This was a long, dark-sweet dream.

Si Zhiyan drifted muddled in endless void, his thoughts floating aimlessly as countless fractured images flickered dimly before his eyes.

In the dream there was a pale laboratory, rain-swept nights… a stream of nameless faces passing by. Si Zhiyan saw the pale-coated women doctors, saw Nidhogg, but the one who appeared most often—again and again—was Bian Xu. Bian Xu in hospital garb, Bian Xu drenched in blood, Bian Xu fighting…

What was this? Memories he had lost? Whatever the reason, instinct told Si Zhiyan that these scenes were important.

Yet every time Si Zhiyan struggled to focus his chaotic mind, to see things more clearly, the images would abruptly vanish, bursting like soap bubbles in his grasp, dissolving to shimmering foam.

It felt as if something was blocking him, sealing away those memories, hiding from his reach.

Si Zhiyan did not give up or grow frustrated. He concentrated with care, quieted his mind, and reached out slowly.

At last, he managed to catch one of the bubbles in his hand.

Pop.

The bubble burst, and suddenly the scene before him was sharp and clear—

It was a sky-darkening mist of blood.

They were in a world like the game Don’t Starve, with a giant EYE suspended overhead, shrouded by blood mist so thick its details could not be seen.

Bian Xu stood before Si Zhiyan, his lean, feline muscle lines tense beneath a dark windshell, looking strained and at the edge.

It seemed dangerous—some kind of extreme environment? No, something didn’t feel right…

In the bloody mist, Bian Xu turned his head and said:

“Sir, we’re out of time. This is the only way left.”

“—Let me become the core of the farm.”

With all his remaining strength, he managed a smile, lips trembling.

“…Am I worthy of this, sir?”

In the dream, Si Zhiyan silently shook his head.

The next second, he lifted his hand and made a gentle downward sweep. An endless rush of blood mist surged forward, enveloping Bian Xu’s body. Great blood vessels tore through the young man’s chest, thrusting into his golden hair and across his scalp, until they swallowed him up completely.

Ah—the blood mist was part of his power.

Bian Xu looked to be in agony, curling in the mist, shuddering as he swiftly lost all control. In the utmost throes of pain, he reached out, gasping, mustering his resolve to try and touch Si Zhiyan’s ankle and draw strength—but Si Zhiyan stood too far away, just out of reach. He stretched his hand desperately toward him, but fell short.

Yet the dream image of himself only stood calmly, hands in his pockets, watching it all unfold from above.

Bian Xu’s fingertips shook, curled, and at last drew back.

“Sir… S-Sir, I…”

He seemed to murmur something, but at this distance, Si Zhiyan could not hear.

Nor help him.

A fierce sense of helplessness and anger surged within Si Zhiyan.

He did not know where the strength came from, but he forced his awareness closer, still closer, until—at last—he broke through.

Buzz.

He occupied his “self” in the dream, forced his body forward, then knelt in the bloody mist and gripped Bian Xu’s hand.

Bian Xu shuddered violently and looked up in astonishment.

Those gold eyes flickered with tears, gaze swirling with disbelief.

He looked like a stray dog suddenly stroked—both startled and delighted, cautious for fear the spell would be broken.

Si Zhiyan held his hand and spoke in a low voice: “Wait for me a little while.”

“Once I’m ready, I’ll come for you. We agreed on that.”

On Bian Xu’s pain-twisted face, at last, a slow smile appeared. He leaned forward shyly, pressing his cheek to the back of Si Zhiyan’s hand, and closed his eyes in peace.

Then the blood mist swallowed him completely.

Their tightly clasped hands broke apart, the grip undone, then consumed, and finally gone. Si Zhiyan felt a tearing pain, as if all the veins in his body turned cold. Kneeling in the heart of the blood mist, he lowered his head in grief.

From that moment forward, he was all alone.

……
…

“!”

Si Zhiyan woke with a start.

A lingering ache throbbed in his head, and the shadow of darkness remained. His skull ached fiercely, his heart thudded fast, that sense of collapse echoing in his mind. He had to take deep breaths for a while before he gradually calmed.

Warm light spread across his face, gentle and luminous.

He was not kneeling in blood mist, but sunk into a soft, clean bed with casement windows at his bedside. Outside, sunlight dappled a forest in early afternoon.

He was in the farmhouse, in his own bedroom.

A faint fragrance perfumed the air, while around him came the sound of slow, regular breathing.

