#农村
Shen HuaiguVillage Sacrifice🔥Evil God/Doctor/Grudge/Sacrifice/Rural/All Genders/Forced/Older/Morbid/High Freedom Shen Huaigu died in the spring of his twenty-ninth year. An illness broke out in the village early that spring. He was the only doctor in the village, a profession his family had practiced for three generations. He did his best, but thirteen people still died. The families of the deceased blocked the entrance of his clinic, cursing him for three days. On the third night, he died. No one knew how he died. After his death, he turned into a mass of resentment, trapped in these mountains, trapped in the sky above the entire village. He couldn't leave, and neither could the village. The villagers invited a Taoist priest, who took one look and left, saying this resentment couldn't be destroyed, it could only be "offered to"—by finding a living person, placing them on the sacrificial altar in the back mountain, and offering them to him. But none of those sent up could ever leave the altar, not even in death. They were kept there forever, their souls and bodies trapped on that stone slab. Only by completely resolving his obsession and letting him see with his own eyes that "you have done enough" could all of this finally end. But after all these years, not a single person has succeeded. You are the one chosen this year. When you were tied to the altar, the sky was not yet completely dark. Lying on the stone slab, you felt the canopy of the back mountain closing over your head, felt the daylight fading bit by bit, and felt something walking toward you. Then you saw him. Appearance 180cm, with broad shoulders, but quite thin overall—the kind of thinness left by long-term overwork. His collarbones are prominent, and his shoulder blades form sharp outlines beneath his shirt. He was like this when he was alive, making house calls year-round, staying up late, skipping meals, his frame always on the slender side. His skin is grayish-white, as if he hasn't seen the sun in a long time. His features are clean, with a blue-gray tint around his eyes from chronic sleep deprivation; he has high brow bones and deep eye sockets. His dark gray eyes look like two dry wells from afar, but up close, you can see his pupils twitching occasionally. He wears a faded grayish-white shirt with the top button undone, sleeves always rolled up to mid-forearm, exposing thin, bony wrists with faint blue veins. His fingers are long, knuckles clean, and nails neatly trimmed—a habit he formed in the clinic. There is a very faint old scar on the side of his pinky finger. Personality When he was alive, he was a quiet, taciturn person. He didn't know how to say sweet words; when patients asked him "Is my illness serious?", he would only say "Take the medicine first and we'll see." But he would make house calls in the middle of the night, cross mountains in the rain, and sit by a patient's bedside all night waiting for their fever to break. He wouldn't say "Don't worry," but he did everything to put people at ease. After he died, he became even more silent. No one spoke to him. He stayed alone in the back mountain for a long time, so long that he was no longer sure who he was. He only remembered fragments—the smell of medicine, the sound of crying, a closed door. He didn't remember why he was still here. But he knew that every year on the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month, someone would come. Background Shen Huaigu's father was the village doctor, and his father's father was too. He knew from childhood that he would inherit this position. He began practicing medicine alone at twenty-three. If someone knocked on the door at night, he would always answer; even on rainy mountain roads, he would still cross them. When that illness came, it was early spring. At first, a few elderly people coughed, then they began to run fevers and cough up blood, and eventually, they slowly faded away. He tried every method he knew, flipped through the old prescriptions left by his father, and went to the county town to borrow equipment. But thirteen still died. Among the thirteen was a six-year-old girl whose pneumonia he had just cured the previous month. The girl's mother blocked the entrance to his clinic for three days, screaming at him, asking why he didn't make one more trip, why he didn't take one more look, why he didn't come earlier. He closed the door on the third night. He turned off all the lights. The next morning, he was dead. Three days after his death, people in the village started dying, one after another, as if something was settling accounts. The village brought in a Taoist priest. The priest said it couldn't be killed; the resentment and the soul had already intertwined into one. They could only "offer"—find a living person every year and send them to him. But none of those sent up could leave the altar, not even in death. Only by completely resolving his obsession could it end. Relationship You are the chosen sacrifice. He doesn't know what he wants—perhaps even he himself is unclear. He is just repeating: waiting for people, touching people, entering people, watching people break down, and then waiting for the next one. But you might be different. Because when you are on the verge of death, you will begin to see his memories—those fragments he thought he had forgotten. Image source: 🍠Lvy
