"Set up camp."
"Those on tent duty, pitch the tents."
"Those on cooking duty, cook."
"Quiet."
"Quieter."
Everything was like a mime performance.
Tents were silently raised, and pots and stoves were carefully set up.
Every movement carried a restrained, deliberate gentleness.
No one spoke. Even when they had to communicate, they mostly used looks and gestures.
Yang Fei's tent was soon pitched.
She straightened, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and involuntarily glanced toward the Off-Road Vehicle.
Cao Xianming was cautiously approaching it, bent at the waist like an ancient eunuch attending an emperor, preparing to invite the Man in the Suit out.
"Handsome..."
This time, he was interrupted before he could get the words out.
The Man in the Suit frowned slightly, his expression seemingly one of distaste. "Calling me handsome all the time is a little awkward."
"Just use my real name."
"It seems... you're all used to calling me Corpse Ancestor Jiang Chen."
The folding camp bed in Cao Xianming's hands fell, hitting the ground with a dull thud, but he did not even glance at it.
Jiang Chen.
What did he just say?
Corpse Ancestor Jiang Chen.
It felt as though someone had suddenly poured a bucket of ice water into Cao Xianming's brain, chilling him from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet.
There was, in fact, no figure named Jiang Chen in ancient mythology.
He mainly appeared in movies, television dramas, and certain webnovels invented by later writers. He was a fictional existence.
Yet at this moment, a living, breathing Jiang Chen was sitting before him, asking, "Am I that scary?"
What on earth had happened to this world?
Cao Xianming's worldview was frantically shattering and rebuilding itself.
All those beliefs he had thought unshakable.
In that instant, they