Rain washed over the raw meat on the ground, the stench of blood filling their noses and utterly spoiling any appetite.
The village chief’s eyes looked savage in the reflection of the bloodied water. Yet when he raised his head again, his expression had reverted to reverence: “You must be joking. This land is hot and arid—there are no bees.”
As a strong liberal-arts student, Su Er flatly rejected the claim. After finishing his little science lecture, his tone abruptly shifted: “The envoy of the gods are compassionate. If it truly proves too difficult, we won’t insist.”
Li Zicang added, “But fruits and vegetables are absolutely required.”
A stick followed by a date—in spite of their obvious disapproval at the offer of raw meat, compared with the impossible demands for honey and dew, vegetables fell into the realm of something manageable.
Su Er then looked toward Wan Yi, chin lifted in command.
Wan Yi understood at once, gave Su Tangyi a push, and snapped, “You—go cook!”
The village chief quickly interjected: “Such rough work should be left to us.”
Wan Yi: “Our food must be washed exactly eighty-one times, the seasonings measured to the last grain. Ordinary humans cannot manage it.”
“......”a
The village chief’s mouth twitched, his eyes shifting to Su Tangyi… petite, frail, as though a gust of wind might blow her away.
Compared with the others, this girl seemed harmless and easy to bully. After a moment’s hesitation, he gestured to a young man: “Take this envoy to the kitchen.”
An hour passed before Su Tangyi finally returned, just as the rain was letting up.
The village chief glared at the young man, displeased that he’d taken so long.
The young man was helpless.
Who could’ve guessed this girl would actually wash a handful of vegetable leaves eighty-one times, rubbing them lightly with her fingertips each time under the noble excuse of “not wanting to destroy the nutrients”? More than once he nearly exploded—if you’re so afraid of ruining them, why not wash fewer times?!
When the greens were finally served, placed alongside the blood-soaked pig heads, the sight was downright pleasing.
Su Er leisurely bit into a leaf and even picked one up for Ji Heng: “Not the same treatment as heaven, but it’ll have to do.”
Ji Heng moved more elegantly, his voice low: “The village chief wanted to curse you just now, but held back.”
Su Er: “Curse me?”
“Judging from his lips, he was about to scold you as a ‘troublemaking commoner.’”
Su Er pursed his lips in displeasure. He was clearly a god-envoy!
Seeing how completely he had slipped into the role, Ji Heng couldn’t help but be amused.
Feeling his lifespan would be cut short if he lingered with them any longer, the village chief’s tone cooled: “Have you eaten your fill?”
Su Er dropped the provocation and nodded.
“Our village is simple and honest. We leave doors unlocked at night. I hope you will follow local custom.”
With that, the chief ordered the tables cleared.
Children, too young to help, ran about shrieking and laughing. After some scolding from the adults, they pouted and reluctantly went home.
Watching the little ones for a while, Su Er ignored the busy villagers, hands clasped behind his back, striding off to his room with all the air of a hands-off master.
Outside, the sounds of tidying up carried on. The players gathered together in one room to talk things over.
Li Zicang held out his mirror, his hand resting on the now-quiet peach heart: “Whenever we face a brush with death, the heart starts beating—it’s like a danger detector.”
Survive three brushes with death, and you can leave alive. Counting the desert escape, that meant only two remained.
“By that logic, the village shouldn’t hold too much danger.”
And yet, they all sensed something was off. Even a novice would notice this village was strange.
Wan Yi turned to Su Tangyi: “When you were in the kitchen, did you notice anything?”
Su Tangyi shook her head: “Everything seemed normal.”
Too little information—nothing conclusive. They broke up for the night. Yi Zhu lingered at the door, her gaze sweeping over Su Er before she left. Smiling, she said: “The chief emphasized not locking doors. Don’t casually break the rules.”
A shiver ran down Su Er’s spine. He turned stiffly: “The god said he’ll come for us in three days. We’d better use the time to search for clues.”
Ji Heng smiled silently.
But Su Er couldn’t shake the memory of Yi Zhu’s last look. He rubbed his temples, puzzled. “Don’t girls usually like the type that makes them feel safe?”
Among the male players, he was the only one who didn’t fit that description.
“Resonance,” Ji Heng said quietly. “Yi Zhu despises the shackles of worldly norms, and she cannot understand the bond between parent and child.”
Su Er froze. In truth, they did share that similarity.
The game had given them false perfect lives—but it was useless.
When Su Er fell silent, Ji Heng changed tack: “Puppy love is no good.”
Su Er had only been recalling his experiences in the Wudu instance, but the shift in topic was so sudden he almost choked: “Huh?”
Ji Heng: “I’ll have Yao Zhi keep an eye on you.”
The unspoken message: if your math scores drop, it’ll be blamed on romance.
“……” Su Er almost swore an oath. “I have not the slightest trace of romance toward Yi Zhu.”
Since ancient times, people may pity each other’s suffering, but rarely fall in love over it. People chase in others what they themselves lack. Su Er was no exception—he leaned toward the mature, the steady.
