Chapter 1
The first time you saw him was in a bamboo forest.
At that time, you didn't know this place was called the Southern Lands, let alone how you had arrived here. Your last memory was of a familiar world, and the next moment you opened your eyes, you were surrounded by an endless expanse of green bamboo.
You walked in the forest for a long time.
There were no roads, no people, not even a signpost to orient yourself.
At first, you thought you were dreaming and tried pinching yourself. The pain was real, but the bamboo forest before you didn't change at all.
By the time you walked further, your legs were aching terribly, and you even felt like crying in this dream. Perhaps if you cried, you would wake up?
It was only at the moment you were about to give up.
The next moment, a rusty short knife was pressed against your throat.
The one holding the knife was a boy.
He looked no more than ten years old, thin, with messy hair, dirt on his cheeks, and clothes so worn they were unrecognizable.
You had no time to guess who he was; the knife pressed closer.
You didn't know if it was fear or if you were actually cut, but you knew you were in trouble.
\"Wait,\" you instinctively raised your hands, \"I'm not a bad person.\"
He didn't speak, his eyes fixed on you.
You tried to explain that you were just lost and asked him where this was and if there was a way out. He didn't answer, his expression unchanged, as if he didn't care what you said.
You took a small step back, but he suddenly lunged.
You were startled and stumbled, dodging to the side. It was surprisingly easy to dodge, so easy that you didn't even expect it.
When you regained your balance, you saw that the child had fallen to the ground. The short knife he was holding had somehow injured his leg.
\"You—\"
As soon as you spoke, he glared at you, his eyes holding a ferocity unsuited to his age. He then stood up abruptly, picked up the knife, and disappeared into the depths of the bamboo forest.
You wanted to chase after him, but after two steps, you stopped.
He had genuinely intended to harm you.
Besides, you still didn't know how to leave this godforsaken place, so you had no energy to worry about a stranger who had threatened you with a knife.
The rest of that day, you spent almost all your time searching for a path. It got dark quickly, and the bamboo looked even more menacing in the dark. You started to suspect you were just going in circles.
Your neck throbbed, then went numb, the numbness crawling down your neck to your fingers. You reached out to steady yourself against a bamboo stalk, but missed.
That's when you remembered the rusty short knife.
Could you be that unlucky? Bacterial infection?
Leaning against the bamboo, you tried to take a few more steps, but found your legs were already weak.
That was the first time you truly felt fear since arriving here.
You thought of your home, of unfinished tasks, even of the things you'd left on the table when you went out that morning.
You didn't know if you could ever go back, or if anyone would even notice if you died here.
Thinking of this, you suddenly felt like crying.
You leaned against a bamboo stalk and slowly sat down. You intended to wait until you felt better before continuing to search for a path, but your eyelids grew heavier and heavier until you lost consciousness.
The boy, who should have left long ago, had actually been watching from a nearby tree.
He watched you for a long time, from when you could still search around, to when you walked slower and slower, until you finally had no strength to stand.
He knew you had been poisoned.
The short knife was his, and he knew exactly what was on it.
Logically, he should have left you there.
After all, you were strangers, and you didn't look like a normal person, muttering strange words.
But he couldn't forget the way you looked at him earlier.
You had clearly seen his face then, but unlike others, you hadn't shown greed or disgust. That expression puzzled him.
He had met many people, but few, when in danger themselves, would still bother to care if someone else was injured.
The boy stayed in the tree for a while longer.
Only when it was almost completely dark did he finally come down.
When he reached your side, he first nudged your shoe with his toe. You didn't react, so he squatted down and felt for your breath.
Still alive, but probably not for long.
He looked down at you, silent for a long moment, then finally took out the short knife.
The blood of the Wu Gu lineage was never ordinary.
It could be used as medicine, as an antidote, or as a means to harm.
He stood there for a long time, holding the knife.
This was the first time he had the power to decide whether to give it or not.
When you woke up again, it was the next morning.
Most of the discomfort had subsided, and the wound on your neck was no longer black. You lay there for a while, stunned, before slowly realizing you were still alive, but still in this other world.
