***
Bonus chapter! Thank you to --- for the donation! ^^
***
Miao Ciyu’s icy, hostile aura softened—but only just a fraction. His voice was cold as he spoke, "Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be helping your beloved build a house?"
Ruan Qing faltered, caught off guard. After a hesitant pause, he mumbled, "...I came to work the fields."
Miao Ciyu said nothing more. When the time came, he led the villagers toward the farmland.
It was the same field as yesterday, but the medicinal herbs planted there had all withered—more than half had even vanished entirely, leaving behind an eerie sight.
If they had simply disappeared, one might have assumed they’d been uprooted overnight. But the dried, yellowed remains suggested something far worse than mere theft.
Yet the villagers showed no surprise, stepping into the field with eerie calm as if this were perfectly normal.
Ruan Qing had only agreed to come to escape his earlier predicament—he never actually intended to work, nor did he dare. His gaze fixed on the churning water in the field, something unseen stirring beneath the surface. A flicker of helplessness crossed his delicate features as he instinctively turned to Miao Ciyu, like a frightened youngling seeking protection.
The unguarded reaction seemed to amuse Miao Ciyu. Without a word, he stripped off his jacket and tossed it at Ruan Qing, who fumbled to catch it before realizing what he’d done.
His entire body froze.
This was in full view of the villagers. If word got back to Miao Li that he’d been holding another man’s clothes—
Ruan Qing immediately moved to set the jacket down on the field’s edge. But the moment he took a step, Miao Ciyu’s voice cut through the air.
"Hold it."
The command was flat, almost devoid of inflection, yet it carried an unshakable authority—and an undercurrent of danger.
A silent warning: if Ruan Qing dared to drop that jacket, something terrible would follow.
Ruan Qing's slender frame trembled slightly before freezing once more. He stood there helplessly, his delicate face etched with unease and conflict—yet in the end, he didn’t dare drop the clothes to the ground.
Miao Ciyu hadn’t lowered his voice, and the villagers had clearly heard him. But none dared to look up or speak, nor even glance at Ruan Qing standing on the ridge beside the field.
For a moment, the farmland was eerily quiet—only the splashing of villagers planting medicinal herbs and the rustle of leaves in the breeze remained. It looked like an utterly ordinary mountain village, nothing out of the ordinary.
This was the scene the players walked into. But none of them let their guard down. They’d spent the morning scouting Miao Village’s terrain and learning its rules—including the fact that villagers had to work the fields during certain seasons.
There had to be clues hidden in these fields.
The players watched the laboring villagers from a distance, not daring to get too close. Their eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any possible leads.
Since they’d arrived late, some fields were already planted with herbs.
The bespectacled male player approached one such field and crouched at the edge.
The water, churned by the villagers’ footsteps, remained murky even after planting—too cloudy to see through. But occasionally, bubbles rose to the surface, and ripples spread in slow, deliberate circles.
There was… something in the water.
Withered, yellowed herbs discarded during planting lay scattered along the ridge. The bespectacled player picked one up, about to probe the water—
But before he could even dip it halfway, someone yanked his arm back violently, nearly pulling him off balance.
He turned sharply—it was the short-haired female player.
Her face was pale, eyes wide with fear as she jerked her chin toward the villagers. The bespectacled player followed her gaze.
Every villager had stopped working. They stood motionless, staring at him with blank, lifeless eyes—like they were looking at a dead man.
His stomach dropped. Without thinking, he scrambled back from the field. Only then did the villagers return to their tasks.
The players swallowed hard. That single glance had been enough to drench them in cold sweat.
These villagers were terrifying. Just their gaze alone was enough to coil fear in your chest. But that also meant one thing—the fields definitely held something important.
Yet they couldn’t act. Not under the villagers’ watchful eyes.
Just as the players steadied their nerves—
Plunk.
A soft sound echoed. Something had fallen into the water.
And the only place with water here was the field.
The players’ hearts leapt into their throats, and they instinctively turned toward the source of the sound.
Sitting on the ridge of the field was a stunningly beautiful youth. He held a piece of clothing that clearly belonged to a man in his arms while hurling small stones into the field with force, his face twisted in displeasure and resentment.
He wasn’t aiming at the field—he was aiming at the man inside it, sleeves rolled up as he worked, as if venting his anger.
