by brawlite
Fandom: 魔道祖师 – 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī – Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Pairing: Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang
Rating: Mature
Wordcount: 21,131
Description: There’s something in the woods outside of their hometown. Xue Yang and Song Lan are going to find it.
Tags: alternate universe, modern setting, horror, ghost hunters, youtube, vlogging, found-footage, camping, jealousy, falling in weird love, nightmares, sleepwalking, hallucinations, nature, eels, owls, paranoia, the fear of being watched, epistolary adjacent, cryptids, ambiguous/open-ending
Published: 2023-12-12
SOMETHING DIFFERENT THIS TIME: old growth forest explore with us (15:43)
53.6K views | posted 1 month ago
“This is Jiangzai and Fuxue coming at you from about, uh, what was it—fifteen miles?— outside of our hometown.”
“Twenty three miles.”
“Twenty three miles outside of our hometown. Do you have to be so anal about everything?”
“It’s called being precise.”
Xue Yang rolls his eyes and smirks — something exasperated, but with a hint of unmistakable fondness right under the surface. There’s a joke there, something shared with anyone who manages to catch it.
“Fine, fine, whatever.” Xue Yang waves a hand at the camera that’s set up on the dashboard that captures the two of them both in a wide-angle shot — Xue Yang sitting in the passenger seat while Song Lan drives. Xue Yang only pauses for a second before plowing on like Song Lan hadn’t corrected him:
“Anyway, we’re about twenty some miles outside of our hometown, which is kinda crazy, since neither of us have been back here in practically forever. Isn’t that right, Fuxue?”
Next to him, Song Lan just grunts. His eyes are trained on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the stick shift. A pair of sunglasses sits on top of his head, ruffling his short-cropped hair ever so slightly, pushing some strands of it clear from his forehead. Almost artfully disheveled.
Opposed to his counterpart sprawled out in the passenger seat, who looks a little unkempt.
“Talkative as always,” Xue Yang says.
And then he laughs, all sharp teeth and dangerous angles.
The video cuts to a view out through the front of the windshield. The car climbs up small roads, alternating between straightaways and switchbacks to cut through the dense forests blanketing old, sloped mountains. The sun is high and the sky is clear and blue above. Midday disappears the shadows that might stretch across the road — instead, there’s nothing — only scenery, only light.
Another cut back to the inside of the car shows Song Lan, focused on the task at hand while Xue Yang munches on snacks in the passenger seat, feet kicked up onto the dash. Occasionally, Song Lan’s gaze drifts to Xue Yang — likely to the position of his feet — and he scowls. But says nothing. Xue Yang grins back at him like he’s won a personal fight.
There’s no music to cover the noise of the car on the road, just the static of the wind whipping past the mirrors and the occasional crunch coming from between Xue Yang’s teeth.
Until Xue Yang starts talking again. “We’ve got a little bit of a different one for you all this time—you’re gonna love it.”
He turns to Song Lan. “Want any sunflower seeds, Fuxue?”
He offers out a salt-dusted hand, palm cupping about twenty-odd seeds visible to the camera.
“Get fucked,” Song Lan says, but there’s no real heat to it. No bite nor venom. His eyes dart off the road for a second, side-eyeing Xue Yang before returning to the stretch ahead of them. “Are you still recording?”
“Yeah,” Xue Yang says. “Why, you feel like cursing me out for eating in your car? I’m sure the viewers wouldn’t mind. They love it when you get all mad.”
Song Lan’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t offer up any further complaints or input, just keeps his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel.
“He’s such a grump, right?” Xue Yang says. “But anyway: I was telling you all about the new project, wasn’t I?”
They climb higher into the mountains until Song Lan pulls them into a leafy, unkempt overlook where loose gravel crunches underneath the wheels of the car. When Xue Yang tumbles himself out of the passenger seat, taking the camera with him, the asphalt beneath his feet is crumbled and broken. Weather-worn.
“Okay, so,” Xue Yang says to the camera. He fiddles with it a bit while humming before it gets snatched away from him and the camerawork becomes smoother, less shaky. Song Lan is typically the one in charge of the camera, and it’s usually readily apparent when Xue Yang is the one behind the lens.
“Control freak,” Xue Yang grumbles, shooting a glare at — or behind — the camera, but it doesn’t deter him long. “Anyway. Now, this is an old growth forest, untouched by logging or industry or whatever—these trees are ancient. It took a long time to drive up here, too. The roads are practically untouched, which is cool as hell.”