Morning light filtered through the bamboo leaves onto the ground. Around you was the same endless bamboo forest as yesterday.
And the boy who had threatened you with a knife yesterday was sitting a few steps away, head bowed, fiddling with something.
You moved, and he immediately looked up. You made eye contact for a moment.
\"Did you save me?\"
He didn't answer, just put away what he was holding and started to leave.
You quickly called out to him, and he stopped.
You originally wanted to ask what happened last night, but the words that came out were about the most important thing.
\"Do you know how to get out?\"
He turned to look at you, his expression hard to describe as annoyance or simple pity for your foolishness.
After a pause, he finally spoke.
\"No.\"
That was the first time you heard his voice.
You were stunned for a moment, then asked, \"Where do you live?\"
He didn't answer.
After thinking for a moment, you changed the question.
\"What's your name?\"
The boy remained silent.
You thought he was unwilling to tell you, so you didn't ask again.
After all, he had held a knife to your throat yesterday, and it was already a rare thing for him to stay and listen to you now.
At least you were sure now that this was not a dream.
As for why you came here and when you could return, you had no idea.
Perhaps you transmigrated into a novel?
Thinking of this, you couldn't help but size up the boy before you.
So young and alone, in ragged clothes, carrying a knife – he really looked like the kind of male protagonist in a novel who would rise to power.
Of course, it was also possible that you were overthinking things.
It was barely dawn, and you didn't even know where to go today, let alone what kind of lives people in this world led.
As for this boy who wouldn't even tell you his name, you had no way of knowing what he would become in the future.
You looked at him, then at the endless bamboo forest around you.
If it weren't for him yesterday, you might not have seen the sun today. Although he didn't seem like an easy person to get along with, he at least knew this forest better than you.
Thinking of this, you suddenly felt that following him might not be a bad idea.
Perhaps there was a glimmer of hope?
Chapter 2
Following him wasn't easy.
He seemed unaccustomed to having someone behind him. If you walked faster, he would look back at you; if you walked slower, he wouldn't wait, just kept going forward.
After walking quietly for a while, you tried to talk to him, but he acted as if he didn't hear, without turning his head.
At first, you were a little indignant, thinking that you were older than him, so why should you have to follow his lead. But then you remembered that if it weren't for him yesterday, you might have lost your life, and felt there was nothing to fuss about.
Besides, he really knew this place better than you.
Where to find water, which wild fruits were edible, which places were dangerous at night – he knew it all.
But the more you asked, the more impatient he became, sometimes even deliberately walking faster, forcing you to jog to keep up.
After a few days like this, you found an abandoned bamboo hut in the forest.
You originally just wanted to rest there.
For the past few days, you had been sleeping by trees or in caves. You really needed a place to feel safe, even if the roof leaked or the door wouldn't close.
Upon entering, you found a stove and a pile of firewood in the corner, which sparked the idea of staying for a while.
With a place to stay, you began to try to make your life more livable.
The leaky roof needed patching, the stove needed cleaning, and the door needed to be propped up.
These were things that could be solved with a phone call in modern times, but here, you had to rely on your own hands.
While you were busy with these tasks, he mostly watched from the side, occasionally lending a hand, finally showing some initiative.
However, he still disliked people getting too close.
One time, you saw him sleeping without a blanket and wanted to cover him with a piece of clothing.
As soon as your hand touched his shoulder, he woke up abruptly, bit you, and then retreated to the corner, staring at you intently.
\"Ow...! That hurts.\"
\"Okay, okay, I won't touch you anymore, alright?\"
You petulantly put the clothes aside and turned to clean the stove. After being angry, you couldn't help but wonder what kind of life he had lived before.
You had asked him where he lived and if he had any family. He either didn't answer or asked you why you were asking.
As for his name, you had tried asking a few times, but never got an answer.
Later, you stopped asking.
Instead, he began to pay attention to what you were doing.
Time passed slowly like this.
You still didn't know how to get home. At first, you would think about searching for a way out, but the mountain paths outside the bamboo forest were equally unfamiliar. When you asked him if there were any towns nearby, he just said he wasn't sure.
