Cat 180: Something Happens
by CristaeChapter 180 Something Happens
Yan Jiyun, still unfamiliar with the situation here, didn’t ask too many questions and acted dazed around Liu Jingxi, doing whatever he was told.
At first, Liu Jingxi suspected that Yan Jiyun was driving poorly on purpose, but when the driving became smoother, his suspicions faded.
They walked through the forest and then climbed up the mountain a ways.
Yan Jiyun had never hiked a mountain in an instance before and took the chance to enjoy the scenery.
Strangely, once they reached a not-very-high mid-slope, everyone just sat down and refused to go farther.
They were all gazing in the same direction.
Yan Jiyun couldn’t see anything notable—just a great natural lake in the distance.
He kept quiet, increasingly sure something was up.
A purple-haired youth said, “Xi-ge, should we try leaving again?”
Liu Jingxi lay sprawled on the grass, looking lazy. “No point. We’ve tried before. There’s no way out. Let’s just enjoy the view.”
A green-haired youth said, “What’s so great about the scenery? Every time we explore a new place, there’s a bit more hope. I don’t want to stay in this town forever. I want to venture outside, see the world.”
A long-haired youth retorted, “There’s no way out.”
A tattooed youth insisted, “Roads are made by the walking.”
Purple-hair: “But this is the only road out. Are we really just here for the view, not even going down to poke around?”
Liu Jingxi: “I drank too much today. I’m not moving. Just gonna look at the scenery.”
Yan Jiyun thought of his main quest: leaving Jiangnan Town before time runs out. That implied not just players but even NPCs couldn’t leave. Why was that?
Could a lake really block their escape? Why not just build a boat and cross?
The mountain wasn’t high—a road could be built.
Then he thought of that huge water pit earlier—could that be why they couldn’t leave?
Surely not.
Tattoo: “Last time, when we tried leaving, we ran into a monster. Xi-ge sprained his ankle and took a month to heal.”
Purple-hair: “That was because we tried at night. It’s still day, no way the monster will turn up now.”
Liu Jingxi: “Not so certain. Old folks always forbid us from talking about monsters in the woods, but they’re not just nocturnal—plenty of woodcutters have been attacked.”
Purple-hair: “But my neighbor, the fortune-teller, says anyone who tries to leave Jiangnan will die—cursed by ghosts.”
Tattoo: “Who knows if it’s real or fake? Anyway, my house has been weird at night. My mom saw a ghost shadow outside the window.”
At that, the hairs on Yan Jiyun’s arms stood up; he rubbed his arms uneasily.
Liu Jingxi lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke in Yan Jiyun’s direction. “Scared of ghosts, little brother?”
Yan Jiyun nodded. He truly hated creepy things. “Scared to death, cousin. Let’s head back. This forest is way too creepy.”
Liu Jingxi deliberately teased him, “How about I give you a taste of it later?”
Yan Jiyun shrank back two steps. “….”
But climbing the mountain had already worn out the group. A little drunk, Liu Jingxi had no real intention of “exploring ways out.”
They passed the time on the mountain by playing poker. Yan Jiyun joined in, outwardly meek but completely dominating with his card skills—winning over Liu Jingxi’s drinking buddies.
When most of the alcohol wore off, the group eyed the woods with new interest—just as the weather was turning gloomy.
Following them down the mountain, Yan Jiyun found their path blocked by three middle-aged men in dingy uniforms and carrying baskets with axes and sickles. Their expressions were severe—an intimidating sight.
One tanned man barked, “What are you kids doing here? Get going, back to your homes.”
Standing behind, Yan Jiyun eyed these NPCs suspiciously, hiding behind Liu Jingxi. Why did they stink so strongly of blood?
As he pondered, the man looked straight at Liu Jingxi. “Young Master Jingxi, head home. Don’t go into the mountains anymore. It won’t do you any good.”
But, as always, the young are rebellious—the more the elders forbid, the more they defy.
Still, the men spoke to Liu Jingxi with respect—calling him “young master.” In this day and age, such formality was already anachronistic.
Liu Jingxi answered offhandedly, “What’s the worst that could happen?”
The man added, “Trust your uncle. Last time, your mother was heartbroken after your injury.”
Liu Jingxi only scowled.
When it became clear the kids wouldn’t be persuaded, the three men trailed after them—close enough to watch but not close enough to hassle them.
Finding this too stifling, Liu Jingxi and his crew decided to head home.
Yan Jiyun felt he’d gained a lot. The young people were not allowed to leave town, and life here seemed self-sustaining and isolated.
Back during the wedding feast, he’d noticed no one used a cellphone.
They could drive cars, though—so where did they get the cars? Why no phones? Very suspicious.
Was it to prevent the young from discovering and leaving for the outside world?
So far, his discoveries were:
- There are monsters in the mountains.
- Young people are forbidden to leave Jiangnan Town.