The shot pans off of Xue Yang and focuses on the actual overlook: through gaps in the trees, mountains roll and cascade behind them, a thick and green sea of vegetation.
“Everyone’s heard spooky stories about what’s in the woods,” Xue Yang continues, “but these woods are old. So old that the usual ghost stories don’t even begin to cut it. The kinds of shit we’ve heard about this place since we were kids? Makes literal shivers roll down my spine. Brings tears to my eyes.”
Xue Yang laughs a little and the shot pans back to show him, dark eyes keen on the forest, no longer looking at the camera. His profile cuts a sharp silhouette in the midday light.
“So we grew up with all of these tales, yeah? I think that’s also what makes this place so special — it’s probably because of these woods that we started doing this — the whole ghost hunting thing. Without those stories really priming us for the future, who knows where we would’ve ended up?”
Another pan over the scenery, green and lush and sprawling. A view of Xue Yang’s feet crunching loose leaves and gravel beneath their soles. A cut of the sky above, of a group of vultures circling over a space off to the left. Then, back to Xue Yang as he continues speaking.
“So: this is gonna be a little different, yeah? Normally we’re in and out, one and done—and then you get a video out of it. But this time, we’re here for a while. Two whole weeks.” Xue Yang gestures out of frame to the car and the video follows — showing the backseat filled with camping backpacks and an array of equipment clearly evident. “This time, we’re going on a whole journey with you guys. Bringing you with us as we trek into these woods to try and figure out what’s haunting them. Getting down into the root of it all.”
“And don’t worry. We’ve got some wireless boosters and a bunch of batteries, so we should still be able to get videos out to you guys for the couple weeks we’re here. But don’t expect any fancy editing or anything, because while we don’t do that anyway, there’s no way we’re going to be doing that while roughing it out here. You’re going to get what we give you and I promise you’re gonna love it. It’s gonna be great.”
The camera zooms in on Xue Yang’s face, centering on his wide, sharp grin. Behind him, the background blurs and for a moment it’s just him, his smile, and the way that his bright eyes fix right past the camera, almost challenging.
“Right, Fuxue?” Xue Yang asks.
His eyes shine. His grin widens.
“Sure,” Song Lan says from behind the camera. His voice is just a low rumble, but the sarcasm even from the first word is evident. The mild but familiar annoyance that has become a trademark of their channel. “Yeah, it’s going to be something all right.”
Right before the shot cuts off, Xue Yang laughs. Stark and loud. The sound echoes across the rolling hills.
1474 COMMENTS:
@jiangzaifan: Oooooohhhh~~ love the new format ٩(˘◡˘)۶ can’t wait to see what kinds of deities you find in the forest (⊙.⊙(☉̃ₒ☉)⊙.⊙)
@ghostbeliever: Does anyone know where they’re from? This place sounds really cool and I’d love to read more about it!!
RISE AND SHINE: day 1 in an old growth forest (23:04)
40.1K views | posted 1 month ago
A fire crackles in the middle of the shot. Something crunches off to the side, the sound of someone stepping indiscriminately through leaves and sticks, before a camping coffee pot appears in frame and is placed on the coals near the fire. A few sparks fly out at the addition, but quickly settle.
Xue Yang’s face pops into view. He’s all grins as he crouches in front of the camera, his long hair up in a messy bun on the back of his head. His jacket is light, just a black windbreaker, arms pushed up to the sleeves. He looks sleep-rumpled but bright-eyed.
“Did you all know that Fuxue isn’t a morning person?”
The camera is clearly set up on something a couple feet off the ground — getting a good shot of the fire, but rendering Xue Yang far too tall to do anything other than crouch in front of it for the shot. If he moved farther back, past the fire, he could sit comfortably on a nearby log that’s clearly been dragged near to the fire, but instead he chooses to crouch, keeping his voice low.
“I’m sure I’ve mentioned that before, though I guess you guys only ever really see us at night, when we drag you along with us on our hunts.”
Xue Yang yawns and stretches, hands way above his head. He teeters on his toes, but doesn’t fall out of his squat.
“He’s not really a night person either, though. Not like me—I’m both. Fuxue’s just grumpy all the time.”
“Shut up,” comes a voice from out of the frame, followed by the long sound of a zipper — likely from a tent. “Are you vlogging already?”
Xue Yang turns, looking off screen. “You know it.”
