Chapter 195: A Mountain Suspended, A River Submerged (9)
Longevity Village wasn’t large, but by the time Yan Shixun walked back to the cottage, the sun had already completely disappeared behind the mountains.
Bright lights shone down, spilling across the ground outside the house. They became the only source of illumination that dispelled the darkness, drawing people in unconsciously.
Yet Yan Shixun stopped in his tracks just outside the building. Tilting his head back, he stared coldly at the lights and the silhouettes flickering behind the windows.
For a brief instant, the silhouette contorted into something grotesque—ghastly and terrifying like a ghost.
Then, in the blink of an eye, it returned to normal. The room inside once again looked cheerful, filled with laughter.
As soon as Yan Shixun pushed open the door, he was met with the sight of Lu Xingxing making funny faces while standing on the sofa, and the people around him were already laughing uncontrollably.
The moment Lu Xingxing caught sight of Yan Shixun, he suddenly felt like a child caught red-handed misbehaving at home when a parent returned unexpectedly.
He rubbed his nose awkwardly and jumped off the sofa with an embarrassed expression. “Brother Yan, why are you back so late? It’s already dark.”
The hike into the mountains had taken a serious toll on everyone’s energy, so after lunch, the guests had decided to rest a bit before heading out again.
But they hadn’t expected that “rest” to stretch on until now.
Only after hearing Lu Xingxing’s comment did the others, who hadn’t been paying attention to the outside, suddenly realize how dark it had become outside the window.
“Have we really been playing that long? All afternoon? I didn’t even feel it.”
An Nanyuan looked a bit dazed and even raised his wrist to check his watch.
When he saw it was only 3 PM, he was completely taken aback.
“Huh?” An Nanyuan exclaimed in surprise. “It’s already this dark at 3 PM?”
The others, prompted by his words, also noticed what was going on and were visibly startled.
“I was planning to go out and have a look around too.”
Song Ci let out a dramatic sigh, then shot Lu Xingxing a fierce glare. “If you hadn’t been so damn entertaining, I wouldn’t have forgotten to go out.”
Lu Xingxing: “??? How was this my fault?”
He really was innocent, okay?
In fact, it wasn’t until Yan Shixun returned and brought with him a gust of cold air and the darkness from outside that Lu Xingxing realized it had already gotten dark. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have noticed at all.
Lu Xingxing grumbled inwardly. Though annoyed by Song Ci’s scolding, he himself found the whole thing a bit odd too. He wasn’t the type who could sit still in one place for long. And a lighting change as obvious as nightfall—he should have noticed it.
And yet, he hadn’t felt anything strange this entire time.
It was as if his mind had been soaked in a warm bath on a cold winter’s day, the rising steam dulling his senses. He no longer cared about the world outside the tub. The contrast between warmth and cold had numbed his thoughts. His brain had stopped turning, and he didn’t want to think at all.
If it hadn’t been for the cold wind that swept in when Yan Shixun opened the door—if not for the shadowy darkness trailing behind him—Lu Xingxing wouldn’t have realized anything was wrong.
A strange sense of unease crept across Lu Xingxing’s heart. This kind of situation felt oddly familiar, but what exactly was it…
Fragments of broken images flickered through his mind.
The solemn face of his grandmaster, the corpse of a Taoist priest brought back from a mission, the sighs of the master uncles in the sect…
In a hazy blur, Lu Xingxing recalled many muffled conversations—voices tangled together—like the master uncles at the temple discussing past events.
“The last few spirit mediums and Taoists all died… One of them, when found, was nothing but a severed head.”
“What in the world is causing all this? Still no clue?”
“It’s strange—really strange. Several Taoists went over there afterward, but they all came back without doing anything. When I asked, they said they felt too happy, and forgot what they’d meant to do.”
“How could that be… That place has bones floating on the river, corpses sunken below. Countless people died there—how could anyone feel happy there?”
“Not just those few Taoists—several groups of people had gone. It wasn’t only us from Haiyun Temple, other sects had sent people too. Even witches had been there. But all returned without success. And when asked what exactly happened over there, none of them could say.”
“Sigh… Even from our Haiyun Temple alone, five or six Taoists have been lost. How could it be like this?”
“Taoist Li…”
Those voices clashed and echoed chaotically in his mind, a jumbled mess impossible to tell who was who.
