Chapter 1: Eternal Night
This novel is translated and hosted on BCatranslation
On that fateful day, the world saw its last glimpse of the sun. It dipped beneath the horizon and never rose again, leaving the world wrapped in an endless night. The darkness spread wide and deep, swallowing everything it touched. The memory of daylight faded quickly, becoming a part of history, and history turned to legend. Soon, only whispered tales passed down from one generation to the next were all that remained of the old world.
In this new era, ice ruled over the land. The wind blew with a biting chill, and snowstorms raged without end, piling snowdrifts as high as a grown man’s waist.
Nestled in this unending darkness lay Twin Trees Village, almost buried under a thick blanket of snow. It was a small, hidden place, home to only forty or fifty families, seemingly forgotten by time. In the suffocating darkness, the village houses were just shadows against a pitch-black sky. Their rooftops shook beneath the relentless winds, as though they might be torn off at any moment.
Inside one of these darkened homes, young Qin Ming lay on his bed, woken from a restless sleep by the gnawing hunger twisting in his stomach. In the freezing cold, thoughts of food—whether hot, steaming meat, ripe fruit, or even stale bread—stirred a craving so intense it bordered on pain.
The cold was cruel and unyielding. The darkness inside his home felt as heavy and oppressive as the night outside, so thick it seemed one could reach out and touch it. Qin Ming pulled his thin, tattered quilt tighter around himself. Despite the warmth of the bed beneath him, the chill seeped through, and each breath felt like icy shards tearing through his chest.
He tried to push away thoughts of food, knowing they only made the ache of his empty stomach worse. As he calmed his mind, he realized, to his surprise, that his head felt unusually clear—a stark contrast to the foggy haze that had clouded his thoughts during his long illness. Could it be that he was finally coming out of the strange sickness that had gripped him like a shadow?
A small spark of hope flickered in his heart. Maybe his suffering was finally coming to an end. He waited for what they now called the “shallow night.”
The winds started to quiet down, and the fierce snowfall eased into a gentle flurry. Voices drifted through the thin walls from the neighboring yard, where Lu Ze and his wife, Liang Wan Qing, were speaking.
“Where are you going? Are you taking food to Qin Ming again?” Liang Wan Qing’s voice rose above the wind, edged with frustration.
“He’s been terribly ill. He’s only sixteen or seventeen, and he’s all alone. My heart aches for him,” Lu Ze replied, his voice low and earnest.
“Can’t you see how little we have left? If you keep this up, our own children will go hungry!” Liang Wan Qing’s frustration was sharp, like a blade.
“The storm has passed. We’ll find a way,” Lu Ze said softly, looking up at the dark, endless sky.
Listening quietly, Qin Ming felt a pang of guilt twist inside him. He couldn’t stand to take more from Lu Ze, knowing everyone in the village was barely scraping by in these harsh times.
He got up from his bed, shivering as he slipped into a thick, worn cotton coat that barely kept the cold out. He rummaged through a small cabinet and found an old fur coat to layer on top. His movements were slow and careful in the dim room, his hands rubbing together for warmth.
Once a strong and healthy youth, Qin Ming was now thin and frail. His long black hair hung limp, shorn of its former shine, framing a face that had grown pale and delicate. Yet his eyes, bright and clear, still held a spark of life. Though his body seemed weak, his spirit had a quiet strength.
A month ago, he had barely survived a dangerous trip into the mountains. His limbs had darkened with frostbite, and the illness that followed had nearly taken his life, unlike his companions, who had perished soon after they returned.
Despite his dire condition, Qin Ming had fought fiercely against the strange sickness that gripped him, clinging to life with a tenacity that surprised even himself. The thought of the dangers still lurking in the mountains sent a shiver through him.
Outside, the thick blackness of night began to thin, like ink spreading in water. This was the “shallow night”—a faint shadow of the days of old, a twilight that offered little comfort against the ever-present darkness. The world was still covered in shadows, with only a faint hint of form and shape.
The gate to the courtyard creaked as Lu Ze arrived, his sturdy figure trudging through the deep snow, shoveling a path toward Qin Ming’s door. Inside, hearing the noise, Qin Ming pushed against the snow-clogged door, forcing it open. “Brother Lu Ze,” he called out, his voice filled with both gratitude and determination.
Lu Ze held a cloth bag that gave off a dim, warm light. He turned it over, and its contents spilled into a stone basin outside. Small, red stones clinked as they fell, their soft glow cutting through the darkness like tiny embers scattered upon the snow.
“These are Sunstones,” Lu Ze explained. “Named for the hope they bring in these dark times.”
When Lu Ze saw Qin Ming, his eyes widened in surprise. “You look much better today.”
Qin Ming invited him inside and shared that his mind was clearer now, and he truly felt that he was getting better.
Lu Ze nodded, his face a mix of admiration and relief. “You have a strong will, Qin Ming. Surviving that strange sickness from the mountains is no small feat.” He poured the remaining Sunstones into a bronze basin in the room, and their glow filled the space with a warm, soothing light.
