***
Bonus chapter! Thank you to JustSomeOne for the donation! ^^
***
The villager left after speaking, but not before shooting Ruan Qing a few covert glances.
Ruan Qing ignored the looks and checked his phone—it was already ten minutes to ten.
Miao Village had many rules, and those rules took precedence even over the village chief’s authority. Not even the chief could defy them.
The original owner had witnessed the consequences of breaking those rules as a child.
Back then, an outsider—a tourist—had ignored the villagers’ warnings and wandered into the forbidden area north of the village. The villagers had sentenced them to death by fire, burning them alive.
In Miao Village, no one was allowed to challenge the rules.
This was a place beyond the reach of the law. Once you entered, the village’s customs ruled supreme.
Ruan Qing swept a glance over the woods before finally heading toward the southern edge of the village.
There was a large clearing there, usually used for village gatherings or ceremonies.
By the time Ruan Qing arrived, only a minute or two remained before ten o’clock. Most of the villagers assigned to work the fields were already present.
The people of Miao Village were a cold, detached bunch. Even standing together, no one bothered with idle chatter. The sight of a crowd standing in silence, faces utterly blank, was unsettling.
Yet Ruan Qing’s arrival shattered that eerie atmosphere.
At the sound of footsteps, the villagers instinctively turned to look.
Walking toward them was a stunningly beautiful young man, a white mourning band tied around his forehead, his plain clothes only accentuating his ethereal presence under the sunlight.
He looked like a painting come to life—and utterly out of place in Miao Village.
The villagers froze. One who didn’t recognize the boy whispered to the person beside him, his voice low, "Is he a tourist here to visit?"
"No," the other villager answered absently, still staring. "He’s the village chief’s son."
The first villager blinked. "...Which chief?"
"The one who just died last ni—ugh!"
Before he could finish, the speaker was kicked hard by the villager next to him, who then shot him a icy glare.
Only then did the man realize his mistake and promptly shut his mouth.
The villagers’ voices were too quiet for Ruan Qing to make out what they were saying. He scanned the crowd—most of the faces were unfamiliar.
The only ones he vaguely recognized were the few who had been eavesdropping in the courtyard that morning.
Ruan Qing stood at the edge of the group after arriving, keeping nearly a meter's distance from the other villagers. His delicate face carried a trace of gloom and impatience.
Ten o'clock soon arrived, and all the villagers assigned to work in the fields had gathered. Yet, no one moved—as if they were still waiting for someone.
Seeing this, Ruan Qing didn’t speak. He simply waited in silence.
Before long, the person they were waiting for appeared.
It was the man Ruan Qing had encountered in the mourning hall.
The man spotted Ruan Qing at first glance. He walked up to him and frowned. "What are you doing here?"
Ruan Qing replied irritably, "Are you blind? Can’t you figure it out yourself?"
His tone was downright hostile, clearly showing his dislike for the man.
The man quickly realized why. He didn’t get angry, merely giving Ruan Qing a brief glance before leading the villagers toward the farmland.
The man at the front was named Miao Ciyu, the leader of this farming task.
Miao Village had very little privately owned farmland—most of it was communal, requiring collective labor and, naturally, a leader to oversee the work.
Ruan Qing found it strange. The original owner’s mother had been the village chief, yet even she had to personally participate in fieldwork. But this Miao Ciyu didn’t need to.
He only had to stand by and watch—or not even watch at all. His status seemed even higher than the village chief’s.
Unfortunately, the original owner’s mother had never allowed him to go out much as a child, sometimes even locking him inside the house to keep him from leaving.
And the original owner, disliking the villagers’ coldness toward him, had spent his days holed up at home playing video games, rarely interacting with others. As a result, he knew very little about Miao Village’s affairs.
He hardly seemed like someone born and raised in Miao Village. If not for the fact that his memories were completely intact, Ruan Qing might have suspected he wasn’t from the village at all.
Fabricated memories differed from real ones. No matter how convincing they seemed, they were still just castles in the air—unable to withstand scrutiny.
But the original owner’s memories had no gaps. Even minor details were remembered clearly, and his mind still retained the emotions and reactions he’d felt at the time.
There was likely nothing wrong with his memories.
Soon, they reached the farmland. The villagers took off their shoes, rolled up their pant legs and sleeves, and stepped into the fields.
This time, it seemed they were planting some kind of herb in the fields. The water in the paddies had been churned into a murky mess by the villagers, making it impossible to see what lay beneath. But the occasional ripple and fleeting dark shadows hinted at something lurking below.
Ruan Qing stood stiffly on the ridge, his slender body frozen in place, unable to bring himself to step into the water.
No matter how hard he tried to steel his nerves, it was futile.
It wasn’t just ghosts he was afraid of.
The memory of the swarming insects he had seen earlier flashed through his mind, and his feet felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds—utterly refusing to touch the water.
Were those things earthworms… or leeches?
Perhaps because Ruan Qing had been silent for too long, Miao Ciyu glanced at him. "Afraid of getting dirty?"
The original owner had been raised by his mother to be utterly incapable, constantly fed the idea that he was useless. Over time, he had developed a deep aversion to being looked down upon.
Ruan Qing could only react as if struck on a sore spot, his eyes flashing with anger as he glared at Miao Ciyu. "Who’s afraid of getting dirty?! Don’t you dare underestimate me!"