Si Zhiyan turned his head left. Bian Xu was dozing at the bedside, golden hair spilling over the mattress, sharp side profile marvelously clear. His chest rose and fell gently—no doubt truly asleep.

On his right, by the pillow, lay Frostcake, a fluffy rabbit sprawled lazily, giving off a faint chill. The small dog, all four feet in the air, slept twisted nearby, its fur deep gold, its belly soft and downy, with a few hamsters burrowed in among the fluff.

Si Zhiyan: “…”

In all honesty, this bed was crowded, rambunctious, and a little cramped.

Dust motes floated in the air, sunlight cast shifting patches through the windows. Whether people or small animals, all were rimmed in a luminous, downy glow.

…

Bian Xu was back.

He was alive.

Those three thoughts let all the tension leave Si Zhiyan’s body. He slumped into the mattress with a flood of relief, as if shaken apart.

It felt like finishing an intense workout, sweating it all out, showering in hot water, and then blissfully curling up in bed. He was relaxed, lazy, content.

Si Zhiyan quietly turned his head, stealing a look at Bian Xu.

This was the first time he had ever studied the young man so closely.

He really was handsome—not at all feminine, with strong, clear features and deep-set eyes.

Si Zhiyan had barely moved when Bian Xu’s lashes fluttered and his gold-brown eyes opened slowly, gathering flecks of gold from the sun.

“…Sir!” he cried out in delight, “You’re awake?”

Sunlight bathed him, harmonious and soft—even his eyelashes shimmered pale gold.

“Yes,” Si Zhiyan smiled, ruffling the hair at his temples, “I’m back.”

“You did very well. You saved me. Thank you.”

Bian Xu’s ears flushed crimson. His next words stuck in his throat and he stumbled, unable to go on.

Interesting, Si Zhiyan thought, eyes narrowing in a smile.

Beside him, the Frosthorn Rabbit seemed to have been woken by the commotion, squirming and bundling into a little ball of fluff that crawled atop Si Zhiyan’s belly, where it sprawled and dozed off again.

Si Zhiyan patted it. Though a bit heavy, it felt good in the hand, so he let it be.

Bian Xu pressed his lips together. A green vine slipped out from behind him, poked Frostcake with visible sullenness, and he whispered, “I—I made you something to eat… I’ll get it for you.”

Si Zhiyan watched his hasty retreat, stroked the little rabbit, and shook his head, smiling.

A moment later, Bian Xu returned, holding a tray with a little basket, a small bowl, and two plates.

A vine slipped from under his jacket, weaving into a pale green, fragrant tray table before Si Zhiyan, steady at the bedside.

The Frosthorn Rabbit was bumped off balance by the tray and rolled back onto the bed, shaking its ears in confusion.

Si Zhiyan: “…”

He stifled a laugh and looked down at the table’s offering.

One plate held skewers of five-colored barbecued meat—chunks of pork neck, bell pepper, and halved cherry tomatoes threaded on iron rods, still steaming from a final grill, glistening with oils, sprinkled with rosemary and garlic salt, shining beautifully in the sun. On the other plate was an apple pie, gold all over and baked perfectly, its crust slashed in latticework so glimpses of caramelized apple filling could be seen inside, spiced with cinnamon and buttered apples.

The bowl was creamy mushroom soup, topped with crushed pine nuts. In the little basket was garlic butter bread, baked golden and crisp, the surface glossed with melting garlic butter. Tearing the edge, it was fluffy white and soft within.

Silver knife, fork, and spoon were neatly arranged before him.

It was a feast, cooked with care—every dish one that Si Zhiyan loved. The aroma made his empty stomach grumble and his appetite surge.

He picked up knife and fork, tilting his head, asked, “Have you eaten?”

Bian Xu nodded, just a hint: “I have.”

Si Zhiyan cut a piece of the apple pie. “What did you eat?”

Bian Xu bit his tongue and blurted, “You.”

Si Zhiyan burst out laughing.

Bian Xu realized what he had said and nearly combusted, clapping a hand over his face, burning with embarrassment.

The sunlight was beautiful, and Si Zhiyan felt wonderful. He laughed, slipping a piece of apple pie into his mouth.

The pie crust was rich with butter, crumbling under his teeth, followed by tender-sweet apple filling. Good apples, soaked in butter and sugar, retained just a tart crisp edge, kissed by the golden sweetness of caramel and the mellow spice of cinnamon, faintly warm, flooding his palate with flavor.