He laughs. Song Lan’s ensuing sigh is loud enough to be caught on the microphone. And heard past Xue Yang’s laughter.
Song Lan then steps into the camera’s view — or his legs do, at least. He’s a tall man, something usually evident if there’s ever two of them in a shot standing together. He’s got a few inches on Xue Yang, though Xue Yang often moves around enough that it’s not as obviously evident.
In frame, Song Lan pauses for a moment without speaking — and then he shoves at Xue Yang’s shoulder with his knee, knocking Xue Yang down from his crouch and into the leaves below. Then, Song Lan moves back out of frame, walking back in the direction he came from.
“Rude,” Xue Yang says, though the word is caught up amongst a smattering of surprised and half-affronted laughter.
He punctuates this sentiment by tossing a stick over the camera and in Song Lan’s general direction. It lands with a soft thud amongst the leaf litter, clearly falling short of its intended target.
“If you make a hole in my tent, we’re swapping and you’re sleeping in this one,” Song Lan warns.
“Yeah, yeah.”
There’s a leaf in Xue Yang’s hair. A few more stuck to the side of his coat alongside stray bits of dirt and other debris. He brushes himself off, and then pushes himself to standing and out of view of the camera again.
The video cuts to a closer shot of the fire. Then, of the water in the kettle boiling over, stray splashes of it catching the morning light. To coffee being poured into two enamel mugs. One mug is plain black, the other has been stamped with a stylized UFO and says I want to believe.
Xue Yang grabs that mug. His fingernails are nearly always painted with chipped black paint.
Another cut of the video lands to another view of the fire, with Xue Yang and Song Lan sitting on one side of it, mugs of coffee in hand.
Song Lan looks tired. He yawns and stares at his coffee with a kind of desperate hope before finally taking a sip.
“The viewers are gonna love this,” Xue Yang says. “You look so much more human when you’ve just woken up.”
The glare Song Lan fixes Xue Yang with is a cold one.
“Careful, Fuxue,” Xue Yang says, leaning over toward Song Lan with a wide grin. “You don’t want to look like you hate me too much.”
Song Lan looks away with a frown and Xue Yang laughs.
Silence lingers for a few moments, leaving the viewers with only the sounds of the crackling fire and the wind rustling the nearby leaves. Wordless, Xue Yang and Song Lan drink their coffee until Xue Yang finally tips the reminder of his coffee back and puts his mug down next to his boots. Only then does he look at the camera again, acknowledging the viewers.
“Obviously, this whole thing is kind of a different format than our usual videos. You’ll have to tell us if you like it or not—not that you get much of a choice this time, since we’re already out here and we don’t have good enough signal to actually read your comments—but for future videos, we can obviously keep that in mind. There’s probably going to be more kind of… downtime, maybe, in these videos. Since we’re not really pressed for time. You can see more of us in moments like this, where we’re just—vibing.”
“Vibing?” Song Lan says.
“Shut up. What else do you want to call this little morning routine video?”
“Hell.”
“Ouch.”
“Didn’t you want to tell your ghost stories?” Song Lan asks.
“I sure did,” Xue Yang says.
The remainder of the video is filled with stories from Xue Yang and Song Lan’s childhoods. No two are exactly the same, but most follow similar trajectories:
People travel into the forest. Some lose time, others lose memories. Almost all come out with stories of ghosts darting between the trees. Chasing them, running from them. The stories from campers — those who have spent a considerable amount of time in the forest — are often the most in depth, the scariest. Everyone, no matter the length of time stayed, reports the feeling of being watched. The stories are generally spooky, laced through with themes of paranoia, nightmares, and people feeling like prey. No one ever feels welcome and all of them feel lucky to have gotten out. The ones that did, anyway.
“Anyway, obviously we can’t say the name of where we are, because we don’t want people flocking here, but I’m sure if you did your homework—”
Song Lan reaches over and smacks Xue Yang in the shoulder, tsk-ing at him with a glare.
“I’m just saying—” Xue Yang tries.
“Don’t encourage them,” Song Lan says. “Think of the ecological ramifications. There are so few old growth forests left, and this is one of the more untouched ones. You don’t want to publicize the location.”
Xue Yang laughs. “You would be more worried about the trees than whatever spooky things that reside here.”
Song Lan rolls his eyes.
“It wouldn’t come as a shock to anyone,” Xue Yang says, “that Fuxue here doesn’t believe in any of it. He never does. Not even that time the demon locked him in the room, and—”
“The handle jammed. It was a mechanical failure.”
