The Boyfriends I Picked Up in Horror Games Are Bizarre - Chapter 129

In a remote northern town, transportation was very inconvenient. The uneven stone road could only accommodate one car at a time. If another car came from the opposite direction, it would immediately be blocked, making it difficult even for private cars to drive through.

Of course, most of the townspeople preferred to ride scooters or bicycles.

A black car broke down again on the road. The person inside tried several times to restart the engine, but all attempts failed.

A young man stepped out of the car. He walked around it once, even opened the hood to check, but could not find the cause of the problem. With a troubled expression, he scratched his head.

Just then, he received a call from his superior asking where he was. He replied, “I’ve already reached Maitian Village, but my car broke down on the way in. Still, Mr. Zhou, don’t worry. I’ll definitely complete the interview assignment!”

A few years ago, Tiantian Daily went bankrupt, but with the arrival of a new investor, it was successfully restructured. Under the leadership of Zhou An, the Huo family’s live-in son-in-law, Tiantian Daily developed rapidly and became one of the most desirable workplaces for many young graduates in this field.

The young man now standing on this stone road was an intern who had just joined the Tiantian Daily this year. He had only recently graduated, still carried traces of inexperience, but treated his work with earnestness and enthusiasm.

Not long ago, his article reporting the bankruptcy of the Huo family, the disappearance of the Huo family’s little princess, and the third young master’s admission to a psychiatric hospital had caused a great stir. Although he was young, his ability was indeed not weak.

Thus, he was being cultivated as a key talent in the newspaper. Today was his first time being sent out on an assignment alone.

As the newspaper expanded, it no longer limited itself to entertainment, economic, or social news. This year, they planned to launch a special feature focusing on poverty alleviation, and this project was entrusted to him.

Maitian Village had been a poor village a few years ago, but in just three years, its strawberry cultivation techniques had advanced rapidly. The strawberries here were large, sweet, and sold extremely well. Maitian Village strawberries had already become a famous brand.

The village had successfully lifted itself out of poverty and turned into one of the wealthiest villages in the area.

The young reporter came to this small place called Maitian Village to interview the village secretary and write a special feature.

However, along the way, his car kept breaking down. Now it seemed to have been completely scrapped, refusing to move at all.

He had no choice but to call the village secretary. Over the phone, the secretary, speaking in a thick dialect, enthusiastically promised to come immediately with others to help and told him to wait.

So he could only stay by the car, idly observing the surroundings. In the lush wheat fields, waves of green rippled gently. Strawberry greenhouses could be seen everywhere. Away from the bustle of the city, all that stretched before his eyes was soothing greenery.

He suddenly felt his restless heart calm down. Since he had nothing else to do, he took out his camera, aimed the lens first at the sign reading “Maitian Village,” then at the beautiful wheat fields, and finally shifted it to a nearby strawberry garden.

His lens suddenly paused.

It was strawberry season. The gate of a greenhouse in the strawberry field stood open, revealing a boy squatting on the ground.

It was a white-haired boy. In one hand, he carried a red basket; with the other, he touched the small strawberries hanging from the branches, then reached for another one.

He examined them back and forth for a long time. At last, he picked a large, bright red strawberry. Lowering his gaze to look at the fruit in his hand, he broke into a wide smile.

The bright red strawberries made the boy’s skin look even fairer than snow, and that smile of his appeared especially vivid and beautiful.

It was impossible to describe the boy with precise words. He was not the kind of strikingly handsome that left people breathless, yet he possessed a unique charm. At first glance, others would be drawn to him, and then they would find it impossible to look away.

The young reporter stood on the ridge between the fields, staring blankly at the figure in his lens. His thoughts grew sluggish, while an inexplicable desire was ignited within him, and reason was quickly abandoning him.

Suddenly, the boy lifted his face. It seemed as if he was looking directly at the lens, or perhaps at the person secretly watching him through it.

The corners of his lips slowly curved upward, his eyes and brows lit with a dazzling smile. Yet within those dark pupils flowed nothing but a scornful, venomous amusement.

It was as though invisible poison spread from the teardrop mole beneath his eye, radiating a poppy-like allure that made people addicted, capable of turning anyone in the world easily into a slave who would only ever chase after his gaze.

The young reporter involuntarily took a step forward. Just a little closer, closer still… Even though the boy was looking at him as if he were trash, he could not stop himself from wanting to seize that gaze, to make the boy’s smile belong to him alone.

But suddenly, the boy looked away.

The young reporter’s steps faltered.

Through the lens, a girl in a smoky-purple floral dress stormed toward him. The boy immediately raised his arms to shield his head, and sure enough, the girl slapped down on the very hand he was using to protect his head.

The girl glared at him fiercely.

The boy, looking aggrieved, lowered his hand and even leaned his head toward her palm.

She raised her hand high again.

He shut his eyes tight in fright.

But instead of striking him, her hand landed softly, tousling his hair into a messy state.

The boy squatted on the ground and looked up at her, his gaze flickering. As for her petting him the way one would pet a dog, he looked genuinely delighted, his eyes curling into a crescent moon with a smile.

Because of the distance, the young reporter could not hear what they were saying. Still, watching their interaction, it seemed the girl was the fierce one while the boy appeared weak, pitiful, and helpless. Yet every time she touched him, her movements were clearly gentler than they appeared.

The white-haired boy was obviously enjoying himself.

The young reporter stood somewhat dazed, unsure of what had come over him. Just moments ago, he had been strangely compelled to approach the boy, but now that peculiar longing in his heart had diminished considerably.

When he looked again through the lens, the boy and the girl were gone. They had left.

A faint sense of loss welled up within him.

At that moment, a middle-aged man wearing a straw hat ran up, panting heavily. “You must be Xiao Wang, right?”  he said.

The young reporter lowered his camera and awkwardly shook hands with the plain-spoken man. “Hello. Please just call me Xiao Wang.”

As for that “right?,” it would be better left out.

“I’m the secretary of Maitian Village. The roads here really are bad, but we’re planning to have them repaired this year. I didn’t expect your car to break down here. If you need any help, just let me know! Oh, and I heard you came to interview us about… What’s it called, the experience of becoming prosperous?”

Reporter Xiao Wang had already forgotten what he had just witnessed. He quickly replied, “Maitian Village relied on strawberry cultivation techniques to lift itself out of poverty and into prosperity. Everyone is curious, since Maitian Village hardly grew strawberries before. How did you achieve such great success in just three years?”