UCTOOT CH3

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

A howl of pure despair echoed through the bamboo forest, startling the birds into flight. Shi Shu clutched his head in agony, one hundred—no, ten thousand times—shocked beyond belief. He was trapped in a nightmare, and Xie Wuchi’s words made him realize that he would never wake up from it.

“This doesn’t make sense! How can time travel even be real?! I refuse to accept this!”

Xie Wuchi: “Three months have passed. It’s undoubtedly time travel.”

Shi Shu: “How did you get here?”

Xie Wuchi: “I went to sleep and woke up here. The reason remains unknown.”

Shi Shu: “How long have you been here? Same as me, three months?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a system or some kind of cheat ability?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you’re from the modern world! You must be lying! Say something in English.”

“The price of the shirt is nine pounds and fifteen pence.”

“Enough! ‘The price of the shirt is nine pounds and fifteen pence’—I’d recognize that sentence even if it turned to dust!” Shi Shu immediately picked up on his precise British accent, enunciated as clearly as a high school English listening test.

“The heavens want me dead…”

Shi Shu slumped against the bamboo grove, completely drained. The bamboo whip in his clenched palm slipped to the ground. Xi Yangyang the goat nudged his knee affectionately, while Da Huang circled around warily, baring its teeth at Xie Wuchi. This picturesque rural scene—plucked straight from an idyllic ancient farmstead—made the presence of the two time travelers feel utterly absurd.

Rubbing his temples, Shi Shu snapped back to reality and looked at the person before him. “Why are you so calm?”

Xie Wuchi: “I’ve tried many methods, but I still can’t return. Wherever my heart finds peace, that is my home. I have no choice but to accept it. My mental state isn’t great—I have a history of depression. If I overthink this, I’ll go insane.”

“……”

Shi Shu scanned him from head to toe. “Did you do something terrible before you traveled?”

“Uncertain.”

Something flickered in Xie Wuchi’s eyes. “Did you?”

“I did not! I’m a good person! I even pick up litter off the ground—I was a model student!” Shi Shu was indignant. “Did I commit some grave sin in my past life? Is this retribution?” Then he asked, “Just to confirm, you were from the year 2024, right?”

Xie Wuchi: “Yes.”

“And what year is it now? What dynasty?”

“Unknown year, unknown land, no historical records. It’s likely a fictional world.”

“……” Shi Shu noted the scholarly way he spoke and straightened up slightly. “Bro, what school did you go to?”

“Tsinghua. Why?”

“Nothing.”

“You—”

“Don’t ask.”

Shi Shu anxiously spun in place and clapped his hands. “That’s not important. So, based on your assessment, we’re the worst type of time travelers—no cheat skills, no system, no magical demon bloodline. Even if we recover from the shock, we’re just… stuck here forever, right?”

Xie Wuchi: “Not necessarily.”

Shi Shu turned sharply. “There’s hope?”

“Yes. Do you know Jinjiang?”

Shi Shu’s eyes widened. “Bro, you’re not… into men, are you?”

Xie Wuchi stared at him for three seconds before lowering his gaze. “Aren’t you?”

“……………………”

“You are?!?!” Shi Shu’s voice jumped tenfold in volume.

“Judging by your reaction, the only possible golden finger that could have made you rich and powerful is now gone.”

What the hell are you even talking about?! Shi Shu barely restrained himself from grabbing Xie Wuchi by the collar and shaking him. “We’ve time-traveled! We’re stuck in another world! How can you be thinking about something as ridiculous as being into men?!”

“Of course, I understand,” Xie Wuchi said calmly. “I’ve tried everything—suicide, praying to Buddha, performing rituals, summoning a system, even questioning the heavens. None of it worked. Time travel is time travel.”

A bucket of ice-cold water was dumped over Shi Shu’s head.

“You’re saying…?”

Xie Wuchi said with complete composure, “We can’t go back. Unless there’s another opportunity… or divine intervention.”

Overhead, a jet-black crow let out two raspy caws, soaring over the treetops, leaving six faint, ink-like dots in its wake. The oppressive silence in the air was suffused with an unspoken sense of despair.