You had no choice but to settle down for the time being, thinking that once you were familiar with this place, you would find a way.
When you had free time, you would tell him about modern times.
Using descriptions you thought he could understand: buildings so tall they reached the clouds, lamps that never went out, and iron birds that could fly.
\"Liar,\" he said, weaving a straw rope on the doorstep, without looking up. \"People don't have wings.\"
\"That's why they use airplanes.\"
\"Chickens?\"
His expression was serious, which made you laugh.
He frowned, not understanding what was so funny. But later, every time a flock of birds flew by, he would look up and watch them for a moment longer, sometimes glancing at you, still pondering whether what you said was true or false.
One time, you mentioned that in your world, even at night, many people were still out and about, and shops were lit up. He listened for a while, then suddenly asked you if everyone there had a place to live.
You were taken aback and said not necessarily.
He stopped asking.
You thought he had lost interest in these things, but a few days later, he asked again how tall those tall buildings were and if people had to climb for a long time to get to the top.
You spent a lot of effort explaining elevators. After listening, he just said, \"Troublesome,\" but later asked about it from time to time.
On a rainy night, you taught him to count sheep.
He asked why sheep, and you couldn't answer, just saying that's how it was. You reached out to ruffle his hair, and he dodged, but didn't bite you.
You decided to count this as progress.
When he slept, he still kept his knife under his pillow. One night, the wind blew the door shut with a bang, and he sprang up. The knife was half out before he realized it was just the door.
He glanced at you, put the knife back, and said nothing.
Later, he started sitting on the edge of the bed in the middle of the night, saying he wasn't sleepy.
There weren't many places to sleep in the bamboo hut. You made space for him, gesturing for him to lie down if he was sleepy. But he hesitated for a long time before lying down in the farthest corner, almost falling off the bed.
Seeing that he was unwilling to get close, you didn't force him, rolled over, and prepared to sleep.
As you were falling asleep, you heard him ask softly, \"Will you still be here tomorrow?\"
\"Yes.\"
\"The day after?\"
\"Yes.\"
\"And the day after that?\"
You finally opened your eyes. \"How many days are you asking about?\"
He fell silent.
You looked at the back of his head, couldn't help but smile, and dangled your pinky finger in front of him, saying it was a promise from your hometown – once you hook pinkies, you can't go back.
He looked down for a long time, then slowly extended his hand and hooked yours.
\"Then will you stay with me forever, Sister?\"
You yawned and answered casually.
\"Forever.\"
Chapter 3
The day you parted, the sky had just cleared.
You had promised to take him to the stream to collect fish traps, but people arrived outside the bamboo forest that morning.
He grabbed your hand and ran into the mountains. Before you could ask what was happening, you heard footsteps behind you, and people were also chasing from the front.
It was the first time you saw firsthand how those people treated him.
They called him a monster, a蛊種 (gu seed), and no one treated him like a human.
You didn't know what they wanted to do, but you could tell that if you were caught, it wouldn't end well.
You pushed him towards a small path behind you and held his shoulders.
\"You go first, find a place to hide. Count to one hundred, and Sister will come find you.\"
\"You won't lie to me?\"
You extended your pinky finger.
He hooked it tightly, reluctant to let go. Finally, after you urged him a few times, he looked back at you several times before finally disappearing into the forest.
You thought that after you lured these people away, you would definitely chase after him. But when you opened your eyes again, you saw the white ceiling of a hospital.
You were back.
Only two to three months had passed since you lost consciousness.
At first, you tried to explain what had happened to people, but the events were so absurd that even you sounded like you were dreaming when you told them. After a while, you stopped mentioning it.
Life slowly returned to normal. The familiar streets, familiar sounds, and the unfinished tasks from before you left were all waiting for you.
You had always wanted to come back.
Now that you were back, you treated that experience as a dream.
And he counted for a long time in the cave.
After counting to twenty-something, he forgot where he was and started over. After counting to one hundred, he peeked out, but only heard the sound of wind rustling through the bamboo leaves in the forest.
