Chapter 193: A Mountain Suspended, A River Submerged (7)
Yan Shixun hadn’t stopped thinking about the small wooden cottage next door, so he ate lunch absentmindedly. He didn’t move his chopsticks much until Lu Xingxing noticed and insisted on holding a sweet potato in front of him, prompting him to finally take a few half-hearted bites.
Whether it was the chrysanthemum patterns carved all around or the elderly woman with the strange lower-body disability, everything made him feel like something was off.
But what was even stranger—was himself.
Yan Shixun knew he wasn’t someone who easily forgot things, yet during just this short lunch, even though he had repeatedly reminded himself to go back and ask the old woman more questions, to find out what she had left unsaid, the thought kept slipping his mind in the blink of an eye.
He could clearly and calmly feel as though his entire body was soaked in hot water. The steam seemed to open every pore in his skin, thoroughly flushing out all the accumulated fatigue and negative emotions from his body.
Only happiness and contentment remained.
What did a person look like in a state of pure bliss?
The brain stopped turning. All the vigilance and caution slackened. Aside from lazily watching time pass by, no thought that required mental effort would arise.
Yan Shixun realized—that was exactly his state at the moment.
But it was precisely this feeling that made him feel it was laughable.
There were very few places in the world that could truly make him let down all his defenses. Up until now, only that little courtyard in Binhai City had ever done so.
After Li Chengyun’s death, he had taken the burden of his world upon his own shoulders. His backbone, as tough as steel, had never once bent under the weight.
But in exchange… he had never let down his guard against humans, gods, or ghosts.
And so, just as he became wary of his current state, Yan Shixun also realized something troubling—he seemed unable to remember anything that made him feel that sense of caution.
Sure, walking into the kitchen and forgetting what you were about to get was common. But for it to happen a dozen times in such a short span? That was far from normal.
It was as if he were continuously feeding information into his brain—only to have some invisible hand immediately delete it.
Yan Shixun lifted his gaze slightly and calmly surveyed the people around him.
The guests were still chatting excitedly about everything they had just seen: the village scenery, the friendly elderly folks. They were so animated, gesturing and laughing, that it seemed like no one had noticed anything strange.
Because the guests were filming, they were given the same food as the crew, but they sat and ate on separate sides.
While the guests kept marveling at the pure sweetness and greenness of the crops, the staff on the other side looked lethargic and unwell.
Maybe it was just from exhaustion, but several of the crew members kept drinking water.
One of them even scratched his neck while drinking. The skin had turned bright red, dotted with rash-like spots, and looked so damaged that if he kept scratching, it would definitely break open.
Yan Shixun had originally been trying to observe if anyone else felt the same odd sensations he did, but unexpectedly, the crew’s condition drew his attention first.
He got up and walked over, asking, “Are you having an allergic reaction?”
The crew member was scratching his neck irritably, completely unaware that he had already injured himself.
Startled by Yan Shixun’s question, he looked up, then followed Yan Shixun’s gaze as the latter pointed subtly toward his neck. That’s when he finally noticed something was wrong.
Lifting his hand for a closer look, he saw traces of blood beneath his nails—his skin had already been scratched open.
Startled, the staff member snapped back to reality. He had no idea what he’d just done to himself and only now realized his whole body felt unbearably itchy.
“Sorry about that, Mr. Yan.”
Seeing Yan Shixun come over even while filming was ongoing, the staff member gave an apologetic smile, worried he might interfere with the program. He said, “I do have a pollen allergy. I probably came into contact with something by accident.”
Pollen?
For people allergic to pollen, spring and autumn were the worst seasons—especially spring. Winter, by comparison, was usually the most manageable of the four seasons.
So how could he come into contact with pollen in winter…?
Then Yan Shixun remembered—the courtyard of that little wooden cottage next door was filled with blooming chrysanthemums.
But he was well aware of the crew’s movements. Although he hadn’t paid attention to exactly what each person was doing, when he had examined the strange flower patterns in his room, he had kept part of his mind focused on their safety.
He remembered very clearly: the crew had a long list of tasks to complete before nightfall, so they had mostly stayed in the small house’s living room. Only a few had gone outside to film extra footage for the tourism promo video.