The more he realized how hopeless their situation was, the more he appreciated the value of meeting a familiar kind. Though Shi Shu didn’t know Xie Wuchi well—especially since the man didn’t exude the strong straight-male energy he was accustomed to—he still felt an inexplicable sense of kinship with him.

“…Where are you staying now?”

“In the Eastern Capital, residing at Xiangnan Temple. I had nowhere to go after arriving, so I relied on temple charities for two meals a day. It’s how I’ve managed to survive. What about you?”

Shi Shu picked up the little goat and petted its head. Da Huang, sensing his gaze, wagged its tail obediently. “I blended in with refugees and became a laborer at the largest gentry estate in the county. After three months, I’ve fully assimilated… into village life. Now, I feed pigs, cows, and sheep—barely surviving through honest work.” He gestured toward the dog. “See this one? His name’s Laifu. He used to bite everyone he saw. Now, he only listens to me.”

Xie Wuchi: “I see. May I ask your age?”

“I’m eighteen, just had my birthday in February.” Shi Shu squinted at him, hesitated repeatedly, then couldn’t help but voice his thoughts. “How old are you? Oh, and has anyone ever told you that you look at people the way one looks at a dog?”

Xie Wuchi: “Yes.”

“Then can you stop? The way you’re looking at me is making me uncomfortable.”

Xie Wuchi: “I can’t change it. To answer your previous question—I’m thirty.”

“?”

Shi Shu lifted his gaze again, scanning him from head to toe. Xie Wuchi stood calmly under his scrutiny, his sea-green monk’s robe simple yet refined. However, on him, it did not appear plain or lifeless. His shoulders stood tall and straight, accentuating the elegant lines of his figure. That precise, upright posture seemed almost deliberately trained. Beneath his brows, his gaze was sharp as stone—restrained, but undeniably keen.

“You’re just saying that, right? I don’t believe you’re thirty.”

Xie Wuchi shook out his sleeves. “It doesn’t matter. If I say it, those who hear can choose to believe it or not. If they don’t, they’ll just assume I look young.”

“Then why even lie?”

Xie Wuchi: “I’m not lying. Besides, do you really think being young is a good thing?”

“…You have your own logic. I won’t ask any more.”

A ceremonial procession wound around the mountain pass, soon disappearing from sight. Seeing the timing was right, Shi Shu suddenly grabbed Xie Wuchi’s sleeve and pulled, dragging him forward a few steps. His shoes splashed through a puddle, scattering muddy water, closing the distance between them in an instant.

Shi Shu leaned in close, his fair, handsome face pressing toward him as he lowered his voice seriously: “Xie-gege, as far as we know, we’re the only two victims of this time travel mess. Let me be honest—I feel a sense of kinship with you. Why don’t you stop being a monk? Come with me. If I have a bowl of rice, you’ll have a sip of soup. The two of us can find a place to live and completely isolate ourselves from this ancient society!”

Xie Wuchi looked down at his distorted sleeve and then at the glint of red at Shi Shu’s earlobe, where his skin had been rubbed slightly raw. “Humans feel safe when living among their own kind. I appreciate the invitation. However, my appetite is quite large—you probably can’t afford to feed me.”

“How big could your appetite possibly be???” Shi Shu exclaimed. “I’ve barely been able to feed myself these past three months, but I can still afford to keep a dog. If I ever have extra food, I can just give you my leftovers?”

“The appetite I’m referring to isn’t food.”

Xie Wuchi turned his gaze away, taking in the misty, rain-drenched mountains. His deep-set eyes carried an unfathomable depth, as if they saw through the layers of peaks and valleys to glimpse an empire—the suffering of its people, towering palaces, the clash of swords, the crimson-tinted walls of the imperial city at dusk, the frozen borders where banners stood in the snow, the lantern-lit corridors of endless intrigue. Piece by piece, a boundless world that others could not see unfolded before him.

“This is a chaotic, lawless, ignorant, and dark feudal era.

The order here is fragile. It is an age of upheaval, where danger and opportunity coexist in a forest of shadows… It is perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Xie Wuchi pressed his hands together, then glanced down at his own simple monk’s robes and the muddy bamboo grove beneath his feet.

