Chapter 212: A Mountain Suspended, A River Submerged (26)
Yan Shixun had suspected there was something off about the abandoned house upstream in Longevity Village, but his initial assumption had been that the residents were the young people from the downstream village who had gone missing without a trace.
However, the style of the jacket and the name written on it made Yan Shixun realize that the person living here wasn’t one of those villagers, but someone who had chosen to live in seclusion in Longevity Village, at least from the outside world’s perspective.
Since Longevity Village first gained attention decades ago, countless backpackers and terminally ill individuals had flocked to this place. Many had declared their intent to settle here permanently.
Yet standing before him now was a vast patch of deserted wooden cottages…
Judging from the skeletal hand he had seen earlier and the thick layer of undisturbed dust inside, it was highly likely that this team captain had met a tragic end.
If the other wooden cottages were in similar condition, and each person who came here to live in seclusion ended up dead, then based on the number of abandoned houses and the guide’s earlier estimate of how many people had chosen to live here, there could have been several hundred deaths.
Yan Shixun’s eyes darkened.
He put down the jacket and began searching every potential hiding place inside the wooden cottage.
Since everything in the house had been left untouched, it was likely the captain’s personal belongings had also been left behind.
If he was lucky enough to find even a fragment of what the captain had written, Yan Shixun might be able to figure out what had truly happened—how people who had come here for a peaceful, secluded life had ended up like this.
Just looking at the run-down house gave Nan Tian the creeps.
But once Yan Shixun became focused on searching, he paid no attention to Nan Tian. Not wanting to be a burden, Nan Tian stood awkwardly in the living room like a giant obstacle, so tense he didn’t know what to do with his hands and feet.
It wasn’t until he closed the front door that he felt slightly more at ease and let out a small breath of relief.
Meanwhile, Yan Shixun, who had quickly searched the entire cabin, actually made a discovery.
Most of the cabinets held barely anything—maybe a couple of clothes or some carved wooden figurines. In the kitchen and food storage areas, the food had long since decayed into solid black blocks. Still, it was just possible to make out that they had once been pieces of meat, not crops.
After a brief moment of confusion, Yan Shixun assumed the vegetables had simply rotted away completely over time, leaving no trace behind, and he continued his search.
As he stepped beside the stove, the soles of his Martin boots scraped against the wooden floor, producing a shrill squeaking sound.
Yan Shixun abruptly stopped.
The sound beneath his feet felt hollow.
He lowered his gaze and slowly looked down.
The floor next to the stove had been scorched by years of exposure to fire, leaving it black and shiny. Even under the dust, it looked different from the surrounding areas.
But that wasn’t what caught Yan Shixun’s attention.
It was the gap between the floorboards.
Because of the dust, a normally unnoticeable crack had become visible. A thin black line ran through the grey coating—as if the dust had fallen into the gap and revealed what lay beneath.
Yan Shixun stepped on the board again. Hearing the creaky, slightly echoing sound, he crouched quickly and began feeling around the floorboard.
Solid wood and hollow wood made different sounds. When you tapped on a hollow section, the sound was thinner, crisper.
Exactly like what he’d just heard.
His slender fingers traced along the gap, and before long, he found the right spot to pry it open.
With a soft pop!, the wooden plank—coated in dust and forgotten for years—was lifted once more.
Like a clam cracking open to reveal the pearl hidden inside.
Except this time, what had been carefully concealed long ago beneath the floorboards was no pearl—
—but a bundle of filthy cloth.
The fabric’s ragged edges and irregular shape made it look like it had been torn off a garment at random.
Yan Shixun picked it up and gently unfolded it, revealing messy handwriting.
The characters weren’t written with a typical pen, but appeared to have been painfully traced using someone’s finger dipped in charcoal dust.
The passage of time and the way the cloth had been crumpled had blurred many of the characters, forcing Yan Shixun to bring it right up to his face and concentrate to decipher them.
