Famine 168: Portable Farm

The shards of glass flying through the air seemed to cause time itself to slow to a crawl.

A faint shiver ran down the back of Bian Xu’s neck.

No matter how hard he tried—no matter how determined he was to act like a normal person—an irreversible transformation had nonetheless left its mark upon him.

Si Zhiyan had heard stories of how Bian Xu fought, back in the day. His power was like that of the blazing sun, a great hero from legend: clad in crisp tactical gear, bold and striking, always intervening at the first sign of injustice, eager to show off before a crowd. Sometimes, Andersen would jokingly scold him for being too fond of showing off, and Bian Xu would only laugh by the campfire, his features aglow with youthful pride.

But the person before him now, moved with the bearing of a beast. His spine arched deep, nearly crouched to all fours, shielding Si Zhiyan. Half his body was overtaken by twisted vines, enshrouded in writhing shadows of blood and dark mist.

He did not dare look back, did not dare meet Si Zhiyan’s eyes.

Yet the back that shielded Si Zhiyan never wavered for an instant. Those gnarled, terrifying vines formed a solid barrier, sheltering Si Zhiyan completely.

“……”

Si Zhiyan walked forward to stand at his side.

Bian Xu shuddered violently, bowed his head even lower, and held himself rigid.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, Si Zhiyan gestured upward. “Look.”

After the initial shock, the farm settled into quiet. For now, no further attack arrived. Only the sky outside continued to dissolve and flow, finally congealing into an uncanny hue.

Si Zhiyan opened the farm owner’s vision, calling up the view from the walls, and gazed at the world beyond.

Outside lay a street.

For a moment, it looked as if they had returned to the modern age—towering buildings in the distance, small alleyways of modest homes closer at hand. The street was empty, a few crushed beverage cans in the gutters. Telephone poles tangled overhead, shops hung with blood-dark CLOSED signs, darkness filling every doorway, every household curtain drawn tight.

At first glance, nothing seemed out of place. Yet a sense of wrongness pervaded.

Si Zhiyan searched for a moment before it clicked.

It was the sense of “fading.”

The entire world’s colors were washed out, like an old photograph faded to gray, veiled in a filter from the underworld.

Perhaps it was the time he’d spent face-to-face with the “Eye”—but Si Zhiyan’s intuition was strangely acute. Looking at that apparently normal, empty street, he suddenly felt… as if he were being watched by something.

The gaps in the street met his gaze.

A chill ran down Si Zhiyan’s spine.

The greater the desaturation, the stronger this feeling became.

He forced himself to look away, following the system prompts, searching for the designated landing point…

And then, he saw a massive block of apartments. It rose up like something from an old black-and-white film, nearly a hundred stories tall, clad in millennium-era ceramic tiles, thousands of black windows climbing to the limits of vision.

A pure, flat black—without the barest trace of warmth or color.

Si Zhiyan: “…………”
Impressive.

He briskly closed the view.
Whoever charged in there first would have to be a fool.

Fortunately, as long as they stayed put, there seemed to be no immediate danger.

Both men breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Si Zhiyan glanced down and saw that Bian Xu was still averted, desperately trying to hide his face behind tousled hair. Smiling, Si Zhiyan reached out, warm fingertips touching the tense curve of Bian Xu’s back. “Thank you. You don’t have to—”

“Don’t…!”

Bian Xu’s body jerked violently backward, reels of vines swiping his hand away with an audible snap.

Si Zhiyan’s hand hesitated in the air.

Bian Xu seemed to be holding himself in check with all his might, unable to look up, head buried deeply in the corner, grabbing at his own hair, his breath ragged, body shuddering:

“I’m sorry… so sorry… Sir… please… please don’t touch me…”

He shook his head frantically and retreated further, inching toward the door.

“Just—fifteen minutes, give me fifteen minutes, sir, I’m sorry, I’ll be right back… Everything will go back to how it was, just a little slip, I promise, I’m sorry, I promise…”

The beast hung its head low, voice cracked with tremor and dread, as if he might break at any moment:

“…Please, I beg you.”

“……”

Si Zhiyan did not press him.
His expression remained gentle as ever, voice no different than before, saying, “No need to apologize. It’s alright. Go.”

“I’ll be here waiting. No matter how long.”

Perhaps it was that softness in his tone, but Bian Xu’s shoulders trembled again. A glistening droplet fell among his tangled hair and vines, gone in a flash. That inhuman form turned and fled in wild disarray.

Si Zhiyan held his gaze as Bian Xu vanished through the door, then lowered his lashes, lips pressed in a faint line.

……

How was Bian Xu holding up?

Si Zhiyan crouched to gather up the broken dishes, studying his own hands. He remembered: hollow, unnatural, like remnants—what it felt like to be devoured, to be only leftovers. He’d mentally prepared himself to be nothing but fragments.

And yet, when he’d awakened, he found himself unchanged as ever—warm flesh and blood flowing in his veins.

