Chapter 207: A Mountain Suspended, A River Submerged (21)
The moment Yan Shixun clearly saw Nan Tian’s face, countless possibilities flashed through his mind.
In his understanding, Nan Tian should’ve been in the wooden building downstream, together with the variety show team.
Even if Lu Xingxing had proved unreliable, Ye Li should’ve been there as a safety net, ensuring everyone’s security.
Yet here was Nan Tian, appearing in the upstream Longevity Village…
Even Yan Shixun himself hadn’t fully figured out this Longevity Village that shared the same name but seemed different. He didn’t know exactly what it was, where it was located, or how one could even enter it.
So how did Nan Tian get here?
Yan Shixun even prepared himself for the worst-case scenario—perhaps after he left the downstream Longevity Village, some sudden upheaval had occurred, something he hadn’t anticipated.
Maybe the cottage had suffered a major blow, and even Ye Li had failed to protect the show crew. That would explain why Nan Tian had left the village and ended up here via the river.
So far, the only known and successful way to reach the upstream village was through the river.
And if the protection set up by Lu Xingxing or Ye Li had failed, only then could the people in the cottage have left and come into contact with the river.
Yan Shixun’s mind raced, and his earlier confidence in the safety of the show crew turned into deep concern. He now had no idea what had happened after he left.
Nan Tian, clearly emotional, had a lot he wanted to say to Yan Shixun, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew this wasn’t the place to speak—others were still around.
Liu Ming looked at Nan Tian, then at Yan Shixun in surprise. “You two know each other?”
“This guest arrived at the village just before you did. I was just about to introduce him to you,” Liu Ming said cheerfully. “Since you’re both outsiders, it’s probably easier for you to connect if you stick together.”
“I didn’t expect you two to know each other already. That’s perfect,” he added with a smile.
It seemed Liu Ming had also led Nan Tian into the Longevity Village and brought him to the village chief’s house.
Yan Shixun didn’t know what Nan Tian had told Liu Ming, so he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he smiled and looked at Nan Tian.
Nan Tian immediately got the message and acted like he was reuniting with an old friend. He explained to Liu Ming, “I saw him on my way back to my hometown. Since we were both heading to Nanming Mountain, we chatted for a bit and became friends.”
“We split up when entering the mountain, and I didn’t expect to run into him again. What a great surprise.”
Seeing Nan Tian’s excited expression, Liu Ming had no reason to doubt him.
Or perhaps, Liu Ming didn’t care whether anything was off. Even if Nan Tian’s explanation had been full of holes, Liu Ming would’ve just smiled and accepted it.
Liu Ming nodded with a smile, then warmly turned to Yan Shixun.
“That’s great. There’s still some time before tomorrow’s sacrificial ceremony—you two can catch up properly.”
As he spoke, Liu Ming rubbed his hands together and said happily, “I’ll show our guest to his room first, then check if the village chief is around and get some food ready for you both.”
Yan Shixun smiled and said, “We can share a room. We haven’t seen each other in days—there’s a lot to talk about.”
Seeing how firm Yan Shixun was, Liu Ming didn’t press the matter and simply turned toward the kitchen.
Once everyone else had left, Nan Tian finally let go, like a student forcing himself through an exam, then collapsing with relief once it ended.
His legs gave out, and he almost collapsed to the floor.
Thankfully, Yan Shixun was quick and grabbed him by the shoulder before he could fall.
“Yan…”
“Talk inside,” Yan Shixun interrupted Nan Tian’s emotional outburst. With one hand, he dragged him calmly toward the wooden cottage. “Where’s your room? Point it out.”
Nan Tian didn’t know what was going on but still followed Yan Shixun’s lead. He covered his mouth with one hand and timidly pointed toward the right side of the second floor of the wooden cottage with the other.
Yan Shixun lifted his gaze slightly and confirmed where the room was.
Although he hadn’t yet seen the full layout of this wooden cottage, it roughly resembled the one in the downstream Longevity Village, likely due to regional architectural style.
So, Yan Shixun mentally overlaid the structure of the downstream house onto this one, and the entire layout of the village chief’s home unfolded in his mind like a 3D model.