Lu Xingxing felt like he was drifting away from reality, like a dying traveler trudging through a snowstorm, so cold that even hallucinations formed. He couldn’t tell what day it was, couldn’t distinguish truth from illusion. The voices in his head felt both distant and dreamlike—
Yet somehow right beside him, as if everything had just happened.
He tried hard to recall—it seemed like this had occurred years ago, when he had just entered the entertainment industry and set up his own music studio. His very first soundtrack had immediately won a major film score award.
He had been overjoyed, smug and proud, thrilled to prove to his master that he wasn’t just some good-for-nothing slacker who skipped lessons just for fun.
He had talent and had worked hard to create good music.
And now, winning an award right after debuting served as strong proof of that.
Lu Xingxing had felt that with this award in hand, he could finally walk tall and proud in the Taoist temple.
But when he had rushed back from the awards ceremony—leaving behind a crowd of fans and reporters, still wearing his dazzling custom-made suit—he had run straight to the temple, eager to show off to his master. Instead, he had found a heavy, somber atmosphere hanging in the air.
Back then, Lu Xingxing had only just become a disciple under Taoist Master Song Yi. He hadn’t even been qualified to carry the bags, let alone be sent out on missions.
So he had known very little about what was going on in the temple, and certainly hadn’t had the right to ask questions.
But even so, just by looking at the solemn, sorrowful faces of the others and the coffin placed in the courtyard, he had understood the gravity of the situation.
Awkwardly, he had taken off the glittering suit still catching the light, and in the cold wind, wearing only a plain black inner layer, he had bowed deeply to the coffin in the courtyard—paying his final respects to the Taoist who had given his life for the Dao.
Hiding behind a beam, Lu Xingxing had overheard the conversations and sighs of the other Taoists.
It had felt like the sky he had always believed his elders held up was about to collapse.
That had been the first time in his adult life that Lu Xingxing had come face-to-face with the death of a senior.
And from that moment on, the once-fearless Lu Xingxing had, for the first time, known what true panic felt like.
It was a memory etched into his bones—an overwhelming fear of the sky crashing down, something he could never forget.
The coffin in the courtyard, the bloodied bones faintly exposed during transport, the horrific, brutal death, and the solemn chanting of the rebirth mantra by the other master uncles with their heads bowed low…
That night, just as his fame was rising and he had been ready to fly high, Lu Xingxing had been brought crashing back to earth by the death of a fellow Taoist. It had made him begin to ground himself, to settle down and focus earnestly on making music.
That moment, carved into his very soul, had also led the young Lu Xingxing to decide: he would carry on the path that master had left unfinished, to protect life.
Even if it cost him his own.
Lu Xingxing sat dazed on the sofa, his mind tangled in the past, memories swirling like letters written on a beach—no matter how hard he tried to hold onto them, they quickly washed away with the tide.
So faint, they left no trace at all.
Beside him, the others were still talking about how quickly it had gotten dark. Some wondered if this was a southern region quirk, for it to become night so early. Others complained they hadn’t gone out in time to explore the village.
In the midst of the chatter, someone accidentally bumped into Lu Xingxing, who sat on the sofa.
Yet with just that small nudge, the memories Lu Xingxing had tried so hard to grasp—slippery like a fish—slipped away entirely the moment he lost focus.
When he looked up again, his face still bore the urgency and tension from moments earlier when he had been recalling the memory. But his eyes were now filled with pure confusion.
What was I… about to say?
Lu Xingxing stared up at Yan Shixun in bewilderment, opening his mouth weakly.
Noticing his look, Yan Shixun prompted him, “What did you want to say?”
“Hai…”
Lu Xingxing struggled to squeeze out a broken syllable.
But after getting that one word out, no matter how hard he tried, he could not remember what he had wanted to say next.
After trying a few times, Lu Xingxing could only shake his head in confusion and helplessness. “Sea(Hai)… water?”
He let out a sigh, defeated, and rubbed his face before continuing with the thread of what he had just said: “I forgot… maybe what I meant to ask was whether Brother Yan had been to the riverside?”
“Oh, right! Originally, I wanted Brother Yan to try the river water here at lunch. It’s seriously sweet.”
Thinking that this must have been what he intended to say all along, Lu Xingxing brightened up and happily shared with Yan Shixun, “You really can’t miss it. It’s the sweetest water I’ve ever had.”
The other guests grew curious. “Eh? Really? I haven’t tried it yet. Is it really that good?”
“How good can water even be? Water’s water, no matter how expensive it is.”
