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Bonus chapter! Thank you to --- for the donation! ^^
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Not only could Ruan Qing not remember what clothes the original owner's mother had worn—he couldn't recall any specific details of that time at all.
The only thing that came to mind was her repeated warnings about the blind dates.
The original owner's memories… were flawed!
Miao Linyuan didn’t notice Ruan Qing’s unease. After confirming no gu worms had emerged from the corpse, he crouched by the treasure basin and tossed in another handful of ghost money, causing the flames to leap higher.
He glanced sideways at Ruan Qing and spoke casually, "I don’t trust you being alone. Move in with me."
Ruan Qing wanted to refuse instantly—but the next second, he heard his own voice say:
"Okay."
Okay?! His eyes widened in shock, his heartbeat accelerating inexplicably. He clenched his fists so tightly his nails nearly pierced his palms.
Yet even the sharp pain couldn’t force out a refusal.
This loss of control was worse than hypnosis.
Was this the power of gu?
His fingers trembled faintly beneath his sleeves, but he suppressed his terror, betraying nothing.
If he couldn’t refuse outright, he’d have to find another way.
Just as he prepared to recycle the excuse he’d used on Miao Ciyu, Miao Linyuan stood and slowly closed the distance between them.
He was just as tall as Miao Ciyu—nearly 190 cm—his towering frame casting a shadow over Ruan Qing, suffocating and oppressive.
Ruan Qing’s hands clenched again, his entire body tensing. Every instinct screamed at him to run.
But his legs refused to move. Even lifting a hand to push Miao Linyuan away was impossible.
He could only stand there, rigid and helpless, like prey cornered by a wolf in human skin.
…Which, in essence, was exactly what Miao Linyuan was.
Miao Linyuan studied the boy who kept avoiding his gaze, his expression unreadable. Finally, he smiled.
"My place is a mess. I’ll go clean it up first. Come over tonight."
Ruan Qing wanted to refuse—to say he needed to keep vigil for his mother—but once again, his traitorous voice answered:
"Okay."
Miao Linyuan watched the obedient young man before him, his smile widening. He reached out and patted Ruan Qing’s head in a rewarding manner.
Originally, he had intended just a brief touch, but the moment his fingers brushed against that silky hair, his hand froze.
The boy’s hair was unbelievably smooth, like satin under his fingertips. And Ruan Qing stood perfectly still, docile as if… permitting anything.
The zhongqing gu had only just been planted—it hadn’t fully taken hold yet. Extreme emotional fluctuations weren’t advisable.
Yet Miao Linyuan’s hand slid down almost involuntarily, coming to rest against Ruan Qing’s delicate, pale cheek.
His thumb lightly traced the tear mole at the corner of the boy’s eye. The pressure was gentle, but enough to tint the skin a faint pink.
That mole naturally carried a seductive allure, but Ruan Qing’s features were refined and cool—when he wasn’t smiling, he blended purity and temptation so seamlessly that it discouraged darker thoughts.
But with his eyes flushed red, that icy detachment vanished completely, leaving only devastating allure.
Miao Linyuan stopped rubbing, though his hand didn’t withdraw. Instead, it drifted downward, finally settling near Ruan Qing’s lips.
His gaze followed, lingering there.
Thanks to the earlier force-feeding and his rough handling, the boy’s lips were now a lush red, as if painted with the finest rouge.
The plain mourning clothes made that rosy mouth stand out even more—like a plum blossom blooming on a snow-laden branch, breathtakingly vivid.
Miao Linyuan’s throat moved. Almost unconsciously, his fingers pressed down harder, thumb dragging across Ruan Qing’s lower lip with deliberate cruelty.
Just as he was about to escalate further, a hand gripped his wrist.
Ruan Qing looked up at him, eyes pleading. He parted his lips, struggling before finally whispering in a small voice,
“…Don’t.”
“Not here.”
This was the mourning hall. Even the most rebellious son wouldn’t dare defile his mother’s wake.
Miao Linyuan had never cared for rules—even if his own mother lay in that coffin, it wouldn’t give him pause.
But faced with those beautiful, imploring eyes, he slowly withdrew
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t vomit up the gu worm.
Ruan Qing’s delicate face paled slightly. He checked his own pulse but detected no abnormalities—his body felt completely normal.
Though he’d heard of gu before, this was his first time encountering it firsthand. For a moment, he was at a loss.
The System hadn’t sounded alarmed when mentioning the gu earlier, but Ruan Qing didn’t dare gamble on whether it would mutate inside him.
He had to find a way to get it out—fast.
Miao Linyuan was one of Miao Village’s Overseers. The only person who could rival him was the other overseer—Miao Ciyu.
Miao Linyuan was reckless and unpredictable; one wrong move with him could spell disaster. Miao Ciyu, however, was different.
He was a man who followed rules—at least on the surface. Seeking his help was the best option.
Just as Ruan Qing steeled himself and headed for the courtyard, an eerie sound suddenly came from the funeral hall.