However, the village chief’s house was clearly different from the ones downstream.
The small wooden cottage prepared by the production team was cozy and more in line with the habits of people from cities outside the mountains. For city kids like An Nanyuan and Bai Shuang, who hadn’t spent much time in villages, they didn’t feel out of place at all.
Bai Shuang was especially amazed, saying it felt like a home designed by an interior designer. Vinyl records, fresh flowers, picture frames, coffee cups, even the modern-style furniture—all of it reflected the aesthetic preferences of previous guests who were closer to city life. She never would’ve thought this was once a house lived in by young people from the village.
But at that moment, when Yan Shixun stepped into the small wooden cottage of the village chief, what met his eyes was a large white mourning banner hanging right in the middle of the main hall.
The white cloth draped down from above. The living room had only a few old wooden chairs and no other decorations.
Across from the front door, an entire wall was left blank and white, and below that wall were bunches of yellow and white chrysanthemums. The place looked more like a mourning hall, waiting for guests to come pay their respects.
The only things missing were a portrait of the deceased and a coffin in the center.
Nan Tian, who had arrived in Longevity Village before Yan Shixun, had clearly already seen the unusual decor of the village chief’s home, which didn’t look like a normal residence at all.
Yet even so, when he stepped into the living room that resembled a mourning hall, he was still startled and gave an involuntary shiver.
Nan Tian wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination or because he hadn’t dressed warmly enough in the mountains, but he felt a cold breeze brush gently across his lower back just as he entered. It gave him a full-body chill.
His pupils shrank with deep fear.
If it hadn’t been for Yan Shixun’s hand gripping his shoulder, steadily radiating warmth, he might have already been too frightened to take another step.
Nan Tian had always been terribly afraid of anything related to ghosts or spirits. Though he never said it out loud, everyone around him could clearly see the fear he couldn’t hide.
Only with Yan Shixun beside him did he feel the slightest sense of safety.
As he desperately tried to calm himself, telling himself to trust Yan Shixun—that nothing bad would happen with Brother Yan there—he forced himself to suppress the stiffness in his muscles. His neck creaked mechanically as he turned to look at Yan Shixun beside him, like a robot struggling to move.
Yan Shixun, too, felt the visual impact of the mourning hall as soon as he entered.
He paused slightly in his steps, and it felt as if a faint sigh brushed past his ears.
When he tried to listen again more carefully, there was nothing—no sound at all.
Unlike the fearful Nan Tian, Yan Shixun adjusted his emotions within just two seconds. His calm and expressionless face gave nothing away.
Then, as if putting on a new mask, he replaced that blank look with one of surprised confusion.
He acted just like any ordinary person would when faced with such a scene.
Nan Tian beside him: “?”
Even Zhao Zhen’s acting couldn’t compare to this.
Then, Yan Shixun strode forward with long legs, heading toward the left side of the second floor.
Nan Tian looked surprised. He thought maybe Yan Shixun hadn’t seen the direction he had pointed to earlier. He was just about to speak up and remind him, when he caught a cold, warning glance from Yan Shixun—clearly telling him to shut up and not say a word.
Because of the dampness in the mountains, the main bedrooms were on the second floor. Areas like the kitchen were usually on the ground floor.
Yan Shixun had already noticed some differences in the layout of the old woman’s wooden cottage compared to the one arranged by the production team.
The production team’s house didn’t have a kitchen. The space that should’ve been left open for cooling down was turned into extra rooms, likely planned that way from the beginning to host as many guests as possible.
The village chief’s house, however, was somewhere between the two.
Though there was a kitchen on the first floor, the other side wasn’t a bedroom—it was a locked room, and no one knew what it was used for.
In the kitchen, Liu Ming hummed a cheerful folk tune as he prepared food for the guests, moving around with the ease of someone working in his own home.
When Yan Shixun passed by the kitchen door, he casually let his gaze sweep over the scene.
The vegetables stacked on the stove looked crisp and fresh, still covered in dew. All the food and utensils appeared perfectly normal.
But Yan Shixun’s sharp senses picked up a strange scent drifting by him.