After half a day, not a wasted outing at all.
He still had plenty of points, but not so many he could afford to be careless.
Now under the watchful eyes of the three men, Liu Jingxi’s group could do little and, feeling stifled, got into the cars to go back.
Liu Jingxi’s entire livelihood depended on his father.
But it was really odd—cars could enter Jiangnan, but people could not leave.
Cars were all made in the outside world, after all. How did they get here?
Driving back, Yan Jiyun pondered these puzzles.
This was a town with an odd aesthetic—modern cars, but no phones or navigation.
Returning to town, he dropped Liu Jingxi back at the Liu residence smoothly.
The others wanted to keep partying, but Liu Jingxi declined—he was no longer in the mood.
The banquet was over; the hired help was cleaning up, though the festive decorations still lingered.
Old Master Liu had already gone to bed after drinking; Madame Liu was in the front parlor, talking with several women in their forties and fifties.
She paused, inspecting Yan Jiyun more closely as he followed Liu Jingxi in.
Wanting a reason to stay, Yan Jiyun piped up, “Auntie, just call me Xiao Yan.”
He stood politely beside Liu Jingxi, inviting comparison.
Xie Huishuang, her hair immaculately done, had the soft, elegant grace of a southern woman. Well maintained, she didn’t look her age at all.
Xie Huishuang said, “All right, good kid. Just stay with us tonight. It’s too late and far for you to head back.”
Surprised, Yan Jiyun realized she’d already invented a background and distance for her distant relative.
“Thank you, Auntie. I won’t be shy, then.”
He guessed she was letting him stay because he was out with Jingxi. Despite her courtesy, she was not warm; her manner courteous but distant.
Liu Jingxi tried to sling his arm around Yan Jiyun’s shoulders to steer him toward the backyard, but Xie Huishuang stopped him. “Jingxi, wait—I need to talk to you. Xiao Yan, Ah Juan will show you to your room. If anything’s missing, just tell me or the butler.”
Yan Jiyun retreated obediently: “Okay.”
He meant to eavesdrop, slowing his pace, but servant girl Ah Juan seemed to have eyes in the back of her head—he couldn’t outpace her, nor fall behind.
He did catch Xie Huishuang pressing Liu Jingxi to marry his fiancée: “When do you plan to set the date? Jingjing just turned twenty last month—perfect age. Give me a grandchild soon! Don’t let your third brother’s wife upstage me, or who knows what that woman will whisper to your father. Your older brother’s hopeless. I only have you to count on.”
Liu Jingxi, clearly fed up: “Mom, what’s the rush? I never agreed to this marriage. You arranged it, not me. I’m not interested in Ouyang Jingjing. I want to call it off.”
Xie Huishuang sighed, “We’ve sent the betrothal gifts—you can’t back out now! I’ve picked an auspicious day. In three months, you’re getting married. Besides, Jingjing will be living with us for a while—use the time to cultivate your relationship.”
Exasperated, Liu Jingxi protested, “Mom, please, I just don’t like Ouyang Jing.”
She didn’t listen, continuing, “Whatever happens, you’re already engaged. Jingjing’s a true lady and will take care of the family. You’ll have all your freedom once you’re married.”
“But I want to marry for love!” he protested.
By now, Yan Jiyun was too far to hear—their voices lost behind architecture and rock gardens.
The Liu compound was sprawling, the house all timber and old tiles, with only the floor and some walls modernized. The use of glass and bright red tiles hinted at the money spent—this place was luxurious in its heyday.
Ah Juan, the taciturn maid, wore fat braids, always bowed. She was the quintessential servant girl, meek to her core, giving him the eerie sense of stepping into the Republic era.
Truly, a strange instance.
Half a day in, and not a single fright—he hadn’t even received a side quest. Was he just playing wrong?
Wait, the goal was to leave Jiangnan. Was this essentially a “survival escape” instance? That wouldn’t need much of a main plot.
This damn game. It could as easily just try to kill you—but must wrap it in a quest to demonstrate its “mercy.”
Ah Juan showed him to the south wing—a guest room, different from the master’s areas.
She spoke little, but didn’t neglect protocol: “If you need anything, just tell the butler.”
Yan Jiyun admired the period furniture—the washstand, the bed—it was like a trip to a museum.
He shook his head. “Nothing’s missing, thank you.” He was pleased to have secured a room on day one.
Ah Juan added, “The main family will be entertaining Miss Ouyang tonight. Before supper, someone will fetch you. If I don’t come, dinner is at 6:30—please arrive in the front hall then.”
His ears perked. “Miss Ouyang? Isn’t she—”
Eyes lowered, Ah Juan said, “Yes, the second young master’s fiancée, Ouyang Jing. She’ll be staying here for a while.”
He nodded. “Ah, so she’s my second cousin’s fiancée.”
She said no more. With nothing else needed, she left.
