“Oh… oh!!!” Liu Datie felt awkward for an instant, but his impressive emotional control let him pivot smoothly to the next topic. “Bro, even with your eyesight, you navigate this path like a pro. You must’ve always lived up in the mountains!”
“I only moved back less than three months ago,” Chen Ji replied.
Liu Datie forced a dry laugh. “Hahaha, really? Hahaha…”
{Da Tie’s inner thoughts: Bro, you really know how to kill a conversation dead!}
{Da Tie’s embarrassed, lol!}
“But I grew up here,” Chen Ji continued, his tone light and gentle yet carrying a hint of that indescribable carefree swagger. He added in a teasing lilt, “Didn’t want to be a corporate drone anymore, so I came back home to farm. As long as I don’t starve, it’s all good.”
At that moment, the freelance streamer Liu Datie felt a deep resonance. He shot Chen Ji a big thumbs-up. “Bro, you’re the man!”
Liu Datie casually slung an arm over Chen Ji’s shoulder. “Mind if we head to your place for the rest of the stream? Truth is, I’ve always dreamed of going full hermit in the wilds! …How about I split this stream’s earnings with you—halfsies?”
From his pre-dawn hype climb to now, Liu Datie had been live for nearly ten straight hours. His baseline audience was solid, and cashing in on his “spit is law” rep had netted a ton of gifts. Conservative estimate, this stream was pulling in six figures at least.
Chen Ji could tell Liu Datie was just fishing for ways to hand him cash, but the guy still had some pride. “It’s a long trek up there. Let’s get you back to the village first.”
He worried that if they kept going, Liu Datie might drop from exhaustion. Their rundown Little Azure Mountain couldn’t handle another dead influencer—not when buttering up the Mountain Lord and scraping together even a crumb of payoff would get way harder.
A rich kid dying quietly? No one cares. But a live-streaming influencer? That’d rocket straight to top trending. Traffic leeches would swarm with exaggerated tales of Little Azure Mountain’s body count and hazards. Once the hype peaked, insiders would start leaking the local ghost stories.
Liu Datie had zero interest in heading down. This was gold-tier content! Bailing now meant confessing to his fans that he’d bullshitted his way into getting lost and nearly dying—a cautionary tale for the ages. He might even catch official flak for reckless streaming. But tagging along with Chen Ji to film some off-grid hermit life? Edit that into a video later, and the whole theme would skyrocket!
It was already afternoon anyway. Shoot a day at the guy’s place, get up early tomorrow for some misty mountain dawn shots, pair it with this dude’s fairy-king looks—viral guaranteed! Totally worth the split.
“I’ve got the cash, bro!” Liu Datie insisted. “Don’t let the viewer count fool you. Check this, this…”
He flashed a hand sign for a number. “We’re already here! I’ll handle taxes—you pocket at least this much net. Sleep on it!”
{Pfft, kid’s dropping cash bombs now!}
{Rich dumbass confirmed.}
{That’s your dad’s hush money, kid? What a wastrel!}
Chen Ji just smiled. “I’m not hurting for it. Head down first—get checked at a clinic. Rest up a couple days and come back; it’ll be the same.”
Liu Datie couldn’t believe his unbeatable money play had flopped. He set his phone aside. “Fam, soak in the views. BRB, nature calls!”
He tugged Chen Ji off to the side, clasped his hands in plea, and whispered his pitch. “Bro, bail me out here. My stream’s already cracking top ten. If I bail now, it’s reports and reprimands—career over. I’m good, just beat. Food and rack time fixes it! No lawsuits if I keel over—I’ll drop a full disclaimer!”
“Contract even? Half this stream’s take, plus all future video cuts yours…” Liu Datie scratched his head. “Only hitch: vid blows up, your spot turns tourist trap. Folks swarming your crib, messing with your peace.”
Chen Ji thought to himself that the guy was praying for exactly that.
Since he’d laid it out, Chen Ji put on a show of reluctance before agreeing. His earlier nudge had been banking on the streamer resting up before returning to Little Azure Mountain for more filming anyway.
Liu Datie lit up like Christmas. He scooped up his phone in a flash. “Fam! Bro says yes to his place!”
{Knew he was DMing someone!}
{Yeah, since when does he hide for pit stops?}
Liu Datie had been a total wuss on the mountain, glued to his phone even for bathroom breaks—upper body cam only, lower stayed off-frame. Survival first!
He rattled off the bullets one by one. His own doing, sure, but verbally? Ironclad denial. “No such thing—you’re slandering me! I’d never!”
“Don’t spread lies! Wasn’t me, didn’t happen!”
Chen Ji tidied up the streamside mess, tossing in the empty self-heating hot pot containers. Liu Datie didn’t clock it at first—Chen Ji wound up in frame as background until the chat called it out.