It seemed the person who had lived in this house had a premonition of what was to come—or had at least sensed something was wrong early on. So they had written down a brief account of their abnormal experiences on the cloth, as a reminder to themselves.
But even the very first sentence made Yan Shixun frown.
[I died. But I came back to life.]
Whoever wrote this seemed confused even as they wrote that line. The charcoal had clumped on the fabric, as if the writer had paused in a long daze, allowing the powder to spread in a large smear.
Yan Shixun, puzzled, continued reading.
It took considerable effort to make sense of the chaotic, fragmented writing, but eventually, he pieced together the meaning.
The writer had been the leader of a hiking team that entered Longevity Village many years ago.
But he hadn’t known then that what awaited them was a one-way journey—death.
One by one, the members of his hiking team vanished in the village. The leader noticed something was wrong after sunset, but every time daylight returned, he forgot all his sorrow and fear, and lived on as if everything was normal.
Eventually, all his team members disappeared from his side. Then one night, he saw someone he knew—someone familiar—crawl out of the river, their body grotesquely bloated and swollen from water exposure.
The leader had cried out their name, but the person lunged at him with pure hatred in their eyes and tore through his throat with a bite.
Lying on the ground, waiting to die in the cold, the leader vaguely saw the silhouette of the villagers.
The once-ever-smiling old folks now looked cold and detached, staring down at him as his blood spilled rapidly. Their faces suddenly appeared unfamiliar and terrifying.
Then, an indescribable pain overwhelmed him—so intense that, even in the depths of agony, he couldn’t help but scream.
—That old man… was actually peeling the flesh from his body with his bare hands.
The old man’s technique was skillful, as if he had done it many times before.
It was like separating meat from the bones of livestock.
The leader, who was still alive, watched in horror as the flesh of his entire body was stripped away from his skeleton. His pale white bones were exposed to the air, while his bright red heart continued to beat.
He passed out. In the haze, he could only remember the icy river water piercing to the bone. He suspected the old man was trying to destroy the evidence—perhaps he had been thrown into the river behind them.
He also wondered if his teammates had suffered this same unbearable pain without his knowledge.
The leader had thought he would end up like those teammates—dead, with rotting flesh. But to his surprise, when he opened his eyes, he found himself in a place filled with birdsong and blooming flowers.
His body was intact, with no signs of decay or pain. It was as if everything before had just been a nightmare.
And now that he was awake, he had returned to reality.
A man named Liu Ming asked him in surprise why he was sleeping on the ground, and said they were all residents of Longevity Village. Then, he brought the captain back to what he called “home.”
But as the leader looked at the empty house, a strange feeling welled up inside him.
Soon after, he was horrified to find that the fragments of memory he had clung to were slowly fading away.
Terrified, the leader remained wary of this so-called Longevity Village. He didn’t fully trust Liu Ming’s words.
He struggled to jot down whatever fragments of memory he could before they disappeared completely, just to remind himself not to be fooled by the peacefulness in front of him.
Elsewhere, the leader was shocked to discover that there were other teammates in the village!
Yet, those people acted as if they didn’t recognize him at all. Smiling, they told him that they were villagers of Longevity Village, born and raised there. They said they had never left the mountains and had no idea who the leader was.
The leader felt a chill run through his entire body.
What kind of experience could cause a person to lose all their memories as if they had been replaced?
Before long, he realized it wasn’t just one teammate—there were several others, even a few hiking enthusiasts he had once known or heard about. All of them were here, in this village.
Previously, they had all claimed they wanted to settle in Longevity Village because they liked it. In fact, the captain’s own hiking team had been drawn to this place because of their stories.
But now, those same people insisted they had always been villagers of Longevity Village, born there, never having left.
They even expressed confusion toward the leader, asking if he was overthinking things. They urged him not to worry and to just live happily here.
Everyone around him shared the same attitude. This consistency began to leave the leader feeling lost and doubtful of himself.
—Could it be that the abnormal one was actually him? Were those memories of the world outside the mountains nothing more than delusions?
