Jiang Yan knew Shen Xiaoxiao was dead, but the others didn’t yet.
When she sat back down, everyone was still at the table, eating fruit and nuts. Their time was running out, so they ate and drank as they pleased, savoring the rare delicacies of Lingren Village.
These things didn’t keep well and weren’t convenient to carry on the run, so before the villagers left, they brought all of it to the theater, including expensive pastries found in the Fang and Wang residences.
At eight in the evening, the theater’s main doors were flung open with a bang.
Jiang Yan looked over quickly—it was Xi Jueyun and Xiao Congye.
The two hurried in, setting down four backpacks and several bags filled with yingling flowers, warning everyone not to come near, then quickly left again.
Half an hour later, they returned carrying Zhao Zhixi and another girl on their backs.
The two girls were drenched in cold sweat, eyes tightly shut, lips bitten bloody—clear signs of just having suffered a bout of withdrawal.
Xi Jueyun explained softly, “That place is terrifying—bones everywhere and black flowers in full bloom.”
“The blooming yingling flowers produce black mist, and the pollen concentration in that mist is just too high. Even with handkerchiefs soaked in limewater covering their noses, they still inhaled some… Just now, on the back mountain, they were triggered and went into withdrawal. Before losing their senses, they begged us to make sure to bring the flowers back first.”
“We understand, no need to explain, we get it.”
Several villagers hurried forward, carefully checking the girls’ conditions.
Fortunately, apart from weakness and exhaustion, the girls were not in mortal danger. All they needed now was a good rest.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. After carrying the two girls back to their rooms, they quickly came downstairs and volunteered, “There are still two more out there, right? Where are they on the back mountain? Let us go carry them this time, Troupe Leader Xi, you should rest!”
Xi Jueyun didn’t answer.
Her silence lasted so long that everyone guessed the truth, and those who had just been eager to help now forced a bitter smile.
After a moment, Xiao Congye took over.
She said what everyone had already sensed: “They’re dead.”
“To make picking easier, Yanqing tied the handkerchief over her nose and mouth with a thin cord, but the cord loosened and the handkerchief fell off. At that concentration, the pollen is the strongest poison…”
“When I vaguely saw her collapse and quickly yanked the rope to pull her out of the mist, she was already not breathing.”
“Yanqing died quickly. It probably wasn’t too painful.”
“As for Xiao Que—” Xiao Congye paused, her voice low, “after seeing Que’er’s body, her expression was off the whole time.”
“I kept watching her, but she moved too fast. As soon as she finished picking, she tied the rope from her waist to the backpack, then flung her handkerchief out of the black mist.”
“She went to find her sister.”
Hearing the cause of Shen Xiaoxiao’s death, Jiang Yan lowered her eyes to her teacup, watching the ripples spread and fade.
She thought that perhaps, at that moment, Shen Xiaoxiao hadn’t triggered any prompt at all. She was the one here whose mindset was closest to her character. Back at Wuhai Girls’ School, Shen Xiaoxiao had joked about wanting to die and be buried with her sister.
Now, she had gotten her wish.
After a while, Xi Jueyun spoke again.
She said, “The dead are gone, but we still have to plan for the living.”
“There are fourteen of us left. Zhao Zhixi and the others are in poor condition and could relapse at any time, so tomorrow night, only twelve of us will be able to act for certain.”
Everyone looked at Xi Jueyun.
Xi Jueyun stood and walked to the center of the hall, calmly meeting everyone’s eyes.
Her voice was steady and clear: “Even if we’re not affected by the smoke at first, it’s only a matter of time. We’ll all die here. Before we completely lose our ability to move, we must take ten of them down for every one of us.”
“The people we’ve lived with are fleeing a few li away. Our blood kin are still resisting dozens or hundreds of li away.”
“Suffering has always gone hand in hand with resistance. Our country will prosper, our nation will rise, countless heroes will shed their blood for the country. The day of resurgence will come, and our deaths will have meaning.”
“In all this, we don’t do it to be remembered, but to repay this land.”
“Finally—”
Xi Jueyun looked at everyone. “There’s still time. Are you all really not going to leave?”
A few seconds of silence.
…
“We’re not leaving.”
*
The next day came quickly. Early in the morning, someone went to the village gate with binoculars. Though the information said the foreign soldiers would arrive at night, no one could be sure of their marching speed—they could come early or late.
Zhao Zhixi woke up early, too.
Her constitution far exceeded Xi Jueyun’s expectations. As soon as she woke, she practiced tai chi in the backyard for half an hour, then wiped her sweat and ran to help in the kitchen.
At this time, everyone was mixing water into the yingling flower pollen.
They had to make full use of the flowers: petals for burning to produce hallucinogenic smoke, some pollen packed in small bags to be blown into the air with bellows, some mixed with water to be thrown in enemies’ faces when exhausted.
By noon, everyone was fully equipped.
Because of what happened to Yanqing, someone eagerly improved the handkerchiefs—folding them, sewing thin cords along the edges in several directions to form a wrap, and sewing on buttons to ensure they were tightly secured to the face and couldn’t slip.
At one in the afternoon,
Everyone gathered for a hot meal.