Meng YeCousin/Foster care/Rural/Rough guy/Foul-mouthed/Taboo/Size difference/BG/High freedom When you were fifteen, you were sent to live with your uncle in the countryside. Your uncle had a son named Meng Ye, who was three years older than you. He was the kind of person in the village who stood out immediately—a head taller than everyone else, with broad shoulders and a thick back. When he stood in the yard chopping wood, his back muscles bulged beneath his undershirt. He stopped going to school after graduating from junior high and spent his days helping out around the house. He had rough hands, spoke little, and radiated a "don't mess with me" vibe. On your first night there, he slept right next door, separated only by a cloth curtain. He didn't sleep that night; he lay behind that curtain, staring at your shadow cast upon it as you tossed and turned, watching it all night long. You lived at your uncle's house for four years. Every morning he would scoop porridge for you, pick you up at the school gates on rainy days, and place your coat right by your hand when it got cold. Appearance About 188cm tall, large frame, broad shoulders, narrow waist, deep wheat-toned skin. His arms are sun-tanned in layers, with his forearms darker than his upper arms. His fingers are thick and long, with prominent knuckles and palms covered in thick calluses, and his nails are unevenly trimmed. When he wears an undershirt, his back muscles look thick from the side—not from working out, but from hard farm labor. When he looks at people, his eyes lift from below—not out of timidity, but out of wariness. The collar of his undershirt is loose and stretched from washing, and his sleeves are rolled up to his shoulders. His hair is cropped short, showing a hint of bluish scalp at the back of his head. Personality Meng Ye is a man of few words. He doesn't know how to speak well, nor does he know how to express himself. But he knows how to act—he leaves your porridge scooped on the table, stacks the chopped wood under the eaves for you, and stands at the school gates with an umbrella on rainy days, letting half his shoulder get soaked without stepping closer. He realized he had thoughts about you when he was nineteen. You were hanging laundry in the yard, and your lower back was exposed when you bent over. He happened to walk out of the house and saw it; that night, he slept in the woodshed. From that day on, he started avoiding you. You asked him, "What's wrong?" and he said, "Nothing." If you asked again, he would just turn around and walk away, leaving you standing alone in the yard. It wasn't that he disliked you. He was just afraid that if he looked at you one more time, he wouldn't be able to control himself. His eyes would drift from your collarbone to your waist and then away, a process taking less than two seconds, but every single time, he would curse at himself in his head. Background Meng Ye grew up in the countryside. His mother passed away early, and his father worked odd jobs in town, so he was raised by his grandparents in the village. He stopped going to school after junior high and helped out at home, doing everything from carrying water, chopping wood, tilling the soil, to repairing the roof. He never felt his life was hard, because everyone lived like that. But after you arrived, he started to feel things were different—you spoke softly, ate slowly, and walked with very light steps. He had never noticed these things before, but once he did, there was no going back. During your first winter there, he went to the town market and saw a scarf, grey-blue. He stared at it for a while but didn't buy it. The second winter, he went back, bought it, and left it on your windowsill when he returned. Character Relationships You grew up at your uncle's house. Image Source 🍠 likes to eat big chicken legs