Skritch… skritch…
Like a cat clawing at wood.
It stopped after just a few scrapes, but Ruan Qing had heard it clearly.
He hadn’t gone far. The moment the noise reached him, his heart skipped a beat.
Because the sound seemed to be coming… from inside the coffin.
Ruan Qing turned stiffly, staring at the coffin in the funeral hall.
It sat there silently, undisturbed, as if the noise had never happened—as if it had all been his imagination.
Even he couldn’t be sure whether the sound had truly come from the coffin or if the gu was already warping his senses, conjuring auditory hallucinations.
Gazing at the pitch-black coffin, Ruan Qing’s mind flashed back to the shadowy figure he’d seen in the original owner’s mother’s room. He swallowed hard.
Had the original owner’s mother… really died?
Once doubt took root, it was hard to suppress. Ever since spotting that shadow, the question had gnawed at him.
Most of the clues he’d gathered so far seemed inextricably tied to the original owner’s mother—the method to leave Miao Village, the arranged marriage outside the village, even the gaps in the original owner’s memories.
The original owner’s memories probably weren’t entirely fabricated. The issue lay specifically with the memories surrounding his mother’s death.
What exactly happened on the night of the original owner’s mother’s death? What was she hiding, and why had she tampered with the original owner’s memories?
Finding out whether she was truly dead was simple: either inspect the corpse in the coffin or search her room.
The grotesque image of the corpse flashed in Ruan Qing’s mind, and he instinctively chose the latter.
If the original owner’s mother had faked her death, her room would surely hold clues.
It was still early in the day, so Ruan Qing changed direction, moving cautiously toward her room.
Some viewers in the livestream squinted at their screens, typing uncertainly:
[Wait… did anyone else see a flash of red in the funeral hall just now? Or am I seeing things?]
[Probably just your eyes playing tricks. There was no red—must be lingering shock from the village chief’s corpse. Damn, that thing was creepy. If not for the body, I’d swear it was a wronged bride.]
[Yeah, hallucination. That corpse’s red was so intense it burned my retinas. Now everything looks tinted red.]
Most viewers were focused on Ruan Qing, so few noticed anything amiss in the funeral hall. The original commenter, having only glanced briefly, shrugged it off as imagination and refocused on the stream.
By now, Ruan Qing had reached the mother’s room. Instead of entering outright, he peered through the door crack first, ensuring no shadowy figures lurked inside before gingerly pushing the door open.
The room’s layout resembled his own, but its north-facing position left it damp and dim, reeking of mildew.
No one was there.
Ruan Qing’s delicate brows furrowed. Had he misjudged? Was her death genuine after all?
Suppressing his unease, he swept the room for anomalies before beginning his search. He combed every corner, even crawling under the bed, where he discovered a crumpled newspaper and a ghost money note daubed with eerie red symbols.
The newspaper was aged and yellowed, as if hastily discarded. Smoothing it out, his eyes landed on a bold headline:
"The Origins of Miao Village"
The article—less a report than a collection of local rumors—claimed Miao Village hadn’t always existed. According to unnamed sources, the CEO of Li Corporation had renamed the area after its scenic landscape, intending to develop it into a tourist attraction.
But this project had barely begun when disaster struck.
Miao Village was still in the early stages of development when everyone involved in the project mysteriously disappeared—including the eldest son of the Li Corporation, who was overseeing it.
The Li Corporation sent numerous investigators, but they, too, vanished without a trace. Even when the police were called in, the same fate befell them.
It seemed no one could leave Miao Village alive.
The incident caused a major uproar at the time. But as years passed, the news was inexplicably suppressed, and Miao Village gradually faded from public memory.
The newspaper ended there. Ruan Qing read it several times but found no clear leads. The only concrete detail was the date—the report was over a century old. Someone must have brought this newspaper into the village later.
He couldn’t understand why the original owner’s mother had hidden this paper, nor how it connected to the dungeon’s clues. At most, it proved Miao Village had been abnormal since that time.
Lost in thought, Ruan Qing didn’t check the live-stream comments—though even if he had, he wouldn’t have noticed anything unusual. Most of the comments were already censored.
[Um… guys, do you see that red above our wife’s head? Am I hallucinating again?]
[No! That’s NOT a hallucination—there’s literally a patch of red above his head!!!]
[I see it too! What the hell is that?! I thought this dungeon only had those creepy gu worms!?]
[HOLY SHIT WHY DOES IT LOOK MORE AND MORE LIKE A SHOE AAAAAH!!!]
Through the live-stream feed, viewers could clearly see a faint red shadow hovering less than twenty centimeters above Ruan Qing’s head.
At first, it was barely visible, translucent. But as time passed, the red grew darker, the shape expanding… until it unmistakably resembled a pair of feet clad in red shoes.
The exact same red shoes worn by the corpse in the coffin.
T/N: I'll change gu insects to gu worms from here on since it matched the narrative more. ^^
