, dwindled to a few scattered snowflakes.
From the courtyard next door, sounds of movement could be heard. It was the young couple, Lu Ze and Liang Wanqing, talking.
“Where are you going? Are you bringing food to Qin Ming again?” Liang Wanqing’s voice rose in frustration.
“He’s been seriously ill, and he’s only sixteen or seventeen. Living all alone, it’s pitiful,” Lu Ze replied softly.
“Do you realize that we barely have enough to eat ourselves? If this keeps up, the kids will go hungry!” Liang Wanqing’s voice was full of emotion.
“The blizzard’s stopped. We’ll find a way to make it through,” Lu Ze said, gazing out into the dark, endless sky.
…
Hearing the couple’s argument, Qin Ming felt a wave of guilt. He didn’t want to accept Lu Ze’s kindness anymore. These were hard times for everyone, and no one had it easy.
He got up from the heated bed and put on his cotton-padded clothes, but the cold still seeped through. He rummaged through the cupboard and found an old fur coat, wrapping it tightly around himself as he paced the pitch-black room, rubbing his hands together to keep warm.
After his illness, Qin Ming’s once tall and slender frame had grown thin. His long black hair, which used to shine, now hung dull over his shoulders. His delicate face was pale, but his eyes, clear and bright, shone with a resolute determination. Though he bore the signs of illness, there was a certain strength about him.
A month ago, he had barely escaped the mountains, his hands and feet blackened from the cold. His companions had all died the same day they returned, but somehow, despite the strange illness that had gripped him, Qin Ming survived.
Most people thought he wouldn’t make it. But here he was, clearly improving.
Even now, when he thought of the unknown dangers that lurked in those mountains, a shiver ran down his spine.
Outside, the darkness began to shift, like ink diluted in a cup of water, growing slightly paler. “Shallow Night” had come—what passed for “daytime” in this eternal night. Yet even now, the world remained cloaked in darkness, and distant objects were barely visible.
The courtyard gate creaked open, and Lu Ze arrived. His sturdy frame shoveled the snow aside with ease, quickly clearing a path to the house.
Qin Ming, struggling to unseal the snow-blocked door, called out, “Brother Lu!”
Lu Ze held a glowing cloth bag, and with a flick of his wrist, he dumped its contents into a stone basin in the yard. A pile of bright red stones clattered down, their light cutting through the gloom.
These were “Sun Stones,” their very name a reflection of people’s long-lost hopes. They now lit up the entire courtyard.
Lu Ze looked surprised. “Qin, you look much better today.”
Qin Ming invited him inside and explained the situation honestly—he was no longer feeling muddled, and his health seemed to be improving.
“Looks like you’re tougher than they thought, surviving that illness from the mountains,” Lu Ze said with a chuckle. He emptied the rest of the glowing stones into a bronze basin inside, illuminating the entire room.
Sun Stones were harvested from the “Fire Springs.” Though they gave off a bright glow, their heat was far weaker than a human body’s warmth. After several hours, their light would fade, and they would need to be returned to the Fire Springs to be “recharged.”
“Here, take this!” Lu Ze handed over a food box.
Qin Ming, who had been sick for a month, had long since run out of food. Lu Ze had been helping him survive. But after hearing the couple’s argument earlier, Qin Ming felt even more guilty knowing their own situation wasn’t much better.
“Eat while it’s still warm,” Lu Ze urged. He was a straightforward man who believed in repaying kindness. Years ago, when he had gotten lost in the pitch-black woods, it was Qin Ming who had called out for him again and again, leading him back to safety.
Looking at the steaming dark bread, Qin Ming’s hunger flared up, and he could hardly stop himself from drooling.
“Why are you just standing there? You’re still recovering! You can’t get better on an empty stomach,” Lu Ze said, placing the box directly into Qin Ming’s hands.
“Brother Lu!” In the end, Qin Ming didn’t refuse. He tore off a chunk of the rough bread and wolfed it down, finding it surprisingly sweet and delicious.
“If you need anything, just call me,” Lu Ze said before turning to leave.
With the hunger abated, Qin Ming felt reinvigorated. The lingering discomfort in his body seemed to be fading, and he was sure his illness was on its way out.
He decided to step outside for some fresh air and stretch his legs. The moment he opened the courtyard gate, a biting cold greeted him, his breath coming out in plumes of white mist.
In Shallow Night—this era’s “daytime”—each household had the flickering glow of Sun Stones, casting a faint light along the streets.
“Qin Ming! Are you feeling better?” someone called out.
“Let me take a look at you!” Old Lady Zhou from North Street grabbed his arm, looking him up and down. She noticed that his complexion had greatly improved since the last time she’d seen him.
Qin Ming smiled and greeted the villagers, reassuring them that his recovery was nearly complete.
The few people on the street exchanged looks of disbelief. How could someone recover from such a strange illness?
“Even if you’re getting better, don’t be too hasty to venture outside. It’s still dangerous out there,” Old Lady Zhou warned, glancing at the inky blackness beyond the village.
The other neighbors wore expressions of concern. Times were tough, and with food running scarce, many were on the verge of starvation.
Qin Ming noticed that Old Lady Zhou, once a kind and robust woman, now looked pale and frail, like a gust of wind could knock her over.
After the others had left, Old Lady Zhou discreetly pulled a few dried sweet potato slices from her pocket and pressed them into Qin Ming’s hand.
Qin Ming immediately pushed them back. How could he accept food from an elderly woman, who herself showed signs of hunger?
Most of the villagers had cleared the snow around their homes, but the streets were still slick in places. Every step Qin Ming took on the snow-packed ground made a crunching sound as he walked forward.
He stopped as he approached the edge of the village.
Before him was a larger courtyard with a small threshing ground. A massive black mountain goat, nearly as tall as a grown man’s shoulder, was dragging a millstone, grinding a strange variety of wheat that sparkled like silver grains.
Not everyone was short on food. The family living here, at least, seemed to be doing well.
Qin Ming’s eyes locked onto the black goat. With food so scarce, it had been a long time since he’d had meat. His desire for it was overwhelming.
The goat, large and muscular with thick horns, seemed to sense his gaze and became startled, its tail drooping instantly.
“Qin Ming! You’re looking better! They say those who survive disasters are bound for good fortune.” A stout, bearded middle-aged man stood in the courtyard entrance. He assumed Qin Ming was admiring the silvery wheat under the millstone and continued, “With so many mouths to feed, the food runs out fast. This is the last of our grain.”
“Uncle Yang, you’re amazing, taking care of such a big family in times like these
,” Qin Ming replied, though he didn’t believe for a moment that this was the last of the man’s supplies.
After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Yang Yongqing, Qin Ming made his way to the edge of the village.
Ahead lay the “Fire Springs,” their glow illuminating the nearby area.
The springs had been carefully enclosed with stones, forming a small pool about ten feet across. The stone wall was no higher than a man’s knee, and within, a brilliant red light flickered.
Even during this season of blizzards, though the springs had almost dried up, they still emitted a soft, fiery glow.
Within the pool stood two trees—the reason Twin Tree Village got its name. One tree had pitch-black leaves, while the other bore snow-white foliage, neither of which withered, even in the harshest of winters.
(Continue…)