He thought he must have counted too fast, so he hid back and counted more slowly.
Another hundred, and another hundred.
He didn't dare to go far, afraid you wouldn't find him when you returned, and he didn't dare to call out, afraid of attracting those people. At first, he would peek out from time to time, but later, as it got dark and the sounds in the forest grew fewer.
He didn't know how many times he had counted, only remembering that you had said you would come find him after counting to one hundred.
When those people found him, he didn't struggle, just kept asking.
\"Have you seen someone?\"
\"Did you take Sister away?\"
No one answered him.
Until someone impatiently said that the woman had already left, escaping in the chaos.
\"She promised she would come back.\"
The person laughed. \"Someone like you, worthy of being remembered?\"
He was locked in a stone room with no windows.
At first, he was still waiting.
A sliver of light seeped in from a crack in the corner. He counted the days by that light, it brightened and darkened, darkened and brightened, and he made a mark on the ground.
Every time the door was pushed open, he would look up first, to see if it was you standing in the doorway.
It wasn't.
In the first month, he thought, you couldn't come.
In the second month, he thought, you couldn't find him.
After the rainy season passed, he began to think that perhaps you had come, and these people had just not told him.
Later, he stopped thinking.
Those people still came to find him, making him do things he didn't want to do. Sometimes every few days, sometimes several times a day.
The sheep counting you casually taught him became his way of getting through those days. Whenever he couldn't sleep at night, he would count them over and over in his mind, reaching one hundred, then starting again.
This made him feel disgusted.
Before, he was alone, never waiting for anyone, and never thinking about what to look forward to tomorrow. But after you came, he began to remember many things he wouldn't have noticed before.
The bamboo hut had a fire, someone answered at night, those days that were originally irrelevant to him suddenly took shape.
The tall buildings, streetlights, flying iron birds, and the pinky promise you made – he had thought about them one by one, but he no longer focused on those things.
He began to remember other things.
Remembering that you didn't even open your eyes when you said forever, remembering that you yawned, remembering that you answered so casually, so lightly, as if coaxing a child who wouldn't take it seriously.
He hated you.
If he hadn't met you back then, it might have been easier.
At least he wouldn't have to remember the things that once made him happy, even when hating someone.
Later, the Southern Lands changed.
Or perhaps he changed.
The things that had once restrained him fell into his hands one by one.
Those who had imprisoned him dared not meet his gaze, and those who had taken his blood finally understood that there were things more terrifying than death.
Rumors spread.
They said a Wu Gu master lived deep in the Southern Lands, eccentric and unpredictable, and those who trespassed into his territory might not leave.
He no longer had to flee, nor did he have to worry about how to survive tomorrow. He had people in his territory, matters to attend to, and days passed, vastly different from those years ago.
Logically, he should be living well.
Yet, he couldn't forget the promise someone had casually made to him.
Hope turned into hatred.
Filling the future you had constructed.
Chapter 4
It wasn't easy following him.
He seemed to dislike having someone behind him. If you walked faster, he would look back at you; if you walked slower, he wouldn't wait, just kept going forward.
After walking quietly for a while, you tried to talk to him, but he acted as if he didn't hear, without turning his head.
At first, you were a little indignant, thinking that you were older than him, so why should you have to follow his lead. But then you remembered that if it weren't for him yesterday, you might have lost your life, and felt there was nothing to fuss about.
Besides, he really knew this place better than you.
Where to find water, which wild fruits were edible, which places were dangerous at night – he knew it all.
But the more you asked, the more impatient he became, sometimes even deliberately walking faster, forcing you to jog to keep up.
After a few days like this, you found an abandoned bamboo hut in the forest.
You originally just wanted to rest there.
For the past few days, you had been sleeping by trees or in caves. You really needed a place to feel safe, even if the roof leaked or the door wouldn't close.
Upon entering, you found a stove and a pile of firewood in the corner, which sparked the idea of staying for a while.
With a place to stay, you began to try to make your life more livable.
The leaky roof needed patching, the stove needed cleaning, and the door needed to be propped up.
These were things that could be solved with a phone call in modern times, but here, you had to rely on your own hands.