This staff member with the allergy had been in the living room the entire time. By logic, he should never have had the chance to come into contact with those chrysanthemums.
Still, now wasn’t the time to press the issue.
Yan Shixun raised his hand and gripped the man’s forearm, lifting him from his seat to take a closer look at the rash on his neck.
“You knew you had allergies—did you bring any medication?”
Yan Shixun frowned and added, “Don’t scratch it. It’s hard to treat once the skin’s broken.”
In the wild, the last thing you wanted was an open wound.
If the skin remained intact, it served as a natural barrier, protecting the body from most bacteria and allowing injuries to heal through the body’s own regenerative ability.
But once that skin was broken and exposed to the air or other unknown substances, infection became a real risk—and could easily lead to serious complications.
After all, they were in the wilderness, deep in the mountains—no one could say for sure what hidden dangers might be lurking. If something serious really happened, it would be especially difficult to get out of the mountains, making it nearly impossible to receive timely, professional medical help.
At that moment, Yan Shixun tightly gripped the man’s hands to stop him from scratching his skin raw again.
Even though the staff member still felt unbearably itchy, he had worked with many production teams before and had picked up quite a bit of first aid and wilderness survival knowledge. He understood that Yan Shixun was acting out of concern for him.
So, he gave Yan Shixun a grateful smile. “I always carry medicine with me—it’s upstairs. I can grab it myself. Mr. Yan, please go back. Don’t let this delay the shoot.”
The man’s expression was sincere, and Yan Shixun didn’t insist on going against someone’s will—especially when this wasn’t really a major issue. Since the man suffered from chronic allergies and carried his own medication, he clearly had experience handling situations like this.
If Yan Shixun insisted on interfering, he might only make things worse.
He stood in place, brow furrowed deeply, watching as the staff member stepped on the wooden stairs, which creaked underfoot as he climbed up.
Viewers watching from the split-screen feed were a bit puzzled—why was Yan Shixun so focused on a staff member?
[Usually variety shows avoid showing backstage crew, right? Why is Brother Yan going over there on purpose?]
[Ha! You think Brother Yan remembers he’s even in a livestream? Other people try to act their best on camera. Yan? It’s a miracle if he even notices he’s being filmed.]
[But when the camera got close just now, it nearly zoomed in on that guy—scared me! His skin was so red. Allergies are terrifying.]
[I get allergic reactions too—redness and small bumps—but I was still shocked just now.]
[The scratch marks on his arms… weirdly, they kind of looked like chrysanthemums? Why did they look kind of pretty though?]
[Sort of, yeah. Some types of chrysanthemums have long petals, and the nail scratches were long and thin—if you didn’t look closely, they did resemble that a bit.]
[Blood-red chrysanthemums… No wonder I got chills. Where I’m from, chrysanthemums are used for tomb-sweeping and funerals. Just seeing them makes me uneasy.]
[Huh? Customs must be different. Where I’m from, chrysanthemums symbolize longevity. You know—plum, orchid, bamboo, chrysanthemum. They’re considered good.]
Because the staff member quickly disappeared off-screen, the viewers only chatted casually for a few lines before losing interest and shifting topics.
But Yan Shixun remained standing in place for a long time, until An Nanyuan noticed someone was missing and came looking for him.
“Brother Yan, what are you looking at?”
An Nanyuan had a roasted sweet potato in his mouth as he curiously peeked over Yan Shixun’s shoulder, trying to see what had caught his attention.
But all he saw was an empty wooden staircase.
Maybe it was because the building was old and close to water. The wooden structure had absorbed moisture and then dried out again, causing it to swell and shrink. So even when no one was walking on it, the stairs still creaked softly in the breeze.
It was as if something invisible was standing there—grinning—silently watching the oblivious people in the room from the stairs.
Blood trickled down from the figure’s feet, dyeing the staircase a dark, reddish hue.
Its mouth gaped open, hollow and eerie, with light filtering through as if a thin layer of paper stretched across it, turning the silhouette black and white in the light.
An Nanyuan was startled by his own imagination. He quickly closed his eyes, then opened them again—and saw nothing on the stairs.
Only the wooden steps, still creaking gently.
