Chapter 376: Miao Village (9)

  As Miao Ciyu's voice faded, the kitchen was left with only the sound of firewood burning.  

Miao Ciyu watched the person who had remained silent for a long while, seemingly intending to pretend they hadn’t heard anything and leave directly. His tone was indifferent as he spoke.  

"Try taking a step."  

Though his voice was calm, there was an undercurrent of danger in it—enough to send a chill down one’s spine.  

It was as if something terrible would happen the moment Ruan Qing stepped away.  

Ruan Qing’s slender body stiffened again, his feet suddenly feeling as heavy as lead, unable to take another step forward.  

He took a deep breath, suppressing his anger, then turned and walked back to the stove. Without hesitation, he snatched the firewood from Miao Ciyu’s hands and spoke impatiently.  

"Who asked for your help? Get lost!"  

Miao Ciyu raised an eyebrow at the sight of someone so cowardly yet so bold, then stepped aside without protest.  

The fire in the stove had already begun to burn steadily; all it needed was a little more firewood to maintain the flame.  

Ignoring Miao Ciyu beside him, Ruan Qing added some firewood to the stove, then poured water into the pot, preparing to add the washed rice.  

But just before he did, he hesitated. Cooking rice in a stove… wasn’t the same as using an electric rice cooker, was it?  

Ruan Qing pressed his lips together, his movements faltering as uncertainty flickered across his face.  

A young master raised in luxury would naturally lack certain practical skills. Miao Ciyu noticed his hesitation and spoke calmly, "Need help?"  

"No!" Ruan Qing dumped the rice into the pot, added water, and slammed the lid shut.  

At a glance, Miao Ciyu could tell there wasn’t enough water.  

Cooking rice in a stove required much more water than an electric rice cooker—what the young man had added was far from enough to cook it properly.  

But Miao Ciyu said nothing. Some people only learn through failure.  

This little master needed to understand that without his mother’s care, his only choice for survival was to rely on someone else.  

Someone like him.  

Ruan Qing ignored Miao Ciyu, sitting in front of the stove and focusing on the fire. The two remained in silence.  

About twenty minutes later, black smoke began rising from the pot, accompanied by the unmistakable smell of something burning.  

Even with his lack of cooking experience, Ruan Qing knew this meant disaster. Frantically, he tried to put out the flames.

However, it was already too late—the rice in the pot had burned black.  

To be precise, only the bottom layer was scorched, while the top was still raw. It was completely inedible.  

Mistakes were inevitable the first time, and it was normal for the result to be uneatable. With more experience, the second attempt would surely turn out better.  

But Ruan Qing didn’t get a second chance. The original owner’s temperament meant he had no patience for trying again.  

Miao Ciyu looked at the visibly upset man and spoke calmly once more, "Do you need my help?"  

Ruan Qing’s expression darkened further, as if he’d just been mocked. Furious, he threw his chopsticks at Miao Ciyu.  

"I don’t need it!"  

After flinging them, he turned and stormed off, abandoning the meal entirely.  

But before he could step out of the kitchen, he froze again—Miao Ciyu’s voice came from behind him.  

"Will you refuse my help tomorrow in the fields too?"  

He could skip meals. He could ignore the villagers’ banquets. But working the fields wasn’t optional—it was written into Miao Village’s rules.  

There were four unbreakable laws in Miao Village:  

1. No one is permitted to approach the northernmost part of the village.  

2. During specific seasons, villagers must work the fields daily.  

3. No one may damage the fields or anything within them.  

4. Any deceased villager must be buried on North Mountain by the seventh day.  

These rules applied to every villager. The first and third even extended to outsiders visiting the village.  

Breaking them meant making an enemy of the entire Miao Village.  

Ruan Qing’s steps slowed again. He turned his head sharply, glaring at Miao Ciyu. "What do you actually want?"  

Instead of answering, Miao Ciyu countered coolly, "Can you survive on your own?"  

Though his tone held no mockery, the words themselves felt like a blatant taunt.  

Ruan Qing instantly flared up, ready to snap back—but Miao Ciyu cut him off.  

"Even if you could survive… could you endure the hardship?"  

Ruan Qing’s face darkened further, but this time, he had no retort.  

The original owner of this body clearly couldn’t handle hardship—otherwise, he wouldn’t have stayed at home every day, relying on his mother to support him.  

Miao Ciyu noticed the hesitation on Ruan Qing’s face and knew his words were getting through. He continued calmly,  

“What’s so bad about finding someone to take care of you? All you have to give is a little companionship, and you can keep living the way you did before.”  

“I can even do better than your mother. You should know what it means to have an overseer in Miao Village be with you.”  

Miao Ciyu’s tone was as casual as if he were commenting on the weather, but his words carried a seductive pull, shaking an already unsteady resolve.  

Ruan Qing bit his lower lip, clearly tempted, but he still stubbornly retorted,  

“I already have someone I’m set up with.”  

Miao Ciyu knew the boy couldn’t refuse his offer. From the moment Ruan Qing first compromised and called him ‘brother,’ it was clear he wasn’t the type to stick to principles.  