Not only unharmed, but possessed of a strange power.

What the shadow had once done as a splinter, he himself could now manage in his true body.

What price had Bian Xu paid for this?

Moreover, what had really happened back then? Just a simple nod of his head, and Bian Xu became the core of the farm. Years of constant corruption and purification—now, even if he were removed, how much of a person was even left?

All this time, since inheriting the farm, every recording or shadow left by Bian Xu, every meal he cooked, revealed a careful effort to present a radiant, positive face to Si Zhiyan, to smooth things over—so much so that it pained Si Zhiyan to utter a single harsh word, let alone tear open old wounds.

But it was like a shattered porcelain plate; no matter how carefully he tried to reassemble it, it was no longer what it once had been.

Si Zhiyan squeezed his hand, slowly bowing his head.

He had to figure it out.

But if he confronted Bian Xu directly, he was certain the young man would say nothing.

He’d have to find another way.

……

Bian Xu was always punctual. No matter what collapse he had endured out of sight, whenever he appeared before Si Zhiyan, he returned with hair of gold and a bright, dashing smile. Exactly fifteen minutes later, he poked his head around the door, grinned and flashed a peace sign.

“I’m back! Sir!”

Si Zhiyan had already cleared away the glass and broken dishes, and had even restored the house through the system. At that moment, he sat with a cup of coffee at the head of his bed, glancing over at Bian Xu with a smile: “Come here.”

“Can you see the system interface? Take a look at those coordinates.”

There was nothing out of the ordinary, as if the recent scene had never happened. His crimson eyes were gentle to an impossible degree.

Bian Xu’s fingertips clenched unconsciously; the nervous pounding in his chest instantly turned to warmth, nearly lifting him off his feet. He beamed a genuine smile, bounced over, and perched at the edge of the bed, peering over at the screen.

That fluffy golden head poked about, looking not so different from Sol.

Si Zhiyan chuckled, then sipped his coffee.

On the system interface was the coordinate for [Hephaestus Castle]. Now that the farm could travel through subspace, those scattered coordinate strings finally had their use.

Bian Xu studied it for a moment, then slapped his palm. “Well, I never noticed! This is a completely separate subspace!”

“Hmm?” Si Zhiyan looked over.

Bian Xu glanced back and gestured: “Andersen once told me—some people’s supernatural powers can carve out their own subspace, just like his phase rift. These places are called subspaces. A subspace is attached to the main world, like a small bubble stuck to a big one.”

“But this place is special. It’s a separate, independent subspace—can exist entirely on its own.”

“Just like the farm does now.”

“This means… even world shifts like Don’t Starve’s cataclysmic changes can’t affect it. It can remain stable, uninterrupted.”

“For someone to hold such a space, they must be remarkably skilled.” Bian Xu stretched enthusiastically, “And with a name like ‘God of Craftsmen’ for your settlement, you must really have some confidence!”

“They’ve held to the old castle-lord style for years—bet it’s a conservative bunch. I hear their leader likes being called ‘the Lord.’ Sounds like one of those legendary masters!”

Chatterbox, isn’t he? If you’re not poking fun or embarrassed, you’re a real talker, Si Zhiyan thought fondly, watching Bian Xu with a smile.

It was good, getting to know him like this.

“Mm.” Si Zhiyan pulled up the system interface, entered the coordinates. “Let’s go pay this legend a visit.”

“Just as well—the new ores from the mine need a craftsman’s touch. Bringing them some gems and technique manuals—they ought to be interested.”

[Ding! Coordinates received.]

[Destination validation in progress…]

[Valid space detected. Transferring now.]

[Temporary coordinates recorded. Designated: Eternal Night Tale City—Dense Apartments]

[Transferring…]

The sky above the farm began to change, though inside, nothing could be felt.

It was about ten minutes before the sky stabilized once more.

[Ding! Transfer complete.]
[Detected limited destination space. Upgrade enacted: (Farm Form Transformation—Portable Pocket Entrance)]
[Entrance now open.]

Now, looking from the farmhouse, all was open sky. Beyond the forest and moat, at the farm’s south gate, a huge space portal had appeared, glowing gold, big enough to encompass the entire sprawling farm.

[Farm Form Transformation—Portable Pocket Entrance]
Your farm has now become a subspace, independent from the apocalypse world itself.
It no longer occupies space in the native post-apocalyptic realm.
Now, even if you were born into a pile of cursed ruins, you won’t wake up surrounded by ghosts and monsters.
Congratulations, truly. Very good fortune.
Of course—whether you’ll get squashed flat the moment you step outside… well, that’s not anybody else’s concern.

[Portal Entrance]
The farm’s entrance is now a portal. You may open it anywhere the owner has set foot in the main world, or any subspace with exact coordinates. The portal’s exit can be moved once every twenty-four hours.
[Current entries: 2 (South Gate, East Gate)]

“A truly convenient upgrade,” Si Zhiyan observed.

The farm’s location need never be fixed—where the owner goes, the farm may follow.