He had originally come over to find Yan Shixun, but now it seemed like he had managed to spook himself. Quickly, he grabbed Yan Shixun’s arm for comfort.
Yan Shixun looked down at the sweet potato crumbs An Nanyuan had left on his shirt sleeve.
“…………”
He lifted his gaze, speechless, and stared at An Nanyuan with an expression that said: Have you been corrupted by Zhang Dabing now too?
The people around him really might all need name changes—An Youbing, Lu Youbing, Zhang Youbing… Why did they all love wiping things on him?
A vein throbbed on Yan Shixun’s temple. Even his usual businesslike smile turned somewhat twisted.
An Nanyuan had reacted instinctively when startled, totally forgetting that he still had food in his hand. Now, realizing his mistake, he gave a sheepish laugh and tried to wipe away the “evidence.”
Yan Shixun lightly raised his arm to avoid it, but instead brought up something else.
“An Nanyuan, why do you look so cheerful?”
Yan Shixun stared at him steadily, not letting any small change in his expression escape his notice, and calmly asked, “You’re still in a lawsuit with your former company. You’re constantly dealing with slander from your old group members. You also have to build your own studio from scratch. All of these things piled together—even with help from Song Ci and the others—aren’t easy to resolve.”
“Yet ever since we entered the mountains, you haven’t shown a hint of worry about any of it.”
Yan Shixun might not care about the entertainment industry, but that didn’t mean he ignored what he heard around him.
During the trip here, An Nanyuan had chatted nonstop with Lu Xingxing in the business van, occasionally bringing up Song Ci too. Most of the conversation revolved around his recent contract disputes.
As one of the top celebrities now, there was no way his former company would let go willingly. Even with the Song family supporting An Nanyuan, the old company continued to stir up trouble in private.
In addition to setting up his own studio, An Nanyuan had to shift from being managed to managing others. As a newcomer to this role, he naturally ran into all sorts of unexpected problems.
Before coming to film this episode, An Nanyuan had been overwhelmed with work. His mind was cluttered with countless tasks. Happiness was out of the question—he had been so burdened that he felt completely numb.
He didn’t have anyone suitable to vent to. His rise in the industry had been too fast, and he hadn’t had time to make friends. All he had were colleagues and competitors. So any complaints he had just piled up inside his heart.
It wasn’t until he saw Lu Xingxing and Song Ci that he finally brightened up and poured out all his frustrations to them.
He talked so much that Song Ci almost wanted to punch him.
Still, because of this, Yan Shixun, who had been half-listening to their conversation in the car, ended up learning about everything An Nanyuan had been through recently.
But ever since they entered the mountains, An Nanyuan hadn’t mentioned a single word about any of it.
If it had been because the mountain roads were too treacherous at the start, making it hard for him to think about anything else, that would’ve been understandable.
But now?
An Nanyuan had been smiling the entire time, his face glowing with ease and happiness. It wasn’t the fake smile of an idol on duty—it was genuine.
—He truly felt happy.
Yan Shixun didn’t believe An Nanyuan was someone who simply brushed things off. Unlike Lu Xingxing, he had always been someone with a clear plan. He wasn’t the type to abandon work just to have fun.
Precisely because he knew him so well, Yan Shixun couldn’t help but feel that there was something off about that smile.
“Huh?”
An Nanyuan was caught off guard by the question for a moment. Then he tilted his head back, trying hard to recall.
“Mm… I guess so.”
He scratched his head, looking a bit puzzled. “But I don’t know why—whenever I try to remember, it just slips away. I just feel like I should focus on happier things instead.”
An Nanyuan tried hard to recall, but all the troubling tasks that had weighed on him before now slipped away like slippery fish, impossible to catch.
He tried to explain how he felt to Yan Shixun: “It’s like there’s a funnel that filters out all the unhappy stuff and only leaves the joyful parts. Like there’s a hole in my head—I just can’t hold onto those things.”
When Yan Shixun realized An Nanyuan was feeling something similar to himself, his expression grew more serious.
Humans had an instinct for self-preservation. The brain would transform things that were too overwhelming into manageable images to prevent a complete breakdown.
But Yan Shixun didn’t think this was one of those cases… There was a fundamental difference.
