Chapter 209: A Mountain Suspended, A River Submerged (23)
No one had expected that while all their attention had been drawn to Nan Tian, Song Ci was actually lying unconscious under the dark and cold bed.
If Zhao Zhen hadn’t brought it up, in the chaos and darkness all around them, who knew how long it would’ve taken the others to realize Song Ci was missing?
It was winter, after all!
Song Ci was wearing nothing but a thin pair of silk pajamas, lying on a cold, hard floor. The damp chill that rose from the river and the ground seeped steadily through the floorboards, invading his frail body without pause.
To make matters worse, the window had been left wide open earlier, letting in the biting mountain wind that drastically lowered the temperature inside the room.
The moment Lu Xingxing saw the state Song Ci was in, it felt like his heart had stopped.
The young master, who always bickered with him and made him want to scream in frustration, was now lying lifeless beneath the bed, completely pale, as if he were already dead.
And yet, right above Song Ci’s face, vivid chrysanthemums were blooming upside down—bright, beautiful, full of life.
The stark contrast in that moment was terrifying.
Without a word, Lu Xingxing slid under the bed like a loach, reaching out to pull Song Ci out as quickly as he could.
But the moment he touched Song Ci’s skin, he froze.
It was ice-cold.
It didn’t feel like human skin at all—more like touching a block of ice. Lu Xingxing could barely even feel a pulse.
“Xingxing, how’s Song Ci?”
The space under the bed was cramped. Zhao Zhen could only wait outside, his voice filled with worry.
But Lu Xingxing had no time to answer.
He couldn’t lift Song Ci.
The young master had delicate health, and he usually avoided physical activity, so his slender frame—barely over a hundred jin—should’ve been no heavier than a sack of rice to Lu Xingxing.
But now, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t lift him off the floor.
It wasn’t that he lacked the strength—it was as if something invisible was holding Song Ci down.
With his heart pounding in confusion, Lu Xingxing scanned the space under the bed that he had previously ignored in his urgency to get Song Ci out and warm again.
After several failed attempts, he finally figured out the reason.
Each time he tried to lift Song Ci, he could only manage to raise his arms. As he moved further down the body, it grew impossibly heavy.
And as for Song Ci’s head—it was like it had fused with the floor. It wouldn’t budge an inch.
“Zhang Dabing! Toss me the flashlight!”
Lu Xingxing shouted toward the outside. Zhang Wubing, thinking for a second that Brother Yan was calling him, jolted to attention and quickly threw the flashlight under the bed.
Lu Xingxing didn’t bother explaining the situation. He grabbed the flashlight, shone it toward Song Ci’s head, and leaned in close, squinting to see what was going on.
What he saw made his body temperature seem to plummet. His blood felt like it was freezing in his veins.
There—amid Song Ci’s hair—were fine strands of golden thread.
Lu Xingxing reached out to touch the threads and carefully followed their path, slowly tracing them through the strands of hair.
Each golden thread extended down to the floor, disappearing into the cracks between the floorboards, continuing downward.
It was as if the true source of those threads lay beneath the first-floor boards.
As he traced further, Lu Xingxing finally realized what had been making him so uneasy all along.
These golden threads were just like the tiny roots of a plant, spreading delicately through the soil.
And what that plant actually was…
Lu Xingxing tilted his head back, and the flashlight clamped in his mouth shone directly on the cluster of chrysanthemums above Song Ci’s head.
Right before his eyes, the slender and beautiful petals slowly unfurled, swaying freely and producing faint, rustling sounds.
Then, they bloomed even more vibrantly.
It was as if someone were stretching their back in mockery of Lu Xingxing.
It seemed to say: “Want to save him? What can you do? Useless.”
Lu Xingxing had never known that flowers could make noise while blooming—let alone something this eerie.
Just watching it filled him with unease.
After a moment of distraction, Lu Xingxing immediately adjusted his plan and shouted outside, “I can’t move Song Ci right now—he’s attached to the floor! Throw me a quilt and some clothes!”
Because the golden thread-like roots had firmly fixed Song Ci’s head to the floor, Lu Xingxing didn’t dare act rashly. His only option was to wrap the young master in thick clothes to prevent him from freezing too severely.
He held his breath, his muscles rigid, terrified that the slightest tremble of his hand might jostle Song Ci’s head.
It hadn’t been as stressful before he realized what was happening, but once he knew, Lu Xingxing was overwhelmed with tension. The room was freezing, yet sweat poured down his body.
