Wen Tian tried to explain that he wasn’t some kind of monster, but the two peony plants genuinely seemed frightened.
No matter what he said, they stubbornly refused to speak again—utterly determined to behave like ordinary flowers.
With no way to communicate with them, Wen Tian stepped outside. Every house in the village had a tree planted near the entrance.
He wanted to figure out whether all plants could talk, or if it was just those two peonies that were special.
The sun was warm and gentle, the branches of the trees swaying lightly in the breeze.
Besides the chatter of playing children and the clucking of chickens and ducks, Wen Tian didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary.
He walked along the entire row of trees in the village, but not a single one made a sound.
Relieved, Wen Tian let out a long breath. So it wasn’t him who was the problem—just those two peonies that had turned into spirits, apparently.
With the tight knot in his chest finally loosened, he made his way back.
Now and then, a villager passing by would greet him out of curiosity, while some playful children trailed behind him from a distance—interested, but not daring to get close.
Wen Tian brought out a small stool and sat at the doorstep, enjoying the sunlight.
He also carried out the two strangely quiet peonies, placing them in the sun. He remembered them saying they liked to bask in the sunlight.
Time moved slowly during such idle moments. Wen Tian felt like he’d been sitting for a long while, but the sun had only just moved from the east to the center of the sky.
The men of the village had probably finished their work for the morning. They returned in groups, carrying their tools, occasionally cracking jokes. Everyone knew everyone.
Wen Tian propped his chin in his hands and studied them seriously.
He had worked the fields in his past life, back when his mother and sister had already passed, and he had nothing to his name.
To survive, he’d labored on a manor’s farm—ten copper coins per acre. It wasn’t much, but the landowner provided breakfast and lunch. That meager job had barely kept him alive.
There had been many others like him on the farm, working just to get by. Back then, Wen Tian had no real will to live, so he didn’t interact with them much.
But sometimes, he did envy them. They were poor, yes, but at least they had family.
Some of the married men had wives who would bring them water at noon—and if the family was a little better off, maybe even a few wild fruits as a treat.
Wen Tian had thought, If only my mother and sister were still alive, someone would be there to bring me water, too.
Lost in these memories, he stared blankly ahead, chin still resting on his hands.
“Gege, what are you looking at?” A scrawny little boy tilted his head, popping up in front of him, trying to follow his line of sight.
Wen Tian blinked and smiled, pointing toward the village kitchen.
“There. The chimney’s smoking. Time for lunch.”
The boy stood on tiptoe to peek at the smoke, then swallowed audibly as something came to mind.
“Monkey! Your mom’s calling you!” another fuzzy little head peeked out from behind a tree and shouted.
“Don’t call me Monkey!” The first boy exploded like a firecracker. He pounced with lightning speed, tackling the other child to the ground.
The two of them instantly devolved into a wrestling match, rolling and flailing in the dirt.
The sudden eruption caught Wen Tian completely off guard. He rushed over, trying to separate them, but the kids were clearly longtime rivals—he couldn’t pull them apart at all.
The one called “Monkey” gained the upper hand, rubbing the other’s face into the dirt before scampering up a tree, making a face at his dusty opponent from above.
The kid on the ground jumped to his feet, stomping and shouting for Monkey to come down.
Monkey, of course, only made more faces and climbed even higher, shaking the branches as he went. Leaves rained down in a noisy shower.
“Oi, my poor old back…”
In the middle of their childish bickering, an aged voice suddenly interjected. Wen Tian froze, eyes locking on the large tree right in front of him.
The tree was still groaning about its back. Nearby, another tree grumbled, “Those two little menaces… they cause trouble every single day. Don’t their parents discipline them at all?”
“They nearly plucked me bald last week,” a younger-sounding tree chimed in.
Wen Tian turned toward the voice and saw a tiny sapling planted right beside the larger tree. It stood only as tall as a person, with just a few lonely leaves on its thin branches.
He looked back at the squabbling children, then around at the adults nearby—no one seemed to care.
After a moment’s thought, Wen Tian fished around in his sleeve and pulled out a handful of wedding candies.
“Alright, that’s enough. Want some candy?” he said, shaking the treats enticingly.
Sure enough, the kid under the tree fell silent, eyes sparkling as he stared at the red-wrapped sweets.
“Yes!”
Wen Tian chuckled, ruffled the boy’s hair, and handed him half the candy.
“Here. But no more fighting, alright?”
The boy beamed, cradled the candies in his hands, and called out a cheerful “Thank you, gege!”
He then waved the treats triumphantly at Monkey up in the tree before running off like he’d struck gold, shouting, “Mama! Mama! I got candy!”
Monkey was stunned. He scooted down the tree a little, eyes fixed longingly on Wen Tian’s hand.
Wen Tian beckoned. Monkey’s face lit up, and he scurried down the tree like lightning.
Wen Tian placed the rest of the candy in his hands, gently patted his head, and said softly, “Go on and play. But try not to be so naughty next time, okay?”
Then he pointed to the tree, now missing quite a few leaves.
