Chapter 210: A Mountain Suspended, A River Submerged (24)
Lu Xingxing had never known that silence could be such a torturous thing.
He sat in the middle of the cottage’s living room, holding a long wooden staff he found in the room as a weapon, mimicking Yan Shixun’s usual posture from memory.
But the way he gripped the staff so tightly that his knuckles turned white betrayed the panic hidden beneath his forced calm.
In the past, when Lu Xingxing watched Yan Shixun from the sidelines, he had always thought those actions came to him effortlessly—so smooth and natural that it didn’t seem like he had to try.
It wasn’t until now, when there was no longer anyone in front of him to stand against the heavens, and it was up to him to support and protect everyone, that he finally realized how hard it was to reach the level that Yan Shixun had always shown.
Whenever he focused on what was ahead, he couldn’t keep track of what was behind him. He became so fixated on what he saw that he couldn’t even hear the sounds around him. Every gust of wind that blew in and rustled something made his heart pound violently with nerves…
Lu Xingxing felt like someone suffering from a mental breakdown. At the slightest movement or sound, he would snap his head in panic. But in moments of complete silence, he became even more afraid, jerking his head back every few seconds in a paranoid attempt to catch whatever he thought might be lurking behind him.
It was as if something was hiding there, and if he turned around quickly enough while it wasn’t paying attention, he might just catch a glimpse of it before it had time to hide again.
Every muscle in his body was tense, and his nerves stretched thin, terrified that a single lapse in attention might cause him to miss some lurking danger.
The people upstairs were just as nervous, not daring to let their guard down even for a moment.
If Yan Shixun were here, they would still be scared—but there would be comfort in his presence. They wouldn’t feel this hollow sense of uncertainty, like walking on air with nothing to ground them.
But now, the one responsible for protecting them was Lu Xingxing…
It wasn’t that they had anything against Lu Xingxing personally—it was just that in their minds, the label attached to him was still “genius indie musician Lu Xingxing,” not “powerful Taoist from Haiyun Temple capable of protecting others.”
Naturally, some worry crept in. What if something really happened? What if a ghost or spirit tried to rush into the cottage, or crawl in through the cracks—could Lu Xingxing really protect them?
Zhang Wubing, however, seemed to be handling it just fine.
He didn’t particularly trust Lu Xingxing’s abilities, but he trusted Brother Yan and Ye Li.
Brother Yan wouldn’t entrust their lives to someone unreliable.
Besides, wasn’t Lu Xingxing Brother Yan’s junior nephew?
Due to Zhang Wubing’s frequent ghost encounters, his family had long maintained good relationships with temples and Taoist sects across the country. For any well-known spiritual master in China, the Zhang family usually had a way to contact them.
Because of this, after hearing from Yan Shixun about the connection between Hermit Chengyun and the old Taoist master, Zhang Wubing also dug into that lineage’s background.
When he finally got hold of the information, he didn’t even realize his jaw had dropped until he finished reading—the drool was practically dripping from his mouth.
—That whole lineage was made up of top-tier powerhouses!
There was no need to mention the old Taoist or Hermit Chengyun. Taoist Song Yi was already a leading figure of his generation. As for his Brother Yan… Brother Yan was practically a dimensional attack—compared to other Taoists, he was like a giant crushing ants. It was downright unfair.
Among such legendary figures, Lu Xingxing looked like the odd one out—too inexperienced, too unpolished.
But if you took Lu Xingxing out of that circle and compared him to other Taoists of his age and rank, his talent actually stood out as exceptional.
He was like the smartest but most mischievous student in class. While everyone else buried their heads in study, he messed around and couldn’t sit still. Yet even so, he always managed to pass the exams with ease.
And once he really buckled down and decided to learn, his progress was nothing short of explosive.
—This time, when Taoist Song Yi was mistakenly presumed dead by Lu Xingxing, causing him to burst into uncontrollable sobs, it angered the Taoist so much that he made Lu Xingxing carry a book all the way to Longevity Village. He even issued an ultimatum: if he couldn’t memorize the contents, he didn’t need to return to Haiyun Temple.
Forced to his limits, Lu Xingxing—who previously couldn’t memorize a single incantation no matter how hard he tried—had actually learned most of them on the journey here.
Just earlier, Zhang Wubing had even seen it with his own eyes: Lu Xingxing flipping through the notes of an elder Taoist, stammering and stumbling as he tried to demonstrate a technique to Nan Tian—but it had actually worked.