“Or that time you got scratch marks all down your back.”
“I must have brushed up against something without realizing it.”
“Or the time the door slammed right in your face—”
“It was drafty.”
“It was not drafty. Oh my god. This is what I have to work with. Someone who’s seen undeniable proof that the supernatural exists, who has hours and hours of video evidence, and still abjectly refuses to believe. These conditions are untenable. Practically torture. I should be getting hazard pay, just for having to deal with you.”
“If anything, I have it worse,” Song Lan says.
“Yeah, and why’s that?”
“I have to work with you.”
Xue Yang lunges at Song Lan with a growl and eventually the camera falls during their scuffle. A few seconds of blue sky peeking through summer trees lingers on the screen before it cuts to black.
The next shot is of dirty boots stomping out the coals of a drenched fire and clearing away the evidence of their camp. Their packs are sitting off to the side, fully packed and ready to go.
“There’s not much to see here,” Song Lan says from behind the camera, swiveling the view to look around at the small clearing they’re in.
“Obviously. We’re still too close to the road. To civilization. I think we need to go further in.”
530 COMMENTS:
@sup3rn4tur4l: lol i bet five dollars that one of them strangles the other before theyre done
@55923: Hilarious that they’re pretending to sleep in different tents!! It’s okay, babes, we know……..
@fuxuestan21: Fuxue without coffee is literally me
DAY TWO IN THE OLD GROWTH FOREST: rain rain go away (8:26)
32.9K views | posted 1 month ago
The video opens with the sound of rain on a nylon tent roof and a view of raindrops falling into a large puddle about twenty feet from the camera. The forest is wet, relentless rain leaving all of the branches waterlogged and heavy-hanging. The colors are muted, dull, and dreary. It’s impossible to discern the time of day from the video itself, though the sun’s presence points toward sometime in the afternoon.
The shot lingers for a while, unmoving, before Xue Yang finally speaks.
“Is it possible for it to rain forever?”
“Yes. Scoot over.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault you put your tent on low ground, I’m being nice just sharing with you.”
“Whatever this is, I wouldn’t call it sharing.”
The video itself is shaky, jerky, as the camera whips around to look at Song Lan like an accusatory glare. He’s too zoomed-in at first, just a blurry eye and a frown, and then the shot zooms in to capture him looking unimpressed and just a little damp — and slightly red, given the maroon color of the tent around them both.
Song Lan’s hand reaches out and pushes the camera’s focus away from himself and back out the tent door, where the flap is pulled partially down for Xue Yang to get a clear shot, uninhibited by the door’s mesh.
Silence falls for a while as Xue Yang focuses the camera on different parts of the forest, zooming in to highlight some of the larger puddles around their tent.
“Want to play another round of gin?” Xue Yang asks.
“No.”
“Want some sunflower seeds?”
“No.”
“How long has it been raining?”
“Jiangzai,” Song Lan says. “Shut up. I’m going to take a nap and maybe when I wake up it will have stopped raining.”
“That’s my sleeping bag.”
“You’re not using it.”
Xue Yang huffs and murmurs something under his breath, but the shot cuts out abruptly before he voices any further complaint.
The next shot is dark, no light to guide the view, but the sound of pounding rain is evident.
“It’s still raining,” Xue Yang’s voice says after a long sigh.
“Yeah,” Song Lan agrees from somewhere off to the side.
“Today’s kind of a wash,” Xue Yang says.
“Yeah.”
A mechanical click heralds a flashlight turning on. The beam of the light points out through the tent into the wet forest around them. The view is shaky — likely with Xue Yang holding the camera in one hand and the flashlight in the other.
“Those trees look cool,” Xue Yang murmurs, catching one with the light. Then another. And another.
The trunks are mottled with large and small knots, natural scars that travel up the trunks from where branches were shed many years ago, distorted and barely visible through the sheets of rain.
“Looks a little bit like eyes, watching us. Spooky.”
The video pans around on the trees for a while, moving from one to the next, surveying them with unnaturally bright light through the pouring rain. Some of the knots in the trees are small, some are large. Some look nothing like eyes and some look near picture-perfect. In the washed-out light from the moving flashlight, the footage is eerie and stark, especially as Xue Yang grows quiet, his usual running commentary quieted for the moment.
The video ends with a long shot of nothing but darkness and the sound of rain against the tent’s roof, steady and unrelenting.