At two,
They went upstairs for a nap, conserving their energy.
At three,
Xi Jueyun performed her last opera on stage.
At four,
Everyone reviewed the plan again in the courtyard.
At five,
Another review of the plan.
At six,
One last review.
After six, the light faded, a clear moon rose, and everyone took up their gear and weapons, preparing to head to the village gate. Xi Jueyun drew her Mandarin Duck Sword and was the first to step out of the theater.
At this point, the area twenty meters behind the village gate was covered in yingling flowers, with more placed beside the huge rock outside the gate. Barrels of gasoline taken from the Fang family were positioned at various spots, each guarded, just waiting for the foreign soldiers’ arrival.
Jiang Yan stood quietly beside Xiao Congye, waiting for the story to end—and for her own death.
But after a while, instead of the foreign soldiers, it was Xiao Congye who broke the silence.
“Am I really that much like your sister?”
This was the first time Xiao Congye had spoken to Jiang Yan of her own accord, aside from warnings.
Jiang Yan was taken aback, then nodded. “Very much so.”
“Especially so.”
“Then how did your sister treat you?” Xiao Congye asked. “Did she hug you?”
Jiang Yan laughed. “Of course.”
At that, Xiao Congye opened her arms. “You can hug me now.”
Jiang Yan blinked lightly.
To be honest, she didn’t really like physical contact with people, but after these months with Yu Renwan and Shen Xiaoxiao, she’d become immune—the two of them were so clingy, always putting their feet on her legs when they slept.
But Xiao Congye was just an NPC she’d only known for a few days.
After a few seconds’ thought, Jiang Yan lifted her head, looked deeply at Xiao Congye, and walked toward her with a smile.
She was still thinking about what kind of hug to give, but as soon as she got close, Xiao Congye took a step forward and hugged her tightly.
A hug full of strong comfort.
Jiang Yan was a little dazed, then suddenly realized her nose was starting to sting. Such sentimentality didn’t fit her character, so it must have been the girl’s subconscious reaction.
“She” was grieving.
The next second, a tear slid down Jiang Yan’s face, falling onto Xiao Congye’s shoulder.
That girl was sobbing uncontrollably.
So Jiang Yan sobbed, too.
If it had been a few days ago, Jiang Yan would have found this unbearably awkward. But now, her emotions were muted—she didn’t even bother to wipe away her tears, just patted Xiao Congye on the back.
“This position isn’t quite right,” Jiang Yan said. “I’m taller than you.”
Xiao Congye quickly let go, gave Jiang Yan a sidelong look, snorted, and went to find Xi Jueyun.
Jiang Yan smiled.
She followed, once again standing behind Xiao Congye.
At eight in the evening, the lookout villagers ran back into the village, panting, pointing outside. Instantly, everyone stopped what they were doing, soaked their face cloths in limewater until saturated, and quickly tied them on.
From far away came the sound of foreign soldiers marching.
Their steps were heavy, completely unafraid of being discovered, loudly discussing their recent victories. The leader spoke broken Chinese, boasting to his men:
“Not so hard… hahaha, Chinese is easy!”
Someone egged him on, asking how he learned. The leader laughed even louder, “Been here long enough! You don’t need to—soon, here!” He stomped on the ground. “No more Chinese spoken!”
Then the two switched to their native language.
Jiang Yan couldn’t understand, but thanks to the spirit’s settings, a string of translated words sounded in her mind—
“That family the other day really knew how to cause trouble. All we did was stew his little grandson, and out of kindness, I killed his daughter and son-in-law too. Now the family’s reunited, isn’t that just wonderful?”
“As the old Huaguo saying goes, that’s a merit!”
“By the way, what about those rats we caught? Got the syringes? We’ll try them out on this village’s people.”
“Proof our experiments work! Take that short-haired woman—if we hadn’t dunked her arm in ice and boiling water, how would we know you can peel human skin right off?”
“Came off easy as anything!”
Hearing this, Jiang Yan looked toward the village entrance. The desires of that group surged upward, clawing and monstrous, ugly and towering, blotting out half the sky.
Jiang Yan had never seen such vicious, twisted desires.
She glanced at the others—everyone was holding their breath, ready, only Xi Jueyun was breathing hard, her eyes full of rage.
Jiang Yan understood at once.
She could understand.
Xi Jueyun had taught herself this language—she understood.
But there was no time to ask further. When the foreign soldiers were ten meters from the gate, everyone quickly retreated into the shadows.
Half a minute later, the gate was pushed open, and a squad of over a hundred marched in with guns.
“This place looks pretty rich—”
Before he could finish, in the moonlight, Xi Jueyun raised her hand and gave the order. Instantly, everyone kicked over the oil barrels and tossed lit matches to the ground. At the same time, those hiding behind the boulders outside the village lit the yingling flowers at their feet.
Everything happened in an instant.
In just over ten seconds, flames spread, thick smoke billowed, and the foreign soldiers, realizing something was wrong, tried to retreat—but their escape route was already cut off.
Smoke filled the village, inside and out.
Under cover of the smoke, Jiang Yan opened the bellows, aiming at the village gate.
