My stomach twists the moment I step into the yard.
The air is thick with the smell of wet grain and something sharper—fear. The whispers got here before I did, skittering across the dirt like roaches. Everyone is suddenly a master of looking busy. They aren't just giving me space; they're carving out a dead zone. I can feel their eyes on my back, cold and heavy, the way you feel a storm brewing before the first drop of rain hits.
This is bad. This is "torch-and-pitchfork" bad.
I keep my head down, walking straight to the tool rack. I need to look normal. I need to be a girl holding a hoe, not a monster in a dress. I reach for a wooden handle, but a shadow falls over my hands—wide, intrusive, and definitely not Gu Chen's.
"Lin Yue."
Too young. Too cocky. Too much of a dead man walking.
I don't look up. I can't. My heart is already a frantic drum against my ribs.
"You shouldn't be here alone," the voice continues, light and playful, like we're at a festival instead of a crime scene. "People talk, you know?"
I close my eyes, a silent prayer screaming in my head. Don't engage. Don't look. Don't let the fuse light. I straighten up and turn.
His name is Han Shu. Early twenties, broad smile, and that terrifying "I'm-invincible" energy that young men wear before life humbles them. He's leaning against the tool rack, looking at me like I'm a prize he's about to win.
"I'm working," I say. My voice is a jagged edge.
"So am I," he says, his elbow nudging a stack of scythes. "Doesn't mean we can't talk. I'm not like Zhang Wei. Or Liu Qiang."
The yard goes dead silent. The sound of a distant hammer stops.
That was the wrong thing to say. The dead wrong thing.
"That's not funny," I say, my palms turning into ice.
"I'm not joking." He steps closer, into the zone people have been avoiding all morning. He's grinning, eyes flicking around to make sure everyone sees how brave he is. "I don't believe in that crap. Bad luck? Curses? It's just old women's tales to keep pretty girls from wandering."
I look past him and see Gu Chen.
He's by the well, arms crossed, his posture as rigid as a tombstone. He isn't looking at the grain. He's looking at Han Shu's neck, his eyes narrowed with a calculation that makes my blood run cold.
"See?" Han Shu grins, noticing my distraction. "Even the soldier's watching. If I trip, he'll catch me, right?"
He leans in. I can smell the onions on his breath. My throat starts to close up.
"I like you, Lin Yue," he says, his voice dropping to a low, husky register. "You're strong. Different. I've been thinking about it all night."
No. Stop. Please, just shut up.
The ringing in my ears starts—a high-pitched whine that drowns out the world. I take a sharp step back, my heel catching on a stray rope. "Stop. Don't say another word."
Across the yard, Gu Chen moves. It's not a walk; it's a deployment.
"Han Shu," Gu Chen's voice snaps like a whip. "Step away from her."
Han Shu rolls his eyes, looking annoyed. "I'm just talking, Officer. No law against that."
"I said step away. Now."
The tension in the yard is a physical weight. Han Shu scoffs, taking a half-step back, but he keeps his eyes on me, mocking. "See? Everyone's terrified of you. That's why I'm not. I'm the only one who can handle you."
I turn and bolt. I don't think; I just run toward the far end of the yard.
"Lin Yue! Stay where you are!" Gu Chen barks.
The order hits me, but the panic is louder. I don't stop. Han Shu laughs—a bright, stupid sound—and follows me, cutting through the stacks of equipment.
"Hey! Don't be like that! I was just getting to the good part!"
I stop near the heavy pulleys used for the grain elevator. I turn, gasping for air. "Han Shu, listen to me! Stay away! If you value your life, you will get out of this yard right now!"
He reaches out, his hand inches from my shoulder. "You really believe the stories? You're so cute when you're—"
CRACK.
The sound is sudden, violent—like a bone snapping or a lightning strike.
A heavy wooden beam above us groans. The pulley rope, thick as a man's wrist, shreds in an instant. It happens in slow motion: the wooden handle of a heavy hoist swings down like a pendulum of God.
It slams into Han Shu's shoulder.
The sound is sickening—a wet, crunching thud. Han Shu is thrown back, his scream ripped from his lungs. He hits the dirt hard, his arm bent at an angle that arms should never be. Blood begins to bloom through his shirt, dark and fast.
I stumble back, my hands over my mouth. I did this. I tried to stop it and I did this.
Gu Chen is there in seconds. He doesn't look at me. He barks at the villagers. "Clear the area! Get a medic! Now!"
He kneels by Han Shu, his gloved hands firm as he checks the wound. Han Shu is gasping, his face the color of ash. "It... it just fell... I didn't even touch it..."
The crowd is a wall of judging faces now.
"She warned him."
"The third one."
"It's her. It's definitely her."
Gu Chen stands up slowly. He turns to me, and for the first time, his eyes aren't just cold—they're searching. Searching for a weapon I'm not holding.
"What did you say to him?"
"I told him to stay away," I whisper. My legs are shaking so hard I think I'm going to collapse. "I tried to save him."
"And you made it inevitable," Gu Chen says, his voice dangerously low.
He steps into my personal space—the space that just broke a man's bones. He doesn't seem to care. He looks me dead in the eye, and for a split second, I see it. He's not afraid of the curse. He's fascinated by it.
"You disobeyed my order," he says.
"I was trying to help!"
"Help?" He gestures to the blood on the ground. "This is what your 'help' looks like? You're a beacon for disasters, Lin Yue. And you just lit the fire."
People are backing away from us, crossing themselves, pulling their children into the shadows. The fear is palpable, a thick, greasy layer over the village.
"This ends now," Gu Chen says.
"What? You're going to lock me up?"
"I'm going to isolate you," he replies, his voice like iron. "No more warnings. No more conversations. You are to be a ghost in this village until I figure out how to stop the bleeding."
I swallow hard, my chest aching. "And if you can't?"
His gaze sharpens. He leans in, his breath warm against my ear, a ghost of a touch that feels like a threat and a promise all at once.
"Then we confirm that you're exactly what they say you are."
He pulls back, his face a mask of official indifference. "Go home. Now. I'll be right behind you."
I walk away, my heart a lead weight. Han Shu is carried off, groaning, his life ruined but his heart still beating.
The curse didn't kill him.
It just made sure everyone knew I was the one who pulled the trigger.
As I pass the well, I hear a whisper from the shadows.
"It adjusted."
I don't look back. I don't need to. I know who's next.
Because Gu Chen is the only man left who isn't afraid to touch me.