It smelled somewhat like traditional Chinese medicine, but not entirely—it carried a faint odor of rot and blood.
It was like an ointment being applied to a rotting wound, tightly wrapped with bandages, trapping all the foul smells inside, not allowing them to escape.
Only much later, when the bandage was removed, did the rancid stench, mixed with the scent of traditional medicine, rush out, hitting the senses with a sharp intensity.
Even Nan Tian, who wasn’t very sensitive to smells, furrowed his brows, his eyes reddening from the overpowering odor.
Yan Shixun took two slow steps forward, then, by the intensity and direction of the smell, quickly pinpointed the source.
It came from the locked room.
As he walked past the door of the room, he glanced down at it.
A heavy lock hung on the door, rusted and stained with dark red marks, looking like it had been in use for many years.
Upon closer inspection, Yan Shixun noticed yellowish-black stains leaking out from under the door.
It looked like the oils from a decaying corpse had seeped through, but for some unknown reason, it had mixed with traditional medicine, creating a strange concoction of both color and odor.
The wood beneath the door was stained in layers of yellow and black, as if it had been soaked in this substance for a long time.
Traditional medicine?
Yan Shixun frowned slightly.
The southern regions weren’t particularly known for traditional Chinese medicine.
However, since Liu Ming was nearby, and he hadn’t figured out the situation yet, Yan Shixun didn’t intend to reveal his intentions or plans. He didn’t want the residents of Longevity Village, like Liu Ming, to notice anything unusual.
So, he slowed his pace, acting like a normal person walking steadily, trying to delay as much as possible. He quickly glanced back at the room before heading up the stairs.
As the wooden stairs creaked under his feet, Liu Ming, who had been humming an off-key folk tune while picking vegetables, suddenly stopped singing. He carelessly tossed the vegetables into a nearby wooden bowl, causing a loud “thud.”
From the gap in the stove, a decaying hand, its flesh nearly gone, shot out. After a brief, frantic search, the hand grabbed the discarded vegetables and quickly pulled them back under the stove.
But Liu Ming showed no interest in this. He didn’t even spare a glance at the strange noise coming from below.
It was unclear whether he hadn’t heard it or if he had long known what was hidden there, accustomed to it by now.
Liu Ming slowly raised his head. The cheerful smile he had as he looked up gradually faded, replaced by an expressionless face.
He stared at the empty hallway outside the kitchen where the two people had just disappeared. After a long moment, he finally opened his mouth again, stretching out a grin.
But his eyes were cold and dark, with no trace of any real joy.
…
Once Yan Shixun reached the second floor, he immediately pulled Nan Tian toward a room that was away from the one they had just passed.
His expression was casual, as if he was simply heading to his own room, and he turned to casually speak to Nan Tian: “I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you were already lying down in your room.”
“Nanming Mountain is truly a great place. I didn’t expect it to be such a hidden paradise before I came.”
“Brother, you should’ve told me earlier, but it’s not too late now.”
Nan Tian looked at Yan Shixun’s smile, utterly confused, not knowing what he was talking about.
Yan Shixun was clearly trying to conceal their true relationship and identity, so he had fabricated a story about “coincidentally meeting before heading up the mountain, then getting lost and ending up here.”
But didn’t Yan Shixun himself know this was a made-up story?
Yet, despite the odd story, Nan Tian was still surprised by the casual “brother” from Yan Shixun.
After filming these past few episodes, Nan Tian had realized that Yan Shixun wasn’t a warm person.
He didn’t just avoid normal relationships; even those in power or with high status, whom others would eagerly try to associate with, were snubbed by Yan Shixun without even a second glance. He wasn’t someone who had many friends.
As Yan Shixun himself had said, he didn’t easily get involved with others.
Although Nan Tian, being a guest on the show, had been protected by Yan Shixun and had narrowly avoided danger a few times, he knew that it was mainly due to the director Zhang Wubing’s efforts.
Nan Tian was grateful to Yan Shixun for keeping him safe, and also appreciative of the attention and resources the show had brought him, but he only expressed his gratitude through his actions.
He actively interacted with the program’s official accounts, and in his interviews on social media and elsewhere, he made sure to mention the show every single time.
