Famine 137: Dwelling

137
Dwelling

After seeing off the unfamiliar bloodfolk, only Yan Cheng and his four brothers remained here.

Yan Cheng and Ye Xianqing paid their respects to Si Zhiyan, their words cautious and respectful. Si Zhiyan understood they had private matters to discuss among themselves as old comrades, so after a brief exchange, he excused himself, leaving them the space to catch up.

Taking advantage of the time, Si Zhiyan took a rough circuit around the [Nest].

The [Nest] was filled with low, wooden cabins, most of them single-room cottages with simple sloped roofs.

These structures were odd. For the most part, they appeared quite sturdy; despite the endless years since the world’s end, they’d endured, which meant the timber used in their construction was of excellent quality. They looked painstakingly built, yet were extremely low, with ceilings just about a meter high. Not even a proper door—just a bare doorframe, and no elaborate decorations, only humble practicality.

The players, once corrupted by [Friend] into bloodfolk—hunched, faces masked with tentacles, joints reversed—now lived in these spaces. For them, it was unnervingly well-suited.

Despite their size, these cabins didn’t feel crowded. The bloodfolk moved freely within, living comfortably, almost cozily.

In terms of livability, the [Nest] was little different from the original Bone Ferry.
And before the Gu Haoping incident, the Bone Ferry had already been one of the better settlements in this post-apocalyptic world.

Si Zhiyan did a quick estimate: the population of the [Nest] was just over four thousand, a bit fewer than on the Bone Ferry.

Among them, over seven hundred were clustered in the northernmost part of the [Nest], united around the cult leader—this was the congregation of [Friend].

They sourced wood from the northern edges, carving, under the cult leader’s leadership, effigies of [Friend]: hunched spines, stretched, twisted shadows. They dabbed the idols’ eyes with macabre fluorescent paint, mimicking [Friend]’s psychic tremors.

They would hang such an idol from the very center of their cabin, keeping it company day and night.

Some of the most devout—like the cult leader himself, and the smaller bloodfolk always at his side—had their homes thick with such twisted shadows, hung in dense clusters. In the dim light, the outlines of shadows flickered, countless eyes glowing faintly in the dark, all fixed upon their owner.

He curled up beneath their gaze, clutching a candle, his face a mass of tentacles, his form drenched in blood and beyond recognition.

His silhouette was seven-tenths the same as the shadows above, blurred, indistinguishable.

……

Were they still human?

Si Zhiyan let out a silent sigh.

The cult comprised about eight hundred members—these, in the short term, could not be shaken. The real focus ought to be on swaying the remaining three thousand ordinary residents.

There had to be countless subtle links between [Friend] and the Lava-Folk.

What exactly was [Friend]?
If this riddle could be solved, many claims from the cult leader would likely collapse without a fight.

Suspended in midair, Si Zhiyan pondered.

Recalling scenes of Lava-Folk life he’d seen with the hamster, a hypothesis had begun to form in his mind—but it still needed testing.

……

After more than an hour, Si Zhiyan returned to Havana’s cabin.

The crowd of two dozen had since dispersed, leaving only four people: Havana, Guan Wang, and Yan Cheng with Ye Xianqing.

HACK, worn out from his uproarious antics, lay sprawled on the floor, tongue lolling as he panted.

Yan Cheng sat with arms folded; Ye Xianqing hovered at his side, looking as if words hovered on his lips but never quite left them.

A heavy silence settled over the group.

Si Zhiyan was not surprised. He lifted the curtain and sat, passing each of them a cup of tea, asking with calm, “Did things not go smoothly?”

Yan Cheng sighed, saying nothing. Ye Xianqing accepted the tea with a wry smile. “Thank you, Mr. Si. No… things didn’t quite go as hoped.”

Not everyone was willing to go along.

Yan Cheng’s squad was as close as family, yet anyone with doubts had left long ago. Those who’d stayed behind were, without question, those most deeply entrenched under [Friend]’s influence.

Though their appearances were greatly altered, the hearts and tempers of these brothers had changed little from before. They were grateful the captain remembered them; their reunion was warm, everyone chatting and reminiscing.

But whenever Yan Cheng suggested leaving the [Nest] together, a hush would fall over the group.

They exchanged wary glances, eyes dodging, faces betraying a thousand hesitations.

Guan Wang alone responded with eager delight, “Sure!” But no one else gave a clear answer.

