The rice sack slips from my fingers, hits the mud with a dull thud, and nobody moves.
Usually, someone would joke about my weak grip. Someone would help me lift. Today? Nothing. My chest is so tight I can barely draw a full breath, and my fingers won't stop their frantic, rhythmic twitching. Everyone is suddenly very, very busy looking at anything that isn't me.
I straighten up slowly, wiping my palms on my trousers. They're already coated in filth, but the friction feels real. It reminds me I'm still here. The yard smells like parched dust, old sweat, and cooked grain—a heavy, suffocating scent. Normally, this place is a riot of gossip. Today, it's quiet in a way that makes my skin itch.
The whispers follow me like flies on a carcass.
"Bad luck."
"Did you see Liu Qiang's face? Like he'd seen a ghost."
"Two men. So far."
I pretend I'm deaf. I pretend my ears aren't burning and my stomach isn't tied in a Gordian knot. Just lift the bag. Don't look at them. Don't let them see you shake.
I reach for another sack. The woman next to me flinches, stepping back so fast she nearly trips. The space she leaves is a physical wound. A line drawn in the dirt that says: You are not one of us.
Fine. I'll do it myself.
The bag is heavier than it should be. My vision swims—black spots dancing in the sunlight. Don't drop. Dropping gets attention. Dropping means you're weak. I stagger, my muscles screaming, and heave it onto the cart. My arms ache instantly, and a bead of cold sweat tracks down my spine.
"Careful," someone mutters. Not to me. About me. Like I'm a live grenade with a loose pin.
"Lin Yue."
The voice cuts through the yard like a razor through silk. Gu Chen.
My shoulders lock. I don't turn immediately. I can feel him behind me—a solid, immovable wall of authority. The air around him always feels five degrees colder.
"Come with me," he says.
Every head in the yard snaps up. The whispers sharpen into a low hiss. I turn, and there he is, arms crossed over that pristine uniform. He looks like he's about to court-martial the entire world.
"I'm working," I say. My voice sounds smaller than I want it to. A mistake. He hates being told "no."
"You're done," he replies. His eyes don't flicker. He doesn't even look at the supervisor, who is suddenly very interested in a patch of dirt near his boots.
I follow him. I have no choice. The body follows the predator.
We stop behind the storage shed, where the shadows are long and the air smells of rot. He steps into my space, looming so close I have to crane my neck. His shadow swallows me whole.
"Two incidents," he says, his voice a low vibration. "Two men."
"I already told you—"
"Don't." One word. Sharp. Final. It shuts me up faster than a physical blow.
He watches me, waiting for a crack. My breathing is a messy, jagged thing. I try to steady it. I fail.
"People are afraid, Lin Yue. Afraid people do stupid, violent things."
"So what? You want to arrest the wind for whispering?" I snap, my anger finally winning over my fear. "You want to cuff everyone who thinks I'm a curse?"
"I want to understand why you're the epicenter," he says.
"That doesn't mean I'm the cause!"
"I didn't say you were."
"You keep saying that!" I'm shouting now, my heart hammering against my ribs. "But you watch me like you're waiting for the monster to crawl out of my skin."
"Is it about to?" he asks, his voice terrifyingly soft.
The question hits me like a physical weight. Is it? Do I have something inside me that snaps necks and stops hearts?
"No," I whisper. A lie? I don't even know.
I back up until the rough wood of the shed bites into my spine. Gu Chen doesn't stop. He moves with me, relentless.
"You're terrified," he observes.
"I should be! One man is dead, another is dying, and the whole village wants to tie a stone to my neck and throw me in the river!"
"They think you're a curse," he says. "What do you think?"
"I think people are idiots. I think accidents happen. I think—"
"You think you're dangerous," he finishes for me.
My mouth snaps shut. My heart is a frantic drum in my ears. I hate that he can see through me. I hate that he's the only one who isn't running away.
"Stay away from me," I say through gritted teeth. "I mean it. You're making it worse. Every time you drag me away, they talk more. They see you hovering. They see a target."
"Let them," he says.
"I don't want them to! I don't want anyone near me. Not you. Especially not you."
He tilts his head, a predatory curiosity in his eyes. "Why?"
Because I don't want to watch you die. The thought is a scream in my head. Because if the curse is real, you're the only thing keeping me from drowning, and I can't let it take you.
"Because I don't need a babysitter with a gun," I say instead, my voice shaking. "I can handle myself."
"You're lying," he counters. "You lie when you're scared, and right now, you're vibrating."
"Then stop scaring me!" I shove at his chest. It's like hitting a mountain. He doesn't move an inch, but his gaze hardens, his hand catching mine and pinning it against his heart.
"This isn't about your comfort, Lin Yue. It's about control."
"Your control," I spit. "You want to cage me."
"I want to keep the peace," he says, but his grip on my hand lingers just a second too long.
I step forward, right into his chest, forcing him to look down. "Then act like I'm a threat. Stop standing this close. Stop talking to me in the shadows. Because if something happens to you..." My voice breaks. "I won't forgive myself."
For the first time, a flicker of something human crosses his face. Surprise. Maybe a hint of something darker. Then the mask slams back down.
"Don't flatter yourself," he says, his voice like ice. "I don't plan on dying for a girl who can't even lift a grain sack properly."
"Death doesn't ask for permission, Gu Chen."
He straightens, letting go of my hand as if it burned him. The space between us feels arctic.
"From now on," he says, "this is strictly official. No private talks. No leniency."
"Good," I say. Liar.
He turns to go, but I can't help it. I need to know. "If you think I'm a curse, why are you still here?"
He stops. He doesn't turn around. "I don't believe in nonsense. Not love. Not curses. Not destiny."
The words are a punch to the gut.
"Then what do you believe in?"
"Evidence," he says, glancing back over his shoulder. "Patterns. And the choices people make when they're desperate."
He walks away, his boots crunching on the dry earth.
I stand there until the sun starts to bleed into the horizon. When I go back to the yard, the silence is total. I work alone. Nobody comes within ten feet of me.
I catch my reflection in a window. Ominous woman. I look like a stranger.
As I leave, I hear two men whispering by the gate.
"He's still standing," one says, nodding toward Gu Chen's silhouette in the distance.
"That's because he doesn't believe," the other whispers. "The devil can't get in if the door is locked."
My chest tightens. He doesn't believe in love.
That's why he's safe. And that's exactly why he's doomed.