As for the connections and relationships that Zhang Wubing and the program team needed, Nan Tian was generous with them, offering up his own contacts to help the show.
Previously, when Zhang Wubing was struggling to communicate with the livestreaming platform, it was Nan Tian who found his friend’s contact information and played the role of a mediator.
Although with Zhang Wubing’s backing from the Zhang family and the program’s current scale, establishing good communication with the platform was a matter of time, Nan Tian’s help saved the program a lot of unnecessary time and hassle.
This made Zhang Wubing and the director’s team very happy.
In fact, many of Nan Tian’s fans joked that he was the show’s unofficial spokesperson.
However, Nan Tian himself was aware of the truth.
It was because he could not express his gratitude to Yan Shixun verbally.
Everyone wanted to be friends with outstanding people, and Nan Tian was no exception.
But he could only stand there watching Zhang Wubing, envious of how he could openly rely on Yan Shixun, showing affection and cozying up to him, while Nan Tian himself had never even taken a step in that direction.
The experiences of his childhood had left Nan Tian with an indelible shadow of fear regarding ghost deities.
Although years ago, his grandmother had quickly realized his terror and decisively sent him away from the village to grow up with his parents in the city, the harm had already been done, and it was beyond repair for Nan Tian.
In the years after he returned to his parents, the young Nan Tian was haunted by nightmares. No matter how much his anxious parents consulted various deities, or how many masters they saw, nothing seemed to work.
The masters and shamans who saw the young Nan Tian were puzzled, as there was no sign of an evil spirit having possessed him; his life force was strong, so why was he plagued by such nightmares?
Seeing the worried and guilty expressions on his parents’ faces, the young Nan Tian quietly concealed the truth, telling them that the nightmares had stopped.
But even when he became an adult and entered the entertainment industry, shining under the spotlight and being adored by many, he still hadn’t escaped the shadow of his childhood.
The nightmares continued to torment him, never leaving.
He always dreamed the same dream.
He dreamed of his younger self standing at the doorway of his house, holding a half-eaten meal in his hands, stiffly staring at the fork in the road leading into the village.
A tall, dark figure was walking across the path.
The figure seemed to notice his presence and slightly lifted the brim of his hat, casting a glance at him devoid of any emotion.
Cold, like that of an otherworldly being.
Nan Tian still remembered how, in the dream, he froze under that gaze, as though his entire being had been seen through, as if every good and evil he had done in his life was naked under the sunlight, unable to hide a single dark secret.
In the dream, he stood frozen at the doorstep.
He wanted to run back inside and quickly lock the door. He wanted to shout for his grandmother to come and save him, but he couldn’t do anything.
It was as though that glance drained all his strength.
Only when the dark figure disappeared from sight did Nan Tian feel like he had come back to life. He sighed in relief, ready to turn back to the house.
But that was when the nightmare truly began.
As he looked down, he saw that the food in his hands had suddenly turned into cold, muddy earth and gravel.
He watched helplessly as the dirt slipped through his fingers, landing on his shoes with a feeling so real.
But his mouth still tasted the aroma of the food.
Next, all the plants in the village rapidly withered, just like what Nan Tian had seen in apocalyptic movies—everything lost its color, turning into desolate yellow and black, devoid of life.
Then, rotting corpses began to emerge from around the corner of the village.
It was the neighbor lady who had died a long time ago, now reappearing from behind the wall!
Not just the neighbor lady, but countless villagers who had long passed…
Familiar faces, once full of life, now lost all their vitality. Their faces were marred with ugly corpse spots, and their skin had sagged to the point that it almost seemed to fall off the bones. As they shuffled along, their bodies swayed with each movement, gradually emerging into Nan Tian’s view.
The wandering souls, like aimless corpses, suddenly became aware that someone was watching them. They stiffly and sluggishly turned their heads to look at Nan Tian.
Taken by surprise, Nan Tian locked eyes with them.
Then, as if they had found their target, those corpses turned and walked straight toward Nan Tian.
Little Nan Tian was so scared he cried out, desperately calling for his grandmother.