Song Ci scoffed and curled his lip. “Remember that one with the angel statue, pure gold bottle cap, and crystal bottle? Everyone hyped it up like it was divine. A whole crowd of people kept saying how amazing it tasted, but honestly, it didn’t taste much different. At most, maybe a little better than tap water.”
As Song Ci described it, the others also remembered—it was that water that had once shocked the whole internet. Marketed as the best in the world, it was limited to just two thousand bottles a year, each selling for a hundred thousand yuan.
Considering Young Master Song Ci’s background… the fact that he had drunk it and still complained didn’t seem all that surprising.
Bai Shuang silently thought about the price of that water. Originally uninterested in the river water, she suddenly found herself intrigued.
“Is it really that good?”
She curiously grabbed Lu Xingxing’s arm and asked, “Better than water that costs a hundred thousand?”
Lu Xingxing felt that Song Ci was deliberately trying to stir up trouble. This young master probably had something against him and was just looking for a chance to tear him down.
He shot him a sideways glance and snorted. “The hundred thousand was for the packaging, not the water. It’s not like the water itself is worth that much—some people are just vain and gullible. The water in Longevity Village doesn’t come in fancy packaging. If you don’t want to drink it, don’t. It’s not like I’m charging you.”
The young master’s temper flared. “Lu Xingxing, are you insulting me? How dare you insult me—you’re finished!”
He puffed up in anger like a bristling cat, rolling up his sleeves and preparing to charge at Lu Xingxing, practically meowing and clawing the air like a furious feline.
An Nanyuan, who was closest to Lu Xingxing, quickly wrapped his arms around the young master’s waist, holding him back to stop him from lunging forward.
Even though Song Ci was blocked, he kept flailing wildly in An Nanyuan’s arms, refusing to stop until he scratched Lu Xingxing.
Whether or not Lu Xingxing actually got scratched, An Nanyuan didn’t know.
All he knew was… this young master’s claws were no joke. His own face and neck were stinging like they’d been raked by a cat, burning and sore.
Even if there wasn’t any blood, there’d definitely be marks left behind.
The only thing he was thankful for was that the livestream was still running. Otherwise, he’d be seriously worried that tomorrow’s headlines would say something like: “Disbanded boy group idol caught fooling around, body covered in scratch marks.”
An Nanyuan sighed and, resigned to his fate, continued holding onto Song Ci as he squirmed and shoved, trying to cheer himself up by looking on the bright side.
Lu Xingxing had jumped back in shock at first, instinctively taking several steps away for safety.
But when he saw that Song Ci was yelling and flailing yet couldn’t get anywhere near him, he regained his smug expression.
“Pfft, I’m so scared. Please, go ahead and ruin me.”
He rolled her eyes gracefully, his words sharp as ever. “Ugh, I’ve had it too easy lately—haven’t even experienced what it means to be ‘ruined.’ After all, with so many people liking me… heh, being too excellent and dazzling really is a burden.”
As soon as he said that, the other guests—those who knew what Song Ci was like—collectively gasped. They all turned toward Lu Xingxing with wide eyes, stunned.
One thought crossed all their minds at the same time: Lu Xingxing, you are a true warrior.
Song Ci, who had been thrashing about, froze mid-movement. He stiffened in An Nanyuan’s arms, stunned by what he’d just heard. For a moment, his gaze toward Lu Xingxing went completely blank.
Even the viewers watching the livestream were collectively gasping.
[Holy crap! Xingxing, please stop courting death—this is someone we really can’t mess with! That’s the young master of the Song family! The Song family behind the Song Group! Do you still want a career in the entertainment industry or not?!]
[LOL, back when Lu Xingxing and Song Ci both stood up for An Nanyuan, you Xing fans were all like, “Ah, Xingxing and Young Master Song have such a great relationship, boundless prospects ahead.” And now? Friends, huh? More like enemies. You Xing fans really know how to hype up your idol.]
[?? Bots? Scram. We don’t have time for you right now. Xingxing, don’t do anything stupid!!! I’m begging you, please.]
[If someone else had a high-status friend, they’d be milking it every day, groveling at the little prince’s feet. But when it comes to Xingxing… he’s out here constantly dissing Young Master Song, making the poor guy speechless.]
[Damn, do you believe it now? Lu Xingxing really was the kind of person you love and hate at the same time. When he was on that music variety show before, he pissed off almost everyone just like this.]