In the moment he began to waver, it was as if a beast that had long lurked in the shadows had sensed its prey’s weakness. It pounced, fiercely devouring the leader’s memories.
He began to forget rapidly. Trying to recall anything would trigger a splitting headache.
Gradually, the leader began to believe he truly was a villager of Longevity Village—born here, and destined to die here—never having left the mountains.
However, Yan Shixun knew that a leader who had endured so long in such a fog of confusion was not someone who would easily give in.
Because during the time he was forgetting, the leader had even forgotten about the existence of the cloth strip. He had stopped writing altogether.
When he finally began writing again, his handwriting was more frantic.
It was as if someone was standing guard outside the door, waiting for him to step out. He had no choice but to suppress his wildly beating heart, kneel by the stove with trembling hands, and hurriedly jot down his words. Then he quickly restored everything to its original state, forced a smile, and walked out of the small wooden cottage—toward an unknown future.
In his last passage, the leader wrote with certainty that he had forgotten many things.
[The village chief, who had never appeared before, is back. Liu Ming is calling me to see him, saying we need to discuss tomorrow’s ritual. Liu Ming said this is my honor. Because of me, the village will continue to remain peaceful.]
[But the neighbors Liu Ming took away before… never came back.]
[I remembered. I died once, and came back to life. But it’s already too late. I can’t escape. If anyone finds this strip of cloth, believe me—run!!!]
The force of the last two words tore through the cloth. The charcoal tip he was writing with broke through his skin, leaving faint traces of blood on the strip.
Yan Shixun stood still for a few seconds, then slowly folded the cloth and placed it back beneath the floorboard—restoring everything to how it had been.
However, just as he was about to stand up, he noticed a hint of white among the ashes under the stove.
Frowning in confusion, he leaned forward and reached inside.
The cool, hard object he touched sent a shock through his heart. He hurriedly tried to pull it out.
But what had been stuffed beneath the stove was far larger than Yan Shixun had expected.
The cramped space and the layer of firewood ash covering it had clouded Yan Shixun’s judgment. When he pulled forcefully, he immediately sensed that the weight and size were off.
At first, the texture made Yan Shixun think it was a piece of bone, but upon closer inspection… it felt much more like the full skeletal remains of an adult male.
In the living room, Nan Tian was growing increasingly frightened as he waited. Eventually, he cautiously stepped into the kitchen, wanting to ask Yan Shixun how things were going.
“Yan—”
However, before he could get the words out, his eyes were already drawn to the skeleton in Yan Shixun’s hand.
The sight before him was too horrifying. For someone who already feared ghosts, Nan Tian was left paralyzed, even his gaze frozen.
—Yan Shixun was gripping the skeleton’s arm and pulling the entire skeleton out of the furnace. He had pulled it halfway—half of the bones were in his hand, while the rest were still buried inside the furnace.
The limp skull of the skeleton hung down, its hollow eye sockets… staring straight at Nan Tian.
In that moment, Nan Tian felt as if his scalp exploded.
The audience watching from Yan Shixun’s split screen was equally stunned.
None of them had expected that what started as a pleasant travel variety show would suddenly turn into a close-up of a human skeleton.
—And given the style of this show, this was definitely no prop.
This was real!!
Nan Tian wanted to scream, but a light glance from Yan Shixun shut the sound right in his throat.
“If you’re scared, then step back and make some space.”
Yan Shixun’s expression remained calm, as if holding a human skeleton in his hand didn’t strike him as the least bit odd.
Nan Tian obediently retreated to the kitchen doorway, too afraid to make a sound, watching as Yan Shixun carefully laid the skeleton down on the ground.
Yan Shixun crouched down and examined the skeleton closely, starting from the skull and working his way downward, looking for any signs of trauma.
Based on the contents recorded on the cloth strip earlier, he had already confirmed the identity of the skeleton.
It was the original resident of this wooden cabin—the hiking team leader who had been separated from his flesh by the villagers of Longevity Village.
The only thing Yan Shixun couldn’t figure out was why, after Liu Mingjiao left, the dead leader’s skeleton would end up hidden in his own furnace.