“Only a mind without shackles can roam freely among all things.” He smiled. “I won’t be settling for a quiet life in the countryside.”

A chill ran up Shi Shu’s spine, an instinctive reaction to danger. “You—”

Just then, a voice echoed from the mountain ridge.

“Xiao Shu? Xiao Shu, where are you? You left all the sheep unattended—what are you doing hiding in the woods?”

Shi Shu turned to see Zhou Erniu carrying a shoulder pole, descending the dirt path with two lambs trailing behind him. His feet sank into the muddy ground with every step. “Lunch is being delivered to the fields. If you don’t come now, you won’t get any.”

Shi Shu waved a hand. “I’m talking to an old acquaintance!”

A sense of urgency rose in his heart. He quickly asked, “So what exactly are you planning? Let me think about whether I want to follow you or not.”

Xie Wuchi: “Me? Since we’re already in ancient times, might as well become emperor.”

“!!!???”

“Not a single honest word out of your mouth.”

Shi Shu picked up a lamb and turned to run up the hillside, waving as he went. “See you later! Once the harvest season is over, I’ll go to Xiangnan Temple and visit you for a couple of days! I’ll bring you some local specialties too!”

“…”

Xie Wuchi stood still, watching Shi Shu hurry up the slope. When he reached a small ravine, he hesitated, unable to cross. Carefully, he stepped onto a grassy mound, testing its stability with the tip of his foot.

Xie Wuchi, intrigued, didn’t chase after the prince’s ceremonial procession. Instead, he followed behind Shi Shu and handed him a wooden-handled oil-paper umbrella. “Take this. Use it for the rain.”

Shi Shu: “You don’t need it?”

“I rarely use umbrellas at the temple. But you’re out in the countryside—you’ll need it more than I do.” Xie Wuchi smiled. “If you feel guilty about taking it, return it to me at the Guanyin Hall of Xiangnan Temple. Consider it an appointment.”

A promise for their next meeting.

Shi Shu nodded, somewhat bewildered. After saying “See you,” Xie Wuchi turned away, his monk’s robe brushing against dew-dampened leaves and tree branches.

The forest was vast and wild, like a place where beasts and wandering souls roamed.

He walked slowly, unhurried, occasionally glancing at the flora and his surroundings, step by step disappearing into the wilderness.

The umbrella handle still carried lingering warmth, burning lightly against Shi Shu’s skin. “He looks so cold, but his body temperature is ridiculously high. His heart must burn like fire.”

He opened the umbrella and tilted his head back, examining the intricate patterns of its bamboo frame.

Zhou Erniu caught up in a few strides and peered over. “Who was that man?”

Shi Shu didn’t want to make things complicated, so he turned his face and said, “My cousin from the same village.”

Zhou Erniu: “You ran into a relative? So… are you leaving?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Let’s eat first.”

Shi Shu yawned and went to count the sheep one by one. Behind him, Zhou Erniu’s expression grew increasingly serious, shifting into something ominous.

—

That night, a torrential downpour raged, and the wind howled fiercely.

The doors and windows creaked under the storm’s force. Shi Shu woke up multiple times, wedging a rod against the door, only for the wind to knock it down again moments later.

Perplexed, he groggily got up again, draping a thin outer robe over his shoulders.

Through the narrow gap in the doorway, a bolt of lightning suddenly split the sky, illuminating the courtyard as if it were daylight.

Several figures were approaching his room.

Among them, the third young master, reeking of alcohol, staggered forward, flanked by two burly men with muscular builds.

“He’s just a refugee with no household registration. Even if we mess him up, the authorities won’t care. And besides, I’ve fed him for three months—if he knows what’s good for him, he should be obedient.”

“Even if the officials do get involved, my father can settle it with one banquet. What’s there to be afraid of?”

“Hold him down. After I’ve had my fun, you two can have a turn.”

Before he even reached the door, the third young master was already undoing his belt.

Another flash of lightning illuminated his pale, corpse-like face.

…

Shi Shu froze for exactly one second.

Then, as his mind caught up, he grabbed the umbrella hanging by his bed.

One foot still inside the house, his face was already drenched by the storm outside.