The stones struck the man’s body before losing momentum and dropping into the water.
The villagers, hearing the commotion, all looked up toward the sound. But the moment they saw who was being hit, they silently lowered their heads and continued working, pretending as if nothing had happened.
Miao Ciyu watched the stone sink into the water before lifting his gaze to the one who had thrown it—and froze the next second.
The youth, apparently satisfied with his aim, curved his picturesque eyes into a bright, radiant smile—one so pure and untainted it was disarming.
It should have been a mischievous grin of triumph, yet it carried an innocent charm, his delicate features utterly devoid of hostility. Under the soft light, his eyes shimmered with scattered flecks of brilliance, as if holding a galaxy of stars.
Miao Ciyu stood dazed for several seconds before the faintest trace of a smile tugged at his lips.
But that small smile seemed to provoke the seated youth. His expression darkened instantly as he snatched up another stone and hurled it at the man again.
Miao Ciyu didn’t resist. He didn’t dodge. He simply let Ruan Qing hit him.
After several throws with no reaction, Ruan Qing finally lost interest. Hugging the clothes tightly, he turned away, refusing to spare Miao Ciyu another glance.
The players couldn’t help but feel the stark contrast. A field they couldn’t even touch without consequence, yet the village chief’s son could pelt it with stones without issue—even being indulged as the man let him.
It was almost like… a lover’s quarrel.
Still, thanks to the youth’s spoiled tantrum, they finally got a clear look at what was in the field.
Worms. It was filled to the brim with bunch of worms.
Something felt off. The worms they’d encountered before had actively burrowed into human flesh, yet these didn’t seem to react at all—even when the bespectacled male player had gotten dangerously close, not a single one crawled out.
These worms were different from the ones in the forest.
The villagers worked mechanically, their expressions blank, their movements robotic. Watching longer wouldn’t yield any clues—not when they were under the villagers’ watchful eyes, unable to act.
But…
The players watched the young man sitting on the ridge of the field and saw a perfect opportunity—
A chance to investigate the village chief’s house.
Without wasting another second, they turned and left the field. To avoid drawing suspicion from the villagers, they deliberately took a different path at first. After making a wide detour and ensuring no one had noticed their movements, they finally doubled back and headed straight for the chief’s house.
***
Miao Ciyu worked the fields as fast as ever, far quicker than the other villagers.
Once he finished, Ruan Qing eagerly tossed his clothes back to him, then hopped off the ridge and started to leave.
"Stay away from those people."
Miao Ciyu’s low voice came from behind him, but Ruan Qing didn’t so much as pause—as if he hadn’t heard a thing.
Seeing his indifference, Miao Ciyu spoke again, colder this time. "If I catch you looking at them again, I’ll kill every last one of them."
Ruan Qing still didn’t respond. But hidden beneath his sleeves, his slender fingers trembled slightly—a detail no one noticed, not even the live-stream audience.
Time was running short. Even if he had to gather things now, it shouldn’t have taken this long.
As soon as he got home, Ruan Qing hastily collected a few items, then hurried toward the back of the village, clutching them tightly. His steps were rushed, anxious—as if any delay would make Miao Li suspect something.
Yet halfway there, he was stopped again.
The same secluded thicket. The same two people.
Ruan Qing’s grip on the bundle in his arms tightened. Pressed against the tree behind him, he stared at Fang Qingyuan, wariness flashing in his eyes—along with a flicker of panic.
"...What do you want now?"
Just as Fang Qingyuan opened his mouth to reply, his phone buzzed—a text notification.
He pulled it out, scanned the message, then frowned. After a long, inscrutable look at Ruan Qing, he turned and walked away.
Left alone in the thicket, Ruan Qing stood motionless, his pale lips pressed into a thin line as he watched Fang Qingyuan disappear into the distance.
When he sensed someone approaching from the side, he didn’t turn. Instead, he spoke softly, his voice so faint it could have been carried off by the wind.
"Can you… kill him for me?"
Miao Ciyu paused slightly upon hearing this, then let out a low chuckle—deep, magnetic, and utterly intoxicating.
A man who never smiled suddenly laughing like that... no one could resist it.
"Sure."
"But... you do know the price of my help, don't you?"