Wasn’t this his fantasy come true—a portable farm of his own?

What an unexpected realization of long-ago dreams.

Of course, this meant he would have to travel physically from now on.

Luckily, the new body Bian Xu had prepared for him was truly excellent… Si Zhiyan lowered his lashes, his emotions mixed, but smiled softly.

Reaching 100% farm integrity had truly, fundamentally changed things. Just one [form transformation] had made such a powerful difference.

And those weren’t even all the upgrades—a space expansion pack, multi-stage upgrades, new facilities… so much more to discover.
First, pay respects to the local master. Once they’d finished talking with the castle lord, he could sort through the spoils at leisure.

While waiting for Bian Xu, Si Zhiyan had already used the grail to contact Li Cui’e and Nie Du, making sure the players were safe and unscathed by the Main God’s bombardment.

He hadn’t been unconscious long—just a single night. The players remained in the underground bunkers.

When the bombing ended and Shi He cautiously checked above, he was horrified to find the top layer of dirt above the defenses was less than five percent of its original thickness—a hair’s breadth remained. Just ten minutes more, and disaster would have struck. Fortunately, it was a narrow escape.

The second time he contacted the grail, Li Cui’e, with permission, had broadcast Si Zhiyan’s voice to everyone.

On the other end, chorus after chorus of greetings for the farm owner rang out. No one knew what had happened, but spirits were at a peak. Many shouted his name, cheering and celebrating, full of admiration. Nidhogg, in particular, crowed loudest, drowning out even Nie Du’s quiet laughter.

Seven years—far too long they’d been repressed. Now, in a single night, each one brimmed with new confidence, excitedly discussing their own exploits, convinced that with the farm owner leading them, the end of this damned apocalypse and its so-called god was at hand.

If not for Bian Xu, these same people would have been eagerly awaiting word of Si Zhiyan’s death.

Si Zhiyan responded with a few brief remarks, reminding everyone to go up top and take stock—return to Empty Dream Town, assess losses and damage, see if the Main God’s rampage had left any loot behind. But for now, they were not to leave through the portal until he’d scouted ahead.

Everyone agreed enthusiastically. The farm owner’s prestige had peaked—his every word was law.

Bian Xu listened in silence, eyes shining with excitement, like a domestic dog who had just heard it was finally time for a walk.

But when it came time to really leave, Bian Xu paused, dropped his head, covered his face—his features shifting, becoming those of a black-haired, red-eyed stranger.

“Let’s go!” Bian Xu beamed, head tossed high.

He probably didn’t want Nidhogg or Andersen to recognize him.

And, well, for camouflage, he’d even copied Si Zhiyan’s own eyes and hair color.
They walked together—Bian Xu taller by a head.

Si Zhiyan couldn’t help but chuckle.

Bian Xu glanced up with a smile, but behind his back his fists clenched, heart thudding, mind in chaos, wondering what he’d say if Si Zhiyan noticed or called him out.

But Si Zhiyan only looked at him with those warm, perceptive red eyes, curled his lashes into a smile, and said nothing.

Bian Xu’s ears flushed; averting his gaze, he snuck a quick smile.

Si Zhiyan led him through the portal.

The world changed.

[Hephaestus Castle], they had arrived.

At the first glance upward, both Si Zhiyan and Bian Xu fell silent.

At last, they had seen the legendary castle for themselves.

The subspace itself was not large, the sky bright blue, and the ground a level plain of spring-green grass—perhaps a thousand acres, as large as half a college campus, with no clear boundary in sight.

At its heart, dominating the entire space, was a dreamlike castle, tall as the sky and painted in candy colors—cheerful and bright, like it had come straight from a fairy tale. The light pink towers were delicately carved, each blue spire topped with a little flag, and fluffy clouds drifted by above.

—Indeed, in this world, there were more castles than just cold medieval fortresses; there were fairytale castles, Disney castles too!

Bian Xu stroked his chin, glancing at Si Zhiyan, and both had to suppress laughter.

“Wow… Hah… This…” Bian Xu gave in and doubled over, laughing until he wiped his eyes, “There’s taste, at least! Oh dear, sir—we really have grown into boring adults!”

Wiping his eyes while laughing, he said, “Can’t remember the last time I saw such bright colors—makes me a little nostalgic.”

Si Zhiyan shook his head with a smile, “Truly rare.” So rare, in fact, that after seven years of apocalypse, it was almost mythical.

“But we should exercise some caution. This settlement has hidden itself for a very long time. If we appear unannounced, we could startle them. If we’re mistaken for invaders and provoke conflict, that wouldn’t be ideal.”

Bian Xu nodded, about to reply—when the gates of the castle suddenly swung open.

Both went alert at once.

From the entrance came the distant shout of an irate young woman:

“Sick of it! This one’s no good, that one’s no good! You refuse to try anything, you refuse to eat anything!”

“Then you can just eat nothing but boiled potatoes and nutrient paste for the rest of your life!!!”