The head was not only the body’s control center—it was also where the soul resided.
Lu Xingxing had no idea what those golden threads were, but he was certain of one thing—they were connected to both Song Ci’s soul and body.
He didn’t know what might happen if those seemingly fragile threads were broken, and he dared not take the risk.
With the utmost care, Lu Xingxing slid the quilt under Song Ci, then wrapped him tightly in thick clothes like a cocoon. Only after ensuring the boy wouldn’t freeze did he allow himself to look up at the bizarre cluster of chrysanthemums.
He wasn’t the sentimental type who appreciated flowers or moonlight, and he had no particular knowledge of plants, but he still had common sense.
Winter wasn’t the season for chrysanthemums, and they certainly didn’t bloom out of someone’s floorboards.
Moreover… no chrysanthemum looked this unnatural.
They resembled monsters swollen with vitality, bursting with energy far beyond normal. Every quivering petal seemed aggressive and arrogant, as though it scorned life and stood above it.
Lu Xingxing’s expression turned grim. He reached out to touch a petal, silently reciting a talisman spell while channeling the power Ye Li had lent him.
A spark ignited at his fingertips. The flame surged into the flower cluster, devouring the chrysanthemums in an instant.
The once-beautiful petals flailed wildly in the fire like people ablaze, desperately struggling for life. But soon, they were reduced to piles of black ash.
Lu Xingxing wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he thought he heard screams coming from within the flames.
Yet when he listened carefully again, only the crackling of fire remained.
Once every petal was incinerated, the flame quickly died down.
The acrid scent of scorched wood and ash filled the air.
Lu Xingxing raised his hand to shield Song Ci’s face from the falling ashes.
Then he saw that beneath the now-burned flowerbed, aside from the blackened, charred floor, large and intricate floral patterns had emerged.
Even the most skilled artisan would struggle to carve such vivid and exquisite designs. They were so lifelike, it truly seemed like a cluster of chrysanthemums had bloomed there.
As Lu Xingxing stared, he suddenly noticed his vision shifting.
The flower patterns—lifeless just moments ago—began to sway and spin. From the center of one flower, a faint, pale yellow color slowly emerged.
A delicate fragrance floated up.
Lu Xingxing was utterly horrified.
Instinctively, he turned to look at Song Ci—and that one glance sent his heart plummeting.
Song Ci’s already pale face had turned an even duller gray, and his aging was visible to the naked eye. His vitality was draining rapidly.
Lu Xingxing immediately grabbed Song Ci’s hand and pressed down on his pulse points, urgently chanting a spell to try and restore as much of Song Ci’s life force as possible.
What Lu Xingxing didn’t know was that Ye Li was a deity who ruled over death. Naturally, his powers were deeply tied to death, filled with an eerie and ghostly aura unlike anything of the human world.
Other than someone like Yan Shixun, who was born with the Evil Spirit Bone Transformation, no living human could withstand Ye Li’s powers.
So before he left, Ye Li placed a limitation on the power he lent to Lu Xingxing, making it usable for someone still mortal like him.
But that also inevitably meant the power would be greatly diminished.
Unlike when Ye Li had entrusted his full power to Yan Shixun, Lu Xingxing couldn’t truly command the portion temporarily lent to him, nor could he bring out its full potential.
All he could do was grit his teeth and pour in every ounce of strength he had, throwing caution to the wind to save Song Ci.
Unlike Nan Tian, who had lost consciousness but still brimmed with yang energy, Song Ci’s vitality and life force were rapidly fading along with the blooming chrysanthemums.
In a mere instant, the chrysanthemums on the wooden bed stretched and bloomed again—one after another, tightly clustered and dazzlingly beautiful.
In contrast, Song Ci’s face began to look more and more like that of a corpse at a funeral home.
Lu Xingxing had not yet completed his training, nor had he ever faced anything on his own.
He had never made a decision independently before.
Even after meeting Yan Shixun and gradually becoming involved with true matters of ghosts and deities, most of the time it was still just doing whatever Yan Shixun told him to do. Otherwise, it was the master or grandmaster making the decisions, and he merely followed orders.
—He often only listened to half the instructions, anyway.
It wasn’t until now, staring at Song Ci’s increasingly lifeless face, that Lu Xingxing finally felt the gut-wrenching fear and difficulty of making a decision.
Handling things alone was far from as simple as he had imagined.