Everyone swiftly dumped the black pollen from their bags, letting it drift on the wind and smoke in all directions.
Once finished, they quickly withdrew, locked the doors, and hid in the house nearest the gate.
The foreign soldiers were frantically trying to put out the fire, thinking the flames were the weapon, not realizing the real danger was the smoke in the air. Two minutes later, someone sensed something was wrong, but before he could speak, he staggered and sat down, grinning idiotically at the sky.
As time passed, more and more faces went blank. The leader finally realized the smoke was the problem, roared in anger, clamped his nose shut, and led the still-sane ones to search for shelter.
But every house had already been locked by Xi Jueyun.
The door to their house was kicked and pounded, furious shouts in an unknown language outside, but everyone just stared at their weapons.
Three minutes passed, and the noise outside faded.
The fire grew fiercer, flames lighting the whole street, black smoke pouring in through every crack.
“It’s time.”
Xi Jueyun said softly.
As she finished, she strode out with her Mandarin Duck Sword, stabbing the leader through the chest, then the abdomen, the waist, moving on to the next.
By now, these people had mostly lost the ability to fight, but some who could hold their breath were still a little clear-headed.
They struggled to their feet, trying to shoot Xi Jueyun, but she gave them no chance, charging with her sword. The others did much the same. Jiang Yan, wrapped in a soaked quilt, ran outside the gate and found eight foreign soldiers who’d made it through the flames.
But what good was escaping?
Anyone who’d breathed the smoke was hallucinating. Jiang Yan’s blade rose and fell, each stroke precisely severing a neck.
By the sixth, her vision blurred, but she shook her head and quickly finished the last two, then, wrapped in a half-burned quilt, ran back into the village.
By now, the smoke was so thick she couldn’t see a thing.
She reached out—nothing but emptiness.
Jiang Yan walked toward the sounds for two minutes and found Xiao Congye lying under an eave, dazed, muttering aimlessly. Jiang Yan sat down beside her.
She looked around. Half a minute later, Xi Jueyun appeared before her.
She was staggering, a strong man clutching her shoulder. Though he had no idea what he was doing or seeing, he refused to let go.
Unable to break free, Xi Jueyun pointed her Mandarin Duck Sword at herself.
Jiang Yan had never felt time move so slowly.
A few breaths later, just as Jiang Yan was about to lose her senses, she finally heard the notification sound.
“Ding!”
Her mind cleared instantly. She looked up at the sky.
Suspended in the air was the epilogue for the character Jiang Yan had played.
[Fourteen people from Lingren Village participated in this battle, killing 132. You spent unforgettable days in Lingren Village, knowing both joy and sorrow, but every sorrow was for a better beginning. In the years, ten years, and decades to come, our country will flourish, and the will of our people will press ever forward.
Now, from inhaling too much smoke, you are simply too tired.
You are ready to—
1. Close your eyes and imagine the future.
2. Close your eyes and recall this life.]
No countdown, no urging.
Jiang Yan looked at the frozen people beside her. Xiao Congye had stopped breathing, Xi Jueyun lay in a pool of blood. Jiang Yan looked up at the sky; it had turned pale pink.
This story had truly ended.
Jiang Yan didn’t choose either option. Instead, she slowly stood, brushed the dirt from her clothes, and walked through the smoke toward the end of the road.
Her hands hung naturally at her sides, everything seeming ordinary—except for the countless red threads streaming from her fingertips, winding like crimson rivers.
Three minutes later, the red threads had covered the world, cocooning every house, every person, even the entire sky.
The time had come.
Jiang Yan leaped lightly, landing on the theater’s eaves. With a tap of her toe, a towering phantom of a bridal gown appeared behind her. The dragon and phoenix totems on the hem shifted and changed, until the phoenix let out a clear cry, following the dragon’s tail and devouring it. In just a few seconds, the red dragon was swallowed, and at that moment, Jiang Yan’s aura surged.
She flipped and leapt higher, grabbing a red thread in the sky with one hand, tucking her toes to gather strength, then, with a speed no ordinary person could see, kicked at a point in the sky.
“Boom—!!”
Cracks appeared in the sky at once. The flow of time inside and outside the field synchronized. Three seconds to countdown!
Time was too tight. Jiang Yan clenched her jaw, gripped her fist, and yanked down the red thread she held. This move instantly drained all her yao power. One second later, the entire sky shattered like glass, breaking from a single point, red-thread fragments drifting everywhere.
Jiang Yan was utterly spent.
But she couldn’t relax. In the second second, as her body fell backward, she reached out with her right hand, grabbing the broken edge of the sky.
But just as Jiang Yan could harm the turbid qi, the turbid qi could hurt her. Sharp shards instantly pierced her palm, blood spurting from her hand.
Jiang Yan’s expression didn’t change. She braced herself, quickly stretched her other hand toward the gap in the sky, revealing the rune in her uninjured palm.
Just a heartbeat before the third second.
In the nick of time, Jiang Yan’s left hand touched the crack. The golden, ignited rune was flung out of the energy field with all her might.
The rune fell into the real world.
Time in the human world rewound three seconds.
Jiang Yan and the others stood once again in front of Cangnan Funeral Home.