“Tomorrow,” Xue Yang says. “We’ll get further in tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
643 COMMENTS:
@spookysh1t: Called it!!! Two different tents my ass…..
↳(reply) @SamK307: tell us you’ve never gone camping in the rain before without telling us you’ve never gone camping in the rain before
@teamsx: AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE SLEEPING BAG???
@JohnDoe0: Why bother recording/uploading this? I wanna see some ghosts, not these two sniping at each other
↳(reply) @sexyghost: OK but why are you even watching these videos, bro?
WE’RE NOT ALONE: a surprise encounter in the old growth forest (18:21)
75.2K views | posted 1 month ago
“So, we know you guys probably haven’t heard from us for a couple days or so, but we’ve really been trying to hoof it into these mountains after our rain delay,” Xue Yang says. “We’ve got a schedule to keep.”
Song Lan has the camera pointed forward — on the forest ahead of them and on slightly Xue Yang, too, who walks about a pace in front of him and a little off to the side. Giving a good view of his profile, when it’s caught past the large backpack on his back. Xue Yang occasionally ducks back to look at the camera while he talks, but there is no path or trail ahead of them, so his eyes stay mostly on the terrain they are trekking through.
“But by now we’ve actually finally made it pretty far in. Nothing spooky so far, just the world’s largest amount of rain—if you can call that supernatural, but now we’re really ready to explore. To really get in here. The vegetation has gotten pretty dense and these trees look so much older than the ones nearer to the road. It totally feels different, too. Sound carries so weirdly here, like the forest is eating up all the sounds—I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere so lush.”
The camera pans around, showing that they’ve made their way up to a ridge and are steadily hiking upward, following the natural path of the forest and the slope of the mountain.
“The rain wasn’t too bad, but it was super boring. Fuxue’s tent got all wet and so we had to let everything dry out before moving on. But our number one goal was making it further in, so we kind of took a break on vlogging for a bit to make that possible. Not that you guys missed much, other than some pretty sunrises and sunsets. And maybe Fuxue looking all kinds of grumpy in the mornings.”
He winks at the camera. Song Lan huffs in clear annoyance.
“So far, we haven’t felt anything weird, though maybe we’ve been too focused on our own thing to really pay attention to anything else, you know?”
Silence falls and the video tracks them climbing slowly upward. The sun is morning-bright and the forest is lush and dense. The trees have gotten thicker and wider and the colors of everything more vibrant as they’ve made their way into the forest. Sunlight streams down between leaves in small patches, though some parts are left dark — the foliage above leaving little opportunity for light to make it down to the forest floor. Some patches are mossy and green, and occasionally Song Lan will come to a stand-still to record footage of a large fallen tree or a particularly interesting patch of fruiting mushrooms. In these moments, there is silence. Just the distant sound of leaves quivering or the occasional twig snapping under one of their shoes as they shift in place.
They continue on for a little while, the footage occasionally cutting to another view of the forest, before resuming again in another part — more of the same but all equally lush and beautiful.
“The first goal,” Xue Yang is saying to the camera as he talks, “is to find a place to set up camp. Somewhere we can stay for a little while and get cozy. Most of the stories we’ve heard have been about campers’ experiences opposed to daytrippers or hikers or whatever.”
Xue Yang continues on: “Obviously, given Fuxue’s first-hand geography lesson on where water goes when it rains, we’re looking for some higher ground. Nothing on a floodplain or in the path of what might become a runoff stream if it starts bucketing again. That wasn’t ideal. Luckily the ground is pretty dry already here, which means we at least won’t be sleeping in a mud pit. Crazy though, right? That it dried up so fast?”
Song Lan points the camera down to the ground ahead of them, to Xue Yang’s feet trekking forward. “Maybe it has something to do with the density of the forest,” Song Lan murmurs.
“Maybe,” Xue Yang says. “Who knows. Maybe it’s something spooky.”
Song Lan huffs — not quite a laugh and not quite annoyed — and they continue on for a while — until they crest over a ridge and Xue Yang suddenly stops in his tracks, putting a hand out to stop Song Lan as well.
“Oh shit,” Xue Yang says, his voice dropping down to a whisper. “Is that–?”
“There’s someone down there,” Song Lan says slowly from behind the camera, voice pitched similarly low to Xue Yang’s. “Wait.”
The shot zooms in on an area below the ridge they’re on, to where there’s a babbling stream cutting through the forest, too far away to hear well. The video zooms in again and gets shakier, but catches on a shock of unnatural white amongst the green and brown of the thick forest.