It was as if something—or someone—didn’t want people to remember the painful things, so even the memories themselves became joyful.
An Nanyuan, during this short conversation with Yan Shixun, had momentarily remembered that he still had a pile of problems waiting for him outside the mountain.
But then he immediately forgot again, smiling as he asked if Yan Shixun wanted to eat more. The local crops here really were delicious.
He even sighed with emotion, “Life outside the mountain was so hectic—I didn’t even know what I was living for. Now that I think about it, it feels like a completely different life, so far away that I can barely recall it.”
He lifted the sweet potato in his hand toward the sunlight, watching the warm golden light pass through it. The steam and sweet fragrance of the sweet potato seemed to wrap around him, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“This is the life… spending your days slowly, eating good food—I feel so happy I don’t even want to go back.”
Yan Shixun had seen many people say similar things when under intense pressure—how they wanted to escape city life and live a peaceful countryside existence.
But even if those people were sincere, very few ever actually followed through.
Adults had too many responsibilities, too many ties.
Take An Nanyuan, for example. If he really chose to stay in the mountains and never leave, then the people who had supported him in leaving his former company, the assistants, managers, makeup artists he had brought with him—they would all face serious financial and career consequences.
It was easy to say such things. Actually doing them was something else entirely.
But right now, watching An Nanyuan, Yan Shixun suddenly felt that he was truly serious.
Yan Shixun furrowed his brows, about to ask something more, when one of the guests noticed the two of them chatting alone and called out with a laugh, “What are you two whispering about over there? Let us in on it too!”
Lu Xingxing, holding up some food, shouted teasingly, “Master aunt is right inside, Brother Yan, and you’re out here doing something like this? You’re terrible! How could you betray him?”
Because Lu Xingxing deliberately made his voice sound goofy, and given his usual playful personality, everyone assumed he was joking and burst into laughter. No one took it seriously.
An Nanyuan laughed and scolded, “Lu Xingxing, let your fans see what you look like now. An independent musician? You’re not even as independent as a three-year-old!”
As he said that, An Nanyuan ran over and started chasing Lu Xingxing, the two of them running circles around the huge wooden table in the living room, like a couple of overexcited puppies.
The laughter in the living room was so loud it seemed like it could lift the roof. The atmosphere was harmonious and lively, with not a single hint of anything unusual.
Yan Shixun stood quietly for a moment, intending to head out and look for a guide.
But as he raised his hand, he noticed some sweet potato crumbs clinging to his sleeve.
On the black fabric of his shirt, the orange-red bits of sweet potato stood out starkly, still slightly damp.
Yan Shixun: “……”
Tsk.
Yan Shixun refused to walk around in such a stained shirt. He turned back to his room to change, but when he opened the door, he found that Ye Li was not there.
Puzzled, he took a few quick steps forward and only then, with a shift in his field of vision, did he see Ye Li standing on the balcony outside. His tall figure was silent and motionless, like a lifeless statue.
Yan Shixun found it strange.
Before, no matter where he went, Ye Li was always right by his side as soon as he turned around. But just now, he hadn’t noticed him at all.
Moreover, Ye Li had been acting oddly ever since they entered the mountains today. His face remained dark and gloomy, as if he were angry.
But what kind of problem could possibly be unsolvable for a ghost deity?
In Yan Shixun’s eyes, Ye Li was similar to him—someone who preferred to settle grudges immediately. Especially given Ye Li’s immense power, if he were truly upset, how could he be silently brooding alone in some deserted corner?
No matter how he looked at it, it was suspicious.
“Ye Li?”
Yan Shixun walked over in confusion and stood beside Ye Li, following his gaze.
Below the wooden balcony, the river water rushed joyfully, crashing against the rocks and sending up fine mist that carried a refreshing, sweet scent.
Yet, there was nothing unusual or noteworthy enough to draw Ye Li’s attention.
Yan Shixun looked several times but couldn’t find anything wrong with the river. On the contrary, it seemed full of vibrant energy and spirit.
Even though he remained wary of Longevity Village because of some strange details, he had to admit, the environment there was genuinely excellent.
Though he had traveled across the country, it was the first time he had seen such crystal-clear water—pure, sweet, and most importantly, brimming with a life force that other places lacked.