But even after carefully inspecting the entire skeleton, he couldn’t find a single wound.
There was no clear cause of death on these bones.
Without flesh, even someone like Yan Shixun couldn’t conjure a conclusion out of thin air after so many years. He couldn’t determine exactly what the leader had gone through after the records ended that had led him to become like this.
Yan Shixun slowly stood up, took out a handkerchief, and wiped the dust from his fingers.
As he lowered his gaze, he happened to meet the eye sockets of the skeleton.
Yan Shixun paused. He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but somehow, those empty black eye sockets, void of eyeballs, seemed to be filled with a pleading sorrow.
It was as if the leader’s agony and unresolved attachment had transcended life and death, traveled through time, and returned to inhabit this lifeless skeleton—begging the exorcist standing before him:
Please, release me from the pain of life and death. Please, help me find the teammates I once led here.
Yan Shixun’s hands gradually stopped moving. His arms dropped to his sides.
He stared silently at the skeleton for a moment, then curled his lips into a faint smile and softly said, “I will.”
Nan Tian, watching Yan Shixun talk to himself, felt as if a cold wind had just blown across the back of his neck, making him shudder in fear.
Even after they left the leader’s wooden cabin, a heavy feeling lingered in Yan Shixun’s heart.
The leader had mentioned in his records that he had encountered several teammates and acquaintances in the village.
So, with the leader’s home as the center point, Yan Shixun quickly searched through dozens of nearby wooden cabins. Nan Tian, who followed him, was so exhausted he felt weak, yet Yan Shixun still seemed full of energy, showing no signs of fatigue despite the sheer amount of work he had just done.
After inspecting the surrounding cabins, Yan Shixun discovered that it wasn’t just the leader who had forgotten things.
On the walls or floors of several other wooden cabins, there were scratches made either by fingernails or sharp objects. These people had also struggled bitterly within their fog of amnesia. Some had even asked questions, wondering why they—who were already dead—were here again, and why their companions had turned into rotting corpses.
But it seemed those people had quickly forgotten what they’d once remembered. After leaving behind those marks, they had forgotten even their own desperate desire to hold on to something—and never returned to look again.
Even those scratches… had long been buried beneath thick layers of dust.
However, in several of the wooden cabins, Yan Shixun also found something different.
On top of dusty cabinets or beneath beds, there were faint square-shaped outlines, as if something like a notebook had once been there. The dust in those spots was noticeably thinner.
It looked like a notebook had once been placed there.
This reminded Yan Shixun of how the leader had hidden the cloth strip beneath the floorboards.
Perhaps it was because the leader was more observant and meticulous than others that he had noticed the villagers would take away anything used to record information, which was why he had been so careful in hiding his own notes.
As for those who hadn’t hidden theirs, the things they had written down had already been taken by others.
However, even from the fragmented records left by everyone, Yan Shixun had managed to barely piece together a complete version of the events from multiple perspectives. He finally understood what had happened back then.
Everyone who ended up in the upstream Longevity Village had previously gone through the downstream Longevity Village.
Some of them were there chasing a slim hope of survival, others drawn by the picturesque scenery of the village as rumored online. But without exception, once they arrived, they were deeply captivated by it.
All the emotions and memories that might make them unhappy were forgotten. Each person lived joyfully in Longevity Village.
They didn’t remember what they had forgotten; they only felt like the happiest people in the world, as if this was how life was always meant to be.
All suffering was lost—only happiness remained.
Then, one day after the sun had set, things began to change.
Rotting corpses crawled out of the river and snuck into the small wooden cottages by the riverside.
Some people were attacked in their sleep by the decaying corpses hiding under their beds. They could only watch helplessly as suddenly appearing villagers peeled the flesh from their bodies.
These people had one other thing in common—they all began to slowly lose their memories after inexplicably arriving at the upstream Longevity Village.
Some of them, who were in relatively better condition, managed to leave behind a final written note before they disappeared completely.