“Shit,” Xue Yang breathes, clearly now right next to the camera — perhaps even looking at the screen Song Lan is looking at. “There’s someone there. Right there. See?”
Still shaky due to the unstable zoom, the camera tries to focus on the spot of white by the stream bank, which resolves into something that looks like a person amongst the foliage once Song Lan’s hands find the right settings to steady the footage.
“What’s someone doing all the way out here?” Xue Yang whispers.
“We’re all the way out here,” Song Lan says, though the surprise in his voice betrays his attempted sarcasm.
The two of them fall silent as the video continues to hover over the blurry figure by the streambed.
“Well shit,” Xue Yang says. “I guess we could go say hello?”
The video cuts there and a few long seconds of black static follow.
The next clip shows their feet, crunching along the forest floor — two sets of scuffed black boots stepping over rocks, twigs, moss, and leaves.
“Hey,” Xue Yang’s voice sounds out after minutes of walking. He sounds friendly — friendlier than usual. Perhaps his attempt at something resembling manners. “Didn’t think we’d see anyone else out here.”
“Oh, hello!” a voice rings out from the distance, muffled and away from the camera’s microphone but obviously friendly all the same. It’s neither Song Lan or Xue Yang’s voice — more melodic, more light.
“I’m Jiangzai,” Xue Yang says. “And this is Fuxue.”
The camera shifts in Song Lan’s grip as they walk closer to the voice, to the person who had been by the stream
“We’re making a video,” Song Lan says. “Do you mind if we record you?”
There’s a reply, muffled by the sound of their footfalls, but the answer is clear as Song Lan raises the camera to point at this stranger they’ve encountered in the middle of the woods.
The stranger appears to be a man around Song Lan and Xue Yang’s age, with dewey skin, dark eyes, and long black hair that falls casually over his shoulders. When he smiles at the camera — at the two of them and subsequently at the viewers to the channel — he looks amused. And maybe a little kind.
“Are those your real names?” the man asks.
“Huh?” Xue Yang says. He’s still approaching with curiosity, trekking closer to the stream until he’s standing on the opposite bank, halted in his progress by the running, softly babbling water.
The stranger’s smile widens.
“Jiangzai and Fuxue. Are those your real names?”
Xue Yang laughs. “Well, no.” He sounds a little chagrined, maybe a little embarrassed. “I’m actually Xue Yang and this is Song Lan. Jiangzai and Fuxue are our—I don’t know, stage names? Names we use for our videos, anyway. Not that our real names are all that secret anymore, not since we blew up a year or so ago.”
“They certainly aren’t now,” Song Lan mutters from behind the camera.
But it’s true — their real names and identities have been long divulged to their viewers, a matter of public record ever since one of their earlier videos together went viral. A few months later, someone dug up the information on the two of them and their legal names have been a well-known secret after that. They do, however, still use their posting names to refer to each other. Though this is the first time they’ve ever acknowledged it on camera, before.
“Well,” the stranger says, “it’s nice to meet you, Xue Yang and Song Lan. I’m Xiao Xingchen.”
Song Lan finally comes to stand next to Xue Yang, the camera steady as it focuses on Xiao Xingchen.
Dressed in almost all white — in linen pants and a linen shirt — he looks stark among all of the lush green around him. He isn’t wearing any shoes.
“What are you doing all the way out here, Xiao Xingchen?” Xue Yang asks. “Not going to lie, you kind of scared us half to death when we saw you.”
“Did I? Did you think I was a ghost?” Xiao Xingchen asks with a smile. “There are so many ghost stories about this forest, I think I’ve lost track of them all.”
“I don’t think ghosts are supposed to be handsome,” Xue Yang jokes.
Song Lan makes an annoyed noise.
Xiao Xingchen laughs, an amused, light sound.
“Well then it’s a good thing I’m not a ghost. Are you two camping?”
Xue Yang hums. The camera moves to him again and he’s nodding, shrugging his shoulders as if to emphasize the pack on his back. “We’re looking for a good place to set up camp, actually.”
“Why not here? This valley is beautiful,” Xiao Xingchen offers. “Oh—sorry, I don’t mean to presume. Perhaps you were thinking of somewhere further from here.”