“Trees can feel pain too.”
Monkey’s eyes widened slightly. He glanced from the tree to Wen Tian, gave a quick nod, and ran off clutching the candy like treasure.
The big tree behind them swayed slightly, its aged voice muttering in relief, “Finally… my poor old back…”
A few other trees murmured in agreement, then gradually fell silent again.
Compared to the talkative peonies, the trees seemed more reserved, speaking only when truly bothered.
His initial shock had long passed. Now, Wen Tian was simply curious. He studied the trees around him—only he seemed able to hear their voices. Why was that?
He touched the longevity lock hanging from his neck. Its smooth surface had been worn soft by years of handling.
He thought about it for a long while, but couldn’t come up with any real explanation. In the end, he could only chalk it up to divine intervention.
After all, he’d already been given a second life—was being able to understand flowers and trees really that strange?
At lunchtime, Chu Xiangtian came to find Wen Tian.
Xiao Qiao was out today, so Chu Xiangtian had come personally to fetch him.
Wen Tian felt conflicted. Before last night, Chu Xiangtian had always been a fearsome bandit chief in his mind—ruthless and difficult to deal with.
But after what happened, he found the man not quite as terrifying as he had imagined. Still, to actually warm up to him… that didn’t seem appropriate, given their current situation.
Despite Chu Xiangtian’s constant courtesy, the truth remained: one of them was a bandit, and the other, a hostage. If he ever got the chance, Wen Tian would run—without a second thought.
Chu Xiangtian, unaware of the turmoil in Wen Tian’s heart, remained as casual as ever. He had always liked beautiful things, and Wen Tian’s looks suited his tastes perfectly.
When a man sees something he likes, it’s only natural he’d be a bit more indulgent.
“Is your back feeling any better?” he asked.
Only then did Wen Tian realize—yes, the sharp pain from yesterday had faded. He reached around and pressed lightly. There was still a dull ache, but it was far less severe than before.
“It doesn’t hurt much anymore,” he replied.
Chu Xiangtian nodded, and the two walked side by side toward the dining hall.
Along the way, Chu Xiangtian asked offhandedly, “Want to know what’s going on in Sifang Town?”
Wen Tian turned his head slightly, surprised.
“You’d tell me?”
“Why not? It’s not a secret.”
So Chu Xiangtian began telling him what had happened.
After Wen Tian was kidnapped on the road to the West Mountain, the wedding entourage returned to the Wen household.
The marriage was, of course, canceled. The Wen family reported the abduction to the authorities, but Sifang Town was just a small place with limited garrison strength.
It was nearly impossible for them to contend with the bandits of West Mountain on their own.
“Rumor has it your mother’s putting pressure on the Jiao family, trying to get the magistrates from Lehe Town involved too. She wants a joint operation to wipe out the bandits on West Mountain.”
Lehe Town and Sifang Town sat on opposite sides of Qitian Ridge. Either one alone couldn’t take the West Mountain stronghold, but combined forces might do some damage.
Judging from what Wen Tian had seen of the mountain stronghold, a head-on confrontation with two town militias could seriously weaken the bandits.
“You’re not worried?” Wen Tian asked, surprised. Chu Xiangtian sounded like he was discussing someone else’s business—completely unconcerned.
Chu Xiangtian arched a brow, smiling lazily.
But his words were full of audacity: “I’m not afraid they’ll come. I’m afraid they won’t.”
Wen Tian’s hand clenched slightly inside his sleeve. Once again, he was reminded—this man was a real bandit chief, through and through.
He took a deep breath and asked quietly, “Do you still mean what you said yesterday? That you’d grant me one request?”
“Of course,” Chu Xiangtian replied.
Wen Tian hesitated, then ventured cautiously, “Could you send a message to my mother for me?”
It had been two days since his abduction. Who knew how frantic his mother and sister must be at home? On top of that, his father’s true colors had yet to be revealed.
Since his rebirth, nothing had unfolded according to his previous life’s timeline. He couldn’t help but worry that his presence was causing irreversible changes—changes that might harm the people he loved.
Chu Xiangtian didn’t even pause.
“Sending a message is no problem. But whether your mother will believe it—that’s another matter.”
Wen Tian blinked, then realized the truth. From the outside, he was a hostage inside a bandit den.
Even if Chu Xiangtian sent someone with a message, his mother would probably think it was written under duress, and worry even more.
“Will you keep your promise?” Wen Tian asked.
Chu Xiangtian gave him a teasing look.
“You still don’t trust me? Alright then—once this is all over, I’ll personally take you home.”
He deliberately dragged out the last few words, adding a teasing ambiguity to his tone. But Wen Tian wasn’t in the mood for banter.
His mind was still with his mother and sister. He shook his head firmly.
“Just let me off at the foot of the mountain. I’ll make my own way back.”
West Mountain Stronghold wasn’t exactly a reputable place. The last thing he needed was to be seen returning home with a bandit chief.
Chu Xiangtian clicked his tongue in annoyance at the rejection but said no more.
After lunch, Wen Tian returned alone. Chu Xiangtian seemed busy—he was called away halfway through the meal.
