Cold. Cold and…
Cold.
Cold and terrifying, because he was already dead, right? The boy's corpse was very cold to the touch, icy, but surprisingly, when she had touched him earlier, his skin was softer than the other corpses, like touching a handful of cool, gentle water. It had startled her. His body was also far too thin—he must have been quite young. Xia Ji was terrified of crushing this intact corpse beneath her, and horrible fantasies piled up in her mind.
But she had no time for these fears.
Footsteps drew closer. Xia Ji curled her body inward, trembling all over.
"The fugitive is out here!" They began to scatter in all directions around her. Xia Ji clutched the clothes of the boy beneath her even tighter.
Fear.
Fear.
Fear made her breathing tremble as she pressed herself even more tightly against the boy's corpse.
"You lot!" At that moment, it seemed other officers came running over to call out, "Did we not just say not to come to this side of the river! Disturb his peace and you'll suffer for it!"
"But sir, there's a fugitive from the Xia family!"
"A fugitive can't cross the river either. What need is there for you to chase him over here? Come back!"
This back-and-forth exchange seemed to take place directly above her head. Xia Ji trembled violently, until she felt something touch her.
Like a hand.
It was gently stroking her back.
Xia Ji's eyes flew wide open, her mind nearly exploding. The scream died in her throat as she shook violently.
A ghost.
There's a ghost here!
She immediately tried to scramble to her feet, even if it meant begging the officers above for help—she'd accept that! But just as she was about to rise, the hand behind her pressed her down in an instant. She couldn't help but let out a muffled grunt, her vision swimming, the corpse on top of her sliding off.
At the same time, she discovered the origin of this hand.
Because the owner of this hand had covered her mouth with his other hand, and the thick stench of blood flooded her mouth and nose. He seemed extremely familiar with the structure of the human body, like a skilled fishmonger gutting a fish—even though she was lying on top of him, he still effortlessly suppressed all her breathing, sounds, and movements, without letting her faint from the dizziness. Instead, her hearing became even sharper, and she could hear her own heartbeat with perfect clarity.
"Thump! Thump! Thump!"
Tears born of suffocation and pain fell drop by drop, landing on the face of the person beneath her.
And because of this, Xia Ji suddenly saw clearly the person beneath her.
The boy she had thought was a corpse had a face covered in blood, yet it could not suppress the beauty of his features—rather, it made him seem all the more eerily gorgeous. His pitch-black pupils stared at her without moving.
"Holy shit!"
Every hair on Xia Ji's body stood on end. Fear froze her gaze as she instinctively tried to strike back, but her arms had long since gone weak from being pressed down. The boy beneath her seemed to know everything in advance—the hand that had been stroking her back shifted to grip both her wrists. Xia Ji couldn't move an inch, and her mind was on the verge of collapse.
"Someone from the Xia family," he said, his fingers that covered her mouth pinching her cheek, "your body is so hot, your heart is beating so fast, and your breath comes so quickly."
He curved his eyes into a faint smile, but in Xia Ji's eyes, he looked more and more like a ghost. The hand that had been stroking the back of her head also shifted to begin caressing her neck.
"Big sister, everyone in the Xia family had their heads chopped off. How did you run out with your head still on?"
Those words were truly too terrifying.
Xia Ji could no longer bear it. Her mind had been stretched to its absolute limit, and she fainted on the spot.
The girl on top of him went completely limp. Bujing Nu released his grip, and she collapsed softly into his arms, motionless, her soft, warm body pressing against him.
Bujing Nu wiped away the tears she had left on his face with his fingertips, then lowered himself to sniff the scent of this unfamiliar woman. Earlier, he had been able to catch a faint fragrance on her.
A fragrance he had never smelled before.
Now, the scent on her had been scattered by the stench of blood.
Her whole body carried the smell of corpses that he knew so well.
No living person had ever been this close to him. Living people were afraid just looking at him—women were even more timid. He had never been in contact with them, but every time he carried out his orders, women would see him and scream in terror. He did not like contact with the living.
"Her body is so hot too, so soft—completely different from a corpse."
He kicked aside the corpse that was in his way, and lying among the pile of bodies, he played with the living person's hands on top of him—pinching her face, her neck, touching her hair, her lips, prying open her eyes—fiddling with her like an ignorant child who had gotten the first doll he'd ever fancied. His hollow, pitch-black pupils were filled with interest.
"Fun."
The Xia family was to be wiped out. Wiping out meant not even a single livestock was to be left—that was the order.
Bujing Nu sat up, lifted Xia Ji into his arms, and brushed aside her hair to stare at her face. Because she had fainted, the moment she was propped up, her head lolled softly to one side, her fair, soft face smeared with the bloodstains he had transferred onto her.
He had taken a liking to this woman. "Taken a liking"—that was a phrase he'd overheard in the army. Soldiers often carried off women, and back then he hadn't understood why they'd bother. Bujing Nu was young then, kept apart from the crowd. He'd never carried off a woman, nor did he know what one would do with one.
Now he wanted to carry off a woman too.
And when he grew tired of her, he'd simply kill her.
Xia Ji thought she must be out of her mind.
She cursed herself for craving that chicken-wing rice roll across the street.
She'd been about to clock off when she was suddenly asked to work overtime. Her stomach was growling, and that stall with the heavenly chicken-wing rice rolls was right across the road.
She was just too hungry, too greedy, and in too much of a hurry. She hadn't had time to keep her eyes peeled and ears pricked.
And so she got hit by a car.
That wasn't even the worst part. Traffic was jammed up, and terrified of being hit again, she'd crawled—half-blind, body limp, still instinctively dragging herself toward that chicken-wing rice roll stall across the street.
She wondered whether the stall owner would be traumatized, seeing her crawl over covered in blood.