Yan Jiyun breathed in—musty old house, but with electricity and mountain springs nearby. Power was a good sign.
If this town was self-sufficient, there had to be a way in and out; how else would modern tech arrive?
But didn’t that contradict the ban on young people leaving? Cars made it in, but people couldn’t get out.
There was an hour and a half until dinner. Yan Jiyun decided to investigate the house.
As a cat, this old manor—full of hidden corners—was made for him.
He dragged a chair to the window, and, when his time was up, transformed and leapt outside.
What cat would choose to use a door?
He was now in the south wing. By traditional layout, elders lived in the main building, the eldest son in the east wing, the second son in the west, girls in the back, staff and guests in the south.
With no daughters, the Liu family had put third son Liu Jinghao in the rear wing with his new wife.
Fearing he’d stumble on something not-for-children, Yan Jiyun postponed investigating the newlyweds. Next up: the eldest’s east wing, or the father and the just-arrived fiancée. But the elder was sleeping off drink; the wife’s quarters held little promise.
He chose Liu Jingyi, the eldest son. He needed to understand the Liu family personalities and links—and their secrets.
Still, the main plot and side quests remained foggy; at least collecting details couldn’t hurt.
He slipped through the flower garden to the east wing—instantly certain it was Liu Jingyi’s room from the constant coughing.
He heard two sets of footsteps inside; the main room door was half open. He crept in under a cupboard.
A woman emerged from the inner room. He tucked his legs in tight as she passed, stifling a sob—the coughing from within all but drowned her out.
A quarrel? No, more likely she was weeping for her sickly husband.
So, theirs was a marriage of affection.
How, then, did Liu Jingyi drive a car at all? Hands continually shaking from coughs and weakness, yet he allegedly caused a fatal crash?
After fetching water, she went back in, drying her eyes before bringing the drink to Liu Jingyi.
Yan Jiyun slinked out to look around the room.
As before, furnishings were mostly traditional, but with electric lights and an ancient music player—the only exceptions to the past.
Examining everything—table, lilies in a vase—he sneezed. The scent was overpowering for a sick man. Could he not even smell flowers anymore? Was he really so ill? Why was his wife privately weeping?
If this was a true romance drama, he mused, it barely made the eldest a protagonist—soon to die, already married.
Or was this to be a melodrama?
He hoped not.
He forced himself to listen to a few exchanges and found none embarrassing: husband and wife spoke with formal politeness.
Liu Jingyi: “Thank you, Xinzhi. If I’m gone, you should remarry. I’ve told my parents; they won’t trouble you.”
Cen Xinzhi: “No need for that. You’ll live long and well. There’s a cure for every disease.”
Liu Jingyi: “I was born with this; nothing can change it.”
She paused, murmuring, “There’s always a way. I’ll try to find one.”
It all seemed normal, yet her last words were odd—almost as if she knew something about his illness.
Was he just hearing it wrong?
Liu Jingyi, thoroughly exhausted, soon lay back down.
Nothing in this conversation struck him as essential—but who knew what details would prove important.
He left quickly for Ouyang Jing’s supposed quarters—then hesitated. Where would she be? If she was also a guest, she’d be in the guest wing, but he’d noticed no new scent or sound there.
Just as he prepared to leave, he heard hurried footsteps outside the east wing.
He hid among the flowerpots as Liu Jingxi approached, his gait carrying a slight edge of anger, though his words were low: “Sister-in-law, where’s my brother?”
Cen Xinzhi replied, “He just lay down. What’s wrong?”
A second set of footsteps.
With that trendy outfit and delicate makeup—no doubt, Ouyang Jing, the lovely fiancée, seeming even younger than her actual age.
“Xinzhi-jie,” came a sweet voice.
This had to be Ouyang Jing—a petite beauty evoking a strong instinct to protect.
Liu Jingxi was having none of it. “Sister-in-law, arrange her to another courtyard—anywhere but mine. This is outrageous.”
Ouyang Jing, small and aggrieved: “It’s Auntie’s arrangement.”
Cen Xinzhi played peacemaker. “If it’s been settled—”
Liu Jingxi retorted, “How can you be confused too? An unmarried girl living with me, how does that look?”
Yan Jiyun watched Cen Xinzhi. Odd—she’d just been crying over her husband, but now her eyes kept flickering over Liu Jingxi. Did she have feelings for her brother-in-law?
A true drama, worthy of the genre!
After a bit more back-and-forth, Cen Xinzhi said, “Jingjing, stay here with me. It’ll be better for your reputation.”
Ouyang pouted but relented. “Alright, Xinzhi-jie, I’ll listen to you.”
With this settled, Liu Jingxi left, not even bothering with a goodbye.
Right then, a shout came: “Bad news! Third Young Master’s fallen into the water!”
Yan Jiyun perked up immediately.
Finally—action!