Zhang Wubing, whose standards had been subtly raised over the years by being around an exceptionally talented person like Yan Shixun, couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle.
Actually, a husky could occasionally still have the intimidating presence of a wolf.
—Even though Lu Xingxing usually couldn’t stay cool for more than three seconds.
Hearing Zhang Wubing speak up for Lu Xingxing, the others began to waver a little.
“Well, it’s not like we have any other candidates right now anyway.”
Zhang Wubing spread his hands innocently and said, “As long as we can hold out until Brother Yan gets back, it should be fine.”
An Nanyuan hesitated for a moment. But when he thought about how he and Lu Xingxing had literally been through life-and-death situations together—how when he left his previous agency, Lu Xingxing had even publicly supported him—he started to feel that his current suspicion might be going too far…
“Director Zhang’s right.”
After an intense inner struggle, An Nanyuan nodded and said, “If it weren’t for Xingxing, we wouldn’t have found what was under the bed. If we had just gone to sleep without realizing it, we probably would’ve all been wiped out.”
With An Nanyuan’s reminder, everyone looked toward the bed in the room, now completely flipped over.
The underside of the bed frame was now facing them, with its lifelike chrysanthemum pattern glowing faintly with a strange shimmer, even in the dark.
One of the bed boards had even begun to bloom a small yellow flower bud—but since it had been discovered in time, it was already burned to ashes.
A chill ran down everyone’s spines.
This convinced them even more and reignited their hope of escaping danger. Their spirits were clearly much better than just a moment ago.
Seeing this, An Nanyuan also smiled slightly.
He knew Lu Xingxing had a lot of little flaws. But as someone who had received Lu Xingxing’s sincere friendship, he also sincerely hoped others would accept him as well.
However…
When he recalled the figure he saw when the door opened earlier, An Nanyuan’s heart filled with confusion again.
He felt like he had seen that person before—and not just recently, but quite some time ago.
Yet it was as if his brain had a mind of its own, blurring out all the details and features of that person with a mental mosaic. Even his memories had become vague and indistinct.
It felt like… a survival instinct from deep within his soul—only by forgetting that person could he stay alive.
Although Zhao Zhen had just shared the notebook he found with everyone, explaining how this village could mess with their memories and cause them to forget many things—
An Nanyuan didn’t believe that was the reason he had forgotten that person.
Besides, the aura of that person… the cold, indifferent glance they gave when they looked up…
It chilled him to the bone.
With these doubts still gnawing at him, An Nanyuan went downstairs to find Lu Xingxing, curious and eager to get some answers.
Lu Xingxing was already on edge. The creak of the wooden stairs scared him so badly he practically levitated off the sofa, swinging the stick in his hand in a panic, ready to strike.
—And then had the stick easily snatched away by An Nanyuan.
The two locked eyes, both momentarily frozen.
An Nanyuan: “…………”
Speechless and annoyed, he quickly shoved the stick back into Lu Xingxing’s hands.
In that instant, An Nanyuan really wanted to take back all the nice things he had just said about Lu Xingxing.
This guy really couldn’t keep his cool for more than three seconds. No, not even three—just two!
“Seeing you holding that stick, I thought maybe you were actually as good at fighting as Brother Yan.”
An Nanyuan said with disdain, “I’m just a dancer and I still managed to disarm you. What are you going to do if we really run into ghosts?”
Lu Xingxing scratched his nose awkwardly, flustered and a little unwilling, trying to defend himself: “Not every Taoist specializes in martial arts, you know. Temples also have monks and warrior monks—why is it that when it comes to me, I’m expected to be some kind of all-rounder?”
“…Except you’re not even specialized in anything.”
An Nanyuan gave him a deadpan look. “What Brother Yan has is called being multi-talented. What you’ve got—counts as useless.”
Lu Xingxing: “…Bro, that’s really harsh.”
But while Lu Xingxing didn’t have many strong points, he at least had a good sense of self-awareness. So he quickly changed the subject, refusing to let the conversation continue down the path of comparing him to Yan Shixun and embarrassing himself further.
“So, why’d you come down here?”
Lu Xingxing gave him a look of contempt. “Don’t tell me you came down just to humiliate me?”
An Nanyuan: “…Xingxing, are you sure you weren’t a husky in your past life?”