In his fear, Nan Tian also screamed, calling out for his grandmother, drenched in cold sweat as he bolted upright from his bed, his heart pounding like a drum. After realizing that he was once again dreaming of the same terrifying scene, he weakly covered his face, unable to fall back asleep, staring wide-eyed until dawn.
Yet, even though this nightmare had tormented Nan Tian for many years, it seemed to become more familiar with time, like a lucid dream where he observed it from above. He knew exactly what would happen next and could almost recite the entire sequence of events.
But he had never seen his grandmother’s face again.
The nightmare always stopped abruptly when little Nan Tian was crying out for his grandmother to save him.
For all these years… his grandmother, the one who loved him most, the one he adored, had never once appeared in his dreams to look at him.
Nan Tian had even been confused enough to visit temples and Taoist temples, asking numerous taoists and monks, but to no avail.
And the traumatic experiences of his childhood still severely affected Nan Tian’s actions and choices to this day.
As a celebrity, Nan Tian had always paid great attention to his image and reputation, yet he still had one undeniable flaw.
He was known for being a diva.
Even his fans couldn’t argue against it.
Some celebrities might act like divas, but at least they considered the occasion and the status of the other person. Nan Tian’s “diva behavior” had no regard for the setting.
He refused to stay in a room that faced a crossroads.
As long as he could see the crossroads through the window, Nan Tian would react violently, his temper flaring uncontrollably, insisting that the staff change his room.
Even if the event organizers were far too important for Nan Tian to offend, and even if the staff closed the curtains, Nan Tian would still adamantly demand to move.
It was as if staying in such a room for another second would cause his death.
Others couldn’t understand why Nan Tian was like this, and so they thought he was just being a diva.
However, even in his own home, Nan Tian had to ensure that his room was in the center of the house, with no rooms facing the street, especially not a room facing a crossroads.
He was like someone who had been hurt, carefully guarding himself.
In addition, he had the habit of locking the door after entering a room, and he would check each window to make sure it was closed. Before entering, he would take large strides as if moving slowly might invite danger….
These were small habits that had developed from his past experiences.
Nan Tian hated this about himself, but after several rounds of psychological intervention, he found no relief.
The fear came from deep within his soul, a survival instinct etched into his bones. It was something beyond the control of his mind.
It was for this reason that when Nan Tian encountered Yan Shixun in the program group, watching him stand with his back to them, protecting them from the ghosts and monsters, Nan Tian stood frozen for a long time, unable to tear his gaze away.
Nan Tian, who had always feared ghosts and deities, finally felt a sense of peace in that moment.
It was as if someone who had suffered from insomnia for decades could finally fall into a restful sleep.
Yan Shixun held a very high place in Nan Tian’s heart, almost on par with the sun and moon.
And because of this, Nan Tian couldn’t summon the courage to step forward and approach him as Zhang Wubing did, to be friends with Yan Shixun.
He could only look up to him.
But now… now!
Brother Yan called him “brother”!
Nan Tian was so excited that his face turned red. For a moment, he forgot where he was, forgot about the small wooden cottage and the strange atmosphere of Longevity Village. His eyes sparkled as he looked at Yan Shixun, not knowing how to respond.
Yan Shixun lowered his eyes, and their gazes met.
Caught off guard, Yan Shixun was confused. “…?”
What was Nan Tian doing? Hadn’t he heard the question Yan Shixun had asked him?
Yan Shixun stared at Nan Tian in silence, feeling as though their minds hadn’t connected.
Under Yan Shixun’s cold gaze and subtle hints, Nan Tian belatedly realized.
Oh… Brother Yan had embedded a hidden meaning in his words, asking him how he had gone from the program group’s resting area to this place, where Nanming Mountain was, and what had happened there, wanting him to tell the story.
Upon realizing Yan Shixun’s real intent, Nan Tian’s inner self collapsed.
He felt like a Samoyed, suddenly drenched with cold water. His ears drooped, and his whole body seemed to shrink into his wet fur. His once-bright eyes now appeared pitiful, hanging low.
However, under Yan Shixun’s almost lethal gaze, Nan Tian still forced a smile, one that was even worse than crying. With little energy, he weakly said, “Yes, I have a lot to talk to Brother Yan about. Let’s go to the room and talk slowly.”