Everyone except Lu Xingxing, who was still quite pleased with himself, felt anxious for him.
Sure enough, after a brief moment of shock, Song Ci began to struggle even harder, his little face flushed pink with anger, all his hair practically standing on end.
Lu Xingxing got so scared he immediately jumped behind Yan Shixun.
He clutched Yan Shixun’s sleeve tightly, using Yan Shixun’s tall and upright figure to shield himself, only cautiously poking his head out to peek at Song Ci.
He was like a husky that had just found a backer—terrified one second, tail proudly wagging the next.
“Come on, come at me!”
Lu Xingxing curled his finger at Song Ci with a smug expression, taunting, “See this guy here? My Master Uncle—eh, let’s just say, he’s powerful!”
“Can you beat him? Hahaha.”
Because Lu Xingxing’s “hahaha” was so punchable, everyone else silently clenched their fists, itching to shut him up with a good smack.
As for Yan Shixun… his approach was more direct. He balled his fist and—thud!—landed it right on top of Lu Xingxing’s head.
Stars exploded before Lu Xingxing’s eyes: QAQ.
Even Song Ci was stunned. He hadn’t expected Yan Shixun, the so-called backer Lu Xingxing had relied on, to actually hit him.
Yan Shixun calmly withdrew his hand and said to Lu Xingxing, “Why did you think I’d save you? Who gave you that illusion?”
Lu Xingxing replied, “Aren’t you my Master Uncle? QuQ”
Yan Shixun looked at him strangely. “And so? Did I agree to handle your problems? Did you pay me? Do I look like someone kind enough to casually take on karma for others?”
He sneered coldly. “Lu Xingxing, I think you’ve got the wrong idea about me.”
With that, Yan Shixun grabbed Lu Xingxing by the collar and set him down right in front of Song Ci.
Lu Xingxing locked eyes with Song Ci, and then…
Under Yan Shixun’s gaze, he shrank into himself, looking totally defeated.
Now it was Song Ci’s turn to scoff coldly.
But the young master still couldn’t let it go. He turned to Zhao Zhen, who had gone out earlier with Lu Xingxing, and asked, “Was that river water really that tasty?”
“You went out with him, didn’t you? Didn’t you try it?”
Zhao Zhen stroked his chin thoughtfully, as if savoring the memory. “Hmm…”
Under Song Ci’s eager gaze, Zhao Zhen replied sincerely, “It really was better than any water I’ve ever had.”
Song Ci: “…………”
I asked you that so you’d back me up, not tear me down! Seriously??!
Meanwhile, Lu Xingxing instantly perked up again. He swaggered proudly and pointed at Zhao Zhen, saying, “See that? Zhao Zhen, my bro—an honest guy who never lies. Even he said the river water was good. What are you still being so stubborn about? Hahaha.”
Young Master Song got so mad he leapt out of An Nanyuan’s arms and kicked Zhao Zhen in the shin. In that moment, he lost all interest in the scenic village. Fuming, he clenched his tiny fists and stormed off toward his room, clearly not wanting to see anyone else.
Bang! The door slammed shut. Everyone who’d been watching Song Ci head back to his room flinched at the sound.
But honestly, they were more curious now—just how good was that water that it could get Lu Xingxing and Song Ci into a fight?
Lu Xingxing sighed regretfully. “What a shame. I had a big bottle of that water, but the staff were thirsty, so I let them drink it first.”
“I was planning to get another bottle after lunch, but then I ended up playing with you guys until now.”
He scratched his head, feeling like something wasn’t quite right.
As he tried to recall what had happened earlier, it suddenly struck him—he had remembered something important that he needed to tell Yan Shixun.
But now, the only thing he could remember was that he had something to tell Yan Shixun.
As for what exactly it was…
Lu Xingxing tilted his head, trying hard to recall, but in the end, gave up in vain.
Meanwhile, the guests who had been listening were also curious. After hearing what Lu Xingxing said, they all agreed, “Well, it’s not too late now. The river’s just down there—let’s go try it ourselves!”
The moment the idea was suggested, many people jumped on board.
And it was only then they realized—they had spent the entire afternoon indoors.
That made the guests feel like they’d wasted so much time. After all, Longevity Village had such beautiful surroundings, but it was remote and hard to access. Who knew when they’d get a chance to come back? Of course they had to make the most of it.
With that in mind, everyone excitedly began looking for their jackets, eager to head out and get some river water.
“Don’t go off alone.”