Song Lan takes a moment to pan the camera around, off of Xue Yang and to the stream that is separating them from Xiao Xingchen on the other bank. Off either side of the stream are mossy banks that lead to a lush forest floor — more grassy than the rest of the forest they have been trekking through. The trees here are big, old, and tall, but there is less underbrush and more sun — leading to a more verdant, lush background. When Song Lan zooms the camera in, it catches on colors, too; light pinks and yellows and blues — delicate flowers dotting the grassy patches of dappled sun. Ferns hug the shadowed bases of the trees, flowing out and into the thick forest floor like rivulets.
The rocks and boulders that lay along the streambed are coated in moss and lichens, alive in their own right. The water that flows in the stream is crystal clear, not clouded by mud nor sediment, and it shines with the light of the sun from above.
It looks ethereal, here. So green and alive that the previous footage looks dark and dim in comparison, all the colors washed out. Faded.
Off camera, Xue Yang says “No, please presume,” which only makes Xiao Xingchen laugh again.
Song Lan sighs, mumbling something too under his breath for the microphone to catch before he focuses the camera on Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen again.
“You’re right. It’s beautiful here, really—but we were caught in the rain the other night and learned our lesson. I assume you’re camping, were you caught in that?”
“Rain? No, I didn’t notice any rain.”
“Weird,” Xue Yang says, though that gets him to bounce on his toes. Then, he turns to face Song Lan. “Maybe even a little spooky. Right, Fuxue?” His eyebrows raise and he waggles them in a way that makes Song Lan sigh — yet again.
“Sure,” Song Lan says.
Xiao Xingchen chuckles.
“This valley is fucking gorgeous, it really is,” Xue Yang says. “But we’re not looking to get drenched again, so we can’t stay here. I’m not sure Fuxue could handle all of his stuff getting soaked again.”
“It won’t,” Xiao Xingchen promises.
Song Lan hums.
“We could,” Song Lan says. “Camp here, that is.”
“Really,” Xue Yang says, and suddenly he’s frowning at the camera, glaring it down in a way that expresses an incredulity, an almost anger, more serious than his usual jovial affectation.
“Really,” Song Lan says.
Firm, decisive. Xue Yang glares for a moment longer before throwing his hands up in the air.
“Fine! If you get soaked, see if I let you back in my tent again. You’re on your own, Fuxue.”
Xiao Xingchen claps his hands together. His smile is wide and delighted as he beams at the two of them, at the camera in Song Lan’s steady hands. “Great! I’ll help you find the perfect spot.”
The video ends there and after a few seconds of static nothingness it begins again with a shot of a campsite in a clearing, fully set up.
A red tent and a grey tent sit off to one side of the clearing, next to the trunk of a large, towering tree. Other trees circle the clearing, though none are quite as impressive as the first. Some, as with their previously recorded campsite, are the trees gnarled with eye-like knots. Others have darker, thicker bark, with moss growing up the sides. On the other side of the camp is the stream — and in the center of it all, a fire circle with an already-lit fire, encircled by stones, perhaps gathered from the stream.
It is beautiful. Picturesque.
“Anyway,” Xue Yang’s voice says from behind the camera. “Here’s the camp.”
He pans the video around some more, highlighting different areas of their makeshift camp.
The camera fumbles for a moment before turning around, showing Xue Yang’s face — clearly he is holding it out in front of himself, half-awkwardly. His face looks annoyed, eyebrows pressed together in a way that leaves a crease between them, though the effect is lessened by the strands of hair in his face and dirt on his cheek, perhaps evidence of the effort it took to set up camp.
“Fuxue is off with our new friend. They’re fishing, if you’d believe that.”
Xue Yang huffs and kicks at the dirt. The sound of his boot hitting a rock is evident as it thunks off his sole, skitters off a tree trunk, and then rolls through underbrush before falling silent again.
“Fishing,” Xue Yang says. “I never would have bet in a million years that Fuxue would be someone to go fishing, but I guess all it takes is meeting some random guy in the woods for him to become That Guy.”
Xue Yang stops talking for a moment, tilting his head to the side before looking that same way. The faint sound of crunching leaves comes through the microphone, along with the distant murmuring of a couple people conversing.
“Well,” Xue Yang says. “Sounds like they’re back, so this is where I say goodbye. But hey—if they were lucky, at least we’re not eating protein bars for dinner tonight.”
2281 COMMENTS:
@wildexplor3r: Holy shit that’s beautiful. Anyone know where this is?? I would definitely go camping in those woods, ghosts be damned
@fuxuestan21: ….trouble in paradise….?