He’d call someone ‘brother’ to avoid work, and he’d agree to even more outrageous terms if it meant living comfortably.  

The boy was already swayed—this was just last-ditch defiance.  

But the mention of a ‘set up’ still darkened Miao Ciyu’s mood. His gaze dimmed imperceptibly, a flash of something dangerous flickering in his eyes.  

Yet the next second, he hid it perfectly. His tone remained unchanged, as if Ruan Qing’s arranged marriage meant nothing to him—just a rational topic for discussion.  

“Can your match even support you? Can she give you the life you’re used to?”  

Most people assumed arranged matches were with the opposite sex, and the original owner had naturally believed his would be a woman.  

But expecting a delicate girl to provide for him? Impossible.  

Ruan Qing’s expression wavered further, but he seemed unwilling to give in so easily. He turned away with a cold snort.  

“I like women.”  

“Fine. Keep liking women.” Miao Ciyu replied indifferently.  

“I’ll take care of both of you.”  

The live-stream audience was stunned.  

[Damn! This guy’s generosity is next-level—offering to support both of them? First time seeing someone shoot their shot like this. Gotta admit, the man’s got vision.]  

[Taking notes. If you can’t get the girl, just say you’ll provide for the whole couple. “I’m not here to break up the family—I’m here to join it.”]  

[Come on, didn’t you guys notice this dude’s expression when my wife mentioned the blind date? Supporting both of them? More like he’d secretly off the guy the moment they meet. Dead people don’t need support, after all.]  

[Meeting? I bet the blind date wouldn’t even make it alive to the wife. This bastard’s probably already plotting how to kill him.]  

Miao Ciyu had arguably made the biggest concession—even offering to "support two people"—so Ruan Qing couldn’t refuse anymore.  

He lifted his chin slightly, then arrogantly ordered Miao Ciyu, "I’m hungry."  

This was him softening his stance—and making his choice clear.  

A flicker of delight flashed in Miao Ciyu’s eyes. He stepped forward, grabbed Ruan Qing’s hand, and pulled him into his arms, shedding all his earlier composure and aloofness.  

Ruan Qing didn’t struggle, but he kept his hand pressed against Miao Ciyu’s chest.  

"Seven days later."  

Ruan Qing turned his head away, his expression grim. "I need to observe mourning. Wait until after my mother’s burial."  

The reason was perfectly justified—no sane person would skip their mother’s funeral for that.  

Besides, Ruan Qing wasn’t asking for three years of mourning, just seven days.  

The problem? The dungeon’s clearance time was also seven days.  

The live-stream audience burst out laughing watching Miao Ciyu nod in agreement.  

[Hahaha, wife’s so smart—getting a hardworking simp without giving up a thing.]  

[Only our wife could pull this off. Look how happy this fool is, really thinking he’s about to get a spouse.]  

[This is what you call "having a wife, but not really."]  

As an NPC, Miao Ciyu saw the dungeon as his entire world. He had no idea about the "seven-day clearance" rule.  

Seven days? He could wait.  

Miao Ciyu was far more skilled at cooking than Ruan Qing. He quickly steamed the rice and some sweet pastries on the side.  

But the chopped firewood was running low, so he grabbed an axe and headed to the backyard—dragging Ruan Qing along, as if he couldn’t touch anything or leave his sight.  

Miao Ciyu lifted his chin, gesturing to a chair not far away. "Sit over there and watch."  

Ruan Qing reluctantly sat down on the chair and, under Miao Ciyu's gaze, began playing with his phone.  

Seeing this, Miao Ciyu said nothing and instead picked up an axe, focusing on splitting firewood. Every now and then, he glanced up at Ruan Qing, still absorbed in his phone.  

From a distance, the two looked strangely harmonious, almost like an old married couple.  

Neither of them noticed that someone had been lying on the kitchen roof the entire time they were talking.  

Miao Linyuan sat up as soon as the two entered the backyard. With a sneer, he swept his gaze over the pair in the courtyard before silently slipping off the kitchen roof from the other side.  

The firewood-splitting spot offered no view into the kitchen, but Miao Linyuan made no effort to hide his actions. Without a sound, he lifted the lid of the steaming pot, then bit his index finger hard enough to draw blood.  

The bite was merciless—blood welled up instantly, but strangely, it didn’t drip down his finger. Instead, it seemed to be sucked back in.  

Before long, something began wriggling beneath his wound, the movement growing more pronounced until the thing finally revealed itself.  

A tiny insect.  

The bug was a deep red—whether from blood or its natural color was unclear—but the sight of it was enough to make one’s scalp crawl.  

Drenched in Miao Linyuan’s blood, the insect slowly crawled out of the wound. Noticing this, Miao Linyuan lowered his hand slightly, bringing it closer to the pastries steaming in the pot.  

As if guided by instinct, the bug detached from his hand and dropped onto one of the pastries.  

Then, without hesitation, it burrowed through a vent hole in the pastry and disappeared without a trace.  

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