Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Pain. His head throbbed.

A wave of dizziness washed over Lin Xingshu as he blearily opened his eyes. A sharp, stinging pain pulsed at his temples. Frowning, he raised a hand to rub his forehead, his vision blurry and unfocused. He shook his head vigorously, and the scene before him gradually sharpened.

At that moment, he found himself inside a stilt house, surrounded by an unsettling silence. He was utterly bewildered.

He remembered that yesterday, he and Liu Rong’s group had planned to take photos at the ancestral hall. But after getting blackout drunk, he had stumbled and fallen. What happened after that, he couldn’t recall.

However, he did remember last night’s dream.

He recalled feeling unbearably hot, as if his body were about to explode. Then, someone—or something—had handed him a huge, black popsicle, like coconut charcoal.

He'd licked at it eagerly, savoring the icy coolness, yet it had no taste at all.

Baffled by the strange dream, Lin Xingshu scratched his head. He wasn't much of a foodie—why would he dream of such a thing?

Shaking his head, he dismissed the weird dream and glanced down at himself. No strange marks, no unusual pain, and his clothes were neatly in place. He assumed the villagers must have brought him back.

The sun was already high outside. Alarmed, Lin Xingshu sprang up. He still had to go out and take photos today—how could he have forgotten such an important task?

After a hurried wash, he threw his camera over his shoulder and headed out. As he left, his gaze inadvertently brushed past a painting on the wall. Just one glance, and those pitch-black eyes seemed to bore into him, sending a shiver down his spine. Goosebumps erupted on his skin. Rubbing his arms, he turned and left the house.

The weather wasn’t great today—foggy and overcast, as if rain could pour down at any moment.

Walking along the village path, many villagers greeted him warmly.

“Xiao Lin—!”

Lin Xingshu turned to see Liu Rong rushing toward him, out of breath. A towel hung around her neck, suggesting she’d just finished farm work.

“Sis!”

“Xiao Lin, you’re finally awake! Are you feeling okay?”

Liu Rong’s eyes swept over him. Figuring she was worried about his hangover, Lin Xingshu smiled. “I’m fine. Did you bring me back yesterday? Thanks!”

Liu Rong hesitated for a moment before putting on a smile. “Oh, it was nothing. I’m just glad you’re okay. I’ve got to go now.”

“Wait,” Lin Xingshu called out, pointing to his camera. “Sis, do you know any scenic spots around here? I’d like to take some promotional photos.”

“Scenic spots?”

Liu Rong pondered for a moment. “Well, if you’re looking for scenery…”

“Send him to the back mountain.”

Before she could finish, a creepy, raspy voice whispered in her ear. Liu Rong froze, her expression changing strangely.

The back mountain… Wasn’t that…?

“Send him. To the back mountain.”

The man’s voice came again, brooking no argument. Liu Rong’s face paled. She managed a tight smile. “The back mountain has great scenery. There’s even a waterfall up there—it’s beautiful.”

She pointed toward the lush, distant hills. “Follow that path, and it’ll take you straight up. You can walk all the way to the waterfall.”

“Got it. Thanks! I’ll head there now!”

Lin Xingshu waved goodbye and turned to leave. Liu Rong watched his retreating figure, a flash of guilt in her eyes. Her lips quivered as if she wanted to call out, but in the end, she stayed silent.

She had no choice. She had to obey the deity’s command—even if it wasn’t fair to Lin Xingshu.

*

True to Liu Rong’s words, the scenery along the way was breathtaking. Autumn-colored leaves glowed reddish, and the distant sound of rushing water echoed from the mountain. He took countless photos, his skills improving with each shot thanks to the stunning views.

“Tap, tap, tap—”

Just as Lin Xingshu was admiring his photos, a strange noise came from behind him. He froze, turning to look—but there was nothing there.

“Weird… I could’ve sworn I heard something…”

Grumbling to himself, he turned back to continue shooting. But before he could raise his camera, the strange tapping resumed. Lin Xingshu paused briefly, acting like he didn't notice as he walked forward. Yet the sound grew closer and closer.

It sounded like a cane striking the ground.

When the noise was just a few steps behind him, Lin Xingshu suddenly spun around. “Who’s there? Who’s following me?”

But when he turned, he was shocked.

The view before him was picture-perfect—red maple leaves swaying softly in the breeze, the narrow path shrouded in thick mist. There was no one in sight. Apart from the sound of water and birdsong, the surroundings were deathly quiet.

His heart missed a beat. His eyelids fluttered wildly as he stumbled backward a few steps, his mind racing.

Had he imagined it? But he’d clearly heard the sound of a cane hitting the ground…

Shaking his head, he dismissed the unsettling thought and prepared to continue uphill. Just then, a raindrop landed on the back of his hand. Within moments, the skies opened up, the rain pounding his body with sharp, wet slaps.