How was he any different from a husky who got its tail stepped on by accident and instantly assumed it was done on purpose?
When An Nanyuan brought up the topic of Ye Li, Lu Xingxing rubbed his chin and casually waved his hand like it was no big deal. “Oh, you mean the master aunt.”
An Nanyuan: “…?”
He had only just learned that Yan Shixun was Lu Xingxing’s master uncle, so… master aunt… Were Brother Yan and that person dating?
An Nanyuan’s expression was nothing short of horrified. No matter how hard he tried to recall, he couldn’t imagine the Yan Shixun he knew ever being the type to fall in love.
That terrifying aura was still the same!
“That person… with Brother Yan?”
An Nanyuan couldn’t hold back and questioned, “What’s his background? He looks way too scary. Can Brother Yan really accept someone like him?”
Just that one accidental glance still sent chills down An Nanyuan’s spine even now.
In truth, Lu Xingxing hadn’t known what exactly was going on between Ye Li and Yan Shixun either. He only called Ye Li “masteraunt” because back at the Jing Estate, Ye Li and Yan Shixun had posed as the married couple of the Jing family, and the nickname just stuck from there.
However, An Nanyuan’s skeptical tone instantly ignited Lu Xingxing’s already short temper.
Lu Xingxing responded with dissatisfaction, “What do you mean by that? That’s my master uncle we’re talking about! My masteruncle, Lu Xingxing’s! He’s worthy of a celestial being—heck, even a god would be a good match! What, my masterl uncle can’t be with whoever he wants? What’s it got to do with you!”
“And anyway, isn’t my master aunt strong?”
Just thinking about the power Ye Li had lent him made Lu Xingxing feel both thrilled and terrified. His awe and fear of Ye Li only deepened, and he didn’t dare defy him in the slightest.
“I’ll just say it now—my master uncle and master aunt, they’re a match made in heaven, a one-in-a-million perfect couple!”
Lu Xingxing’s declaration was firm and powerful, leaving no room for doubt.
Even An Nanyuan was stunned into silence.
In the room next door, Zhao Zhen, who was lying under the bed with Song Ci, couldn’t help but turn his head toward the living room.
Ah… so that person who was always with Brother Yan—he was Brother Yan’s significant other?
Zhao Zhen quietly made a mental note of this and decided from now on, he would show that person the same respect he gave Brother Yan.
“What? You got a problem with that?”
After finishing, Lu Xingxing even threw An Nanyuan a provocative glance, full of pride.
An Nanyuan: “…Wouldn’t dare.”
He really didn’t dare.
Just imagining that gaze in his mind again made his soul tremble with fear. How could he possibly have a problem with that person?
Besides, if this was Yan Shixun’s choice, then given An Nanyuan’s idol-level admiration and unwavering faith in Yan Shixun, he would only raise both hands in support and say, “Brother Yan is always right! Brother Yan is amazing!” How could he object?
Contrary to what Lu Xingxing imagined, An Nanyuan was now like a devoted fan who had accidentally discovered his idol’s secret relationship—so full of excitement and passion he had nowhere to let it out, his face flushed red.
Once he got back, he was definitely going to post a status blessing Brother Yan! Let Brother Yan feel the fans’ support and well wishes!
An Nanyuan wiggled around like he had ADHD, thrilled beyond words.
But with An Nanyuan around, Lu Xingxing actually felt a little more at ease.
He insisted that An Nanyuan sit behind him, back to back.
That way, he didn’t have to worry about some monster attacking him from behind.
“If only humans could grow two extra eyes on the back of their heads.”
Lu Xingxing sighed. “I bet Brother Yan has eyes on the back of his head. How else would he always know what’s going on behind him? Why can’t I do that?”
An Nanyuan said, “…Good thing Brother Yan isn’t here. Otherwise, you’d be in for a beating, Xingxing.”
Because the wooden building was so quiet, everyone upstairs also heard the voices coming from below.
They looked at each other in confusion.
After a long moment, someone finally spoke hesitantly, “Brother Yan… is in a relationship?”
Bai Shuang said blankly, “Huh? I really didn’t see that coming.”
Judging from Brother Yan’s usual calm and composed demeanor, he didn’t seem like someone wrapped up in romance at all, right?
Zhang Wubing clutched his chest in heartbreak—he felt like he wasn’t Brother Yan’s favorite anymore!