The Sunstones, taken from the “Flame Spring,” burned bright but gave no real warmth. Their light would fade after a few hours and would need to be recharged at the spring.
“Here, take this,” Lu Ze said, handing Qin Ming a small food box.
Qin Ming, having been sick and without proper food for days, had come to rely on Lu Ze’s kindness. But after overhearing the couple’s argument earlier, he felt a deep guilt accepting more help.
“Eat it while it’s warm,” Lu Ze insisted, his voice steady and firm. He hadn’t forgotten that, in a time of danger in the endless dark forest, it was Qin Ming’s voice that had led him to safety.
At the sight of the steaming black bread, Qin Ming’s stomach growled loudly. He hesitated, then his hunger overpowered his reluctance.
“Why are you just standing there? You’re still recovering, and you won’t get better on an empty stomach,” Lu Ze urged, placing the food box firmly into Qin Ming’s hands.
“Brother Lu Ze!” Overcome with gratitude, Qin Ming tore off a piece of the bread and ate it eagerly. Though rough and coarse, it tasted like the finest of meals.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Lu Ze said, turning to leave.
With his hunger somewhat satisfied, Qin Ming felt a surge of strength return to him. The pain and tiredness that had plagued him seemed to ease, reinforcing his belief that he was truly on the road to recovery.
Needing some fresh air, he opened the courtyard gate and stepped out into the street. The air was bitterly cold, and his breath formed white clouds that quickly vanished into the night.
During this “shallow night,” the streets were dimly lit by the fiery glow of Sunstones in each house, casting eerie shadows that stretched and shifted.
“Qin Ming, are you feeling better?” called a voice. It was Aunt Zhou from North Street, her tone filled with concern.
“Come closer, let me see you,” she said, reaching out to inspect him. Her eyes widened as she noticed the color returning to his face.
Qin Ming offered a small smile and reassured her that he was almost back to full health.
The small crowd gathered at the street corner murmured softly among themselves, cautious but hopeful. “Even if you’re feeling better, don’t rush out into the cold. It’s still dangerous,” Aunt Zhou advised, her gaze drifting towards the dark outskirts of the village.
The others nearby looked on with anxious expressions, reflecting the harsh reality of their dwindling food stores and the constant fear of starvation.
Qin Ming noticed Aunt Zhou’s pale, fragile appearance, a stark contrast to the strong woman she had once been.
As the group slowly dispersed, Aunt Zhou quietly slipped a few dried sweet potato slices into Qin Ming’s hand. He immediately tried to give them back, not wanting to take from her small supply, given her evident weakness.
But she gently closed his fingers over the food with a firm yet kind insistence.
Qin Ming continued his walk, his footsteps crunching through the snow that still lay thick on the ground. His breath came in visible clouds as he approached the edge of the village.
There, a larger courtyard came into view, where a black goat, nearly as tall as a man, walked in circles around a millstone. It ground a rare kind of wheat into fine, silvery grains—a sight that momentarily lifted the weight of the village’s grim plight from his mind.
Not everyone in Twin Trees Village was suffering equally. At its edge, one family seemed to have weathered the darkness better than most.
Qin Ming’s gaze lingered on the black goat, his eyes sharp with hunger. It had been a long time since he had tasted meat, and the thought of it now only made his craving stronger.
The goat was large and sturdy, with thick, curved horns that gave it a tough look. It caught sight of Qin Ming’s hungry stare, and its raised tail quickly drooped in caution.
“Qin Ming, feeling any better? They say those who endure hard times will find good fortune in the end,” called a stout, bearded man from the courtyard gate. This was Yang Yong Qing, who assumed Qin Ming’s interest lay in the rare grain—silver wheat—being ground beneath the millstone. “I’ve got a big family to feed, and our supplies are running low. This is all that’s left,” he added.
“You’re doing well, Uncle Yang, to keep your family fed in such times,” Qin Ming replied, a slight smile touching his lips. He doubted Yang’s claim that he was down to his last bag of silver wheat.
After a short exchange with Yang Yong Qing, Qin Ming moved on, heading toward the village’s boundary.
Before long, he came upon the “Flame Spring,” its reddish glow casting a warm light over the area.
A low stone wall, about knee-high, circled a pool roughly six feet across. Within, the water shimmered a deep, fiery red.
In this brutal, snow-covered season, the Flame Spring was nearly dry, its bubbling stopped, yet it still gave off a comforting heat.
Beside the well stood two remarkable trees—one with leaves as black as night, the other with leaves as white as snow. Unbowed by the cold, they stood tall and vibrant, giving Twin Trees Village its name.
So what’s this about?
its too new, i have no idea either. its giving me Elden Ring and LOTR vibes though
Not a fan of it so far, but Deep Sea Embers’s first arc and chapters were kind of a slog to get through yet it ended it up being great and one of my favourite stories. I’ll come back later when there are a few arcs out and see what it’s like then.