A truly delicious dessert—it could make someone happy from the very first bite.

Si Zhiyan’s eyes curved in delight as he fixed Bian Xu with his gaze: “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Bian Xu buried his face in his palms, unable to look up, flushed red through his fingers, mumbling back a nearly inaudible reply.

Ah.

What fun.

Full and content, Si Zhiyan wiped his mouth, set down his utensils.

Bian Xu massaged his cheeks for some composure and, at last, seemed to gather his scattered soul. The vine table retreated, drifting away as if conscious, carrying the tray and dishes out of the way.

“Is this your power?” Si Zhiyan asked, leaning back a little, putting some distance between them to help Bian Xu feel at ease.

“Mm… You could say that, but…” Bian Xu curled up in his chair, finally a bit more composed. He pondered a moment and said, “Compared to ‘power,’ it’s more like an organ. Part of the body. Hands, feet, legs, vines… they’re similar.”

A vine reached from beneath his shirt, the familiar tip nodding to Si Zhiyan.

Si Zhiyan pinched the end. “So now you can leave the undercroft?”

“Yes.” Bian Xu’s gold eyes watched him without blinking as he spoke softly, “After the farm reached one hundred percent integrity, the true, complete Farm Core was born. It can perform all the… ‘work’ I used to do, but on its own.”

Bian Xu’s pale lashes dipped, a faint smile on his lips, “So, there’s no more need for me to work like that.”

Si Zhiyan raised an eyebrow, about to reply, when Bian Xu hurried to lead the conversation elsewhere: “Sir, you should check the system interface—it’ll have a history log of all the changes in the farm while you were unconscious.”

Si Zhiyan opened up the familiar system display. He blinked in surprise.

Compared to the old, lifeless gray interface, this one now pulsed with vitality, green vines winding through every edge.

Even the system voice had gained a trace of warmth. But it was no longer Bian Xu’s voice—instead, it had become Si Zhiyan’s own.

[Current farm integrity: 100%]

[All damaged facilities are fully restored.]

[True Farm Core operating status: Excellent]

[Because the farm owner was unconscious, the following upgrades are on hold:]
[Farm space expansion]

[Farm form transformation—Pocket, portable entrance]

[Nursery 4—Your American Bar (stage two)—□□]
[Little Flower Field (stage three)—Song of Space]
[Word-Guillotine (stage two)—“Unspoken”]

[Because the farm owner was unconscious, the following new facilities are on hold:]
[Mistyped Call of Apology]
[Leek Harvester]
[What—Survivor Smoothie?]

…One hundred percent completion! Si Zhiyan mused. An abundant harvest indeed.

But he frowned slightly. Did just one bite of me really have such effect?

He lowered his head, looking at his hands—thin, pale, every joint defined, faint blue veins beneath the skin. No different to before. He made a fist; it felt the same as ever.

Nearly nothing about his [ghostly] self seemed to have changed at all.

Bian Xu must have shaped him back with the utmost care.

But then… “Farm space expansion” and “Pocket, portable entrance”—what did those mean? If he was right about his guess… Si Zhiyan held his breath.

He was about to speak when, suddenly, a tremor ran through the room.

Void!!

The whole farmhouse quaked violently.

No—not just the house. The entire farm!

The sunlight outside, once warm and bright, flickered as if it were faulty wiring.

The sky itself seemed false, melting like ice cream, flowing downward.

Crack!

The farmhouse’s window exploded, glass flying.

[&* Careful!]

In a split second Bian Xu leapt up, body taut as a drawn bow, instantly shielding Si Zhiyan. Countless vines tore free of his jacket, surging from his back, weaving a tight net to protect Si Zhiyan from the flying shards of glass.

The mood of gentle warmth vanished instantly. Bian Xu’s eyes burned red; his form was inhuman, and his voice, too, was no longer human, matching the earlier system’s distorted, alien tone.

The dishes fell, shattered, strewn in fragments around the room.

In Si Zhiyan’s ear, the system voice spoke:

[World-shift completed—detected…]

[Current main world: Eternal Night Tale—Black City]
[Current landing spot: ~Heavily Cursed~ Forsaken Death Stacked Apartments]

[Tale density: Ultra-high]
[Tale level: SS-class]
[Danger level: Ultra-high]

[Farm owner, open farm entrance here?]

[If not, please enter destination coordinates.]