If Wild Wolf Peak had not been destroyed by the evil god, and still enjoyed the protection of a mountain god, its water might have reached a similar state.
But the reality was, even places like Wild Wolf Peak, where mountain gods had once survived, were rare. Not to mention in recent years, the divine power lingering in the world had diminished even further. Such spiritual vitality had long since disappeared.
Yan Shixun stood beside Ye Li for a long time, but couldn’t figure out what he was looking at. So he asked, puzzled, “Are you just enjoying the scenery?”
In his impression, Ye Li wasn’t that kind of person.
Ye Li’s eyelashes, dark as crow feathers, quivered slightly. When he raised his eyes, he buried the deep, shadowy light within them even deeper. By the time he looked at Yan Shixun again, he had returned to his usual smile.
“No, I was just remembering something.”
With Yan Shixun there, the coldness surrounding Ye Li gradually faded, and the warmth of the human world returned to him bit by bit.
“You’ve been here before?” Yan Shixun asked, surprised. “You seem to dislike the human world so much—I thought you’d stay far away from it.”
“I once walked among humans too.”
Ye Li hadn’t expected that this was the impression Yan Shixun had of him. For a moment, he was caught between amusement and helplessness. He gave a soft chuckle, both resigned and indulgent. “I’ve given the human world chances… many times.”
“It just failed to hold onto them.”
Ye Li tilted his head slightly and looked out at the distant mountains. His gaze grew profound. “I don’t have a good impression of the southern regions…”
“But that was before I met you. After meeting you, I developed some fondness for the human world.”
Ye Li smiled faintly. “If you were in the southern regions, then perhaps I’d like that place a bit more too. It wouldn’t be impossible.”
Yan Shixun hadn’t expected that just by coming back to change clothes, Ye Li would say all this. For a moment, he stood there awkwardly, unsure how to respond.
He had always been insensitive to emotions, and never really paid attention to his own feelings. He had never imagined himself forming such karmic bonds with someone, so naturally, he never thought along those lines.
However, Lan Ze’s blunt and direct remarks earlier had left Yan Shixun feeling stuck and helpless.
He didn’t believe what Lan Ze said was true—it even felt absurd and unreal.
But every time Yan Shixun thought Lan Ze had indeed misjudged things—that Ye Li wasn’t really as Lan Ze had claimed—Ye Li would always manage to do something that shattered his assumptions.
Like now.
Ye Li made no effort to hide his affection, extending it even to everything and everyone related to Yan Shixun. It was so obvious in Yan Shixun’s eyes.
His lips moved slightly, unsure how to respond. After a long pause, he finally gave a light cough and quickly pushed Ye Li toward the door as if trying to escape.
Ye Li: “Hmm?”
Yan Shixun put on a serious face. “I need to change clothes. Could you give me some privacy?”
Ye Li chuckled. “Haven’t you already changed in front of me before? We’re both men—nothing to be shy about. That’s what you said back then.”
Yan Shixun’s expression remained calm, but the skin beside his temple, partially hidden by loose strands of hair, flushed with a faint, almost unnoticeable red.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Yan Shixun replied, his face composed and voice steady. “Or you can switch rooms with Zhang Wubing. I’ll stay with him instead.”
Ye Li raised his arms in mock surrender, signaling that he would leave.
Only after the door shut did Yan Shixun let out a long sigh. He raised a cool hand to his cheek.
He figured maybe his palm was just too cold—why else would his face feel so hot?
He stood there taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down. Once he had settled, he quickly pulled a fresh shirt from his backpack and changed into it.
Outside, Ye Li stood listening to the faint rustling of fabric from inside the room, his eyes glimmering with a trace of amusement.
He shook his head lightly, ignored the laughter coming from the living room, and walked out through the main entrance of the guesthouse.
Sunlight spilled down, and Ye Li’s long, thick lashes trembled slightly like raven feathers, casting a shadow under his eyes that made his already sharp and cold gaze appear even darker and more dangerous.
His gaze swept across Longevity Village with a chill that held not even a trace of warmth.
Whether human, god, or ghost—any being would instinctively shy away the moment they met such eyes.