Nan Tian’s heart was in turmoil, like a torrential downpour pouring inside him.
However, Yan Shixun finally withdrew his gaze with satisfaction.
He thought that while Nan Tian had been a bit slow to react, he had still responded better than Lu Xingxing and managed to react in time.
As they continued their playful conversation, Yan Shixun pushed open the door of the room at the far end of the left side on the second floor.
The door wasn’t locked, and with a single push, Yan Shixun opened it.
What appeared before them was a perfectly ordinary guest room.
Although the furniture was sparse, there was nothing out of place or unusual in the room—just a plain room with bare walls.
A man was sitting on the bed, facing away from them.
His back seemed hunched as if he had been through some form of hardship, his posture that of a middle-aged person burdened by life’s weight, his back bent under pressure. He sat there dazed and helpless, unsure how to recover his lost hope.
Nan Tian curiously scanned the room but saw nothing unusual, so he turned his gaze back to Yan Shixun, hoping to find some answers in his expression.
Yan Shixun’s eyes remained fixed on the man.
“Ah, I’ve gone into the wrong room, sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to disturb your rest.”
Yan Shixun awkwardly smiled and asked loudly towards the man inside, “But did you get lost and end up here as well?”
Upon hearing a strange voice, the man, who hadn’t even reacted to the sound of the door opening, stiffened for a moment. Then, slowly, he turned around and looked toward the door.
That’s when Yan Shixun clearly saw the man’s face.
It was a face marked by the wear and tear of life, etched with the traces of suffering, as though the man had endured a lifetime of hardship, his spirit broken by the pressures of survival.
The man’s face was covered in wrinkles, showing signs of numbness, not like Liu Ming’s enthusiastic expression but not heavily tainted with despair either.
It seemed that most of the man’s emotions had been drained from his body, leaving no vitality behind—only the instinct to continue breathing, to keep existing out of habit.
He looked numb, yet peaceful.
The man stared intently at Yan Shixun, then slowly shook his head.
“No.”
His voice was rough and hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. “I came here… I came here for treatment.”
Perhaps it was Yan Shixun’s calm aura that affected the man, or perhaps the man sensed that Yan Shixun meant him no harm. After a brief pause, he spoke again.
“Your room isn’t on this side, go.”
His choice of words was strange.
A sense of confusion surfaced in Yan Shixun’s mind.
Most people, when someone else mistakenly enters their room, would instinctively say that the room is not on this “floor” or in this “direction,” not specifying this “side” of the building.
Why did the man exclude the entire left side of the second floor?
Yan Shixun pondered but did not let his thoughts show on his face.
He smiled, nodded in acknowledgment to the man, and was about to ask him something further. But the man soon reverted to his apathetic demeanor, turned his head back, and continued staring blankly at the window, clearly signaling his disinterest in further conversation.
Yan Shixun could only glance around the room one last time, committing the layout and contents to memory before closing the door behind him. He continued on to the next room.
As he walked along the left side, Yan Shixun moved as if he had forgotten where his own room was, opening the doors of each room and talking to the people inside.
But the more rooms he checked, the heavier his heart felt, sinking deeper and deeper.
Even Nan Tian, who had been puzzled at first, gradually began to understand what Yan Shixun was doing.
Since the village chief’s house had so many rooms, unlike the other ordinary wooden cottages, it was more like a small hotel with one room after another. Yan Shixun needed to check the condition of each room.
And forgetting where his room was became the perfect excuse.
After checking the rooms one by one, Yan Shixun discovered that everyone in each room was the same, numbed by life just like the man in the first room, having lost all interest or awareness of life. They no longer cared about what happened around them.
In fact, many people in the rooms were even worse off than the man in the first room.
Some people, when they turned around, Yan Shixun noticed their eyes were nothing but cloudy whites, with no pupils visible at all.
Others had lost the ability to speak, only able to produce raspy, breathy sounds.
The most serious cases were those who couldn’t even get out of bed, lying there with eyes open, staring at the ceiling like vegetative patients.
However, this condition only persisted up to the midpoint.