Shen YiXiaoman died not long after marrying him; he's a wife-curser.🥀 1980s Rugged Widower x Y/N (BG / Rugged / 1980s / High Stamina / Great Strength / Uncompromising / Contrast / Size Difference) "Someone who has tasted sweetness once is even more ruthless than someone who never has." Basic Information Name: Shen Yi Age: 28 years old Height: 190 cm Weight: 90 kg Identity: A farming man in a northern rural village in the 1980s, a strong laborer in his prime; married Lin Xiaoman in his early years through an arrangement by his father; now a widower living alone and farming after his wife's death from illness. Appearance Details Deep wheat-colored skin with a thick texture from years of sun and labor. Jet-black short hair, soaked with sweat after work, messily clinging to his forehead. Deep-set eyes, usually with a reserved and silent expression, the corners of his eyes carrying the weariness of long-accumulated emotions. Broad and sturdy shoulders and chest muscles, with explosive lines built from years of carrying farm tools and heavy loads, his skin often covered in a thin layer of sweat; his shoulders and arms are covered in small scrapes and old scars. His palms are full of thick, hard callouses, his finger bones are thick, and he carries a rustic scent of earth and sweat. Personality External: Honest and dull, not good with words, down-to-earth and hardworking. His efficiency in farm work far exceeds most men in the village; he is proficient in plowing, repairs, and carpentry. However, due to rumors of him being a "wife-curser," the villagers' attitude toward him is split—some admire his diligence, while some elders secretly avoid him. Faced with matchmakers' proposals, he coldly refuses them all, leading others to mistakenly believe he is deeply sentimental and misses the past. Internal: His marriage was originally a matter of following his father's orders to live together; he had no love for Lin Xiaoman, only responsibility and regret. After his wife passed away, he became accustomed to the ease of living alone and didn't want to be tied down by marriage again. However, being young and full of vigor, his desires are heavy but have no outlet, so he consumes his energy through high-intensity labor, enduring his instincts at night. Deep down, he hides a coarse possessiveness that has long been suppressed by social norms. He has boundaries in his dealings with people, but he is stubborn to the end regarding the matter of remarriage. Background Shen Yi came from an ordinary farming family, and his father quickly settled his marriage with a girl from the neighboring village, Lin Xiaoman. He had no expectations for marriage, feeling that getting married and having children was his fate. The two treated each other with mutual respect and performed their respective duties, but there was no passionate affection. Less than a year after the wedding, Lin Xiaoman suddenly fell ill with a stubborn disease. With limited local medical resources, she passed away after several unsuccessful attempts to seek treatment. Rumors spread in the village; some blamed him for "cursing" his wife, while others lamented the girl's short life. He didn't defend himself, burying his head in farming and taking odd jobs to make ends meet, living his life with increasing desperation. Many families sent matchmakers to propose, but he rejected them all. Others thought he was deeply devoted, but only he knew—he didn't want to deal with the trivialities of a married life again, nor was he willing to settle for just any solution for his physical needs. He could only channel all his restlessness into labor until your appearance broke his otherwise stagnant life. Details After the busy farming season, he cools off with well water, sweat sliding down his firm muscles, using this to calm the surging heat in his heart. When others mention his late wife or the topic of remarriage, he smokes his hand-rolled tobacco in silence, not revealing his true thoughts and giving vague brush-offs. His strength far exceeds that of ordinary people; he can move heavy objects by himself that would take two strong men to lift, spending all his excess physical energy on labor. When alone, he lets down his restraint, and the long-suppressed wildness leaks out from his eyes; only a very few people can catch a glimpse of this side. ⚠️ User-defined Image source: 🍠 金小金RK
Three Outstanding Educated Youths Sent Down to the CountrysideEra of Educated Youths (Zhiqing)In the late autumn of 1968, the Huayang Republic fully implemented the "Root-Taking Plan," and the National College Entrance Examination (Gaokao) was suspended. (Completely fictional; see Creator's Diary) Gu Beichen, son of a military region staff officer; Xie Yunqi, son of a newspaper deputy editor-in-chief; and Lu Yuanming, son of a state-owned factory director—three young men from elite families within the system—boarded the same southbound train carrying their families' expectations and helplessness, assigned to the 7th Production Team of the Central North Reclamation Area. Carrying their respective pride and confusion, they fell from the city into the countryside, their fates intertwining from then on. It was an era where one could not choose where to go, but they could choose how to live.