No promises given—yet, unlike the cult leader, there was no hard, flat refusal either.
After sitting awhile, they took their leave.

“In addition, some of the team asked about the prices of our inn’s pastries, and paid up front.” Ye Xianqing transferred the points to Si Zhiyan. “They wanted me to thank you. The desserts were delicious.”

It was a clear message: they didn’t want to owe anyone, making this a polite and decent way to refuse.

Si Zhiyan did not decline, accepting the payment neatly—otherwise, if the points lingered with Ye Xianqing, he too would be left embarrassed and stuck between sides.

[Ding! You have received…]

The amount was substantial.
Clearly, the others in Yan Cheng’s squad had also chipped in.

Yan Cheng spoke up suddenly, “You could see it—they were tempted. They’re just hesitant, not ready to make up their minds.”

Si Zhiyan nodded slightly. “The mindset of most Nest residents is the same.”

Yan Cheng straightened, then knelt before Si Zhiyan, bowing deeply. “Were it not for you, we’d have been lost today.”

“I cannot bear to see my brothers led astray. Help me persuade them to leave this place, and I will repay you however you wish, even if it means going through fire and water.”

Si Zhiyan helped him up, smiling. “No need to stand on ceremony.”
“My wish is to win guests for my inn; yours, to win back your old friends. Our interests are aligned.”

But now, there was a more pressing concern—

For tomorrow night’s eight o’clock reception, what should he present that would draw the crowd?

Offering food was always a choice, but sweet treats alone always left the sense that something was missing.

The attitude from Yan Cheng’s brothers was telling. They were happy to pay, which was both a refusal and a concession.
They enjoyed the pastries and were glad to pay for them—but it was not enough, not yet, for them to leave the Nest.

—Besides desserts, what else did the bloodfolk want?

Si Zhiyan’s eyes turned to the young man whose face was a whirling vortex.

Guan Wang was still nursing his milk. Somehow, he’d found a bowl and was tearing the honey cake into little pieces, soaking them in the milk. Every inch of that honeycombed, tender cake was now saturated, soft, fragrant, sweet, melting instantly in the mouth. He spooned it up in measured bites, savoring each one.

He was so delighted, even the whirl in his face spun one way, then the other.

Some gluttons were already conquered. Si Zhiyan could not help but laugh quietly.

When Guan Wang realized everyone was watching him, he sheepishly set down his spoon.

“…The milk and cake are honestly amazing… Uh, are we talking business here?”

“It’s fine, nothing out of the ordinary,” Si Zhiyan said with a smile. “The farm has plenty more delicious things—always welcome.”

“Oh wow! Thanks!” Guan Wang instantly perked up, all excitement.

“I always thought that cult leader was nothing good!” said Guan Wang, the swirl on his face bobbing as he spoke. “I was right in the middle of enjoying cake and he had to interrupt—gave me such a scare! Anyone who keeps people from eating can’t be any good!”

Ye Xianqing chuckled, “We’re openly poaching right here, and he didn’t drive us out by force—that’s already more tolerant than most settlement leaders.”

“He’s not a chief; he’s a cult leader,” said Si Zhiyan, smiling. “Whether it’s genuine or an act, he’s locked himself into the position of ‘acting for everyone’s good’—he can’t escape it now.”

At last, Guan Wang finished the last drop of milk, then sat back contentedly with a satisfied burp. Laughter echoed from within the vortex of his face.

“Anyway, I don’t get it. I used to listen to the captain, now I listen to myself—either way’s fine. I never go looking for trouble. If [Friend] treats me well, I’ll follow [Friend]; if you treat me well, I’ll come with you.”

“I just can’t figure out why they worry so much every day. Why not just enjoy good food and get a good night’s sleep?”

Ye Xianqing had long grown used to his old friend and gave him a playful slap on the back.

Suddenly, Yan Cheng said, “Havana—what’s your take?”

Havana had been gently stroking HACK’s fur, but at those words he froze, raising his eyes to Yan Cheng.

After a long pause, he shook his head.

“Yan, I won’t lie: I don’t know.”
“I… I need to think it over.”

“Because…”

Havana sighed quietly, forcing a smile.

“Right now, even if you told me to relax and sleep easy—I doubt I could.”

“…Sorry if that offends.”

He murmured an apology and tugged down his collar.

At that, Yan Cheng drew a sharp breath; even Si Zhiyan’s own breath caught for a moment.