It was as if an invisible line divided the world into two halves.
From the midpoint to the left, everyone in the rooms behaved strangely, like patients in a hospice. Each person seemed numb, devoid of life.
But from the midpoint to the right, except for the room where Nan Tian stayed, every door was locked. Knocking yielded no response, as if no one lived there at all.
Watching Yan Shixun’s movements, Nan Tian nervously swallowed hard. He kept glancing behind him in a neurotic panic, afraid that the villager named Liu Ming would catch them in the act by coming upstairs at that very moment.
With no experience in doing such things, Nan Tian appeared extremely cautious and sneaky—like a thief.
—A complete novice at that.
Even Yan Shixun couldn’t help but laugh a little when he inadvertently glanced down and caught sight of Nan Tian looking so suspicious.
Yan Shixun shook his head with a faint smile. The way Nan Tian was acting—that was the real giveaway.
Moreover…
Thinking about Liu Ming downstairs in the kitchen, and the village chief who was supposedly here yet had never shown up, Yan Shixun’s eyes darkened slightly.
He could spin flawless lies, so real that no one would suspect a thing.
But on the way to the village chief’s house with Liu Ming, Yan Shixun had intentionally made a few contradictory remarks. Yet Liu Ming seemed entirely oblivious and still chose to believe him without question.
That, in fact, made Yan Shixun suspicious.
Either Liu Ming was truly dull and slow, unable to detect lies—
Or he simply didn’t care whether others were lying to him or not.
—The prey had already walked into the trap. Surrounded by mountains on all sides, there was no way out. Even if it had wings, it couldn’t escape. The hunter naturally let his guard down, complacently thinking nothing could go wrong.
This behavior made Yan Shixun realize that no matter who Liu Ming used to be, now he was completely a part of Longevity Village.
That was why, after entering the small wooden building, Yan Shixun had begun to test Liu Ming’s boundaries step by step. He also used this opportunity to get a feel for the layout of the building.
Liu Ming had previously said that the villagers’ homes weren’t in good condition, so all guests would be accommodated at the village chief’s house.
But considering the strange happenings both in the lower part of Longevity Village and by the river, why would so many people just happen to get lost and end up in this remote mountain village?
Besides, Liu Ming’s actions seemed way too practiced.
Yan Shixun even suspected that Liu Ming living near the river was part of a deliberate setup.
Given the current knowledge, the only known way to reach the upper Longevity Village was via the river.
And anyone who came ashore from the river would be discovered by Liu Ming almost immediately and brought directly to the village chief’s house.
But if that were true, then the first girl Yan Shixun had encountered—Ah Yu—would serve no purpose at all.
Deep in thought, Yan Shixun continued walking toward Nan Tian’s room without pausing.
He abruptly threw Nan Tian, whom he’d been dragging along, into the room, quickly slammed the door shut, turned the lock, and closed in on him.
Before Nan Tian could react, Yan Shixun grabbed his hand, forcing it open. His long fingers fell onto Nan Tian’s palm.
The two were so close that the terrified Nan Tian could clearly see Yan Shixun’s slightly lowered, thick lashes.
Shielded by his body, Yan Shixun’s cool fingertips gently traced across Nan Tian’s palm.
[How did you get here?]
[Are the others still safe?]
[What happened?]
The sensation tickled Nan Tian slightly. Instinctively, he tried to pull his hand back, but Yan Shixun firmly tugged it back into place.
Then he slowly realized—Yan Shixun was writing in his palm, silently asking him questions.
Nan Tian calmed himself, then also extended his hand and carefully wrote his response in the center of Yan Shixun’s palm.
[I don’t know. I just took a nap, and when I opened my eyes, I was already here.]
Yan Shixun was stunned. He raised his eyes and met Nan Tian’s gaze.
At the same moment, back in the cottage where the production team was resting, Lu Xingxing stood frozen at the doorway, holding the doorframe, feeling like all the blood in his body had congealed. He had no idea how to react.
Zhao Zhen noticed something off about Lu Xingxing. Curious, he walked over—only to see Nan Tian, completely still, looking as if he were dead.
“Nan Tian!”
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