Chapter 208: A Mountain Suspended, A River Submerged (22)
Zhao Zhen rushed past Lu Xingxing in a panic and lunged straight toward Nan Tian lying on the bed.
Lu Xingxing was bumped on the shoulder, but he didn’t react at all. He just stood there blankly, staring at Nan Tian, who looked as though he had been carefully laid there after death. Lu Xingxing’s body temperature plummeted as well, his hands and feet going ice-cold.
How could this be happening…
Just moments ago, Master Aunt had lent him his power, and he had sworn to him with full confidence that as long as he was there, no one from the show’s production team would get hurt.
But in just the blink of an eye, Nan Tian was dead? Dead??
Because Lu Xingxing needed to shower after dark, he had turned off his split-screen livestream and then completely forgot to turn it back on. Zhao Zhen had also shut his split-screen, worried it might catch Lu Xingxing without proper clothes.
As a result, the audience couldn’t see what was happening in the room at all. They could only hear the exclamations coming from the main camera’s feed.
This left them anxious and worried, unsure of what had happened to Nan Tian that could make the usually composed Zhao Zhen react with such panic.
Zhao Zhen had charged forward so fast that he banged his knee hard on the edge of the bed before stopping. But he had no time to worry about the pain. Instead, he frantically reached out to check if Nan Tian was still breathing.
When he felt the faint warmth of breath against his fingers, the knot in Zhao Zhen’s chest finally loosened.
Only then did he realize that in his panic, he had actually forgotten to breathe.
Zhao Zhen quickly took in a gulp of air and then checked Nan Tian’s pulse.
Having spent years working across various film crews since his debut, Zhao Zhen had picked up many skills for the sake of understanding his roles. He wasn’t a master, but he knew enough to get by in real-life situations.
After calming himself and feeling a weak but steady pulse under his fingertips, Zhao Zhen finally breathed a complete sigh of relief. His half-kneeling body slumped against the edge of the bed, overcome by the weakness that came after intense tension.
Exhausted yet thankful, he turned back and said to Lu Xingxing, who was still standing dazed in the doorway, “Don’t worry, he’s still alive.”
“But…”
Zhao Zhen turned back to look at Nan Tian on the bed, his brows tightly furrowed.
He couldn’t understand why Nan Tian had ended up like this.
He couldn’t be woken up and seemed completely unresponsive to the outside world, like a vegetative state.
Yet Nan Tian’s expression was peaceful, almost blissful, as if he had found his happy place. Even his sleeping posture looked deliberately arranged, and then there were those chrysanthemums…
Zhao Zhen bent down and picked up the bunch of chrysanthemums placed on Nan Tian’s stomach.
If it hadn’t been for those flowers and the coffin-like sleeping pose, he and Lu Xingxing wouldn’t have immediately assumed Nan Tian was already dead.
But the moment the chrysanthemums were removed from Nan Tian’s body, the previously vibrant blooms began to wither rapidly. Their color drained away, and the long petals curled up and shriveled.
Zhao Zhen watched with wide eyes as the flowers crumbled into dust in his hands. A breeze blew in through the open window, scattering the powdery remains like ashes in the wind.
Nothing was left in his hands.
Zhao Zhen hadn’t expected this. He stood there stunned, looking down at Nan Tian in disbelief.
Meanwhile, when Zhao Zhen confirmed that Nan Tian was still alive, Lu Xingxing collapsed against the doorframe, barely managing to keep his noodle-like limbs upright.
He was like a family member waiting outside a surgery room—desperate to know if the person he cared about was okay, yet terrified to lift the cover and see the truth, afraid of a reality he couldn’t accept.
Only after hearing good news from someone else did he finally escape the torment of his own thoughts.
Lu Xingxing forced himself to calm his wildly pounding heart and straightened his still-trembling body to walk into the room. He cautiously walked over to the wide-open window and scanned the area, worried there might still be an undiscovered threat hiding on the balcony.
But after his gaze swept across the balcony, he saw nothing but a few piles of burned black ash—no other clues or signs.
In that moment, Lu Xingxing understood.
Those rotting corpses must have been hiding on the balcony all along, waiting for a chance to ambush the people inside the room.
But what they hadn’t expected… was Ye Li’s presence.
Lu Xingxing didn’t know Ye Li’s identity—not even his name—but he knew the fear he felt every time he faced Ye Li was very real.
Ye Li was strong. So strong that it completely exceeded Lu Xingxing’s understanding.
After his memory returned to normal, Lu Xingxing had no idea what Ye Li had done while he was mysteriously unconscious, or how he had done it.
But after briefly borrowing Ye Li’s power, he understood clearly—those piles of ash were all that remained after the rotting corpses had been burned to nothing. Their existence was now only proven by the traces they left behind.
After carefully inspecting every corner of the balcony, Lu Xingxing noticed that many of the ash piles were in places he would’ve never thought to check. The realization sent a cold chill down his spine.