{Liu Datie, you monster—making a blind dude clean up?}
{You’re blind yourself and still yapping? Get your ass up and help!}
Liu Datie rocketed to his feet, scrambling to assist. Not much left anyway; Chen Ji had most of it handled. Liu Datie just grabbed the backbasket and slung it on, brimming with fake pep. “Full speed to bro’s house—charge!”
{One-hour bros, huh?}
{Shit, feels like bandits storming the blind guy’s pad.}
{Same…}
Chen Ji didn’t mind a bit. Playing proper guide, he knew Liu Datie was pure adrenaline-fueled stream mode. No scenic detours—he just pointed stuff out in passing.
Little Azure Mountain lacked farmstays and roads, but the trees, flowers, and spring wild fruits? Plenty. An hour in, passing a Thornberry Bush, Liu Datie whooped and bolted over to pick. “Ate these nonstop back home—thornberries! Grab the deep purple-black ones; they’re stupid sweet. Reds? Nah, puckering sour!”
He picked and munched with pure bliss, then waved some at Chen Ji. “Bro, you in?”
“No thanks. Go for it,” Chen Ji said.
Truth be told, those two self-heating hot pots had barely touched his hunger, and this hike had him starving again. Eat when you can!
Chen Ji plopped on a nearby rock for a breather. He pictured Xiangxiang popping up from the water topped with weeds, maybe chomping some weird herb, blinking in confusion at the empty bank.
A smile tugged at Chen Ji’s lips. Casually, he unclasped the Jade Jue from his neck and slipped it into his pocket. Right then, instinct pinged—two lines of sight locked on him. Or rather, his gut screamed he was under watch by at least two beings.
One was the Mountain Lord. The other? Probably Xiangxiang.
All at once, Liu Datie went rigid. He glanced down, then up at Chen Ji, voice shaky. “B-bro! …You, uh, know first aid?”
Chen Ji eyed him, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
Liu Datie looked ready to bawl. He’d been happily plucking thornberries when his foot squished something round and soft. One peek down: the fat, beefy tail of a five-step snake!
Deep in the wilds, no less!
His voice quavered. “Y-you guys got snake antivenom around?”
Chen Ji wondered if he’d been bitten. He stepped over and spotted a potent line of power under Liu Datie’s foot—green, perfectly camo’d with the surroundings. No wonder he’d missed it.
Closer inspection? Oh yeah. Old acquaintance… old serpent!
“Fifth Grandpa?” Chen Ji called.
The purple-scaled five-step snake twisted its head toward him with eerie awareness. Chen Ji exhaled in relief and told Liu Datie, “Lift your foot real slow now. I know this snake.”
Liu Datie opened his mouth to question the “knowing” part when Chen Ji fished a vacuum-sealed bag from his pocket: a few golden, crispy roast quails inside.
Leftovers from Xiao Ba’s morning feed—tossed in on impulse. Chen Ji ripped it open. “Fifth Grandpa, my bad. This young guy’s new up the mountain, stepped on you by accident. Don’t hold it against him—I’ll apologize on his behalf… Over here?”
Fifth Grandpa slithered Chen Ji’s way, only to whip back and glare at Liu Datie, who stood frozen mid-stomp. The guy yanked his foot free, lost balance, and thumped onto the grass.
Fifth Grandpa took its sweet time crawling to Chen Ji’s feet. Chen Ji plucked a big leaf, dumped the quails on it, and gave the snake’s head a gentle pat. “Dig in.”
Liu Datie hit the dirt but kept the phone aloft—pro streamer to the core. Chat watched Chen Ji casually stroke that vicious, gorgeous five-step snake as it headed their way. Bullets detonated.
{WTF!!! Dude barehanding a five-step snake!}
{Five-steps are touchable?!}
{Really buds with it?! …Wait, something’s sus!}
Chen Ji offered a hand. Liu Datie grabbed it instinctively and hauled up. Fifth Grandpa stayed low, chowing down slow. Liu Datie gawked. “…Yours?”
“No chance,” Chen Ji said with a smile. “The mountain here’s got pristine habitat—wildlife everywhere, super chill tempers… Run into ’em enough, toss ’em snacks now and then, and they lose the fear.”
Liu Datie flashed a thumbs-up at the camera and immediately warned the live stream viewers, “That was a dangerous stunt—do not try this at home! I’m a local, so if you spot a Five-Step Snake, run for it right away! Don’t even think feeding it will let you make friends and pet it!”
Once he finished speaking, he asked, “So, can we get going now?”
“Yes,” Chen Ji replied. “We’re almost home. Once we get there, I’ll stew some chicken soup for you.”
The unspoken message was clear: enough reckless exploring.
Chen Ji reflected with relief that it was a good thing this had been a familiar snake. If they’d encountered an unknown one, they’d have had no choice but to call forest emergency services.
