Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 194: Cabin in the Woods (Part Two)

Fang Xiu let out a soft “ah” and scratched his head awkwardly. “I didn’t sense anything at all.”

“No need to worry.” Bai Shuangying shook his head. “This kind of detection spell takes years of training. You haven’t even started learning.”

Fang Xiu looked sincere. “After I finish the exam, I’ll definitely study hard with you.”

“Very good. I will teach you properly,” Bai Shuangying said with satisfaction.

He reached out naturally and tousled Fang Xiu’s messy hair. Fang Xiu squinted in delight, his smile growing wider.

The two of them chatted at ease, leaving only Zhou Xingquan tense as ever. “You just said someone with bad intentions is here. Shouldn’t we be doing something?”

This forest had only recently been opened to the public for scientific research. To Zhou Xingquan, “someone with bad intentions” could only mean poachers, industrial spies, or illegal organizations violating regulations.

None of those were easy to handle. Poachers might even be armed. And they didn’t even have a signal here.

Fang Xiu reassured the worried Zhou Xingquan. “If the intruders can be identified by Shuangying, they must be using magic. Anyone trying to rush into Xushan at a time like this is almost certainly a member of the Guishan Sect.”

“The Guishan Sect?” Zhou Xingquan asked.

If he remembered correctly, that infamous cult had been nearly wiped out domestically, and its leader had fled overseas nearly twenty years ago. He hadn’t seen anything about them in the news in ages.

Zhou Xingquan suddenly realized he was caught in a strange loop. Every time he thought he had finally re-entered reality, something bizarre would pull him back out again.

The sense of being suspended between illusion and reality wouldn’t let go. Having been beaten up by one supernatural event after another, he somehow felt calm now.

“What are cultists doing in a place like this? Worship?”

Zhou Xingquan analyzed calmly. “I don’t remember too clearly, but I seem to recall they worshipped Xushan a lot.”

“You know quite a bit,” Fang Xiu blinked.

“When their activity was at its worst, our school specifically gave lectures about them. Since there’s no signal here, you two shouldn’t confront those people directly. Just report them once you’re out.”

Zhou Xingquan followed Bai Shuangying’s gaze outside. The night was pitch black. He couldn’t even make out the bushes two meters away.

He had no idea how Bai Shuangying could see anything. Was this guy actually an evil spirit? But if Bai Shuangying was an evil spirit, his aura was far too gentle.

No. He had to stop thinking about these unscientific things and stay focused.

“I’m not kidding. Anyone still running a cult in this day and age is mentally unstable.”

Seeing that Fang Xiu and Bai Shuangying weren’t reacting, Zhou Xingquan continued earnestly, “Those lunatics will do anything. Some commit suicide, others attack their families, and the really extreme ones go after strangers with knives.”

“Leave things like this to professionals. Please don’t get involved…”

Swish.

With a flick of his sleeve, Bai Shuangying somehow produced a snow-white peach branch with flowers swaying gently. Outside the window, a young boy in traditional clothing appeared out of thin air.

The child wore rough homespun clothes like a mountain villager, a crooked wooden mask on his face, and carried a basket of sweet potatoes and wild fruits on his back. He looked like he had just been plucked out of ancient times.

The boy quickly got his footing, didn’t look back, and hopped away on his own.

Zhou Xingquan was stunned.

Fang Xiu watched the boy vanish, his smile gaining a subtle, unreadable quality. He returned to the table and called out, “Come on, eat up. The soup will get cold.”

“J-Just now, that…” Zhou Xingquan stammered.

“That was just an illusion. A guide projection,” Fang Xiu said cheerfully, scooping soup and setting aside a chicken drumstick for Bai Shuangying.

“An illusion? A guide? But I—”

Zhou Xingquan thought about the red soda can that had led him here and suddenly didn’t know what to say.

In a remote, untouched forest like this, he couldn’t tell if a soda can was scarier or a masked child in ancient costume more disturbing.

Even setting aside the weird guiding objects, who exactly were they leading people to?

There were too many strange things. He couldn’t make sense of any of them.

With a sigh, Zhou Xingquan took a sip of the soup and forced himself to forget all that superstition.