Yan Shixun reminded them. “It’s getting dark outside. Don’t wander too far on your own.”
The guests all nodded obediently, then with a cheer, grabbed their water bottles and dashed out the door.
The cottage was built right by the river, and it only took about a minute to walk there.
Even though the moment the door opened, the cold mountain wind rushed at the guests and chilled them to the bone, it still couldn’t dampen their enthusiasm. Shivering and tightening their coats around themselves, they jogged excitedly toward the riverside.
Only Lu Xingxing remained standing in front of Yan Shixun, his mouth opening and closing without saying a word, a confused look in his eyes.
Yan Shixun glanced at him and silently asked with his eyes: What is it?
Lu Xingxing racked his brains, trying to remember what he had meant to say to Yan Shixun, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t recall.
In the end, he sighed in defeat and followed the other guests out the door.
Just then, Zhang Wubing, carrying his signature one-liter director’s water bottle, rushed out eagerly—only to be stopped by Yan Shixun.
“Tomorrow morning, after the sun rises, pack up and leave Longevity Village.”
Yan Shixun said simply and directly. “There’s something wrong with this place.”
Zhang Wubing was taken aback. “What? But this place is an officially recommended location in the southern region. Plus, I asked Taoist Ma to read the fortune earlier—he said it was fine.”
Taoist Ma?
Hearing the name, Yan Shixun frowned slightly.
After the ghostly energy erupted from the Yin Path, the Taoist priests of Haiyun Temple were severely injured. The few who remained had to take on all the temple’s responsibilities. Including Taoist Ma, everyone was swamped with work. How would he have had time to read Zhang Wubing’s fortune?
He knew that the trained Taoists who had already graduated couldn’t even keep up with the special department cases. The authorities constantly had to draft extra personnel last minute.
As for those still in Haiyun Temple, they were just junior disciples barely keeping things running. Even the priests responsible for interpreting divination slips for tourists had been reassigned to other duties.
With manpower stretched so thin, if Taoist Ma was facing a pile of pressing tasks, he would’ve prioritized the most critical issues. He wouldn’t have taken time to perform a reading for Zhang Wubing.
—Besides, Taoist Ma’s fortune-telling skills were notoriously awful.
He was aware of his own shortcomings. Normally, if he wanted a reading, he would go ask another taoist for help. Why would he waste time on an unreliable reading just for Zhang Wubing?
When Yan Shixun questioned him, Zhang Wubing replied in confusion, “Huh? It was before the accident on the highway… Back then Taoist Ma wasn’t that busy yet.”
The two of them stared at each other in silence.
Yan Shixun: “…………”
Zhang Wubing: “???”
“W-what’s wrong?”
Zhang Wubing was so unnerved by Yan Shixun’s serious expression that he asked cautiously, “Is there something wrong?”
Yan Shixun said with exasperation, “You didn’t know that fortune readings are time-sensitive? Asking about something now that was relevant eight hundred years ago—how accurate do you think that would be?”
Just like how news needs five key elements, divination also required a complex web of intersecting information to ensure accuracy.
And time and space were the two most influential factors.
Typically, someone’s birth date served as the time reference, while their name represented the spatial element.
When these two factors interwove—like coordinates on a graph—they could pinpoint an event with precision, allowing the priest to connect with the universe and receive the most accurate answer.
For example, if you asked whether a sale would happen at a supermarket today or tomorrow, you might get very different answers.
Even asking which supermarket would hold the sale could change the outcome.
And Zhang Wubing had asked the question days ago…
On top of that, Taoist Ma’s fortune-telling had always been unreliable to begin with…
Yan Shixun didn’t even know where to begin explaining just how wrong everything about Zhang Wubing’s reading was.
Zhang Wubing shrank back nervously. “I didn’t know, QAQ… D-does that mean something’s going to happen?”
Yan Shixun gave him a forced smile. “There’s a fifty-fifty chance—something might happen, or it might not.”
Zhang Wubing: So basically, you have no idea… slumps hopelessly like a salted fish.
“Brother Yan, you said something’s off about Longevity Village. What exactly is it? I didn’t notice anything unusual at all.”
Zhang Wubing looked puzzled. “I don’t feel any ghostly presence here. On the contrary, this place feels more like paradise—the environment is just too nice.”
“That’s exactly why it’s suspicious, it’s too nice, so nice that nothing feels wrong. And that’s what makes it wrong.”