Such an important thing, and yet Brother Yan hadn’t told him? Did Jing Xiaobao know about it?
Sure enough, ever since Jing Xiaobao started tagging along with Brother Yan, he had sensed a crisis looming. He felt Jing Xiaobao posed a serious threat to his position in Brother Yan’s heart.
But he hadn’t expected that day to come so soon!
Even though he wasn’t exactly thrilled about gaining a new “mom,” if doing so meant winning Brother Yan back, well… he supposed he could live with it.
Zhang Wubing: “QAQ.”
He secretly made up his mind that when Brother Yan returned, he would put on his best performance and take back the lead that Jing Xiaobao had gained!
Everyone launched into a round of discussion, and the tense atmosphere began to gradually ease.
However, in such complete darkness—and as time slowly drifted into what was normally their rest period—the human body naturally began to yearn for rest. Weariness crept in little by little.
Even though they tried to force their eyes open, shook their heads to stay alert, they still couldn’t stop themselves from yawning. Drowsiness wrapped around their bodies, dragging their minds into a sluggish state.
Just as everyone let their guard down, the carvings etched into the wooden planks—like they’d been silently watching all along—began to slowly rotate and bloom with almost imperceptible motion.
Within the patterns, slender petals trembled slightly, like fresh flowers blooming in the breeze, still kissed with dewdrops.
Then, the power that had been building up in silence burst forth in an instant!
All at once, the carvings on every wooden surface in the small building bloomed simultaneously.
White and yellow.
They blossomed in wild profusion.
Clusters of chrysanthemums covered the wooden floorboards, and before anyone could react, the entire little building had turned into a sea of flowers.
The first to notice was Zhao Zhen.
Worried that something might happen to Song Ci again, he had been keeping a close watch on both Song Ci and the flamboyant chrysanthemum blooming above his head.
The chill rising from beneath him kept Zhao Zhen alert.
So when Song Ci’s face, which had just returned to a healthy flush, suddenly turned pale and gray, with his body temperature dropping rapidly, Zhao Zhen instantly knew something was wrong.
“Lu Xingxing!”
Zhao Zhen shouted hoarsely, “The flowers! The flowers!”
Lu Xingxing snapped awake and immediately jumped to his feet.
But before he could run into Zhao Zhen’s room, he suddenly noticed—everywhere he looked, vibrant chrysanthemums were blooming on the carved patterns.
The flower buds pushed their way out from the center of the designs and gave a little shake. In the span of a breath, the pale yellow buds expanded, their petals slowly unfurling into the same eerie beauty they had seen before.
Suddenly, shouts of panic echoed from upstairs.
“The flowers! They’re blooming!”
“How can wood grow flowers?! What are these things?! Brother Yan! Brother Yan!!”
Lu Xingxing’s heart skipped a beat—something was definitely wrong.
He no longer had time to check on Zhao Zhen. He quickly began muttering incantations under his breath, summoning the power that Ye Li had lent him. Following the steps Taoist Song Yi had taught him, his chanting smoothed out from stumbling syllables into a steady flow.
Black mist spilled out from around Lu Xingxing, sweeping through the entire cottage in an instant.
The gigantic beast slowly stepped out from the wisps of mist, its sharp claws leaving deep gashes on the floor.
It lowered its massive body, like a prelude to an attack, letting out a deep, rumbling growl from its throat, intimidating its enemies.
Its majesty was not to be violated.
Through the nearby window, Lu Xingxing saw that outside the small wooden cottage, in the darkness, shadowy figures were swaying unsteadily. The outlines of decaying corpses flickered faintly in and out of view.
Only countless blood-red eyes floated in the dark, stretching as far as the eye could see, staring fixedly at the cottage.
Lu Xingxing felt as though his heart had plunged into a bottomless abyss—it was so heavy that he could hardly breathe.
In the river outside the small building, yellow and white petals had somehow once again spread across the entire water’s surface.
One corpse after another rose from the riverbed. Accompanied by splashing water and dripping sounds, the stiff and sluggish corpses slowly crawled onto the shore.
The damp, putrid stench filled the entire village.
The corpses’ originally hollow and rigid eyes were now filled with regret and resentment.
They stared at the nearby cottage with eyes full of envy and hatred. The faint scent of the living drifting from inside only intensified the bitterness in their hearts.
