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When Zhong Cheng stepped out of the room again, his energy had noticeably improved—about seventy to eighty percent restored.

Though he still felt a bit drained, it was no big deal anymore.

His grandparents seemed to be out; the ancestral home was empty except for him.

His phone, which had been at 10% battery, was now completely dead, having shut down silently at some point.

Zhong Cheng decided to visit Tie Niu to borrow a charger. But Tie Niu used an iPhone—would he even have a charger for a domestic Chinese phone?

If not, he’d ask someone else.

(For the record, Grandpa had a phone too, but it was an antique Nokia—the charger wouldn’t fit.)

Leaving the ancestral home, he headed toward Tie Niu’s place.

Along the way, he met a few villagers. Unlike yesterday, they no longer avoided him like the plague and even greeted him first.

Still, their gazes felt odd—scrutinizing him up and down with a hint of curiosity.

Suddenly, a squad of little rascals swarmed over, trying to snatch his phone to play with. Too bad it was dead; they left empty-handed.

He’d arrived at Tie Niu’s house.

Completely different from the dilapidated mud-brick hut in his memory—it had been rebuilt into a two-story red-brick building with a courtyard.

No wonder. Money really did change living conditions.

In Bao Hua Village, a two-story red-brick house with a courtyard basically counted as a mansion.

Zhong Cheng called out twice. Tie Niu responded quickly.

*Creak.*

The courtyard gate opened. Tie Niu stepped out.

For some reason, his gaze was unusually wary. He even stared suspiciously at Zhong Cheng’s shadow behind him—as if something unclean lurked within.

Tie Niu suddenly stepped aside, grabbed a stick, and cautiously poked at the shadow, testing something.

No matter how he poked, it remained an ordinary shadow.

“What are you doing?” Zhong Cheng asked, looking puzzled at his childhood friend’s strange behavior.

“Nothing… Maybe I was mistaken yesterday,” Tie Niu muttered, lost in thought.

Zhong Cheng kept watching him, suspicion deepening. What was he up to?

“What do you need?” Tie Niu asked.

“My phone’s dead. Got a charger for a domestic Chinese phone?” Zhong Cheng said.

“Yeah.”

Tie Niu turned and went inside to fetch it.

Zhong Cheng followed without hesitation, curious to see his friend’s renovated home.

The courtyard held vegetable patches, small ornamental plants, a pebble path, stone tables and benches—all neatly arranged.

A modern impressionistic pastoral vibe.

No surprise—it was an influencer’s yard. Tie Niu probably live-streamed here often.

After crossing into the house, Zhong Cheng glanced around.

Simple—just whitewashed walls—but clean and tidy.

Tie Niu emerged from a room, charger in hand, and passed it over.

Nice!

With this, he could use his phone and survive the mountain village boredom.

“You okay last night?” Tie Niu asked cautiously.

“Fine. Why?” Zhong Cheng replied, confused.

“You look pale. Something must’ve happened,” Tie Niu said hesitantly.

“Stayed up late. Had a nightmare,” Zhong Cheng brushed it off.

That dream had felt too real. But speaking up might spread superstition—and these villagers were already too superstitious. If Tie Niu blabbed, wild rumors would spiral. As a modern youth, debunking myths was his duty.

“What nightmare? Tell me,” Tie Niu pressed, expression grave.

Zhong Cheng hesitated. Tie Niu wasn’t usually this nosy.

Might as well share—it’d ease his mind.

“You actually saw the Ghost Emperor?” Tie Niu gasped, eyes wide.

“Just a dream. So what? We shared a bed. Let me tell you—the Ghost Emperor’s a stunner. *Chef’s kiss* on that figure. Too bad it was a dream… but hey, a pretty solid wet dream.” Zhong Cheng added with a boastful smirk.

(He wasn’t lying—just omitting details.)

Tie Niu stood frozen, face pale, looking utterly shocked.

Overreacting much? It’s just a dream.

“So your tired look… from *ahem*… wearing yourself out with the Ghost Emperor?” Tie Niu asked.

“Something like that. But it was a dream—don’t take it seriously. And don’t spread it. Don’t give the villagers wild ideas,” Zhong Cheng warned.

“Mm-hmm! You know me—I’m Tie Niu! Tight-lipped,” Tie Niu assured, patting his chest.

Zhong Cheng trusted him. He’d always been an honest guy.

Then Tie Niu pulled out his phone and selfie stick—and launched a live stream.

“Ciao~! Villagers! Sorry for the delay—my childhood friend needed a charger. Hope you didn’t wait long!”

“See this guy? Yesterday’s groom! So glad he’s still alive after the canceled wedding.”

“Groom, say hi!”

“Hello…”

“Did you know? Last night, the Ghost Emperor visited him! See how haggard he looks? Rumor says they battled *intensely* in the bridal chamber…”

Zhong Cheng stared, baffled.

Didn’t he just promise not to tell? Now he’s spinning it live, right in front of him—smooth as a corporate keynote.

Tie Niu had changed. Money really did spoil people.

“Relax! Only the stream audience hears this. Villagers won’t know,” Tie Niu said.

A rocket gift popped up—sent by Xiao Yan, with a comment:

[*“Brother Zhong Cheng, you’re not alone! The whole village stands behind you. Stand firm and face the storm! P.S. Please the Ghost Emperor nicely—don’t make her angry, mwah~”*]

“…” Zhong Cheng.

Villagers already knew. And Xiao Yan’s tone? Zero intention of staying quiet.

This would spread across Bao Hua Village in minutes, fueling more superstition.

All because of Tie Niu.

Since Tie Niu was monetizing *his* dream, Zhong Cheng grabbed paper and pen and wrote: *50-50 split.*

Tie Niu shook his head—too much.

Zhong Cheng held firm. The story earned gifts. The broken promise stained their friendship. Compensation had to be substantial.

This wasn’t about small change.

Fifty-fifty. Non-negotiable.

Or friendship over.