While you were busy with these tasks, he mostly watched from the side, occasionally lending a hand, finally showing some initiative.
However, he still disliked people getting too close.
One time, you saw him sleeping without a blanket and wanted to cover him with a piece of clothing.
As soon as your hand touched his shoulder, he woke up abruptly, bit you, and then retreated to the corner, staring at you intently.
\"Ow...! That hurts.\"
\"Okay, okay, I won't touch you anymore, alright?\"
You petulantly put the clothes aside and turned to clean the stove. After being angry, you couldn't help but wonder what kind of life he had lived before.
You had asked him where he lived and if he had any family. He either didn't answer or asked you why you were asking.
As for his name, you had tried asking a few times, but never got an answer.
Later, you stopped asking.
Instead, he began to pay attention to what you were doing.
Time passed slowly like this.
You still didn't know how to get home. At first, you would think about searching for a way out, but the mountain paths outside the bamboo forest were equally unfamiliar. When you asked him if there were any towns nearby, he just said he wasn't sure.
You had no choice but to settle down for the time being, thinking that once you were familiar with this place, you would find a way.
When you had free time, you would tell him about modern times.
Using descriptions you thought he could understand: buildings so tall they reached the clouds, lamps that never went out, and iron birds that could fly.
\"Liar,\" he said, weaving a straw rope on the doorstep, without looking up. \"People don't have wings.\"
\"That's why they use airplanes.\"
\"Chickens?\"
His expression was serious, which made you laugh.
He frowned, not understanding what was so funny. But later, every time a flock of birds flew by, he would look up and watch them for a moment longer, sometimes glancing at you, still pondering whether what you said was true or false.
One time, you mentioned that in your world, even at night, many people were still out and about, and shops were lit up. He listened for a while, then suddenly asked you if everyone there had a place to live.
You were taken aback and said not necessarily.
He stopped asking.
You thought he had lost interest in these things, but a few days later, he asked again how tall those tall buildings were and if people had to climb for a long time to get to the top.
You spent a lot of effort explaining elevators. After listening, he just said, \"Troublesome,\" but later asked about it from time to time.
On a rainy night, you taught him to count sheep.
He asked why sheep, and you couldn't answer, just saying that's how it was. You reached out to ruffle his hair, and he dodged, but didn't bite you.
You decided to count this as progress.
When he slept, he still kept his knife under his pillow. One night, the wind blew the door shut with a bang, and he sprang up. The knife was half out before he realized it was just the door.
He glanced at you, put the knife back, and said nothing.
Later, he started sitting on the edge of the bed in the middle of the night, saying he wasn't sleepy.
There weren't many places to sleep in the bamboo hut. You made space for him, gesturing for him to lie down if he was sleepy. But he hesitated for a long time before lying down in the farthest corner, almost falling off the bed.
Seeing that he was unwilling to get close, you didn't force him, rolled over, and prepared to sleep.
As you were falling asleep, you heard him ask softly, \"Will you still be here tomorrow?\"
\"Yes.\"
\"The day after?\"
\"Yes.\"
\"And the day after that?\"
You finally opened your eyes. \"How many days are you asking about?\"
He fell silent.
You looked at the back of his head, couldn't help but smile, and dangled your pinky finger in front of him, saying it was a promise from your hometown – once you hook pinkies, you can't go back.
He looked down for a long time, then slowly extended his hand and hooked yours.
\"Then will you stay with me forever, Sister?\"
You yawned and answered casually.
\"Forever.\"
Chapter 5
The day you parted, the sky had just cleared.
You had promised to take him to the stream to collect fish traps, but people arrived outside the bamboo forest that morning.
He grabbed your hand and ran into the mountains. Before you could ask what was happening, you heard footsteps behind you, and people were also chasing from the front.
It was the first time you saw firsthand how those people treated him.
They called him a monster, a蛊種 (gu seed), and no one treated him like a human.
You didn't know what they wanted to do, but you could tell that if you were caught, it wouldn't end well.
You pushed him towards a small path behind you and held his shoulders.
