Standing at the fork in the road, Xian Chengyue watched for ten full minutes.
Lin Min did not dare to rush him. As she gazed at Xian Chengyue’s profile, illuminated by the sunlight, his features appeared even more refined and sharply defined. A patch of sunlight danced upon the tip of his nose, and specks of daylight flickered within his pitch-black eyes.
On the grassy field not far away, Su Yan had hoisted the young boy onto his shoulders. The boy clutched at Su Yan’s short hair, even attempting to poke Su Yan in the eyes before his hands were caught and blocked.
“Let’s go,” Xian Chengyue said, breaking into a stride with his long legs. Lin Min hurried to follow.
Stealing a cautious glance up at Xian Chengyue, Lin Min asked in a whisper, “Brother Xian, are you worried about Brother Yan? He is much too bold…”
Xian Chengyue turned his head to glance at Lin Min. “Worried about him?”
Lin Min nodded slightly.
Xian Chengyue replied, “Whatever decisions he makes, he alone must bear the consequences.”
As the red glow of sunset blanketed the sky just before nightfall, Su Yan returned with Liang Shu and the others, looking disheveled and travel-worn. Bits of grass and dirt clung to Su Yan’s hair, clothes, and legs, though he was still in far better shape than Liang Shu and Feng Zhong, whose severed fingers had been wrapped in hastily improvised, somewhat clean strips of cloth.
Fortunately, before cutting the fingers off, they had remembered to tie off their hands with the girls’ elastic hair bands to prevent excessive bleeding.
Stains of blood marked nearly all of them, and every face was drained of color. Carefully cradling the mung bean cakes in her hands was Xie Youmin.
“Let’s take turns keeping watch over the mung bean cakes tonight,” Liang Shu said, supported by Brother Zhou. Her legs felt weak, and cold sweat streamed down her body; knowing Brother Zhou was already supporting Feng Zhong, she did not dare to place her full weight onto him.
Brother Zhou said, “I’ll watch. I’ll take the first watch tonight, make up for sleep tomorrow during the day, and you guys get some rest.”
Tears streamed down his face as he muttered, “I didn’t do anything wrong…”
He had merely hacked off the fingers of two teammates, yet he remained completely unharmed, having lost nothing at all.
When Su Yan stepped inside, he found Xian Chengyue standing by the doorway. Their eyes met, but Xian Chengyue wore a blank expression and quickly looked away. The corners of Su Yan’s lips curled upward see, even if Xian Chengyue didn’t voice it, he was undoubtedly worried about him, completely won over by his fearless and self-sacrificing spirit.
“Brother Yan, you should go wash your face before it gets completely dark…” Lin Min walked over to Su Yan, her eyes filled with admiration.
Su Yan was a good person. Even though his face and demeanor didn’t quite fit the traditional mold of a good guy, he had indeed braved danger to help Liang Shu and the others.
Such a person was too precious to find; if she ever fell into danger, Su Yan certainly wouldn’t stand by and do nothing.
Remembering Xian Chengyue’s parting glance, Su Yan stiffened. He sluggishly pulled out a wet wipe, tore open the packaging, and wiped his face. When he pulled the tissue away, it was caked with dirt and grass debris. Had he really been staring eye-to-eye at Xian Chengyue with a face looking like that?
Just as he turned around to throw the dirty wipe away, he spotted Zhao峰 standing silently right behind him.
Rain had yet to fall by today, leaving Zhao and his group unable to collect rain-water, while the red-haired boy’s fate had taught them that well water could not be used as a substitute.
A heavy, suffocating oppressive air hung around Zhao. Fixing his gaze on Su Yan, the jealousy and hatred in his eyes were impossible to conceal.
Su Yan smiled back at Zhao: “Brother Zhao, still haven’t figured things out yet?”
Pressing his lips tightly together, Zhao clenched his back teeth. Without a single word, he brushed past Su Yan and walked straight back to his group’s room.
Watching Zhao’s retreating back, Su Yan narrowed his eyes and let out a soft huff.