She must have been crawling too hard in her dream. When Xia Ji jolted awake, she found herself still lying face-down, her hands still straining.
Crawling forward.
Xia Ji: …
No, wait.
Xia Ji froze, then snapped back to her senses. A chill swept through her body as her hands flew to her neck.
Intact.
Her hands trembling, she checked again and again—her head was still on, perfectly fine.
The cold dread around her eased somewhat.
But her clothes… She was alive, still wearing those filthy garments, still in ancient times—this unknown dynasty, this terrifying age of chaos.
Still no system had bound itself to her.
She didn't know where she was, but she remembered everything before she'd blacked out. She just wasn't sure if she'd had a nightmare. She seemed to have dreamed of a boy of breathtaking, eerie beauty, who'd asked her in a soft voice why her head was still attached to her neck.
She'd fainted from fright. And after she fainted?
Where was this place?
Darkness pressed in from all sides. Xia Ji tensely scanned her surroundings. It was too dark in here, heavy curtains drawn, but she could make out the furnishings—all antique in style, yet different from the original body's room. Across from her was a large wooden table piled with… what looked like women's clothing and jewelry?
She could tell they were likely a woman's because the dresses were embroidered with gleaming golden threads, patterned with flowers she couldn't identify. Men's clothes wouldn't be so delicate and pretty, and no man's jewelry would be so lavish as to pile up that high.
A strange room, with a strange fragrance—like a woman's scented balm.
Where on earth was this?
Xia Ji frowned. In any case, this unfamiliar room made her deeply uneasy. She fumbled to get out of bed, her body as weak as if she'd pulled an all-nighter. The moment her feet tentatively touched the floor, the door was shoved open without warning, spilling in a flood of sunlight.
"Ah!"
Startled, Xia Ji let out a cry before quickly clamping her hand over her mouth, staring at the newcomer.
Someone she didn't recognize.
Not the boy from that night.
It was a boy with a very strange appearance—an oversized head, his right eye seemingly missing and shut in an odd way, his face looking burned, his body seemingly afflicted with some disease, limbs short and stubby yet thick. The kind of face that would terrify passersby on a modern street. Xia Ji was afraid. She instinctively backed away: "Y-you… who are you? Did you capture me?"
"No," he said slowly, his mind seeming slow, his eyes not daring to meet hers. Xia Ji found it strange—he seemed almost afraid of her. "It's time. Time to eat."
He was holding a food box.
Eat…?
"Are you a servant here? A slave, a bondservant?"
He set the food box on the ground, ignored her words entirely, and turned to leave.
"Don't go!"
Seeing him leave, Xia Ji was terrified. She pounded on the door with all her might—only to find it wasn't locked at all. It burst open under her palm. The simple-minded servant hadn't gotten far, just stepping down from the stoop.
Xia Ji felt like she hadn't seen sunlight in ages. The brightness outside was overwhelming; she could barely open her eyes. Forcing them open, tears streamed from the sting before she realized it was an overcast day, the sun hidden behind heavy gray clouds.
"Don't run." The simple-minded servant said, glancing back at her as if in warning. Then he walked off with his unnatural gait, leaving Xia Ji standing there dumbfounded, tears at the corners of her eyes from the light.
She turned back in disbelief, looking at the strange, curtained, lightless room behind her.
Don't run?
Only a fool wouldn't run.
What in the world was this place?
She swept her gaze across the courtyard before her, and it was unexpectedly lavish—far better than the small yard her original body had stayed in. Blue stone paved the ground, white jade formed the walls, and across the moon gate stood pavilions, rockeries, winding ponds with flowing water, and many potted plants. The strange thing was that these plants were quite elegant, yet no one tended to them, allowing what should have been exquisite bonsai to grow bizarre, twisted branches.
So lavish.
Xia Ji raised a hand to touch her own face. The one who had picked her up probably wasn't that eerily handsome young man—she felt he didn't seem like the type to live in a residence like this, nor would he bother with clothes and jewelry. More likely, her unconscious sleeping face had been beautiful enough to catch the eye of some passing royal or noble. That's how it usually went in novels.
But she no longer believed in her own dumb luck. This might not be a reward round for the overworked office drone, but rather a cycle of suffering for her. Just from the clothes and jewelry in that room earlier, she could tell something was off—creepy, even. What if she ran into some pervert obsessed with her looks who wanted to do this and that to her? What would she do then?
She'd be a fool not to run.
Xia Ji stepped forward and started climbing the wall.
The simple-minded servant who had walked off seemed to hear the commotion and came back: "Don't run."
Xia Ji, afraid he might thwart her grand plan, said, "Go get me a stool."
"Get a stool."
"Yes."
"Oh."
Watching him leave, Xia Ji stripped off the cumbersome skirt she was wearing and, with all the strength she could muster, began climbing the wall.
The sky was gray today.
Bujing Nu had been busy all night, and even he was somewhat weary. Covered in blood, he sat on the steps at the entrance. This residence was in a remote area, and the occasional stray dog passing by in the distance would catch the scent of the overwhelming bloodshed and killing intent, tucking its tail and fleeing.
Bujing Nu's pitch-black pupils stared vacantly at some point, lost in thought, until he heard a slight noise from behind and turned his head.
The simple-minded servant dragged a wooden stool past him.
"What are you doing?" Bujing Nu asked.
"Delivering a stool. She wants it."
"Who wants it?"
"The woman the master, the master brought back."
"What woman?" Bujing Nu had been killing all night and had forgotten everything. He stared at the stool for a moment before letting out an "Oh."
"She's awake?" Bujing Nu perked up with some interest, rising from his seat on the steps. He was dressed in black, his body covered in dried blood that had smeared the stone steps a patch of crimson. He tugged at his black hair, nearly soaked through with blood. "What does she want a stool for?"