“This is a line from ‘Sympathy for the Peasants’…” Zhang Chenze murmured under her breath.
In classical poetry, “sweat drips onto the soil beneath the crops” symbolizes the toil of farmers during the busy season, representing both their hardship and the scorching heat.
“Busy season…?”
Zhang Chenze tried to ignore the buzzing in her ears and focused on the situation at hand.
Since she was “Summer,” she should play this “slip” representing the busy farming season.
After all, “Summer” was too far removed from the Nian Beast. If she wanted to contribute, the best way was to engage in “farm work.”
She stood up, took a few steps forward, and mustered the courage to clear the locusts from the table before placing the slip—”sweat drips onto the soil beneath the crops”—into the designated spot.
At the moment, she couldn’t see what was happening in the other rooms. All she could do was pray she was doing the right thing—otherwise, it wouldn’t be fair to the others.
Just as she let out a sigh of relief and took a step back, preparing to endure the torment in the room a little longer, she suddenly felt a small tear open in the back of her clothes. Instantly, all the locusts swarmed in like invaders, clinging to every inch of her skin.
Yes, locusts didn’t eat humans—but they replaced clothing, covering her entire body.
Zhang Chenze, who had just begun to adjust to sharing a room with a swarm of locusts, broke down again.
She could feel every inch of her skin moving, as if she had merged with the insects.
The locusts writhed, making her skin writhe along with them.
Next door, Su Shan suddenly sensed something strange. She turned her head and saw a surge of light rushing toward Zhang Chenze’s room, colliding in rapid succession.
With each collision, two starkly clear characters rose into the air:
**”Soul Shift”!**
“Could it be…?” Su Shan roughly understood the meaning of these words. They had to be what everyone called an “Echo”—her ability was actually seeing the **names** of Echoes.
Though this transcendent power wasn’t quite what she had imagined, if she could master it, it might still bring tremendous value to the team.
A full ten seconds later, the distant toll of a bell finally sounded, announcing to everyone in the “Land of Finality” that Zhang Chenze had **Echoed**.
“The **Bell**… is slower than me?” Su Shan frowned, feeling like she had grasped a clue.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it—they needed to win this game as soon as possible.
Given the current situation, all four people in the room were “Echoers.” Winning this game would be ideal, but even if they lost, it wouldn’t lead to catastrophic consequences. For that, they probably had the locusts to thank.
“But… what does ‘Soul Shift’ mean?”
Zhang Chenze felt a ringing in her ears, her thoughts clearing slightly. The terror brought on by the insects pressing against her body also lessened somewhat.
Yet she had no idea what was happening outside—her ears were filled with the buzzing of locusts, drowning out everything but the faint tolling of the bell.
She stepped forward and picked up the two remaining slips on the table, holding them in her right hand. The slips read “torrential rain pours down” and “the gentle sun caresses the earth.” They would likely be useful at some point later.
If she didn’t protect these slips, the locusts might claim them again.
After securing the slips, Zhang Chenze crouched back down, carefully attuning herself to the sensation of locusts crawling all over her.
The next moment, a locust landed on her face. Panicked, she grabbed it with her left hand, hesitated briefly, then crushed it in her palm.
“I know it’s unfair to you… but I really can’t stand being touched by you anymore.”
It felt like crushing a raw quail egg—after the fragile shell gave way, a sticky mess coated her hand.
Zhang Chenze gagged and hastily wiped her hand on her pants, but another thought struck her:
If she wanted to move freely in this room, was the only solution to kill as many locusts as possible?
After all, the locusts were just part of the game—not an actual natural disaster, but a symbolic representation. Their numbers couldn’t be endless.
Kill one, and there’d be one fewer.
Before she could devise a strategy for exterminating the locusts, she suddenly felt one of the slips in her right hand twitch.
It was bizarre—just a wooden slip, yet it pulsed in her grip as if it had a heartbeat. The sensation was like holding a live insect.
In a panic, she flung the slip away. Instantly, something strange happened.
The slip inscribed with “the gentle sun caresses the earth” bent against the ground, then rebounded and leapt away.
“What…?”
Zhang Chenze stared blankly as the slip writhed and bounced across the floor like it had a life of its own—like…
A locust.
Had she gone mad?
Had prolonged exposure to the locusts warped her perception so much that she now saw the slips as insects?
As the slip hopped toward her, Zhang Chenze snapped out of her daze and reached to grab it—only for the slip to spring up again, launching straight at her face.
Already crouched low, she reflexively shut her eyes and jerked backward, nearly toppling over.
By the time she steadied herself, the slip had vanished into the sea of locusts on the floor.
“This is bad…”
Though she didn’t understand what had happened, she suspected Di Gou had tampered with the slips.
Maybe each slip contained a hidden mechanism. If she couldn’t retrieve them, the game would only grow harder.
Su Shan, watching from the side, saw it all clearly.
Amid the flickering glow of the locust swarm, Zhang Chenze—now shimmering with light—was chasing after a slip inscribed with words.
Was this the effect of her Echo?
But based solely on this bizarre scene, Su Shan couldn’t discern the nature of Zhang Chenze’s ability. She realized how little she truly knew about Echoes. If she could recall the abilities of a few Echoers, she might have been able to deduce the principle behind Zhang Chenze’s power.
“The second player’s ‘Wish’ has concluded. The third player will now ‘Draw.'”
Lin Qin, clutching her injured forehead, turned her gaze to the table, where a slip slowly rose into view—”fragrant rice blooms herald a bountiful year.”
Across from her, Su Shan forced her eyes open despite the stinging pain and studied the slip.
Now she fully understood the game’s rules.
If she could wish for “no idle land under heaven,” then “Summer” would draw “sweat drips onto the soil beneath the crops.” If “Summer” successfully used this slip, “Autumn” would then draw “fragrant rice blooms herald a bountiful year.”
Whether Summer, Autumn, and Winter could draw these specific slips depended entirely on whether “Spring” had played “no idle land under heaven.” This was a **combined offensive maneuver** requiring everyone’s participation.
Just like in the real world—if there’s no labor in spring, the other seasons can’t magically yield a harvest. The result would only be a **neutral slip**.
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