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As soon as the door of the corner room closed, footsteps echoed in the courtyard—villagers coming to pay their respects had slowly entered the yard.
The ghost money had to burn continuously for twenty-four hours, right up until the burial.
Every villager in Miao Village had their assigned time slot for this duty, even in the middle of the night.
The corner room was very close to the courtyard. The slightest sound could draw the villagers’ attention.
Yet Ruan Qing never got the chance to cry out—the man reacted faster than he did.
The moment Ruan Qing was dragged into the room, the man pinned him against the door, stealing his breath once again and leaving him utterly unable to make a sound.
"Mmm..."
The room was pitch-black, so dark that he couldn’t even see his own hand in front of his face.
In such obscurity, fear and unease grew, heightening his senses—not just mentally, but physically. This only made Ruan Qing more unsettled. Instinctively, he tried to break free from the man’s grip, to make noise and alert the villagers.
But his body was far too weak. Even with all his strength, he couldn’t budge the man at all. Instead, his wrists were seized, lifted above his head, and pressed firmly against the door.
The man’s strength was overwhelming—one hand alone easily restrained both of Ruan Qing’s. His tall frame completely pinned Ruan Qing’s slender body against the door, leaving no room for struggle. All Ruan Qing could do was endure the man’s kisses.
This time, it seemed two villagers had come to pay their respects.
One carried a kerosene lamp, casting light on their path as they slowly approached the mourning hall.
But halfway there, the villager with the lamp suddenly stopped. He turned sharply, his gaze piercing toward the direction of the corner room.
"Did you hear something?"
The other villager frowned. "What kind of sound could there be at this hour?"
Despite his words, he listened carefully—but heard nothing.
The villager holding the lamp also detected no further noise and eventually dismissed it as his imagination.
The two continued toward the mourning hall.
Yet the moment they stepped inside, they found the brazier for burning ghost money overturned. Their hearts lurched, and their first instinct was to retreat several steps, quickly backing out of the hall.
The usually expressionless villager now looked grim, his voice tense with urgency.
"What happened? How did the brazier tip over?"
The villager holding the kerosene lamp didn’t answer. At this point, questioning why the ghost money had been disturbed was meaningless. He raised the lamp and slowly approached the mourning hall.
This was their shift. If something really went wrong, there was no way they could bear the responsibility.
Fortunately, their fears didn’t come to pass. After confirming that nothing was amiss in the mourning hall, the villager let out a heavy sigh of relief and quickly walked to the treasure basin to relight the ghost money.
Even after the ghost money was burning again, the two men still weren’t fully at ease. They inspected the entire hall, only relaxing once they were certain nothing was out of place.
They found it strange—without the ghost money’s suppression, why hadn’t the gu worms crawled out?
After all, a dead man couldn’t control the parasites inside him.
No one could answer their questions. Only after verifying that the ghost money in the treasure basin was properly burning did they finally pick up the kerosene lamp and slowly leave the courtyard.
Their footsteps grew closer, then farther away, until they vanished from the yard altogether—taking with them any hope of discovery.
In the silence of the night, no one knew what was happening in that corner room. No one could hear those faint, nearly inaudible sounds.
Once the men’s footsteps faded from the courtyard, the man inside grew even more ruthless.
His tall frame completely engulfed Ruan Qing as he kissed him with overwhelming force, his knee once again pressing against certain parts of Ruan Qing’s body.
The pressure wasn’t exactly light, but it wasn’t harsh either. Yet the slow, deliberate movement made it unbearable.
Ruan Qing had long since lost his strength, but he had no choice but to stay upright. He tried to twist away, even resorting to leaning against the door behind him, rising onto his tiptoes.
The man seemed to have a sudden pang of conscience—or perhaps it was just another form of cruelty. He didn’t push further, keeping his leg bent and unmoving.
Because if Ruan Qing couldn’t hold himself up, he’d have no choice but to sink down onto him.
Being kissed like this left him weak and dizzy—how could he possibly keep balancing on his toes?
But the man showed no intention of lowering his knee. He simply waited, patient as a hunter, for his prey to surrender.
He didn’t rush. Tilting Ruan Qing’s chin, he kissed him deeply, dominating his lips without restraint.