—They had gone to see the village chief, to prepare for a ritual.
Yan Shixun didn’t know how these people managed to survive the flaying of their flesh and still appear unscathed afterward.
But because of the repeated mentions of the ritual, and the similar patterns in their disappearances, a dreadful suspicion began to grow in his heart.
Nan Tian had once mentioned that back in his hometown near Nanming Mountain, there was a tradition of using corpses in sacrificial rites.
Could those who had entered Longevity Village and never returned have been used for live sacrifices?
Yan Shixun felt a heavy weight pulling down on his chest. Those records filled with blood, tears, and pain pressed down on his heart, and in a flash, he felt like he had been transported back to Longevity Village all those years ago, watching those people being called away before his very eyes.
They were like livestock, fattened up and waiting for slaughter.
For a moment, Yan Shixun stood dazed on the village path. Nan Tian didn’t dare to ask him anything and only looked nervously around, then at Yan Shixun again, afraid that he might have been possessed or had his mind harmed by something sinister.
In his deep thoughts, Yan Shixun suddenly caught a glimpse of something bright in his peripheral vision.
Instinctively, he looked up and saw a figure in a dress dashing past in a panic not far away.
Although the figure had only appeared for a fleeting second between two buildings before being hidden again by a small wooden cottage, Yan Shixun immediately recognized her.
She was the very first girl he had seen when he had followed the river upstream and arrived at Longevity Village.
But unlike the girl’s innocent and cheerful demeanor back then, in that brief glance just now, Yan Shixun noticed her face was filled with anxiety, as if she were in a hurry to do something. Even her breathing was ragged, as though she had been running for a long time.
In a flash, Yan Shixun made a decision. With a push from his long legs, he sprinted forward, agilely grabbed the railing of a nearby wooden cottage, and vaulted along the walls and rooftops, taking the shortest route to close the distance to the girl.
“Wait!”
Yan Shixun called out in a low voice, “Ah Yu!”
He remembered clearly—back then, Liu Ming had called the girl by that name.
Sure enough, hearing the shout, the girl who had been running so anxiously came to a sudden stop and turned around in surprise.
But when she saw how Yan Shixun was dressed, her pupils contracted sharply.
“You’re an outsider? How could this be…”
The girl didn’t respond to Yan Shixun’s call. She simply murmured in disbelief, her gaze filled with concern as she looked at him.
It was the look that kind-hearted people had when they saw someone walking toward their death—a natural, sorrowful expression of pity.
She seemed like she wanted to stop the tragedy from happening, to say something to Yan Shixun. But she quickly hesitated. Her young and delicate face showed a flicker of fear, as if she was afraid of some unseen force.
Because she had stopped running, Yan Shixun immediately caught up to her.
Before Yan Shixun could call out to the girl again, he noticed that she seemed to be looking at him as if she didn’t recognize him.
They had met before, and at that time, the girl had shown clear signs of worry. If it weren’t for Liu Ming’s sudden appearance, she would have wanted to say something to him.
So why now… wait!
Yan Shixun suddenly realized that the girl in front of him had some slight differences in appearance compared to the one he had first seen when he arrived at Longevity Village.
The differences were subtle, more about her changed expressions and demeanor, which seemed to have evolved due to life experiences rather than a physical change.
Compared to the innocent and naive girl he had first seen, this girl seemed more composed and thoughtful, like someone who had been through a lot and matured beyond her years.
Was she a twin?
Yan Shixun briefly entertained the thought.
Then, after a moment of hesitation and contemplation, the girl spoke, “Have you seen my sister?”
Yan Shixun decided to take a chance.
Whether it was the sister from before or the current one, he hadn’t felt any malice from them. And after searching through dozens of small wooden cottages, he had developed a guess about what the girl wanted to say back then.
He believed that what the girl, Ah Yu, had wanted to tell him was “leave quickly.”
This attitude, so different from Liu Ming’s, made Yan Shixun believe that Ah Yu didn’t mean him harm, and she surely knew something.