Why? Why were you still alive, while I had become like this? Why hadn’t you died with me? Why was I the one who ended up like this?
If… if I dragged you down into death as well, would I be saved?
Their crimson eyes brimmed with resentment as they slowly approached the cottage, step by step.
One corpse after another surrounded the small cottage tightly, leaving no gaps.
The rotting stench seeped in through every crack and crevice in the doors and windows. Even those with the dullest sense of smell were nearly knocked out by the stench that seemed to shoot straight into the brain.
Some, staring in fear at the clusters of chrysanthemums everywhere, couldn’t suppress the churning in their stomachs and began to retch.
Someone shoved aside the person next to them, dashed to the corner, and vomited. The sour, foul smell instantly spread through the air.
Everyone was affected by the fear and nausea of those around them. The atmosphere inside the cottage turned tense and oppressive.
In a place Lu Xingxing couldn’t see—beneath the raised floorboards of the cottage—golden roots pierced through the planks and burrowed deep into the soil.
But beneath those floorboards, the chrysanthemum patterns hadn’t bloomed into flowers like those inside the house. Instead…
They had bloomed into human faces.
One pale, mournful human face after another covered the entire underside of the floor, crowded together and silently screaming.
Their expressions were twisted with pain, their mouths gaping open to the limit as if crying out for help.
Yet no one could hear their cries. No one could come to their aid.
All the favors they had once extracted had turned into karma, now rebounding upon them.
Meanwhile, more corpses walked straight through the narrow path between the two small wooden cottages by the riverside and entered the village directly.
The chrysanthemums blooming in the village’s clearing swayed gently in the mountain breeze, as if murmuring to themselves.
In an elderly man’s home, candles had already been lit.
A white candle stood before the bare wall, its flame dancing wildly with the wind, casting the old man’s shadow onto the wall—long, twisted, and terrifying like a demon.
The old man sat calmly in the room, the firelight flickering from the brazier before him illuminating his face.
In the half-light and half-shadow, that once-kind face now appeared ferocious and terrifying.
And on the low table in front of him sat a steaming plate of meat.
The tender, well-cooked meat gave off a rich aroma, tantalizing the appetite. In the swirling steam, it looked irresistibly tempting.
But amid the white mist, something round and plump suddenly dropped from the large piece of meat.
As if the overcooked flesh could no longer hold what was inside, it slipped out from where it originally belonged.
Only a hollow cavity was left behind.
That object fell from the plate and rolled along the floor, spinning all the way to the fireplace before it finally stopped.
The old man bent down and picked up the bead without the slightest hint of disgust, even though it was dirty.
Between his fingers, the bead clearly showed black spots speckled on white.
It looked just like…
A human eyeball.
The old man opened his mouth and tossed the bead straight in. His strong teeth crunched it loudly, and hot, sticky liquid burst inside his mouth.
The rustling sounds outside the door suddenly stopped, as if frightened into silence.
In the air, only the crackling of the fire remained.
The old man cast a contemptuous glance at the darkness beyond the window, completely unafraid.
“You couldn’t touch me when you were alive. What can you do now that you’re dead? Useless trash.”
He snorted coldly, then stretched out a greasy hand, grabbed the pile of bones at his feet, and threw a handful into the stove in front of him.
Instantly, the flames leapt up.
In the plate, a human face slowly unfurled, its features still faintly discernible through the rising steam.
Outside the old man’s small wooden cottage, the rotting corpses that had been glaring resentfully at the light inside now shrank back, as if in fear of something.
In Longevity Village, every household had tightly shut their doors. Only the light from the fire shone through the windows, casting an even brighter glow over the chrysanthemums outside.
At the same time, the flames stretched the silhouettes of the old men sitting by the fire, distorting their figures until they no longer looked human.
The crackling of burning wood echoed, and a thick, meaty aroma drifted out through the door cracks, making one’s mouth water.
But the corpses scattered outside each house backed away in terror.
——
After carrying Nan Tian back to the room, Yan Shixun immediately used the method of writing in each other’s palms to silently ask Nan Tian everything he knew.
Just as Nan Tian had said, he had no idea how he ended up here.
While resting in the cottage provided by the show’s crew, as soon as it got dark, Nan Tian had begun to feel an overwhelming fatigue like he had never experienced before.
It was as if every single muscle and cell in his body was crying out to rest, even his very soul refusing to move.