He genuinely wanted to know when Jiang Zhongxu would finally break and destroy Zhao; when that day came, he wouldn’t mind sitting back to enjoy the sight of Zhao struggling in agony.
By the looks of it, Zhao was going to make a move against him very soon.
With a slight click of his tongue, Su Yan pulled out another wet wipe to clean his hands, lamenting that he couldn’t wash his hair right now.
He reeked of sweat and the fishy, earthy smell of mud. It seemed he would have to find a chance tomorrow to bathe down by the river.
As soon as he stepped inside, he extended an invitation to Xian Chengyue: “Brother Xian, I’m thinking of going down to the river to wash up tomorrow. Are you coming? We could also buy some clothes from the villagers along the way and change out of these filthy sets.”
Xian Chengyue and Lin Min replied almost simultaneously: “Okay.”
Lin Min cast a quiet, sidelong glance at Xian Chengyue she had assumed Xian Chengyue lived entirely above earthly matters, not made of flesh and blood at all. It turned out that even Xian Chengyue sweated, bathed, and needed a change of clothes.
“No matter what noises you hear tonight, do not make a fuss or shout out,” Xian Chengyue instructed, looking directly at Lin Min.
Lin Min nodded hastily: “I know, I… I definitely won’t make a sound.”
If the members of this group had no other redeeming qualities, at least they were obedient. And sometimes, obedience was the greatest virtue at least as far as he was concerned.
Once night fell, Xian Chengyue stepped out the door, with Su Yan following closely behind.
The moment they stepped outside, they ran straight into Chen Wei, who flashed Su Yan a smile.
The smile was exceptionally pure, brimming with goodwill, and paired with Chen Wei’s youthful appearance, it amplified his innocent, teenage charm. Su Yan narrowed his eyes, concluding that people the world over judged others by their faces.
No matter how calculating Chen Wei might be, having a face that appeared harmless would always cause many people to lower their guard.
“Brother Xian, I’m heading to the village chief’s house,” Chen Wei murmured, leaning slightly toward Xian Chengyue.
Xian Chengyue furrowed his brow slightly: “Why are you going alone?”
Chen Wei sighed lightly, his voice soft and devoid of resentment: “Let’s not talk about them. This kind of mission is high-risk to begin with, and having a crowd doesn’t necessarily make things better. Going by myself actually lowers the probability of getting caught.”
Xian Chengyue cast a glance at Chen Wei.
It appeared Chen Wei possessed a tougher backbone than his brother.
“Being bold is a good thing,” Xian Chengyue offered, bestowing a rare compliment.
Chen Wei bit his lip with a trace of embarrassment, lowering his head slightly so that a few strands of slightly long hair brushed against his temple. The instant he looked back up, his facial features softened remarkably.
Veins bulged visibly along Su Yan’s temples as he watched.
Yet he had to admit Chen Wei was brilliant: he had covertly lodged a complaint, advertised his own consideration and courage, and then wrapped it all up with a shy, delicate lower-head tilt.
He had still underestimated Chen Wei.
Unaware of what was going through Su Yan’s mind, Chen Wei simply held fast to the advice his brother had given him.
Once you manage to cling to Xian Chengyue’s coattails, you must never let go; who knew, there might even be a chance to cross paths again in the future.
The three of them parted ways at the intersection.
Xian Chengyue and Su Yan headed up the mountain, while Chen Wei went off to play the thief.
Sauntering casually beside Xian Chengyue, Su Yan asked, “Does Brother Xian get along pretty well with Chen Wei?”
Xian Chengyue scanned the moonlight. There were no clouds surrounding the moon tonight, meaning the moonlight wouldn’t be obscured anytime soon. With mild indifference, he answered, “Chen Wei is alright.”
The mountain path remained as difficult to navigate as before.
Stepping closely behind Xian Chengyue, Su Yan suddenly inquired, “Brother Xian, which city do you live in during the real world?”
Xian Chengyue didn’t break his stride: “Why ask that?”
“Maybe we live in the same city. We could meet up.”
Xian Chengyue turned his head, fixing Su Yan with a cold stare.
That gaze was both profound and freezing.
Su Yan came to a halt.