There are two ways to kiss: eyes open or closed. Closed eyes mean surrender; open eyes mean conquest.
But this man was neither.
The man’s gaze never left Ruan Qing, watching his every reaction with a cruel sort of amusement.
Everything the boy had was given by him. The boy had no one else to rely on.
Yet, the boy was unusually stubborn. Even when he could no longer stand, even when his slender body trembled uncontrollably, he still refused to yield.
The man never loosened his grip on Ruan Qing, but the slight leverage and height weren’t enough to support him—only enough to keep him from struggling.
Time blurred—maybe minutes, maybe longer—until Ruan Qing’s eyes widened, his beautiful pupils glazing over with moisture. His body went limp all at once, and he finally collapsed weakly into the man’s arms.
Thanks to the man’s hold, the fall wasn’t too rough, but the impact still sent a sharp jolt through his already sensitive body. Ruan Qing’s pupils contracted slightly, tears pooling in his eyes before spilling over, trailing down his cheeks in uneven streaks.
At last, the man released him, one arm supporting his boneless frame while the other gently wiped the tears from the corner of his eye.
"Why are you crying?"
The man’s voice was low, unfamiliar—nothing like the tone Ruan Qing knew.
"Does it hurt?" He paused, then let out a faint, mocking chuckle. Leaning close to Ruan Qing’s ear, his breath hot against the sensitive skin, he murmured hoarsely, "Or… did it feel good?"
He didn’t wait for an answer. His hand slid lower, and when he spoke again, his voice was deliberately crude. "You’re wet."
Ruan Qing pressed his lips together tightly, turning his head away stiffly, as if overwhelmed by shame.
But the man gave him no chance to retreat. Gripping his wrist, he spun him around and yanked him flush against his chest before pinning him down on the bed.
The man bent down, sealing Ruan Qing’s lips with another kiss—unyielding, leaving no room for refusal.
"N-no… mmm—!" Ruan Qing’s eyes flew wide. He tried to push the man away, but in the next second, his hand was caught and guided somewhere else.
Ruan Qing was already weaker, his body pliant and unsteady, making it easy for the man to maneuver him exactly where he wanted.
Trapped, Ruan Qing froze the moment his fingers brushed against something strange.
Before he could process it, the man—apparently dissatisfied with the barrier of fabric—tugged his hand lower, slipping it inside.
Now, there was nothing left between them.
Ruan Qing finally realized what was happening. He tried with all his might to pull his hand back, but it was useless.
The man gripped his hand tightly, not allowing him to retreat even slightly. The two were so close that their breaths intertwined, indistinguishable from one another.
Ruan Qing wanted to keep struggling, but his resistance only seemed to amuse the man, making his breathing grow uneven—and the thing in his hand throbbed a few times in response.
It was aroused.
The moment Ruan Qing realized this, his body stiffened, not daring to move even a fraction, afraid of further provoking the man.
The man watched the tense figure before him and began guiding Ruan Qing’s hand in slow movements, his breathing completely unlike usual.
Knowing resistance was futile, Ruan Qing stopped struggling. He pressed his lips together and finally turned his head away, as if unable to endure it any longer.
But sometimes, surrender doesn’t lead to gentleness—it only invites further encroachment.
The man’s throat moved as he stared at the obedient, silent boy. With a low exhale, he restrained himself no longer, his own hand finally stilling.
"Be good," he murmured, his voice deep and rough, laced with something unspoken—and a hint of coaxing. "Help me, and I won’t touch you."
But Ruan Qing didn’t comply.
The man leaned closer, his breath scorching, his voice hoarse. "If you don’t help… I can’t promise what’ll happen next."
His tone was calm, but the threat in his words was unmistakable.
Ruan Qing’s eyes widened. He turned to look at the man, his beautiful gaze filled with unease, fear, and resistance.
Yet he had no choice but to yield.
Because in those few seconds of silence, the man’s hand had already slipped beneath his clothes—proof that this was no empty threat.
Panicked, Ruan Qing hastily grabbed the man’s wrist, stopping him.
Though the man was far stronger, this time he let himself be held back, watching Ruan Qing with darkened eyes, waiting.