Nan Tian had run marathons. He had also climbed some of the most dangerous and famous mountains in China while filming variety shows. Back then, he had clung to chains tightly secured to sheer cliffs, inching along step by step with a bottomless abyss behind him—one slip meant certain death.
He had experienced exhaustion so extreme that he would fall asleep the instant he touched the bed.
But even so, Nan Tian still felt uneasy recalling how sleepy he’d become after dark.
It was like being trapped in a dream he couldn’t wake from—as if the dream was the true reality, and the world he opened his eyes to was the illusion.
Unable to resist the pull of sleep, and after being startled awake a few times, Nan Tian eventually let down all his guard and sank into deep slumber.
Once again, he dreamed of the nightmare that had haunted him since childhood.
But this time, the nightmare—normally unchanging—had shifted.
Nan Tian felt like he was suspended midair within the dream, watching his younger self walk along a village path. A slightly hunched, elderly figure walked beside the child, gripping his hand tightly.
“We’re going to live in the city from now on. Aren’t you happy?”
The voice echoed in Nan Tian’s ears, filled with a familiar mix of tenderness and age.
His eyes slowly widened. He turned his head in a daze, shifting his gaze from his younger self to the figure beside him.
And there, he saw a face he had longed for over the decades—one he had never seen again.
It was his grandmother.
For reasons unknown, after his grandmother had sent him back to the city, she had completely vanished from his life.
He had been so young then. He cried and begged to see her again. He didn’t feel close to his parents, who had never really been around, and he didn’t care for the toys and snacks they bought to cheer him up.
He just wanted to return to the village, to plant vegetables with his grandmother, to run up and down the field ridges while she worked, to mischievously tease her, then be playfully spanked before dashing off to the mountains with his friends to pick fruit, or to the river to catch fish.
City life was too boring. Little Nan Tian missed his childhood friends in the village terribly.
After several bouts of crying, his mother finally lost her patience. She broke down, screaming at him in frustration: “They’re all dead! Dead! You won’t find anyone even if you go back! If it weren’t for your grandmother, you would’ve died there too!”
Little Nan Tian didn’t understand what death was.
But he had heard his little friends mention that up on the mountain, there were people who had been hanged, and others who had smashed their heads on rocks.
That year, many of the familiar faces in the village that little Nan Tian used to know never appeared again.
He had asked his little friends what death meant, and one of them thought for a while, then twisted his own head off his neck and said in a childlike voice, “Like this — that’s death.”
At the time, Nan Tian was stunned.
But it wasn’t because he was afraid — he actually thought it was incredibly cool and amazing. He himself couldn’t take his head off like that.
His little friend had been quite proud, too.
But soon, Grandma came looking for him. Ignoring Nan Tian’s pleas, she carried him home.
Grandma told him that little friend had been born wrong from the very beginning, and now that the Great Dao had come to reclaim the karmic debt of life, he had died under the weight of that karma.
“His grandma sacrificed six baby girls before him, sending them into the mountains just to have a grandson.”
Grandma sneered coldly, her eyes holding a cruelty Nan Tian had never seen before. “His life was built on six older sisters and a mother. How could he possibly escape the judgment of the King of Hell?”
“When the Ghost Year comes and the gates of the underworld open, the Ghost King makes his rounds, judging sins. Those who did evil… die.”
Nantian vaguely remembered those words his grandma had said. So, when his mother cried so hard her whole body trembled, he was only a little confused and regretful that he would never get to master the cool trick of taking his head off his neck.
That night, when Nan Tian went out to get a drink of water, he overheard his father’s choked voice comforting his mother.
His father said that Grandma was already dead, and could not come back to life — but Nan Tian was still here, and life had to go on.
His father said they must not go back anymore. Grandma wouldn’t have wanted them to return. She had sent Nan Tian away precisely so their family could stay far from danger and live in peace.
At that time, Nan Tian still didn’t understand the sadness of death.
But later, as he gradually grew older, he began to understand.
He never again saw Grandma smile at him. His grandma had become a cold, lifeless corpse, buried in a damp, dark underground, gnawed at by insects and ants, slowly rotting away.
Yet, in their home, there was never a photo of Grandma for remembrance. During festivals and holidays, his parents never made offerings to her. They treated Grandma’s death with deep taboo.
Even when Nan Tian asked where Grandma was buried — saying he wanted to visit her grave — all he got in return were teary eyes and long sighs from his parents.