Yan Shixun replied quietly, lowering his gaze.
He vaguely remembered noticing many strange anomalies, but each time he did, he immediately forgot. He had to rely on sheer willpower to fight through the fog and hold on to even a sliver of clarity.
Just now, Lu Xingxing’s behavior had also struck him as odd.
It had looked like Lu Xingxing wanted to say something—several times, in fact—but never managed to get the words out.
But his reaction had already made things clear to Yan Shixun.
Lu Xingxing’s reminder prompted Yan Shixun to recall something he had once again forgotten.
Although he didn’t want to make any hasty judgments about Longevity Village without solid evidence, Yan Shixun wasn’t about to gamble the safety of the entire production team.
Most people, even when noticing something unusual, would instinctively avoid danger—choosing instead to anxiously bide their time, dreading the moment when the real threat might strike.
But Yan Shixun wasn’t like most people.
Years of dealing with ghosts and monsters had trained him never to overlook even the smallest anomaly.
And now… forgetfulness itself was the greatest anomaly.
After hearing what Yan Shixun said, Zhang Wubing felt as if all warmth had drained from his body.
He hurriedly reached for a down jacket nearby and wrapped it tightly around himself, shivering as he asked, “S-So… should we leave now?”
It all felt terrifying. QAQ
Yan Shixun shook his head slightly. After bringing up the river rising at noon, he turned to Zhang Wubing and asked, “Do you know much about that guide? When the team coordinated with the southern region, how did they introduce him?”
Zhang Wubing scratched his head. “It was mainly the director’s team handling the coordination, but I remember that the guide’s home is right around here. He’s a native of the southern area—hasn’t left the region in over forty years and has always worked nearby.”
“He often goes into the mountains and knows the terrain well. Usually, he earns a living by leading hikers and people going into the mountains. That’s why the authorities recommended him to us.”
“They said the mountains are steep and treacherous, the magnetic field is unstable, and during winter, daylight hours are short. They were worried we’d get lost and wouldn’t be able to navigate normally, so they had the guide accompany us.”
Zhang Wubing’s mind turned over the details, then he leaned in toward Yan Shixun warily and lowered his voice. “Do you think there’s something wrong with him?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Beneath Yan Shixun’s composed expression surged a hidden storm. “Right now, nothing is certain. But I’ve realized I keep forgetting things that I previously noticed were off.”
Still, thanks to his strong willpower, Yan Shixun vaguely recalled the moment when the guide handed him a roasted sweet potato.
It had been scalding hot. Either the man had calloused hands from years of labor and didn’t feel the heat—or something was seriously wrong with him.
And Yan Shixun’s instincts leaned toward the latter.
Moreover, the guide’s smile had also struck him as strange.
It wasn’t the polite, fake smile of a regular person, nor the honest, clumsy grin of a simple man. Instead, it bloomed like a flower—unnaturally radiant.
It was the kind of smile someone would wear while standing on the riverbank, watching a drowning man flail and sink, laughing heartily all the while.
Zhang Wubing had always trusted Yan Shixun. Even though he hadn’t noticed anything odd himself, he still followed Yan Shixun’s instructions and began preparing for their departure the next day.
“I’ll go inform the production crew.”
Wrapped in his down jacket, Zhang Wubing was still trembling from the cold. He sniffled and said, “Since this is a joint project with the southern authorities, leaving just like that might be a bit complicated. Also, a few of the people who went into the mountains to shoot B-roll haven’t come back yet. I need to contact them and let them know the plan has changed.”
But even though Zhang Wubing listed out a string of difficulties, he didn’t object to Yan Shixun’s decision at all. He simply muttered to himself about what tasks he needed to handle, then turned and headed upstairs.
Upstairs in one of the rooms, a crew member was scratching desperately at his own neck with a look of pure frustration, completely ignoring how red and raw his skin had become. The deep scratch marks from his fingernails looked like crimson fish scales, and soon blood began to seep out.
The allergy cream that had been applied earlier had already been scratched into the nail beds. The white ointment mixed with streaks of blood looked disturbingly like smashed brain matter splattered across the floor.
Just then, the other person staying in the room came back. Upon seeing the state of the crew member, he gasped in shock. “Oh my god! What happened to your skin? Can an allergic reaction get this bad?”
On the skin exposed by the staff member’s wide-open clothes, red scratch marks spread out like the petals of a chrysanthemum, stretching across the skin.