Within Xian Chengyue’s indifferent eyes, not a single trace of warmth remained.
Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, Su Yan chuckled, “I was just asking casually. Don’t take it seriously.”
Resuming their climb up the mountain, they found the night forest far from quiet. The chirping of insects, the rustling of wings, the blowing night wind, and the whispering friction of leaves created a cacophony of sound. The night breeze carried a mixture of fresh wood, soil, and a faint odor of decay, blending into an aroma that was neither particularly pleasant nor entirely offensive.
The higher they climbed toward the summit, the more pungent the stench of chicken droppings became, especially since they were walking against the downwind side, growing stronger with every step.
Pushing open the wooden door of the thatch-roofed shack at the summit, Xian Chengyue shifted slightly to the side and asked Su Yan, “Are you catching it, or am I?”
Su Yan: “…”
These chickens weren’t plucked carcasses; they were fully alive, filthy, stinking, and prone to pecking people.
Seeing that Su Yan didn’t move, Xian Chengyue prepared to step inside and handle it himself when Su Yan took a deep breath and plunged inside first.
Rapidly flinging open a chicken coop, he grabbed a chicken with the greatest speed he had mustered in his entire life.
Because he used too much force and grabbed it by the neck, he nearly choked the bird to death.
The moment it was caught, the chicken went wild, thrashing its neck and trying to peck at Su Yan’s arm. Unprepared for such ferocious combat capabilities from a mere chicken, Su Yan nearly lost his grip, and his arm was pecked, leaving a bloody scratch.
“Grab its wings,” Xian Chengyue instructed.
Fumbling frantically, Su Yan adjusted his grip until the chicken could no longer reach him with its beak.
“Isn’t there still one night left?” Su Yan asked on their way back down the mountain.
He had assumed Xian Chengyue would wait until the night before the village chief collected the sacrificial offerings to catch the chicken.
Given what happened to Liang Shu’s group, their chicken wouldn’t be safe either.
Besides, keeping a chicken inside their room, it smelled utterly foul.
A chicken wasn’t a human; it didn’t use an outhouse.
“It hasn’t rained yet,” Xian Chengyue stated.
Su Yan paused for a moment.
Xian Chengyue continued, “I said before, there are no truly impossible tasks in the inner world. If it rains tomorrow, we won’t be able to go up the mountain after dark, we won’t even be able to leave the room, and we won’t be able to make a sound, just in case.”
“You always think things through so thoroughly, Brother Xian,” Su Yan smiled.
Descending a mountain was always harder than climbing it; small slopes were easy to ascend but troublesome to walk down, particularly with Su Yan holding a struggling chicken.
Having lived into his adulthood, this was the absolute first time he had ever grabbed such a creature.
Xian Chengyue moved with effortless lightness. Accustomed to this kind of terrain, no matter how steep the slope, he navigated down rapidly, looking as nimble as a swallow.
In contrast, Su Yan who had grown up entirely in the city with hikes limited to flat plains looked somewhat clumsy and uncoordinated.
Watching Su Yan’s awkward posture as he carried the chicken while keeping his head down to find his footing, a softer expression flickered across Xian Chengyue’s gaze.
“Brother Xian…”
Before the final syllable could leave his lips, Su Yan abruptly snapped his mouth shut.
A hand had clamped firmly around his ankle.
Something resembling water weeds crawled up his leg, wrapping around his waist.
The stench of rot and fishy slime crept upward from his feet to his nostrils.
Something cold slid across his wrist, leaving a trail of viscous mucus winding down his skin.
The sensation was identical to countless crawling insects searching for a host body, and even two layers of clothing failed to block the disgusting tactile feedback. The chicken in Su Yan’s hands thrashed frantically; Su Yan found himself unable to lift his feet, his soles anchored heavily to the ground by the earth itself.
The water-weed-like entity coiled tightly around his neck, intensifying the foul odor.
His imprisoned ankle had gone completely numb, and the cold, viscous liquid had soaked completely through his trouser legs and shoes.
He finally realized what those water-weed-like things actually were.
They were a woman’s long, unbound hair.