He was responsible for everyone’s lives now. Every decision he made could determine whether people lived or died.
If he made the wrong call, if someone got hurt—or worse, died—it would be his fault.
The pressure was suffocating, crushing Lu Xingxing beneath its weight.
If anything really happened to Song Ci… he would be the indirect killer.
Lu Xingxing never imagined that the chrysanthemum was actually sucking the life out of Song Ci. If that was true, then the golden threads like roots on top of Song Ci’s head finally made sense.
—Those were the chrysanthemum’s roots.
It had treated Song Ci like soil to take root in, wantonly draining his life force to nourish itself. And when Lu Xingxing had burned all the flowers to ash, the chrysanthemum needed even more life force to bloom anew.
That was why Song Ci’s condition became worse than before.
Zhang Wubing and Zhao Zhen couldn’t see what was happening under the bed and could only wait anxiously for Lu Xingxing.
Fortunately, Lu Xingxing discovered the problem in time. Just as the signs of Song Ci’s decline began to show, he acted immediately, using his own power to fill the void, stabilizing Song Ci’s life.
As Song Ci’s face, once tense from pain, gradually relaxed, and his ashen complexion began to recover, warmth and color returning to his cheeks, Lu Xingxing collapsed backward onto the floor as if his strength had been drained.
He stared furiously at the clump of chrysanthemums directly facing Song Ci, hating them so much he wanted to rip every petal to shreds with his bare hands.
As if sensing Lu Xingxing’s fury, the chrysanthemum smugly swayed its petals, as if flaunting: What’s the use of hating me? You still can’t kill me.
Lu Xingxing ground his teeth hard.
He took one last look at Song Ci, whose breathing had gradually calmed, and reached out to check his temperature. After confirming that Song Ci’s condition had improved and stabilized, he finally let out a long sigh of relief.
Then, using his limp arms, he pushed against the floor and crawled out from under the bed, trembling all the while.
Zhao Zhen, who had been waiting by the bed, had been ready to help pull Song Ci out—but to his surprise, the one who emerged was Lu Xingxing.
Bending down suddenly, Zhao Zhen leaned his body closer to the floor and peered underneath. “Where’s Song Ci? Why are you the one coming out?”
Lu Xingxing’s face turned dark—he nearly cursed out loud.
Brother, do you have any idea what I just went through? I was almost completely drained! My meridians are empty, and my arms and legs are so weak they have no strength at all!
And yet you didn’t even bother to check on me, let alone show any concern. Instead, you’re questioning me?? Are we even friends anymore?!
However, Lu Xingxing was already so drained he didn’t even have the strength to argue anymore.
He rolled his eyes at Zhao Zhen with graceful but deliberate annoyance, then stretched out a hand toward Zhang Wubing and said, “Help me up, will you? I’m not in great shape to climb.”
Zhang Wubing slipped his arms under Lu Xingxing’s armpits and half-dragged, half-carried him out from under the bed.
Lu Xingxing didn’t even care that he was now covered in dust. He quickly dragged his trembling legs over to where his backpack was, rummaged through it with shaking hands, pulled out two chocolate bars, and began stuffing them into his mouth ravenously, as if he hadn’t eaten in hundreds of years.
Zhao Zhen watched this with confusion, but seeing how weak Lu Xingxing looked, he didn’t say anything more. Instead, he glanced worriedly at Lu Xingxing, then at the space under the bed, clearly wanting to check on Song Ci’s condition.
With two bars of chocolate down and Ye Li’s power still supporting him, Lu Xingxing finally started to feel somewhat stable again.
“Song Ci is under the bed. He can’t be moved.”
Lu Xingxing looked at Zhao Zhen seriously and said, “The chrysanthemum vines under the bed are connected to Song Ci. I can’t handle it. I tried just now, but almost ended up hurting him… We’ll probably have to wait until Brother Yan gets back.”
“So Song Ci is just going to stay lying down there?”
Zhao Zhen was stunned. “It’s freezing out!”
Lu Xingxing shook his head. “You think I want it this way? The chrysanthemum roots have grown through Song Ci’s skull and kept extending downward. I suspect they’ve already pierced through the floorboards to the level below. If we want to understand what’s really going on, we’ll need to go downstairs and look from underneath.”
“But right now it’s just me. I can’t leave you all and go off alone.”
For the first time, Lu Xingxing wore an expression of complete seriousness.
Just now, Song Ci had nearly died because of a decision he made—and that made him truly feel what responsibility meant.