If it hadn’t been for master aunt… something truly terrible might have happened!
A person’s field of vision has its own angle and range—most of the time, people don’t notice the details in shadowy corners or behind cabinets and walls.
But these rotting corpses, oddly enough, deliberately avoided places that normal people would instinctively pay attention to. Even the most vigilant wouldn’t be so meticulous as to conduct a full sweep every moment of the day.
And if anyone missed their presence, once the corpses made their move, people would be caught completely off guard and possibly end up injured—or worse, dead.
—Of course, freaks like Yan Shixun were the exception.
Lu Xingxing grumbled internally. He had never seen anyone stranger—and at the same time, more in tune with the Dao—than Yan Shixun and that Hermit Chengyun. It was as if all the others were just fillers, and only Yan Shixun and his master were truly favored and expected by the Dao itself.
Thinking this, Lu Xingxing reached out and grabbed the handle of the balcony window, intending to pull it shut.
So cold!
The mountain wind in winter howled fiercely. Even if Nan Tian had been fine earlier, he’d be frozen to death soon at this rate.
But just as Lu Xingxing’s gaze unintentionally swept past the river beneath the balcony, he suddenly realized something was off. He quickly looked back in shock.
…The chrysanthemum petals that had been floating on the river had vanished.
With no lights to illuminate it, the river couldn’t reflect any brightness. To Lu Xingxing, the entire waterway appeared pitch black. Without the petals, it now looked even more eerie and terrifying, making him involuntarily wonder what might be lurking beneath that darkness.
Lu Xingxing felt the urge to go investigate.
But then he remembered that right now, he was the only one who could protect everyone inside the cottage. Gritting his teeth, he shut the window and turned to check on Nan Tian.
What if this was just a ploy to lure him away?
On one side was the safety of dozens of people. On the other was a potential danger that might not even exist. Lu Xingxing couldn’t afford to gamble.
He silently encouraged himself—since he hadn’t yet completed his training and couldn’t uncover the truth or trace things back to their source like Yan Shixun and his master aunt, then he would do the things he could do well.
For instance, ensuring everyone’s safety while Yan Shixun and his master aunt were away—so they could act without any distractions.
Lu Xingxing took a deep breath, his gaze firm.
“Xingxing… these chrysanthemums…”
Zhao Zhen’s lips were trembling. His mind was in chaos from everything that had just happened, and he didn’t know how to express his feelings to Lu Xingxing.
He looked from his own hands, still frozen in the position of cradling the bouquet, over to Lu Xingxing.
“Don’t worry.”
Lu Xingxing comforted Zhao Zhen, saying, “The fact that they appeared so inexplicably on Nan Tian means they’re sinister to begin with. Brother Yan left here to take care of the root of this evil, didn’t he?”
“I may not be able to do that—but Brother Yan can. Zhao Zhen, trust in Brother Yan.”
Lu Xingxing gripped Zhao Zhen’s shoulder and gave it a firm pat, speaking solemnly, “There aren’t many people I’m willing to follow without question, but Brother Yan is one of them. He’s my master uncle—he’s a miracle.”
“No matter what weirdness these chrysanthemums are up to…” Lu Xingxing noticed Zhao Zhen’s hand still frozen mid-air, holding the same posture.
He slowly reached out, grasped Zhao Zhen’s icy hand, and gently guided it downward, placing it back at Zhao Zhen’s side.
Lu Xingxing squeezed his hand tightly, trying to pass a bit of strength into him.
“As long as we’re inside this cottage—if we can just hold out until Brother Yan and the others return—we’ll be fine.”
Lu Xingxing’s tone was serious, every word spoken with deliberate strength.
Zhao Zhen stared at Lu Xingxing for a long moment, then finally smiled too, his eyes once again steady.
“You’re right.”
Zhao Zhen’s voice was soft, yet it carried the weight of a boulder—nothing could shake the courage he held onto in this desperate and hopeless situation.
“We’ll stay here and wait for Brother Yan to return safely.”
“Is Nan Tian okay?!”
Hearing Zhao Zhen’s earlier cry, Zhang Wubing—after confirming everyone upstairs was safe—stumbled and half-tumbled down the stairs in a panic, rushing straight to the room where Nan Tian was.
Once he got a definite answer from Lu Xingxing, he let out a short breath of relief before immediately pulling a face and asking, “You sure you’ve got this? Because honestly, I’m kind of scared.”
Zhao Zhen lifted his head and smiled, looking as revitalized as a plant bathed in sunlight. Compared to the despair and helplessness he’d shown earlier when Nan Tian frightened him, he now seemed completely different.
“Director Zhang, Xingxing may be just one person, but our entire production team is here,”
Zhao Zhen said: “We can search the building for anything that could work as weapons, organize people to guard every door and window, and keep a sharp watch so nothing from outside sneaks in and attacks us from where we can’t see.”