Yet in Longevity Village, the elderly folks lounging outside in the sun still smiled peacefully, as if Ye Li’s very presence meant nothing to them.
They went about their business as usual—some balancing buckets of water on shoulder poles, some briskly tending their vegetable gardens, and others energetically calling out greetings to one another.
You’d never guess they were all over a hundred years old.
One old man even noticed the figure standing by the guesthouse entrance and waved with a cheerful smile from afar.
Ye Li glanced at the elder who greeted him, but his cold eyes reflected none of the man’s image.
His gaze passed through rows of wooden cottages and landed on the mist-shrouded mountain ravine in the distance.
…
Yan Shixun buttoned his shirt one by one with his slender, deft fingers. His previously stirred emotions had gradually returned to calm.
Just as he was about to open the door and go look for a guide, he heard voices coming from the balcony outside.
Two old men had rolled up their pant legs and were drawing water by the river. Wooden buckets and a shoulder pole sat beside them, suggesting they were using a traditional method to fetch water.
But before they began, the two elders squatted by the river and started murmuring something quickly and softly.
It sounded like some kind of ancient and mysterious chant, but the syllables blended together so vaguely that Yan Shixun couldn’t make out what they were saying.
The old men mumbled for quite a while before finally bowing deeply to the river with solemn expressions, like devout followers worshipping a deity in a temple.
Only then did they lift the buckets and skillfully start fetching water.
Since their backs were to Yan Shixun, he couldn’t see what exactly they were doing, so he quickly walked a few steps closer, hoping to figure it out from their movements.
As soon as the old men stood up with their water, they spotted Yan Shixun on the balcony not far away and immediately broke into wide grins, cheerfully greeting him.
“A guest, huh? How are you settling in?”
One of them said with a smile, “We don’t raise pigs or livestock in the village, so we could only prepare dishes we usually eat ourselves. We don’t know if you folks are used to them or not. I was just scolding Ah Ye a moment ago, worrying that you might not enjoy your time here.”
Another elderly man continued the conversation, saying, “That’s right, you young ones have had such a hard time outside the mountains. It’s rare for you to get a moment to relax—we just don’t want you to be neglected.”
Although they were asking about meals, these two old men were quite different from the elderly woman Yan Shixun had encountered next door.
That old woman had given Yan Shixun the impression that she was genuinely and sincerely preparing food for the younger generation out of care. But these two men… their tone was more like asking if the pigs had been fed.
Yan Shixun frowned slightly, but since the two were smiling kindly and were elders, he didn’t want to seem cold or disrespectful. So he just gave a small nod in response.
Because the first floor was built half a meter above ground, the old men had to tilt their heads up to talk to Yan Shixun, which wasn’t very convenient.
Noticing this—and also wanting to take a closer look at how they were fetching water—Yan Shixun placed his hand on the wooden railing, and his tall frame leapt down smoothly from the balcony, landing steadily on the ground.
The old man hadn’t expected this guest to be so agile and momentarily lost control of his expression, showing a flash of surprise.
But he quickly returned to his cheerful demeanor and said, “The guest is quite skilled.”
When Yan Shixun walked closer to take a look, he saw that the wooden bucket the man was carrying was filled with clear river water.
“Elder, I noticed there’s a well in the yard. Why not use that? It’d be much easier than carrying water like this.”
He gestured behind him toward the village. “Why has the well been abandoned for so long?”
The old man hadn’t expected Yan Shixun to notice the well, and he was caught off guard. He froze for a moment before slowly replying, “There’s no particular reason… we just don’t want to use it…”
Before he could finish, the other elder patted him on the shoulder and took over the conversation with a smile. “I wonder if the guest has heard the rumors about our village.”
“Many say the land and water here are good, but we believe it’s really the river water that makes the difference.”
The second elder explained, “Well water is underground, while river water comes from the mountain streams upstream—they’re not the same. If you’ve never tried the well water, guest, it’s very astringent and bitter. Hard to drink. But this river water is different.”
He chuckled and added, “When you have something sweet, who’d choose the bitter?”
Putting on a concerned look, Yan Shixun asked, “Then elder, why not have the younger folks at home fetch the water? There’s no need for you to do such heavy labor. But now that I think of it… I haven’t seen any young people around on my way here. Did they go out to have fun?”
