Wang Dazhu propped himself up, a flash of greedy light crossing his eyes.
“Little brother… you’ve got a kind heart. Help me a bit more—take me back to your house. We can keep each other company and look after one another.”
As he spoke, he reached out to grab Ye Qing.
“Don’t move!” Ye Qing shouted sharply, pulling out her machete and taking a defensive stance.
“This water was hard-earned. You’ve had your share—now get lost!”
The smile on Wang Dazhu’s face instantly froze. Seeing that the “little boy” was just a thin, half-grown kid, his expression turned vicious without any disguise.
“You little brat, you think you can act tough? In this godforsaken place, water is life! You think you can just hoard it and not get killed for it?”
With that, he lunged forward, trying to snatch the machete from her hand.
Ye Qing seized the chance and kicked his injured leg. Wang Dazhu screamed in pain, and his greed twisted into cruelty.
“You dare hurt me?! I’ll kill you today and take all your water!”
He went mad, charging at her relentlessly. Ye Qing was forced to retreat again and again until her foot caught and she fell hard to the ground.
The machete slipped from her hand and slid far away.
Wang Dazhu grinned ferociously and rushed over, grabbing her wrist.
“Let’s see where you run now!”
In that critical moment, Ye Qing’s mind went blank. All the self-defense techniques she had learned before were gone—useless in a life-or-death fight.
Just as his hand was about to clamp around her neck, she suddenly bent her body and drove her knee upward with all her strength, striking him precisely in the groin.
Wang Dazhu let out a howl and released her. Ye Qing scrambled up and grabbed the machete again.
After a moment, Wang Dazhu staggered back up, eyes bloodshot, and sneered.
“Run? Where can you run? There’s not even a mouse left in this village. Even if you kill me, you’ll still die guarding that little bit of water!”
He pulled out a dagger and charged again.
“Courting death!” Ye Qing roared, gripping her machete and rushing forward without hesitation.
…
She sidestepped the incoming blade and swung her machete into his arm.
She had originally aimed for his neck, but he dodged at the last moment. Ye Qing panted heavily, staring at him.
Wang Dazhu cried out in pain and dropped the dagger with a clang. He hadn’t expected this thin-looking boy to be so strong.
In these past seven days since transmigrating—thirst burning her throat, hunger gnawing at her stomach, and the hatred from the original owner’s death—all of it surged at once.
She tightened her grip on the machete and stepped forward slowly. The blade scraped over the dagger on the ground with a piercing sound.
Wang Dazhu panicked completely and turned to run.
“Help! Murder! Someone help!”
Ye Qing knew clearly—if she let him go, she would never have peace again. In this barren place, mercy wasn’t worth a sip of water.
She had never killed anyone in her previous life. But pushed to this point, she gritted her teeth, gripped the machete with both hands, and swung it down toward the back of his neck.
A dull thud.
Wang Dazhu’s body jerked once, then collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
Ye Qing froze.
Her hands trembled violently around the machete. Staring at the spreading blood, her chest rose and fell sharply. The fear and shock of killing someone for the first time surged over her like a tidal wave.
Her stomach churned violently. She staggered to the wall and retched, but only bitter water came out.
She forced herself to breathe, over and over, telling herself:
He attacked first. I was only trying to survive. I had no choice.
In a place where human lives were worth less than grass, survival meant being harsher than others.
After the fear came a cold clarity.
She couldn’t stay here.
Forcing herself to calm down, she wiped the dagger clean on the corpse’s clothes and dragged the body into the weeds by the roadside to hide it.
Just as she was about to leave, her hand brushed against a money pouch at his waist. Inside were several taels of broken silver and two pieces of jewelry.
She didn’t have time to inspect them. She grabbed everything and staggered back to her house.
Once inside, she locked the door and quickly began packing, erasing all traces of habitation—fire marks, signs of living, everything had to go.
The road ahead was long, and life and death uncertain.
She looked back one last time at this village that had given the original owner endless suffering—and also given her a chance at rebirth.
“Liuye Village, goodbye.”
“Ye Qing, I’ll walk your path for you. I’ll remember your debts too.”
By the hour of Chen, she had already left the village, walking east with her pack on her back.
Her thin but upright figure stretched long under the sunlight.
She knew—the real trial had only just begun.
…Okay, no more pretending to be cool.
It’s already September in this damn weather, but it still feels like peak summer. In her memory, it should be snowing in over a month—why is it still this hot?
The dirt road beneath her feet was cracked like dried earth. Each step made a crunching sound. She was still wearing old straw sandals, and the soles burned as if on fire.
Too tired. Worse than running 3,000 meters in midsummer heat.
By the time the sun reached overhead, her vision started to darken. She felt dizzy, like she was walking on cotton.
One more step and she might actually die.
Her original plan had been simple: follow the main road out of the village, rest in forest paths when needed. The nearest town was supposed to be a full day and night away.
The place was so empty it didn’t even feel real. She didn’t know how Wang Dazhu had even found this village.
But she never expected the forest to offer no shade at all.
The drought was too severe. Grass and shrubs had all turned brittle yellow, snapping with a touch.
No animals. No birds. Not a single sound.
The dead silence made her feel like she was trapped in some lifeless illusion.
Her vision blurred. She thought she saw Old Man Chen’s face covered in maggots, turning slowly toward her with a grin.
Then his sickly son appeared, pale as paper, weakly waving at her.
Then Wang Dazhu again—bloodied, crawling toward her with a twisted face, the stench of blood filling the air.
She tried to scream, but her throat wouldn’t make a sound.
Cold sweat mixed with heat drenched her clothes, clinging to her skin. Her face was as white as paper.
In her dazed state, she even took a step toward those shadows—
And then a flash of clarity struck her mind.
No. No. They’re already dead.
The boundary between life and death cannot be crossed.
Rest in peace… all of you.