He didn’t know what herbs had been added to the chicken broth, but the taste was incredible. It was fresh, fragrant, but slightly unfamiliar.

One spoonful felt like a warm spring sun soaking into his very bones.

The chicken was so tender it melted in his mouth. Zhou Xingquan ate the flatbread, drank the soup, and almost forgot everything he had just seen. Until—

Knock knock knock.

For the second time that day, someone knocked on the door.

Zhou Xingquan set down his bowl, his heart skipping a beat.

Across from him, Fang Xiu continued to eat his chicken slowly. There was a bit of broth at the corner of his mouth, which Bai Shuangying casually wiped away with his finger, a gesture so natural it was almost intimate.

Neither of them acknowledged the knock.

Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock.

“I’m lost in the forest. Please help me and let me stay the night. I’ll pay whatever you ask.”

The voice outside was warm and gentle, like that of a cultured middle-aged man. It was so kind that Zhou Xingquan almost dropped his guard for a second.

If this were the outskirts of a city, he probably would have opened the door.

But thinking of how remote and eerie this place was, Zhou Xingquan decided to follow Fang Xiu’s lead and pretend he didn’t hear anything.

Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock.

“You must be someone of the path, living in a place like this. I was guided here by my Hierarch. There must be fate between us,” the man insisted, confident.

“Please open the door.”

“Open the door.”

“Open.”

“What fate, my ass,” Zhou Xingquan couldn’t help but muttered under his breath.

The voice lacked any trace of desperation or pleading, only a bone-chilling confidence.

It was as if, if Fang Xiu didn’t open the door, the man would force his way in. The attitude made no sense at all.

Could this be the “hostile” cultist they mentioned?

But why would Fang Xiu and Bai Shuangying guide cultists here?

Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock. Knock knock knock.

…Bang!

The knocking grew more forceful, finally turning into a heavy impact.

This cabin in the deep forest didn’t have a reinforced metal door. The wooden door groaned under pressure, and the latch began to warp.

At the table, Bai Shuangying lightly tapped his finger. The meat on another chicken drumstick separated itself from the bone.

He picked up the steaming meat with his chopsticks and placed it into Fang Xiu’s bowl. “Eat more. I added a lot of medicinal herbs.”

Fang Xiu wolfed it down. “Thanks, thanks. I swear I’ll grow some muscle. Guan He’s already bulkier than me. It’s not fair.”

Zhou Xingquan was losing his mind. Was this really the time for flirting?

Still, even if they were a little strange, he had to repay the meal. Zhou Xingquan suddenly stood up, grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter, and positioned himself between the door and the table.

Bang!

The wooden door finally burst open.

But the one who entered wasn’t an intruder, but a flood of blooming red flowers.

Zhou Xingquan had spent years in the field, yet he couldn’t identify this species right away.

The flowers looked like a cross between lilies and orchids, their petals as thin as red threads, glowing faintly like red lanterns swaying in the night.

They collapsed in a heap at the doorway, loosely forming the shape of a human body.

Among the blossoms lay crumpled clothing and pants, and a pair of shoes and socks lay askew at the threshold—as if the moment the man crossed the threshold, he fell and scattered into these strange flowers.

Outside, there was nothing but cool mountain wind and the boundless night.

Zhou Xingquan stumbled back in fear, the kitchen knife clattering to the floor.

Fang Xiu had finished his meal and stood up briskly.

He pulled out a woven basket from the cabinet and began to gather the flowers, humming a tune.

Bai Shuangying, looking unbothered, cleared the tableware and casually picked up the knife Zhou Xingquan had dropped.

Seeing Zhou Xingquan frozen stiff, he curled his lip slightly. “I can erase your memory.”

Driven by scholarly curiosity, Zhou Xingquan murmured, “No… No need. I want to remember.”

Bai Shuangying said indifferently, “As you wish.”

Zhou Xingquan watched as Fang Xiu packed up the red flowers, picked some fresh fruit from the basket, and walked toward the back door of the cabin.

That wall had no windows. Zhou Xingquan had assumed it led to a bathroom or something and hadn’t thought much of it.