So…
“Yes, I’ve seen Ah Yu.”
Yan Shixun feigned confusion and said earnestly, “She told me to leave quickly, and then she didn’t say anything more and just left.”
“Are you Ah Yu’s sister? Do you know what she meant by that?”
Upon hearing Yan Shixun’s words, the girl was momentarily stunned. After a brief pause, she stomped her foot in frustration and whispered angrily, “Ah Yu already told you, so why didn’t you leave?!”
Yan Shixun pretended to be completely innocent and confused. “I didn’t know how to leave. There doesn’t seem to be a road around the village. And…”
He looked into the girl’s eyes and spoke sincerely, “I think Ah Yu doesn’t like it here, so I wanted to take her with me.”
The girl didn’t expect Yan Shixun to say such a thing. She stood still for a moment, stunned.
Then, she quickly came to her senses, but her expression softened, much more gentle than before.
She looked around to make sure there was no one nearby, then quickly moved closer to Yan Shixun and whispered, “It would have been easier to leave when you first arrived in the village. If you held a chrysanthemum and walked upstream along the river, you could have gotten out. But now that you’re already deep inside the village, that method won’t work anymore.”
She seemed to hesitate, unsure whether to continue speaking, but after seeing Yan Shixun’s sincere expression, she gritted her teeth and said, “Now, to leave the village, you’ll have to wait until they take you out when they leave.”
“I don’t know who they’ve chosen as the sacrifice, but if it’s not you, then you’ll have to find a chance to lie in the coffin with them. Don’t make a sound, don’t breathe, and hold your breath until you leave the village.”
She spoke seriously and worriedly, her voice low, “If you can do that, you’ll be able to leave. But this method is very risky. If anything goes wrong… if any part of it fails, they’ll discover you. And then… you’ll really die.”
“The method is here for you to choose: face the pain of reality by staying, or live happily in the village for a while. The choice is yours. I can’t help you much more than this.”
As the girl spoke, Yan Shixun quietly observed her expression.
He found something odd. When she spoke about the method to leave, she seemed very practiced, as if she had shared this advice with many people before.
But despite the fact that it seemed to be a kind-hearted reminder, the girl’s expression remained unnervingly calm, as if she had no excitement or passion, unlike how most people would be when offering help to others.
It was as if she didn’t expect the people she helped to succeed, nor did she believe they could follow her advice.
She only provided the method with good intentions, but deep down, she seemed to know they would fail.
This made Yan Shixun wonder if she had said the same things to those who came before, but after witnessing them fail over and over, she had become resigned, her attitude as still as water.
Yan Shixun didn’t let the girl leave immediately. As she started to turn around to run again, he sincerely thanked her, “Thank you. I’ll definitely try.”
“Do you know where Ah Yu is? I want to take her with me out of the village.”
The girl stopped again at his words, turning back to look at him in disbelief, her lips trembling slightly.
Yan Shixun appeared very sincere, “You must not like this village either, right? We can leave together.”
She paused for a few seconds, then looked at him with a complex expression, before saying, “You…”
It seemed she sensed something approaching. With a wary look, she quickly glanced to the side and then lowered her voice to speak to Yan Shixun, “Thank you for wanting to help Ah Yu. But even if we want to leave, we can’t. If Ah Yu knows you care, she’ll be happy. I’ll tell her.”
“Also…”
She ripped off a decorative item from her waist and threw it into Yan Shixun’s arms. “If you’re really planning to leave, wear this before they start the ceremony. No matter what happens or what you see, don’t take it off.”
“Maybe…”
She moved her lips, but nothing came out.
With one last deep look at Yan Shixun, she turned and rushed off, disappearing behind a small wooden cottage.
Yan Shixun glanced down at the object in his hands and realized it was identical to the folk textile he had seen with the hostess outside the mountain.
Only the pattern and color were different.
Panting heavily, Nan Tian finally caught up after being left behind by Yan Shixun. He rested his hand on Yan Shixun’s shoulder, gasping for breath.