From a distance, it resembled a bright red chrysanthemum blooming on human skin, its roots sinking deep into the bone, swaying gently with an eerie grace.
Upstairs, the logistics staff were frantically searching for ointments for their colleague, while laughter and the sound of splashing water came from downstairs.
By the riverbank, everyone was crouching on the shore, marveling at how clear the river water was.
Even though it was getting late, and the chilly wind carrying water vapor blew in from upstream, making it so cold that people didn’t even want to open their eyes, the cold could not diminish their curiosity and joy.
They had never seen a river so clear, and just getting close to it, they could already smell the sweet, refreshing taste that seemed to cleanse their hearts and minds.
Bai Shuang smiled and said to Song Ci, “It’s over, young master. This time, it’s Xingxing who won. He was right; this water really is excellent.”
The young master had initially been sulking, determined not to go out.
However, seeing everyone having such fun by the river, the young master couldn’t resist, and his curiosity got the better of him. He impulsively wanted to leap over the railing and jump down, mimicking Yan Shixun’s carefree leap.
But Song Ci hadn’t expected that not only was his physical ability nowhere near Yan Shixun’s level, his height was also not comparable.
So, halfway through his jump, he got stuck on the railing.
In the end, it was Zhao Zhen who, stifling his laughter, reached out and gently lifted the young master, who was now hanging awkwardly from the railing.
The young master’s eyes had become like dead fish.
Looking at the river, Song Ci asked, confused, “Why is it so poor here, with such a river? Why not turn it into an industry?”
Although the young master usually couldn’t care less about managing the company’s affairs, always leaving it to his brother to worry about.
But he was, after all, the third generation of a wealthy family. Growing up in this circle, he had long been familiar with business operations and had his own ideas.
— He was quite different from Zhang Wubing, who had spent his entire life worrying about survival and dreaming of being a director.
Song Ci had business acumen.
That’s why he couldn’t understand why Longevity Village and the surrounding area remained so undeveloped.
“Relying on the water for income, all they need to do is market it under the name of Longevity Village, find a few people who have settled here to use as examples, and claim they all came for the water. They could say that Longevity Village’s prosperity is because of the water. Then, they could package it well, target a high-end market, and sell it directly.”
Song Ci asked in confusion, “Isn’t this simple? Why has no one thought of it all these years?”
An Nanyuan thought for a moment, then uncertainly replied, “Maybe the people here don’t like overdevelopment? Like with Wild Wolf Peak.”
Song Ci was speechless. “That’s extreme, one area developed to death, and the other refuses to develop at all.”
At that moment, Lu Xingxing walked over, beaming with pride. “So, how’s the water? I told you, you guys arrived late and missed the river under the sunlight, that’s when it’s really beautiful, it’s crystal clear, no impurities at all…”
As he spoke, Lu Xingxing’s voice suddenly trailed off.
His gaze was fixed on the river, lost in a trance.
The group, puzzled, followed his gaze and saw a few chrysanthemum petals drifting in the section of the river illuminated by the flashlight.
Yellow and white petals, drifting downstream.
Song Ci immediately caught the inconsistency in Lu Xingxing’s words and raised an eyebrow. “Huh? No impurities at all?”
Lu Xingxing froze. “…………”
Damn it!
By the time everyone had finished collecting water and returned to the cottage, Lu Xingxing was still hopping around like a pufferfish out of water.
Zhao Zhen, who was sharing a room with Lu Xingxing, had to coax him to hurry up and take a shower since there was only one bathroom and so many people.
Watching Lu Xingxing swing a little yellow duck towel around as he walked, Zhao Zhen couldn’t help but sigh.
He increasingly felt like a male nanny looking after kids, with Lu Xingxing and Song Ci, and occasionally even An Nanyuan thrown into the mix…
Sigh.
After everyone had left the riverbank, the water surface, which had initially only had a few chrysanthemum petals floating, now had more and more petals drifting across it.
By the time Lu Xingxing was taking his shower inside the small building, the river’s surface was almost completely covered with petals.
Yellow and white petals drifted between the gaps, and faintly, the pale, grim sight of the riverbed could be seen.
But that wasn’t the color of rocks.
It looked more like… human bones.
“Splash!”
A loud splash rang out.
Then, a swollen, white hand reached up from beneath the water’s surface.
Next came a shoulder, a head…
A bloated, stiff corpse stood in the center of the river, its head tilted back, staring up at the light from the cottage.
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