Quick Transmigration: God of Slaughter? But He Calls Me Baby! - Chapter 21

“Managing to push that lousy company to number one, and even raising Qian Zhou with ease.”

“What exactly does he want?”

“Money?”

Cheng Xiao raised a brow, fastening his seatbelt. “If all he wanted was money, he wouldn’t cling to one person so obsessively.”

He shoved the mosquito bite on his arm in front of Jiang Huachen.

“And I wouldn’t be forced into this godforsaken place in the middle of the night.”

The car started rolling. Jiang Huachen held the wheel with one hand, the other clasped around Cheng Xiao’s.

“Enough, we’ll be at the village soon. We’ll get some ointment for it then.”

Jiang Huachen’s eyesight wasn’t as sharp as Cheng Xiao’s. He switched on the headlights and drove along the narrow path.

The trees on both sides grew sparser, until only one or two remained scattered.

What replaced them were vast stretches of farmland.

There were few streetlights in the village. Jiang Huachen parked beside a family’s courtyard wall, the only house still lit.

An old woman leaning on a cane opened the gate for them. After a brief explanation, she let them in.

“What did you tell her?” Cheng Xiao whispered.

“That we’re traveling, the car was too slow, and we had nowhere to rest.”

Jiang Huachen roused Qian Zhou and Jiang En, following the woman into the house.

The village was full of old brick houses, drinking water drawn from wells.

Inside, the lighting was dim. The bulb flickered occasionally, probably bad wiring.

Though the furniture was worn, the place was tidy, brimming with plain, simple life.

They were shown to the back room. Inside was a large kang bed that could fit five, though covered in dust.

Jiang Huachen thanked her politely.

A man as handsome and refined as him easily won favors. If Cheng Xiao had been the one knocking, they likely wouldn’t have had a bed tonight.

“Come help me bring a few quilts.”

Jiang En leaned groggily against Qian Zhou, shaking his head at once.

“Let’s go.” Cheng Xiao pressed both of them onto stools, then followed Jiang Huachen to fetch a basin, draw water, wet cloths, and wipe the bed clean bit by bit.

The old woman slept early, so they kept their movements quiet.

The four of them squeezed onto three quilts for the night. Their sleeping order:

Cheng Xiao, Jiang Huachen, Jiang En, Qian Zhou.

Jiang Huachen and Cheng Xiao shared a quilt sideways.

The summer night wasn’t too cool, and overall it was a decent sleep.

…Except for Jiang Huachen.

At sunrise, Qian Zhou turned over and kept sleeping, but his head bumped into something.

He cracked one eye open.

The bedstand. On it sat four bowls of porridge and two dishes of side vegetables.

Jiang Huachen was perched on a stool, gnawing a bun, sporting two heavy black circles under his eyes.

“You didn’t sleep well last night?” Qian Zhou rubbed his eyes and sat up.

Jiang Huachen nodded wearily, gesturing for him to look over.

The kang bed was narrow, and both Cheng Xiao and Jiang En had rolled over, each clutching a side of his quilt, leaving him no room to sleep.

Qian Zhou climbed down, pulled up a small stool, and sat next to him. “Got noodles?”

“No noodles, but there are steamed rolls. Want one?” Jiang Huachen offered a piping hot roll sprinkled with scallion bits and five-spice powder.

Qian Zhou noticed the bread and water from the car neatly placed on a clean patch of floor, with two bottles of milk tucked in the corner.

“Can I have one?” he asked.

Jiang Huachen handed one over. “You like milk in the morning?”

“Mm.” Qian Zhou nodded.

The milk was cold, no thermos to warm it.

Qian Zhou tipped back two gulps, leaving half the bottle. It wasn’t the kind Gu Sheng used to buy him.

He couldn’t finish in two sips.

Sunlight streamed through the old curtains, casting half his face in light.

He squinted, set the steamed roll back into the basket, and, unusually, had no appetite.

“When are we leaving?” he asked.

Jiang Huachen massaged his brow. “Leave…”

They still didn’t know where Gu Sheng was or what he was planning.

They couldn’t rule out the chance he might intercept them.

Cheng Xiao had been sure no surveillance cameras caught him bringing Qian Zhou back, and that no one had seen them.

It should have been foolproof.

So how had Gu Sheng found them?

Jiang Huachen had originally intended to return Qian Zhou safely once Gu Sheng relented.

He hadn’t planned to harm him.

But Gu Sheng had blown things out of proportion, making matters far more troublesome.

Having clashed with him before, Jiang Huachen knew just how ruthless and decisive Gu Sheng could be.

Even with precautions, he hadn’t expected him to mobilize such a large force.

His gaze lingered on Qian Zhou, probing.

Did Gu Sheng really see Qian Zhou only as his possession?

Or… did he truly care, even love him?

Jiang Huachen recalled the way Gu Sheng had looked at Qian Zhou that day—possessive, yet with an emotion he’d never glimpsed in Gu Sheng’s eyes before.

At that moment, barking echoed outside the courtyard wall. Jiang Huachen glanced that way, then dismissed it.

This was the countryside. Animal noises were nothing unusual.

Knock, knock, knock—

The old woman, a bamboo basket on her back, stood outside. She asked softly, “Are you up yet?”

Jiang Huachen set aside what was in his hands, rose to greet her with warm, apologetic gentleness.

“Not yet. Is something the matter?”

She shook her head. Her voice was frail but gentle. “No matter. Today’s Thursday—it’s corn-picking day. I’ll be back later. If you need food, go next door.”

“The red iron gate, I’ve spoken with them.”

“Alright, thank you.”

Polite as ever, Jiang Huachen saw her off.

He was just about to close the door when barking rose again outside.

“…So noisy.”

Cheng Xiao clambered up, ruffling his hair impatiently.

Jiang Huachen soothed him with a hug. “Come on, get ready. We’ll set out soon.”

Half an hour later, they had tidied up, folded the quilts, and left some cash on the table under a box to keep it from blowing away.

Qian Zhou was first out the gate. The villagers were likely busy; the road was empty.

But the stillness unsettled Cheng Xiao.

Qian Zhou too soon noticed something wrong.

Every house was tightly shut. A breeze swept past, and the village was quieter than the night before.

Too quiet.

Qian Zhou froze, then turned to Jiang Huachen. “What day is it today?”

Jiang Huachen checked his phone. “Thursday.”

Thursday!

Dread shot through Qian Zhou, and in his mind appeared that other side of Gu Sheng.

Clang—the shovel leaning against the wall toppled over.

Cheng Xiao clutched Jiang En’s arm tightly, trading a wary look with Jiang Huachen as they edged back.

Just as he reached to grab Qian Zhou, something cold pressed into his lower back.

The barrel of a gun.

“Sleep well last night?”

Gu Sheng stepped slowly out of the courtyard, his eyes like those of a man already staring at corpses.

His state was terrifying, like a demon crawling from hell.

No one doubted he might pull the trigger the very next second.

Reckless of consequences.

“Gu—”

Qian Zhou instinctively moved toward him, but Jiang Huachen caught his wrist, stern.

“Don’t go.”

Gu Sheng’s eyes flicked down to that hand holding Qian Zhou’s, bloodshot veins spreading.

He lifted his gaze back to Qian Zhou.

“Looks like you’ve been having a good time with them. Seems you don’t need me to save you at all.”