Yan Shixun had moved so fast—almost like a human flying through the air—and had taken the shortest route. All Nan Tian saw was a blur before Yan Shixun disappeared from sight.
It had taken Nan Tian quite a while to figure out the general direction he might have gone in. He had relied on a mix of guesswork and instinct, and even took the wrong path twice before finally arriving here.
Before he could even catch his breath and ask why Yan Shixun had acted that way just now, his eyes landed on the piece of traditional fabric in Yan Shixun’s hand.
“Brother Yan, where did this come from?”
Nan Tian looked around in surprise. “Did someone just come by?”
He remembered very clearly that when they were outside the mountain, all the guests were selecting their preferred patterns and colors. But Yan Shixun had stayed in the back, talking with Director Zhang and the others, never picking up a single piece of fabric.
And even after they met again, Nan Tian hadn’t seen anything like this in his hands.
The only explanation was that Yan Shixun had run into someone while rushing over earlier and had gotten the fabric from them.
“Someone in this village… knows how to make these too?” Nan Tian murmured in a daze.
In truth, he had already felt something was off back at the guesthouse. This kind of traditional craft had all but vanished in his hometown. So how could such a rare tradition still be preserved so completely here? The colors, the patterns—everything was authentic and exquisitely woven. It was clear at a glance that it had been made with care.
Now, seeing the fabric in Yan Shixun’s hand, a sudden thought flashed through Nan Tian’s mind.
Could it be… back then, in his hometown, someone else had also survived? Could they be living here now?
But he quickly shook his head, feeling a little ridiculous.
That couldn’t be… If nothing had happened to his hometown, why had his parents kept silent all these years? Why hadn’t he found a single clue about it?
Unlike the past, this was the information age. If anyone from his hometown had ever left the village, just walking around near a place with surveillance would’ve been enough to catch some trace.
And yet, after spending so much time and effort, he had found absolutely nothing.
Even he had already given up—how could there still be room for miracles?
Nan Tian thought dejectedly, his eyes skimming idly across the fabric in Yan Shixun’s hand.
The next second, he let out a low gasp. “Brother Yan! This fabric—who gave it to you? Do they have a grudge against you?”
Yan Shixun frowned and looked at him. “Why would you say that?”
Nan Tian pointed at the fabric. “Pure white, matched with this pattern—it means… eternal death.”
Yan Shixun lowered his gaze, staring intently at the fabric in his hand.
Just now, the sister had told him not to take it off. Judging from her tone, she had been speaking for his sake—as if keeping it on would preserve his life.
Yan Shixun didn’t believe the sister wanted to harm him.
He had seen enough of human emotion to understand what true malice looked like.
And as for Nan Tian—he was even less likely to lie to him.
Besides, Nan Tian was arguably the most knowledgeable among them about folk traditions. If he said something, it likely wasn’t wrong.
If that was the case, then there could only be one explanation…
“Guests, how did you end up here?”
Liu Ming’s voice suddenly rang out from behind.
A flicker of panic crossed Nan Tian’s face.
After following Yan Shixun into those wooden cottages and seeing the traces left behind, Nan Tian had realized Liu Ming was not a good person. In fact, Liu Ming felt like a harbinger of death—whoever had their door knocked on by him would be taken away and never return.
Nan Tian feared it was now their turn.
Sensing Nan Tian’s unease, Yan Shixun swiftly tucked the fabric into the hidden pocket of his coat. At the same time, he firmly grasped Nan Tian’s arm, giving it a squeeze—a silent signal not to panic.
Then, he calmly turned around and smiled at Liu Ming. “The scenery in the village is beautiful. We didn’t even realize how far we’d wandered.”
Liu Ming accepted this explanation with ease.
No—more accurately, he never seemed to question anything others said to him. It was as if he would believe anything they told him.
But to Yan Shixun, that felt more like Liu Ming was silently saying: No matter what you say, death has already been decided.
How could Liu Ming be so confident? Where did that certainty come from?