The noise outside gradually subsided. He went out to take a look—the tables and benches from the feast were already cleared away. Returning, he lowered his head in thought: “This village doesn’t seem especially short of water.”
The villagers wore plain clothes, but they were clean, free of odor—proof of regular washing.
“But when it rained today, they were beside themselves with excitement.”
Ji Heng’s lips curved, mocking: “Perhaps what truly delighted them was the arrival of god envoys.”
He cast a glance at the sky outside the window, waited patiently for a while, and only when the world had fallen into complete silence did Ji Heng finally rise to his feet: “Let’s go take a look.”
The village chief hadn’t been spouting nonsense—“doors unlocked at night” was no exaggeration. From their hidden vantage point, they could see clearly: every household’s door stood wide open, not even half-shut.
Su Er whispered, “For all we know, this whole village is full of the living dead. At the very least, those kids aren’t normal.”
Ji Heng had no idea where that judgment came from.
Su Er: “Their doors are wide open—clearly no nightlife. And without nightlife, where do the children come from?”
“......”a
Absurd at first hearing, but on second thought, the logic was airtight. Ji Heng sighed lightly: “You’ve thought it through.”
Su Er’s angle was unique: “So we should start with the families that have children.”
Already at dinner he had thought it strange—only seven or eight children total. The village wasn’t big, but it couldn’t possibly have just that few.
When the feast ended, Su Er had paid special attention to where the children went. He pointed west: “In the two rows of houses at the far end, there’s one family with kids.”
But as soon as he started walking, Ji Heng pulled him back. There was the faintest sound from behind. Su Er instantly held his breath.
Ji Heng gestured to investigate.
They crept back through cover—and ran right into Su Tangyi and Yi Zhu.
Su Tangyi whispered, “We were going to head for the village entrance.”
By day, the villagers had surrounded them, but at night, surveillance was loose, as if certain they couldn’t escape.
Su Er also admitted where he had been headed, and even shared his “nightlife theory.” Su Tangyi’s gaze at him turned oddly complicated. At his side, Yi Zhu brushed her hair back: “A kindred spirit is hard to find.”
Su Er gave a stiff smile and changed the subject: “Where’s Wan Yi?”
Su Tangyi: “He went to the well with Li Zicang.”
Hah—
They were just about to part ways when a sudden sound froze them all in place.
Ears pricked, they listened—only the wind rustled by. No one dared move. For five full minutes they stood there like statues. Just as their patience ran thin, the strange noise came again: hoarse, rasping, scratching at their hearts like a cat’s claws.
Exchanging a look, Ji Heng and Su Er bent low to peer through a window, while Su Tangyi and Yi Zhu kept watch.
Inside, a man writhed in agony, curling in on himself. The bed was too narrow; his thrashing threw him to the hard floor.
“Water.” With a heavy crash he didn’t even cry out in pain, only shouted hoarsely for water.
Dragging himself to the table, he propped up his body and bit at a jug, guzzling. In seconds the vessel was drained—but his thirst wasn’t eased at all.
By moonlight, Su Er could see clearly: his skin was shriveled, his lips cracked and bleeding.
It hurt to crouch so long. Straightening with a soft groan and rubbing his waist, Su Er suddenly darted toward a house across the way.
Inside was the same scene—a husband and wife, both raving for water.
After half an hour, the couple’s shriveled skin smoothed back to normal. They rose, brushed dust from their clothes, then stood silently with heads bowed, arms hanging at their sides. Su Er stared for a few seconds—then the man’s shoulder twitched. Su Er instantly pressed himself to the wall.
Almost the same instant, the husband’s head whipped around. Outside the window—nothing but swaying tree shadows.
“What are you looking at?” the wife asked.
The husband: “Seemed like someone was there.”
The wife: “Probably a rat… Hurry, change into clean clothes. The prayer is about to start.”
Su Er dared not linger. With utmost care, he slipped away.
The lookout spot from before was empty.
Scanning around, he finally spotted an arrow mark on the wall. Following it, he found Ji Heng and the others waiting under an old tree not far off.
“It’s not a coincidence,” Su Er said as he walked. “These people, once night falls, thirst as if they’re drying up. And they talk about a prayer.”
At the word “prayer,” Ji Heng’s gaze sharpened. “Then we wait a bit longer.”
They waited another twenty minutes.
The moon climbed higher. A drifting cloud slid across, blotting out most of its light.
At midnight, one by one, every household had someone emerge. They did not speak, did not exchange glances—just moved silently in the same direction.
Su Er noticed: not a single villager was fat. All of them were thin, even small. By day it wasn’t obvious, but now, in the chill night wind billowing through loose clothing, they looked like ghosts wandering the dark.
“Should we follow?” For once, even he was uncertain.
There were so many of them—if exposed, they’d surely suffer the worse.
Ji Heng: “Our situation is hardly secure as it is. Let’s see.”
Keeping neither too near nor too far, they tailed cautiously.
“None of these people are children,” Ji Heng observed after a while, glancing at Su Er. “Your theory is most likely right.”
The key to the mystery lay in the children.
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