“Xingxing’s right. As long as we hold out until Brother Yan comes back, we win.”
At that moment, Lu Xingxing bent down to check on Nan Tian’s condition.
He lifted Nan Tian’s eyelids, then opened his mouth to inspect his tongue. His hand followed along the meridians of Nan Tian’s body, and suddenly, Lu Xingxing was startled.
When he saw Nan Tian like this but still alive, he had initially assumed Nan Tian was suffering from a soul departure.
But people in that state always had their yang energy drop to a dangerously low point—that’s what allowed their unstable soul to drift from the body.
Yet Nan Tian didn’t show any such signs.
His yang energy was full, something that shouldn’t be present in someone whose soul had left their body.
Moreover, when Lu Xingxing had followed Taoist Song Yi on ghost-banishing missions, the master had often let him come along for soul-departure cases because they were less dangerous. That gave Lu Xingxing the chance to witness firsthand how Taoist Song diagnosed the condition.
He had learned to imitate the process well enough.
But after checking everything, Nan Tian didn’t match any symptom of soul departure.
On the contrary, it really just looked like he was… asleep—and once he had enough rest, he’d wake up.
Lu Xingxing felt like his thoughts were all tangled up in a knot.
After a moment of deliberation, he decisively grabbed his heavy backpack and brought it into the room. After rummaging through it for a while, he pulled out a handwritten journal from a senior at Haiyun Temple. He sat down on the edge of Nan Tian’s bed and began reading under the flashlight.
Zhang Wubing: “?”
He had followed Brother Yan for so many years, and not once had he seen Brother Yan whip out a book in the middle of an exorcism! Was he seriously trying to wing it by learning on the spot?
Zhang Wubing couldn’t help but worry—was Lu Xingxing actually reliable?
But Lu Xingxing was surprisingly accepting of his own lack of experience. “What, do you have a better option?”
“Nan Tian’s vital signs are stable. Worst case scenario, he’s just going to sleep like this for a few hours, and once Brother Yan gets back, he’ll be able to figure out what’s wrong.”
Lu Xingxing shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe while flipping through this, I’ll find something in the notes from our seniors that matches his symptoms. He might even wake up sooner. Otherwise…”
Lu Xingxing gave Nan Tian a worried look.
In a crisis like this, the most dangerous thing was being seriously injured and unable to move. Someone like Nan Tian, completely unable to defend himself, was basically the worst-case scenario.
Even if Nan Tianwoke up a little earlier, it would make everyone in the production team that much safer.
Otherwise, they’d have to constantly assign people to protect him, dividing up their attention and energy, and dragging down everyone’s movements.
While Lu Xingxing and Zhang Wubing were talking, Zhao Zhen suddenly realized—something was missing in the room.
He frowned and took a few steps, puzzled. When he saw the personal belongings and backpack sitting on the table nearby, he suddenly froze as it hit him what had been overlooked.
“Where’s Song Ci?!”
Zhao Zhen’s expression turned panicked as he looked at Lu Xingxing. “Weren’t you two assigned to the same room? Where is he?!”
Lu Xingxing was startled by Zhao Zhen’s sudden outburst, but quickly realized—he really hadn’t seen Song Ci.
“I was on the couch in the living room. I didn’t notice Song Ci coming out at all!”
Zhang Wubing hurriedly added, “I just came down from upstairs. Song Ci’s not up there.”
The three exchanged glances, a chill creeping into their hearts.
Crap. They’d lost the young master.
Zhao Zhen immediately turned to rush out the door to look for Song Ci.
“Hey, wait! Go with the director—”
Lu Xingxing quickly stood up to stop Zhao Zhen, but as he shifted his posture, his foot accidentally kicked something.
Something soft, with a slight bounce.
It wasn’t the bedframe.
It felt more like… a decaying corpse.
Lu Xingxing froze, neck stiffly turning to look at his feet.
Zhang Wubing noticed his movement and followed his gaze with confusion.
From his angle, he just happened to catch sight of a corner of fabric.
Soft, smooth silk, catching the light of the flashlight with a luxurious gleam.
Zhang Wubing blinked slowly, finally realizing what it was.
Song Ci’s pajamas.
He was the only one in the entire team who lived like a pampered princess. While everyone else tried to travel light, bringing the bare minimum, he had insisted on packing dedicated sleepwear.
And they were always silk.
“You…”
Zhang Wubing swallowed hard. “I think… you’re stepping on Song Ci.”
Lu Xingxing: “???”
Startled by Zhang Wubing’s words, Lu Xingxing immediately dove under the bed.
And there, he saw the underside of the bed frame, eerily decorated with garish artificial chrysanthemums.
Those chrysanthemums were facing directly at Song Ci.
The young master was lying flat on the dusty, ash-covered floor, his face deathly pale, completely unconscious.
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