After all, Liu Ming was also an outsider. Like the residents of those abandoned wooden cottages, he had come to Longevity Village drawn by its scenic reputation, and had experienced everything the others did.
So why had nothing happened to Liu Ming? Why did he now seem to stand on the side of the village?
He even helped the village chief and was still alive to this day.
Yan Shixun looked at Liu Ming with growing curiosity.
“You’ve been walking a long time. You must be tired and hungry.”
Liu Ming said naturally, rubbing his hands. “The food’s ready. You can head back to eat. Besides, it’ll be dark soon, and the mountain paths will be harder to walk.”
Yan Shixun nodded, still gripping Nan Tian’s arm tightly, and stepped forward with him. “Let’s go back together, then.”
“Oh, by the way—”
Liu Ming smiled at Yan Shixun. “The village chief has returned and is waiting at home.”
“It’s really been too discourteous of us, letting you come to the village without a proper welcome. Let’s head back quickly so you can meet the chief.”
Yan Shixun’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
But before anyone could notice the emotion on his face, he quickly smoothed it over, regaining his usual composure as if nothing had happened.
Nan Tian, on the other hand, couldn’t manage the same control—despite using every ounce of his willpower, he failed to keep his emotions from showing.
If Yan Shixun hadn’t still been holding his arm, he might not have been able to even stand.
All those people taken from the wooden cottages earlier had gone “to meet the village chief.” And the one who came to get them had always been Liu Ming.
Could it be… it was their turn now?
Nan Tian’s heart pounded wildly in his chest, so fast it felt like he couldn’t breathe.
He looked toward Yan Shixun in a panic, eyes full of pleading, desperately hoping he would come up with a way to save them.
Liu Ming had been closely observing their expressions. He looked a bit disappointed when he saw how calm Yan Shixun appeared.
But when he noticed the fear in Nan Tian’s face, he finally seemed pleased, grinning broadly.
Yan Shixun’s face remained composed, but inside, a storm was raging.
When the sister had told him how to leave the village, there had been a condition:
This ritual—they weren’t the ones chosen.
Everything she explained afterward was based on the assumption that they hadn’t been selected. Her intentions had been kind, but she never mentioned what to do if they had been.
Could it be that in her eyes, once chosen, there was no hope—just certain death, with no way out of the village?
And yet, judging from Liu Ming’s cheerful tone and smiling expression… it seemed very likely that this time, they were the chosen ones.
But why?
Nan Tian’s and his arrival had been purely coincidental. If this ritual was such a major event, the chosen offering should’ve been prepared in advance to avoid any mistakes.
What if they hadn’t come? Who would have been chosen then?
Yan Shixun’s heart tensed.
But soon after, a smile crept onto his lips again.
It was unexpected, yes—but perhaps, it was a welcome surprise.
If he was the offering, then he could follow the ritual from start to finish. That would give him the best seat in the house to observe the entire ceremony—and he wouldn’t have to worry about losing track of the villagers.
What could be better than that?
If they dared to choose him, they had better be prepared to face the consequences.
Right?
Yan Shixun’s lips curled as he broke into a grin.
The sun, about to sink behind the mountain peaks, cast light over half of his face. The way it illuminated his smile made him look both dangerous and mad.
He resembled a vengeful spirit trapped in human flesh, revealing his true face at the boundary between light and shadow.
The blade that guarded the boundary of life and death had just been drawn from its sheath. A snow-white edge glinted sharply, aimed straight at the darkness.
The originally cheerful Liu Ming suddenly felt a chill crawl down his back when he met Yan Shixun’s smile. It was as if sinister, terrifying specters were closing in on him from all directions, mocking his naivety and ignorance.
Liu Ming shuddered instinctively. For some reason, looking at Yan Shixun made him feel a hint of fear.
But when he looked again more closely, he found Yan Shixun’s handsome face bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, with no trace of anything eerie or frightening.
Liu Ming assumed he was just being muddleheaded and scoffed disdainfully, brushing it off without a second thought.
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