Wen Tian vaguely heard mentions of “Lehe Town” and “Sifang Town” and figured it had to do with the joint militia operation.
Life in the stronghold moved slowly and quietly. Wen Tian didn’t see Chu Xiangtian again that day. He wandered the entire mountain village, discovering even more talking plants along the way.
With nothing else to do, he pretended to sunbathe on the grass, while secretly listening in on the chatter of flowers and herbs.
Most of their conversations were about this year’s climate—whether the rains had been sufficient and so on—but scattered among their ramblings were useful bits of information.
For example, they said many people had come up the mountain recently, surrounding the entire area. They also said the newcomers carried torches and were afraid the mountain would be set on fire.
Wen Tian guessed the soldiers had arrived—and had likely camped at the base overnight. With such a massive mobilization, it had to be the combined forces of Lehe and Sifang Towns.
He stood and brushed the grass off his clothes, preparing to find Chu Xiangtian and ask for more details.
But when he returned to Xiao Qiao’s house, Chu Xiangtian was already there waiting.
“What brings the boss here?” Wen Tian asked instinctively.
He nearly followed up with a question about Sifang Town but held it back—he had no reason to know what was happening outside the stronghold.
Chu Xiangtian said, “Your parents have brought the soldiers to the foot of the mountain.”
Wen Tian’s eyelid twitched.
“Oh,” he said, dryly.
Chu Xiangtian gave a sly smile.
“Scared?”
Wen Tian lowered his eyes and stayed silent—a tacit admission.
“Don’t worry. Nothing will happen.” Chu Xiangtian stood up and looked down at him.
“But I do need a little help from you.”
Wen Tian frowned.
“What can I do to help?”
Chu Xiangtian’s expression grew serious.
“Forgive me,” he said—then tied Wen Tian up.
With his hands bound behind his back, Wen Tian struggled uncomfortably.
“What are you doing?!”
Chu Xiangtian undid the tie in Wen Tian’s hair, letting it fall loose and messy.
After examining him with a satisfied nod, he said, “You and Changxi are going outside. Just make sure they see you. That’ll keep them from acting rashly.”
Wen Tian turned to look at him, heart pounding. Whatever trust he’d built up was shattered in an instant.
“You said you’d let me go home.”
Chu Xiangtian laughed, tousled his hair, and said, “Seems like I’ll really have to escort you to the Wen household myself before you believe me.”
“Boss,”
Changxi came in from outside.
“The soldiers are still gathered at the foot of the mountain.”
“Bring out the catapults,” Chu Xiangtian ordered.
“Take Wen Tian outside, let them see him. Once they’ve seen him, bring him back.”
“Got it.” Changxi no longer wore his usual goofy expression. He looked grim, almost menacing, as he nodded and turned to lead Wen Tian out.
***
Changxi escorted Wen Tian out of the stronghold. Once they were outside, his demeanor changed entirely.
With a low apology, he gave Wen Tian a rough shove. Caught off guard, Wen Tian stumbled forward a few steps before regaining his balance, looking thoroughly disheveled.
Changxi’s face was fierce, and his actions were harsh. He grabbed the rope around Wen Tian’s wrists and dragged him along. They stopped near the mouth of the mountain pass.
Ahead was the road leading to the West Mountain—one of Qitian Ridge’s branches. The terrain was steep and flanked by dangerous cliffs on both sides.
Only two paths led in and out: one at the front, and one at the rear.
The back route had been deliberately severed and was only accessible by rope bridge, which the bandits kept withdrawn most of the time—reserved as a retreat path.
The front road, however, connected to the main trail up the mountain. Steep, narrow, and treacherous, it was hard for those above to descend and even harder for outsiders to climb up.
With such a defensible position, the soldiers didn’t dare rush in. The two sides now stood at a standoff at the mountain’s entrance.
Changxi held onto Wen Tian and raised his arm. Behind him, two massive catapults were wheeled out with loud clunks, their heavy wheels pressing deep into the ground and sending tremors through the earth.
Wen Tian’s eyes widened in horror. He struggled violently.
“This isn’t what Chu Xiangtian said—my mother’s down there!”
Although the two sides were separated by a significant distance, Wen Tian immediately spotted Fu Youqin among the soldiers.
He had thought this was just a staged performance—just him helping Chu Xiangtian act. But now they were actually wheeling out real catapults?
West Mountain had the advantage of terrain. If they truly launched an attack, the soldiers below would suffer heavy casualties—and his mother was among them.
His panic turned into full-fledged resistance. He kicked, thrashed, and tried to bolt downhill. But Changxi, far stronger than him, held on tight.
Frightened by Wen Tian’s sudden outburst, Changxi gripped him harder, making sure he couldn’t escape.
Wen Tian kicked with all his might, trying to wrest himself free and dash toward the base of the mountain—but he couldn’t break free.
In the end, Changxi had no choice. Seeing how fiercely Wen Tian resisted, he leaned in and whispered, “Boss only wants to scare them. He’s not really going to fire.”