“Shit… my camera…”

Lin Xingshu wanted to turn back, but the rain was coming down too hard. If he didn’t find shelter, his equipment would be ruined—and this camera had cost him a fortune!

With no other choice, he bolted into the woods. The thick trees would at least provide some cover from the rain.

“Plip, plop—”

The rain kept pouring down. But was he imagining things, or did he hear something else mixed in with the downpour?

He followed the mountain path until the sound of rushing water grew louder. Realizing he’d reached the waterfall, he stopped under a tree, catching his breath as the rain began to ease.

Drenched to the skin, his soaked clothes clung tightly to his pale skin, faintly outlining the muscles of his abdomen. Rain dripped from the tip of his nose, landing on his lips before sliding beneath his collar.

“The camera should be fine…”

Letting out a relieved sigh, he carefully pulled the camera from his bag. Thankfully, it was unharmed. Nearby, the waterfall thundered, its mist blending with the thickening fog, giving the already breathtaking scene an ethereal, otherworldly quality. Lin Xingshu’s eyes sparkled with awe.

He raised his camera, capturing the waterfall from every angle. Lost in his work, he failed to notice the dense fog slowly swallowing the entire mountain.

By the time he finished admiring his shots, the world around him had turned into a white haze. Staring at the impenetrable mist, he froze in disbelief.

The fog was too thick to discern any direction. In his pursuit of the perfect shot, he’d strayed far from the original path.

Panic set in. His rain-soaked body trembled violently from the cold. Frantically, he pulled out his phone to call Liu Rong—only to find no signal.

His eyes widened in alarm. A surge of fear shot through him as he glanced around helplessly, the chill seeping deep into his bones.

There was no telling when the fog would lift. If he stayed here, hypothermia was a real risk… He had to get down the mountain.

Gritting his teeth, Lin Xingshu gripped a tree trunk and began descending. The rain had turned the slopes muddy, and without the original path to guide him, he could only rely on memory. The sound of the waterfall faded, then vanished entirely—yet he still hadn’t made it down.

Lin Xingshu's heart sank like a stone.

He was completely lost.

What should he do? His phone had no signal… and now he had no idea where he was... He couldn't keep walking aimlessly—it would only drain his energy.

"Liu Rong! Liu Rong—! Can you hear me?!"

Lin Xingshu shouted himself hoarse in every direction, hoping Liu Rong would hear his voice. But he was disappointed—only echoes answered back in the silent surroundings.

His lips trembled slightly as he took a few steps back, then slumped weakly against a tree trunk, sitting down. The cold bit into his bones, and he could only hug himself helplessly, shivering violently.

"Tap, tap, tap—"

That eerie sound came again, just like before. Startled, Lin Xingshu snapped his head up from his arms, sprang to his feet, and pressed his back against the tree trunk, eyes darting warily.

"Tap, tap, tap—"

"Who!? Who's there?!"

Lin Xingshu snatched up a piece of wood from the ground, his eyes darting around in alert.

"Huh? Why are you alone here in such heavy fog?"

Footsteps approached through the thick mist. Lin Xingshu looked up in surprise to see a young man wearing rough homespun clothes emerging from the fog. He leaned on a wooden staff and carried a basket full of mushrooms on his back.

Lin Xingshu froze for a moment, his gaze settling on the young man's face. When he saw his features, his breath caught at the sight.

The young man was unnaturally beautiful, smiling faintly at him. A small mole beneath his lips lifted slightly with his smile, and his dark eyes glowed with amusement.

Lin Xingshu lurched to his feet, fidgeting with his drenched clothes as he lowered his head and answered, "I... I got lost... You are...?"

"Me?"

The young man pointed at his basket, his smile widening. "I'm Xie Guan. I came up the mountain to gather mushrooms—best picking comes after heavy rains. And you? What's your name?"

"I'm Lin Xingshu..."

Finally meeting another living soul, Lin Xingshu felt some of the panic leave him. His body, which had been trembling from the cold, began to warm slightly. He looked at Xie Guan hopefully.

"Could you... take me down the mountain?"

"Of course."

Xie Guan said without hesitation. He glanced around at the dense fog, hesitating for a moment before adding with concern,

"But the fog is too thick right now, and we're quite far from the foot of the mountain. You're soaked to the bone—if we go down now, you might get sick. Let me take you up to rest for a bit, get a fire going to warm up. We can wait for the fog to clear before heading down."

"Okay! Thank you!"

Xie Guan smiled, his eyes crinkling with smile lines, though a strange glint flickered in their depths. "Shall we go, then?"

Lin Xingshu eagerly followed him, his heart swelling with relief at being rescued. He failed to notice the stiff, mechanical way Xie Guan moved—nor did he see the wood-grain texture on Xie Guan's exposed ankles.