And the crushing weight that came with it.
Every choice had to be made with extreme caution. One wrong step could harm the very people he wanted to protect.
In that moment, Lu Xingxing suddenly understood Yan Shixun a little better.
Brother Yan had always stood at the front, taking on the threat of death for everyone else and protecting them as they moved forward.
He was their sky—he couldn’t fall. He was the one who couldn’t afford to make mistakes.
Lu Xingxing couldn’t imagine how Yan Shixun had managed to carry all that for so many years. He himself was already struggling after just a few hours. But according to his master, Yan Shixun had been traveling across the country alone ever since the death of Hermit Chengyun.
All these years, Yan Shixun had been making decisions by himself, protecting lives, driving away ghosts and demons…
Lu Xingxing stood there in a daze for a couple of seconds, filled with overwhelming admiration for Yan Shixun.
He took a deep breath and turned back to Zhao Zhen, saying, “I can’t rule out the possibility that this is a trick to lure us away. If something attacks you all while I’m out investigating, I won’t be able to get back in time to protect you. So…”
Lu Xingxing turned toward the bed, clenched his back teeth, and voiced his decision: “Song Ci will have to stay here for now. We’ll wait for Brother Yan to return and then decide what to do.”
“But don’t worry—I’ve stabilized his vital signs. He’s not in danger.”
Seeing the concern written all over Zhao Zhen’s face, Lu Xingxing added, “Anyway, Nan Tian isn’t going to wake up anytime soon either. Someone has to stay and watch over them. Why don’t you stay here and keep an eye on things?”
Zhao Zhen glanced at Zhang Wubing, and Zhang Wubing understood what he meant immediately. He nodded and said, “Don’t worry. You were right just now—we’re all capable people. We’ve got hands and feet. We can take care of ourselves.”
“Just stay here and focus on watching over Song Ci and Nan Tian. Otherwise, we’d all be worried too.”
Zhao Zhen smiled and nodded. Then he crouched down and slid under the bed to check on Song Ci.
Lu Xingxing, meanwhile, turned back with a stern expression and said to Zhang Wubing, “Da Bing, we need to check under all the beds in the rooms, and the floorboards too. See if there are any more chrysanthemums, and whether there are chrysanthemum patterns on the wood.”
That scene of the chrysanthemum blooming by draining Song Ci’s life had truly shaken Lu Xingxing. He dared not treat any of this lightly.
He suddenly had a flash of insight—perhaps the strange happenings in Longevity Village were all tied to these chrysanthemums.
If they didn’t thoroughly check for every chrysanthemum hidden in the wooden cottage and eliminate them before they harmed anyone else, there was a real risk more people would end up like Song Ci.
What was even more terrifying was that once the chrysanthemum rooted itself in a person, it became tied to their life force. Any attempt to destroy the flower would essentially become an attack on the person, accelerating their decay and death.
This made Lu Xingxing hesitate—he didn’t dare touch the cluster of chrysanthemums growing on Song Ci’s head.
And if everyone ended up like this, there would be no way left to protect anyone.
On top of that, Lu Xingxing had found the same black ashes under the bed.
What did that mean?
It meant that before his master aunt made her move, some of the corpses had already been hiding under the beds, lying in wait.
In fact, the reason Song Ci had somehow ended up under the bed might very well have been the doing of those corpses.
The danger within the cottage far exceeded what Lu Xingxing had initially imagined.
Lu Xingxing was young and lacked experience, but he wasn’t without his strengths.
—Even if he didn’t know what to do, he could observe how his elders handled things and imitate them, like sketching a cat based on a tiger.
He mentally put himself in Brother Yan’s position and tried to figure out what Yan Shixun would have done, based on what he’d seen of his methods in the past.
And knowing Yan Shixun’s personality…
Naturally, he would eliminate all threats from the root!
If they uprooted the chrysanthemums right from the start, wouldn’t that make things safe?
Lu Xingxing quickly explained everything he had seen under the bed and all his guesses to Zhang Wubing.
Zhang Wubing listened until his head was spinning. He felt like Lu Xingxing’s thoughts had tangled his own into a knot.
In the past, all he had to do was cling to Brother Yan’s coattails. Whatever Brother Yan said, he would do. He only needed to carry out orders—never to make decisions.
“Alright, I kinda get it now.”