Yan Shixun had wanted to ask this question earlier, when speaking with the elderly woman, but she had only kept repeating, “As long as they’re alive, it’s fine,” refusing to answer him no matter how he asked.
So now, he deliberately tested the waters, hoping to learn something from the elders’ reactions.
—Even if their words were lies, the tiniest, instinctive reactions couldn’t be faked. That was human nature.
However, the elderly man didn’t seem to consider the question sensitive or offensive. He simply sighed and said, “Young people have their own careers. They don’t need us old folks anymore.”
The other man nodded in agreement. “Good thing our bodies are still holding up. Otherwise, life would really be unbearable.”
He added with a sigh, “All the children have gone off to work. Even if we wanted to keep them here with us, we wouldn’t have the heart to. As time goes on, they just don’t want to come back anymore, and that’s how it is.”
There was a trace of loneliness and melancholy in their expressions. One of them showed a moment of regret, but quickly returned to his usual composure.
Yan Shixun accepted this explanation.
Indeed, it was common nowadays for young people to leave rural areas for work, leaving behind villages full of elders. Considering that Longevity Village was in such a remote location, it was understandable that it would be difficult for those who left to return.
“What about those people who came to settle here before?”
Yan Shixun sharply noticed that there were no outsiders in the village and didn’t take the old man’s words at face value. Instead, he cut straight to the heart of the matter and pointed out what was off.
After all, Longevity Village had gained its fame thanks to the earliest wave of backpackers and settlers. It was because of the photos and travel journals they posted that people even came to know about this place and then were drawn to visit.
And naturally, those who were drawn here tended to be similar types of people.
For instance, those suffering from serious illness who didn’t want to burden their families anymore, or those tired of city life who longed for a peaceful retirement.
These were mostly middle-aged or even younger people, yet Yan Shixun still hadn’t seen any trace of them in the village. He hadn’t even found any of their supposed homes.
The old man responded calmly, “Ah, there’s really not much in the mountains. Those people did stay for a while, but they couldn’t take the boredom and left not long after.”
The other old man nodded with a tinge of regret. “I actually liked that photographer. What a pity.”
Yan Shixun frowned. “But the outside world never heard anything about them going back.”
Those who came to settle in Longevity Village usually stayed for a few months, returned home to settle their affairs, and then moved here permanently. After that, neither family nor friends ever heard from them again.
Everyone believed Longevity Village was a paradise that had managed to draw in so many people to live in seclusion.
But now, in the mouths of these old men, it had become a completely different story.
Faced with Yan Shixun’s doubt, the old man calmly shook his head. “That, I wouldn’t know. After they left, I don’t know what happened to them outside the village.”
Another old man chuckled and said, “We can’t compare with you young folks. We don’t use phones or anything like that. Look at this terrain—we’re deep in the mountains. It’s hard to get in or out, and we don’t keep in touch with the outside world.”
No matter what Yan Shixun asked, the old men always had an answer that seemed perfectly reasonable. From start to finish, their expressions never once faltered. They were sincere and friendly, like the kind of elders who answered everything at home with patience.
But still, Yan Shixun couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
The old man soon finished drawing the water, lifted the shoulder pole, and waved goodbye to Yan Shixun, even inviting him and the others to visit their home sometime.
Yan Shixun politely bid the old men farewell, but didn’t acknowledge their invitation.
Because of the earlier oddities, he remained cautious and didn’t want to create any kind of karmic entanglement with these old men.
For ordinary people, brushing off polite invitations was normal. But if the other party wasn’t who they seemed to be, then casually agreeing to visit their home…
Yan Shixun’s gaze darkened. Standing by the river, he turned slightly to keep watching the two old men as they walked side by side, heading back into the village.
He didn’t move until they disappeared from sight. Then, with long strides, he made his way toward the small wooden cottage next door, wanting to check on that old lady again.
Because the old lady was different from every other elder he had met in the village so far, Yan Shixun was certain that if something truly strange was going on here, the only one who might tell him the truth would be her.
But the small wooden cottage next door was silent and empty.
The rocking chair behind the window was still creaking back and forth.
Yet the old lady who had been sitting there was nowhere to be seen.
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