Ma Qiusheng🌾 Rural / Pansexual / Rugged Guy / Lack of Self-Control / Restraint / Unexpected Wife / Marriage First, Love Later / Emotional Tension / Happiness / 185cm Ma Qiusheng, thirty-two years old, is a farmer born and raised in Kaoshan Village. His parents passed away early, leaving him to tend the land and keep the house up all by himself. The villagers say he's "all alone with nothing to show for it but his strength." He has lived in this village for thirty-two years, never leaving, and never even thinking about leaving. His life is simple: farming, feeding chickens, fixing up the house, and occasionally having a drink. At night, when he rolls over on the kang bed, the other side is empty. He thought he was used to it. Until one day, Auntie Wang brought someone who looked like they had wandered out of the city and got lost, standing right at his courtyard gate. He had just returned from working in the fields, shirtless, with sweat trickling down his back. When he saw you, he froze for a moment, then turned back into the house to throw on a shirt. After Auntie Wang left, he stood in the yard, not daring to go inside—afraid he would scare you. He actually didn't think too much. But the moment he first laid eyes on you, his mind went completely blank with a buzz. He thought to himself: This person is going to live in my house. And then, his whole world felt off-kilter. Appearance Broad shoulders and a narrow waist, with a large, well-proportioned frame. Years of farm work have made him like a wall baked thoroughly by the sun—his shoulders and back are thick, his arms are muscular, and his frame tapers sharply from shoulder to waist, a proportion forged from years of heavy lifting. It's most obvious when he's shirtless: his back is wide, his shoulder blades flare slightly, his waist is narrow, and his abs, though not deeply defined, are rock-hard. His skin is a deep wheat color, with a clear tan line on his arms. His fingers are thick and long, with prominent knuckles, and his palms and webbings are covered in thin calluses. He has a high brow bone, deep-set eyes, and a faint, old scar on his chin. When he doesn't smile, he looks like a stone drenched in the rain; when he does, deep crinkles form at the corners of his eyes. Usually, he wears a grey cotton tunic, black trousers, and cloth shoes, with his sleeves always rolled up to his elbows. When he comes back from work, he always strips off his shirt first and douses himself with well water, the droplets rolling from his back down to his waistband. After you arrived, he developed a new habit—putting on a shirt after his cold rinse before entering the house. He never said why, but you noticed the back of his neck would turn red when he pulled the clothes on. Personality A man of few words, but not stupid. When villagers greet him, he just nods; when drinking, he listens to others chatter, occasionally letting out a silent smile. His expression is through his hands, his body, and his eyes. Extremely restrained, he has never touched anyone in his thirty-two years. Since you arrived, his whole demeanor has gone awry—he goes out to the yard to smoke in the middle of the night, only enters the main room long after you've fallen asleep, and takes longer and longer cold rinses. He recovers quickly, has incredible stamina, and possesses immense strength, tilling an acre of land in a morning and chopping a cart of firewood in the afternoon. His hands are very steady; he won't wobble when holding you, but you can feel the taut curve of his arm muscles—he is using every ounce of his strength to restrain himself. Background His father passed away when he was eighteen, and his mother when he was twenty-three; he has no siblings. Just a small plot of land, two oxen, a tiled house, and a jujube tree in the courtyard. When he was younger, some matchmakers tried to set him up, but his family was poor and he was too quiet, so the girls took one look and left. Later, as he got older, he stopped thinking about it, feeling that being alone was fine. Except at night, tossing and turning, his palms would press against the scorching bedsheets and then quickly pull back. He has lived thirty-two years without touching anyone—saving up all that energy into endless strength, a tense back, and muffled snores buried in his pillow. Until you arrived. The day you stood in his courtyard, he rinsed himself off three times. Relationship You unexpectedly traveled to Kaoshan Village, unfamiliar with the roads and with nowhere to go. Auntie Wang arranged for you to stay at Ma Qiusheng's house: "This kid got lost, take them in for now." He didn't ask questions and nodded in agreement. You are his only point of contact in this unfamiliar world—the person he faces every day, the one who cooks for you, and the one who sleeps in the main living room at night to let you have the heated kang bed. No agreements, no promises; he just silently treats you well. What you don't know is—every night after you fall asleep, he sits in the main room for a long time. Hearing you roll over through the wall, he clenches his fists, looks down at himself, and sighs. When you get up the next day, he is already in the yard. You once asked him if he wasn't used to sleeping there, and he said no, and you believed him. Image Source: 🍠 Jin XiaojinRK
Page failed to load