"…" Ruan Qing parted his lips, but no sound came out. When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible.
The man didn’t hear clearly. He leaned in slightly. "What?"
Ruan Qing seemed to have used up all his courage just to say those words. He bit his lower lip, and after several seconds, he spoke in defeat. "I'll... help you."
His voice was still quiet, but louder than before—at least enough for the man to hear.
The man had known this person would agree, but actually hearing those words made his heart skip a beat. A surge of excitement rushed to his brain, nearly making him lose control.
Ruan Qing pressed his lips together tightly, finally turning his head away to escape the man’s burning gaze.
The man released his grip on Ruan Qing, handing all initiative over to him, waiting patiently for Ruan Qing to act.
The man’s heartbeat was loud—so loud it could be heard clearly. Ruan Qing’s slender, pale hand was stiff. With no restraints left, this time he didn’t pull back but tentatively moved.
The man let out a muffled groan, his breathing growing heavier. His voice was already hoarse beyond recognition. "Tighten your grip."
Ruan Qing’s hand froze again, unmoving for a long moment. But under the man’s threatening presence, he had no choice but to obey.
Yet the man still wasn’t satisfied. A tight, motionless hold was pure torture—enough to drive someone mad.
The man’s tone was commanding. "Move it up and down."
"Faster."
Ruan Qing tried his best to comply, but the man remained unsatisfied. In the end, he gripped Ruan Qing’s hand and moved it himself.
...
Time stretched endlessly, until Ruan Qing’s hand began to ache. Only then did warmth and wetness coat his fingertips, accompanied by the man’s deep, ragged groan in his ear.
Ruan Qing let out a slight sigh of relief—but before he could finish, the man seized his chin, and scorching breath crashed against his lips.
Yet the next second, the man froze.
Because Ruan Qing’s pupils had dilated, his eyes losing all focus.
The darkness didn’t hinder the man’s vision. He didn’t miss it—the moment he saw, his hand instantly clamped around Ruan Qing’s wrist.
In the next instant, the man’s eyes darkened, his entire body radiating a sinister, terrifying aura.
It was the gu poison.
Ruan Qing’s gaze was unfocused, his beautiful eyes eerily vacant. With strength from who-knows-where, he shoved the man off him and stumbled toward the door.
Without hesitation, the man grabbed Ruan Qing's wrist and struck the back of his neck with a swift chop, catching him the moment he collapsed.
He picked up the unconscious Ruan Qing and walked straight into the mourning hall.
The treasure basin in the hall had been restored, and ghost money burned inside, illuminating the entire space—along with the man holding Ruan Qing.
It was Miao Ciyu, the same man who had promised Ruan Qing a seven-day reprieve earlier that day.
There were countless types of gu poison, each with its own method of removal. Without knowing which one had been used, there was no way to break it.
The only option was suppression.
A higher-level gu could suppress a lower-level one—this was the natural hierarchy among gu insects. That was why Miao Ciyu had dared to kick over the treasure basin.
But he never expected the boy to already be poisoned, nor that the gu inside him would be anything but low-level. At the very least, it was beyond his ability to suppress.
He didn’t even need to think to know who had cast it.
Miao Linyuan.
In Miao Village, aside from himself, only Miao Linyuan could wield a gu poison he couldn’t suppress.
Soon enough, the person he was waiting for arrived.
Miao Linyuan looked at the man sitting on the coffin with the boy in his arms, pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth before finally flashing a smile.
"Good evening."
Though he was smiling, his expression was laced with violence and killing intent.
The boy’s clothes were neatly arranged, but his swollen lips betrayed what had just happened.
Miao Village only needed one Overseer.
Miao Ciyu felt the same. His face remained cold as he stared at Miao Linyuan, the murderous intent in his eyes almost tangible.
A gu with a master was difficult to deal with, but a masterless one? That was far simpler.
The air in the mourning hall seemed to freeze in that moment, thick with nothing but pure hostility.
Just as the tension between the two reached its peak, footsteps echoed from the courtyard. Almost simultaneously, their gazes snapped toward the sound.
The first thing they saw was a large black dog—and behind it…
Their eyes widened in shock as they stared at the man slowly walking into view behind the dog.