Unlike the overseers, the original owner didn’t have the privilege of standing by and watching. Every villager was assigned a specific plot, and only after finishing their portion could they leave.
After his outburst, under the collective gaze of Miao Ciyu and the other villagers, Ruan Qing stiffly rolled up his sleeves.
Miao Ciyu’s eyes lingered on Ruan Qing’s wrists.
Ruan Qing had never done manual labor, nor had he spent much time under the sun. His skin was pale and smooth, the faint blue veins beneath giving it a delicate, almost sickly beauty.
…And an indescribable allure.
His entire frame was slender—so much so that Miao Ciyu felt he could snap those wrists with ease.
Though the villagers had already begun working, their attention remained fixed on Ruan Qing. But under Miao Ciyu’s warning glare, they quickly lowered their heads, not daring to steal another glance.
Only then did Miao Ciyu look away.
After rolling up his sleeves and pant legs, Ruan Qing took off his shoes and stood at the edge of the ridge.
The early summer air was neither too cold nor too warm, but the damp earth beneath his bare feet still sent a chill creeping up his spine.
Dark shadows flickered beneath the water’s surface, and Ruan Qing’s composure was hanging by a thread—yet he had no choice but to hold it together.
He forced an expression of disdain and impatience, hesitantly lifting one foot to test the water.
What he didn’t realize was that no matter how hard he tried to act unaffected, his painfully slow movements betrayed him completely.
The body has its own way of speaking, and at this moment, Ruan Qing looked utterly distressed—like a startled kitten with its fur puffed up in fear, his entire being radiating pitiful resistance.
Yet he had no choice but to go through with it.
Without his mother’s protection, the little kitten had no choice but to force itself to be brave.
But the moment Ruan Qing stepped into the field, he felt something move near his foot, slithering against his skin as if trying to coil around his ankle.
It was alive!
Ruan Qing’s eyes widened, his delicate face flashing with panic as he yanked his foot back.
But he pulled too hard, the sudden motion throwing him off balance. This time, there was no wooden stick to steady himself—he was going to fall backward.
Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut.
Yet he never hit the muddy water. Just as Ruan Qing was about to topple over, Miao Ciyu grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward, pulling him into his arms.
The sensation of weightlessness was unbearable. In his panic, Ruan Qing had instinctively reached for something to hold onto, and now his fingers clutched desperately at Miao Ciyu’s clothes.
Miao Ciyu looked down at the shaken boy in his arms, his gaze darkening. His voice was low as he reminded him:
"Tasks assigned by the village must be completed. That’s the rule in Miao Village."
Ruan Qing pressed his pale pink lips together tightly, his body stiff with tension, his entire demeanor fragile and helpless.
Miao Ciyu lowered his eyes. "Beg me, and I’ll help you."
Ruan Qing wanted to snap back at him—wanted to be spiteful—but doing so would mean finishing his share of the work alone.
The unknown creatures in the water filled him with revulsion, a deep, instinctive rejection that even his mind couldn’t override—like his fear of ghosts.
Besides, those things were definitely not harmless earthworms.
If he’d been even a second slower, they would have coiled around his foot.
Ruan Qing took a slow, steadying breath, but before he could speak, Miao Ciyu beat him to it.
His voice was detached, his tone completely flat.
"Brother Ciyu, help me."
It was clear he was teaching Ruan Qing exactly how to beg.
Ruan Qing’s face flushed slightly—whether from anger or embarrassment was unclear. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then finally spoke in a small voice.
"...Brother Ciyu, help me."
Miao Ciyu’s ears twitched slightly at the words, his heart prickling as if something had lightly scraped against it—a numb, itchy sensation.
Without a word, he took off his jacket and laid it on the higher edge of the field.
Unlike the damp ridges between plots, this one bordered the path and was dry enough not to wet his clothes.
Once his jacket was in place, Miao Ciyu abruptly placed both hands on Ruan Qing’s waist and lifted him onto the fabric—as effortlessly as one would a child.
Before Ruan Qing could react, he was already seated on the ridge. He wanted to snap at him, but Miao Ciyu had already turned and stepped into the field.
The original owner had been willful but wasn’t the type to throw a tantrum when someone was helping him.
In the end, Ruan Qing sat quietly on the ridge, watching as Miao Ciyu planted the medicinal herbs in his assigned section.
Miao Ciyu didn’t seem like someone accustomed to farmwork either. He carried himself with the poised elegance of a young master from an aristocratic family.
Yet his movements were practiced and efficient. Though he’d started last, he soon overtook the other villagers, finishing Ruan Qing’s section in under an hour.
The moment it was done, Ruan Qing hopped down from the ridge, his entire demeanor brightening with relief.
Miao Ciyu rinsed his hands, then glanced at the boy eagerly slipping his shoes back on, ready to leave. His voice was calm.
"You’ll need to come back tomorrow."
Ruan Qing’s expression froze. He turned to look at Miao Ciyu, his tone tentative.
"...Brother Ciyu, help me?"
A single "Brother Ciyu" had been enough to get assistance earlier—clearly, the boy had learned the trick and was now far more compliant than before, all traces of reluctance gone.
Miao Ciyu was pleased by his quick adaptation, but he shook his head slightly.
"Not enough."