By the time Lu Xingxing finished talking, Zhang Wubing looked like he was about to pass out from dizziness. “I’ll go upstairs and have everyone check their rooms one by one for any chrysanthemums. But, Lu Xingxing…”
He deliberately emphasized the last few words.
Lu Xingxing blinked. “What?”
He shook his head proudly. “You’re thinking I’m especially smart, right? That you totally admire me now, worship me even?”
Zhang Wubing roared, “Who the hell are you calling ‘Da Bing’?! It’s Wubing! Wu-bing! Don’t go around changing people’s names!”
Lu Xingxing: “??? You don’t get mad when Brother Yan calls you that!”
Zhang Wubing replied righteously, “That’s my dad! Are you him? My dad can call me whatever he wants!”
“…………”
Lu Xingxing was speechless. “I’m starting to think you have a personal grudge against me, Zhang Dabing.”
But the tense atmosphere that had been stretched to its breaking point finally relaxed a little.
Even Zhao Zhen, lying under the bed, pulled Song Ci’s thick clothes tighter around him to keep him wrapped up snug and warm. A faint smile crept onto his face as well.
Zhang Wubing gave a snort, but the look he cast at Lu Xingxing was full of uncontrollable amusement.
He suddenly felt that maybe Lu Xingxing wasn’t so unreliable after all…
After hearing what Zhang Wubing said, the production crew quickly sprang into action.
Every bedboard in each room was flipped upside down, and every wooden plank was thoroughly examined.
With such a meticulous, carpet-style search, it wasn’t long before someone made a discovery.
—Under the bedboards in the other rooms, they actually found blooming chrysanthemums!
On the backboards were intricate flower patterns, and in the center of those patterns, soft yellow stamens trembled slightly, appearing harmless and even pitifully delicate.
But the moment they thought of Song Ci’s condition, everyone’s gaze toward those flowers was filled with dread.
The danger had been lurking beside them all along, unnoticed.
If Zhao Zhen hadn’t discovered Song Ci’s disappearance, and Lu Xingxing hadn’t uncovered the secret of the chrysanthemums and the patterns, the rest of them—who had been blissfully unaware—might’ve been lying defenseless in bed when death came for them.
Every bed was thoroughly overturned so that nothing could hide beneath them again.
Everyone was still shaken. Their wary eyes even turned toward the cabinets, afraid that chrysanthemums might be hiding inside those too.
Even the most carefree among them were now on edge, nervously and repeatedly checking every possible hiding place, opening and closing cabinet doors over and over again.
But no matter how careful they were, it was impossible to completely guard against the danger hidden within the patterns.
Only after the inspection did they realize—every single wooden plank in the entire small lodge had been carved with patterns!
The density of the carvings was like a trap laid in advance, a net waiting to ensnare them, leaving them nowhere to run.
“There’s definitely something wrong with the people of Longevity Village.”
Lu Xingxing said grimly. “This house was arranged for us on purpose. They planned this with the intention of killing us.”
Panic spread among the group.
Fortunately, this wasn’t the first time the production crew had faced danger. Though frightened, no one broke down or acted irrationally.
After the initial wave of fear and helplessness, everyone grabbed anything that could be used as a weapon, guarding every door and window, keeping a sharp eye on the flower-carved wooden panels.
They stood back to back, terrified that something might sneak up behind them from a blind spot.
While inspecting the carvings, they found a lot of black ash in various corners. According to Lu Xingxing, this was the leftover remains from the decomposed corpses after they had died.
In other words… those things had been lurking in the darkness all along, watching them closely.
Everyone was horrified. Their hands and feet turned cold.
Still, despite their fear and anxiety, they stood firm, protecting themselves and one another.
Meanwhile, the viewers watching through the main screen, who had only caught snippets of what was happening, were losing their minds.
[It’s over. My wardrobe and wallpaper are full of patterns. I’m scared now.]
[Same here…]
[F*ck, don’t tell me there are ghosts hiding in my closet too?]
[Damn it, there’s a huge gap under my bed!! I’m too afraid to lie down now. What if something’s under there, just waiting for me to fall asleep before it kills me?]
[Now I’m scared my houseplants might eat people too.]
[I’m staring wide-eyed at the patterned wallpaper in my room… I don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight.]
Lu Xingxing wasn’t planning to sleep either.
He sat heavily on the sofa in the living room, like a general ready for battle.
A look of unwavering resolve and deep sorrow flashed through Lu Xingxing’s eyes.
No. He couldn’t let anyone else get hurt.
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