Now, staring at the blank wall, he felt everything was off.

Seeing Bai Shuangying follow, Zhou Xingquan nervously trailed after them.

The moment he stepped out the back door, Zhou Xingquan stopped breathing.

In the darkness, a field of those blood-red flowers had bloomed. They swayed gently in the night wind, their glow making Zhou Xingquan’s skin crawl.

At the center of the flower field stood an old-fashioned tomb.

The gravestone was large and beautiful. In front of it was a stone offering table. In addition to traditional offerings like fruit, the table also held odd items—vases with red paper flowers, instant camera photos, casino chips, and other trinkets.

“This is my parents’ joint grave.” Fang Xiu placed a few fresh fruits onto the offering plate and wiped the dust from the tombstone.

Zhou Xingquan nervously swallowed, eyes flicking to the basket of red flowers.

“Curious about that?” Fang Xiu finally looked at him and smiled. “That guy isn’t actually dead yet. His living soul was sent somewhere else.”

“Shuangying changed his body. Only when these flowers wither will he be completely dead.”

Zhou Xingquan: “…” That’s even more terrifying, okay?

And frankly, he didn’t want to know what “changed his body” actually meant.

Thankfully, Fang Xiu just shrugged and didn’t explain further.

He continued wiping the tombstone while muttering softly. Zhou Xingquan leaned in but heard no eerie chanting, but just idle chatter.

Almost everything he said was about his everyday life with Bai Shuangying, like a newlywed calling home. Bai Shuangying stood quietly at his side, occasionally nodding toward the tombstone in greeting.

After several minutes, Fang Xiu lifted the basket of red flowers and scattered them on an open patch of ground. The blossoms wriggled like living things and arranged themselves into a neat plot.

“All done.” Fang Xiu dusted his hands. “Good night, Dad, Mom.”

“It’s getting cold. Let’s go back in, Mr. Zhou.”

……

The next morning, Zhou Xingquan woke to the smell of instant noodles.

He felt fine. Not thirsty, not hungry, not cold, and no strange pains. He looked at his clean fingers, then at the looming shadows of the trees and the thick morning fog.

…Fog?

He jumped up, scrambling to his feet.

He found himself lying on a pile of dead leaves. He was wearing the jacket he thought he had lost.

All his gear was inside, intact. His backpack sat nearby, perfectly unharmed.

Not far beyond the bushes, people were chatting softly. Zhou Xingquan sniffed the air and smelled the familiar scent of braised beef noodles. That had to be his expedition team.

What was going on?

He pressed his temples hard.

He remembered going to the grave with Fang Xiu, planting the cultist-turned-flowers into the ground, then drowsily returning to the cabin and falling asleep on the couch…

Just recalling those memories felt absurd. He must have had a wild, fantastical dream.

Zhou Xingquan stood and walked toward his teammates.

“Oh my god, Lao Zhou?!”

“We couldn’t find you for a whole day. We were terrified!”

“Your equipment’s all here! Why didn’t you contact us?”

The camp burst into chaos.

“A whole day?” Zhou Xingquan muttered.

“Yeah, an entire day! You vanished yesterday morning!” everyone exclaimed.

Zhou Xingquan took a deep breath and opened his backpack.

Everything he had packed was there, not a single item missing…

In fact, there was something extra.

A single empty Wangzai soda can. Its bright red color stood out.

Zhou Xingquan shuddered and zipped the bag closed, exhaling deeply.

“Where did you go?”

“How did you find us?”

His colleagues asked persistently.

“I…” Zhou Xingquan opened his mouth, then swallowed the words.

“I forgot,” he finally said, firm and clear.

There was a hidden cabin in the forest, home to a young man wearing a red T-shirt, studying for the medical exam, and a white-robed figure who might be spirit or god.

They lived quietly, turning hostile cultists into flowers…

This ridiculous story would remain his secret.

A breeze blew past his backpack, lifting a glowing red petal into the air.

It spun gently into the mist and disappeared into the dark forest.

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The author has something to say:

The secret base story of the young couple is complete!

Next up: their love stories in the human world—!

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