\"You go first, find a place to hide. Count to one hundred, and Sister will come find you.\"
\"You won't lie to me?\"
You extended your pinky finger.
He hooked it tightly, reluctant to let go. Finally, after you urged him a few times, he looked back at you several times before finally disappearing into the forest.
You thought that after you lured these people away, you would definitely chase after him. But when you opened your eyes again, you saw the white ceiling of a hospital.
You were back.
Only two to three months had passed since you lost consciousness.
At first, you tried to explain what had happened to people, but the events were so absurd that even you sounded like you were dreaming when you told them. After a while, you stopped mentioning it.
Life slowly returned to normal. The familiar streets, familiar sounds, and the unfinished tasks from before you left were all waiting for you.
You had always wanted to come back.
Now that you were back, you treated that experience as a dream.
And he counted for a long time in the cave.
After counting to twenty-something, he forgot where he was and started over. After counting to one hundred, he peeked out, but only heard the sound of wind rustling through the bamboo leaves in the forest.
He thought he must have counted too fast, so he hid back and counted more slowly.
Another hundred, and another hundred.
He didn't dare to go far, afraid you wouldn't find him when you returned, and he didn't dare to call out, afraid of attracting those people. At first, he would peek out from time to time, but later, as it got dark and the sounds in the forest grew fewer.
He didn't know how many times he had counted, only remembering that you had said you would come find him after counting to one hundred.
When those people found him, he didn't struggle, just kept asking.
\"Have you seen someone?\"
\"Did you take Sister away?\"
No one answered him.
Until someone impatiently said that the woman had already left, escaping in the chaos.
\"She promised she would come back.\"
The person laughed. \"Someone like you, worthy of being remembered?\"
He was locked in a stone room with no windows.
At first, he was still waiting.
A sliver of light seeped in from a crack in the corner. He counted the days by that light, it brightened and darkened, darkened and brightened, and he made a mark on the ground.
Every time the door was pushed open, he would look up first, to see if it was you standing in the doorway.
It wasn't.
In the first month, he thought, you couldn't come.
In the second month, he thought, you couldn't find him.
After the rainy season passed, he began to think that perhaps you had come, and these people had just not told him.
Later, he stopped thinking.
Those people still came to find him, making him do things he didn't want to do. Sometimes every few days, sometimes several times a day.
The sheep counting you casually taught him became his way of getting through those days. Whenever he couldn't sleep at night, he would count them over and over in his mind, reaching one hundred, then starting again.
This made him feel disgusted.
Before, he was alone, never waiting for anyone, and never thinking about what to look forward to tomorrow. But after you came, he began to remember many things he wouldn't have noticed before.
The bamboo hut had a fire, someone answered at night, those days that were originally irrelevant to him suddenly took shape.
The tall buildings, streetlights, flying iron birds, and the pinky promise you made – he had thought about them one by one, but he no longer focused on those things.
He began to remember other things.
Remembering that you didn't even open your eyes when you said forever, remembering that you yawned, remembering that you answered so casually, so lightly, as if coaxing a child who wouldn't take it seriously.
He hated you.
If he hadn't met you back then, it might have been easier.
At least he wouldn't have to remember the things that once made him happy, even when hating someone.
Later, the Southern Lands changed.
Or perhaps he changed.
The things that had once restrained him fell into his hands one by one.
Those who had imprisoned him dared not meet his gaze, and those who had taken his blood finally understood that there were things more terrifying than death.
Rumors spread.
They said a Wu Gu master lived deep in the Southern Lands, eccentric and unpredictable, and those who trespassed into his territory might not leave.
He no longer had to flee, nor did he have to worry about how to survive tomorrow. He had people in his territory, matters to attend to, and days passed, vastly different from those years ago.
Logically, he should be living well.
Yet, he couldn't forget the promise someone had casually made to him.
Hope turned into hatred.
Filling the future you had constructed.
◇
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![\"巫蠱祭甕\"](\"https://i.meee.com.tw/lB5eY46.jpg\")
![\"烏合勒\"](\"https://i.meee.com.tw/rkll6Bb.jpg\")
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