And over the decades, Nan Tian had never dreamed of Grandma. Not even once.
So long had passed that he had already forgotten what Grandma’s face and voice looked like.
Sometimes, he even doubted whether he ever really had a Grandma at all. Or was it all just a fantasy from his childhood?
Until now — in this lucid dream — Nan Tian once again saw Grandma’s face.
In that instant, sealed-away memories came flooding back. That long-lost face overlapped with the one before him, becoming vivid and alive once more.
Grandma bent down and explained to the unhappy little Nan Tian, “Because the neighbors did something wrong, and the consequences have been set in motion. If no one takes care of it, it won’t just affect our village but also the surrounding villages near Nanming Mountain.”
“Everyone will die, and their bodies will be placed on the altar for the gods to descend upon.”
“When that time comes, the disaster will be irreversible, and no one will be able to save humanity.”
“Grandma is from this village and also a shaman… All the disasters will become my sins, and even I won’t be able to forgive myself. So, Tian Tian…”
Grandma smiled kindly as she looked at the young Nan Tian, “If I die, I must die on my own grounds. I can’t back down.”
“I have to go into the mountains now. The only thing I’m worried about is you, Tian Tian… Once I leave, you must never come back. Never approach Nanming Mountain again.”
“Remember.”
Nan Tian held Grandma’s hand and walked to the crossroads in the village.
He couldn’t understand what Grandma was saying, but he looked up at her in confusion.
But, watching from the side, Nan Tian finally recalled memories he had long forgotten due to this dream.
Unable to suppress his yearning and confusion any longer, he unconsciously took a few steps forward and called out emotionally, “Grandma!”
In that moment, grandma, who had been bending over and smiling kindly, immediately became serious. But when she saw Nan Tian, her expression turned into one of shock.
“You…”
Grandma slapped Nan Tian’s back as he quickly approached her and pushed him toward the crossroads. “Go quickly!”
Nan Tian was stunned, not understanding what was happening.
But granda’s strength was great. He stumbled a few steps and fell toward the crossroads.
He felt himself losing balance and instinctively turned his head to look at grandma.
What he saw terrified him. Behind grandma, black mist-like figures stood in the village, their eyes and mouths reduced to empty black holes. They silently watched grandma and seemed to want to say something, their arms, entwined in black mist, reaching out toward him, as if wanting to pull him back.
But grandma, standing in front of the crossroads, kept everything behind her, not letting those black figures cross the village boundary.
Her normally hunched figure seemed suddenly so tall.
And Nan Tian continued to fall.
It was as though a dream was tumbling into reality, as if he were about to wake from a deep layer of consciousness.
“Grandma!”
Nan Tian woke up in a cold sweat, jolting upright after being startled by the nightmare.
He panted heavily and looked around in panic, but grandma was no longer there.
And he realized something was wrong with the scene around him…
He was lying in a large patch of chrysanthemums, the white and yellow flowers mixed together, making Nan Tian momentarily think he had arrived at a funeral hall, lying among the flowers after his own death…
Before he could think further, a man, bare-chested and grinning, appeared in front of him.
The man seemed to have passed by by chance. Upon seeing Nan Tian, he looked surprised and then said that he was a local villager and could let Nan Tian stay in the village for the night. He would send him out tomorrow.
After Nan Tian finished his explanation, Yan Shixun extended his hand downward and pointed to the ground, indicating, “Is it Liu Ming?”
Nan Tian nodded.
Yan Shixun’s brow furrowed more and more.
The way he arrived in the village, swimming upstream, had already been strange enough, but he hadn’t expected Nan Tian’s arrival to be even stranger.
If there was any similarity, it was only the chrysanthemums.
The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the chrysanthemums blooming along the riverbank. Nan Tian, too, had slept among the flowers.
However, according to Nan Tian’s story, it was clear that Grandma Nan had something to do with him getting here.
But why would a grandma who loved her grandchild send Nan Tian to such a strange place?
She should have sent him to a safe place.
Or perhaps, after her death, Grandma Nan could do no more. Getting him to the upstream village of Longevity Village was the best she could manage.
Or, did Grandma Nan believe that there was still life hidden here?
Yan Shixun was full of questions. He lifted his gaze to look out at the bright sunlight over the desolate Longevity Village.
Nanming Mountain…
He silently repeated the name in his heart.
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