@bonesandteeth: That Xiao Xingchen guy can get it
EEL TIME (5:03)
30K views | posted 1 month ago
The video is dark. Silence draws long, though there are faint sounds that come through: a breath, the rustle of fabric, the rustle of wind through leaves.
Nothing happens for a long time. A minute of near-nothing and almost-silence.
“Hey,” Xue Yang’s voice whispers finally.
He shifts and the sound of a sleeping bag moving against a tent rings loud through the video’s nothingness.
“So, it’s probably like three in the morning,” Xue Yang whispers, “and I just woke up from a nightmare.
His voice sounds tight, drawn thin and lacking its usual effervescence or edge.
“I don’t usually get nightmares, but fuck,” he says.
There’s a whoof of something falling down onto fabric and a sigh — perhaps Xue Yang flopping down onto his sleeping bag and pad and letting out a breath.
“Shit, I don’t even have anything to say, really, I just—yeah, I didn’t really want to go back to sleep yet. So I figured I’d pull out a camera and talk to you guys.”
His voice is kept low, likely because of the time, because of Song Lan’s nearby tent. There’s no light to speak of, just darkness and the sound of Xue Yang’s whispered voice.
“Our new friend—Xiao Xingchen—left around dusk, after we cooked dinner. Trout, I think. And some sunchokes? Apparently this guy forages because of course he does. Who goes camping wearing linen other than some hippie.” Xue Yang laughs. “He kind of looks like he’s in a cult, you know? If we weren’t in the middle of nowhere, I’d assume he was trying to recruit us.”
Xue Yang lets out another breath, another sigh.
“He cooks a mean fish, though. Not sure where he went back to for his camp, but he said he wasn’t going too far. He’s probably somewhere in this fucking valley, too. Let’s hope it doesn’t rain because we’re definitely going to get washed away if that stream rises—I can’t believe Song Lan agreed to this shit. Immediately, too. He’s normally more practical. Didn’t think he’d get all tied up in knots over a pretty face.”
Xue Yang huffs out a short breath through his nose. Annoyed and tired.
“I think there was an owl,” Xue Yang says. “In my dream. I don’t really remember.”
He’s quiet for a moment and the nighttime sounds of the forest become more evident in the hollow darkness of the video. It’s all loud in its own way: the chirping of crickets, the clicks of katydids, the rustling of leaves in the trees. Without Xue Yang whispering over it, the microphone picks it up clear as day.
“Shit, I really rarely ever have nightmares.”
Another breath.
“I guess I should try and sleep, right?” He fumbles with the camera for a moment before murmuring a quiet “anyway, goodnight,” and then everything cuts out there.
The video picks back up to a shot of bare feet wading along a streambed, through crystal clear water and over tumbled smooth rocks. Bits of quartz and mica glint in the sunlight, sparkling bright for the camera.
“Do not drop that camera in the water,” Song Lan’s voice calls out from somewhere in the vicinity.
“What a worrywart,” Xue Yang grumbles. “Come here and I’ll drop you in the water,” Xue Yang shouts back.
Distantly, there’s laughter — neither Xue Yang’s or Song Lan’s.
The camera — and Xue Yang — turn toward the sound. It takes a moment for Xue Yang to center the video on the figure approaching the streambank, but when he does, Xiao Xingchen comes into focus. He’s wearing similar clothes to the previous day — white linens and no shoes.
“I’d like to see that,” Xiao Xingchen says. His smile is big and bright.
“Yeah?” Xue Yang says after a momentary pause. “You hear that, Fuxue? You should come down here. Xiao Xingchen wants you to.”
Xue Yang’s voice is playful but sharp, sweet with a hint of bite. Next to him, Xiao Xingchen giggles.
“No thank you,” Song Lan says. The camera finds him and zooms in on his skeptical scowl. “I think I like being dry.”
“Your loss,” Xue Yang says.
Xue Yang kicks at the water, attempting to splash Xiao Xingchen on the bank. Only a few drops of water make it, but Xiao Xingchen does nothing to get out of the way, just lets the water hit the bottom of his pants, grinning all the while.
“Would you like company?” Xiao Xinghchen laughs. “Have you found any eels yet?”
“There are eels?”
Xiao Xingchen giggles. “Of course there are eels. They are found in most streams and rivers.”
“Hell yeah, show me? Song Lan, come take the camera. Fuck spooky shit, I want to see the eels!”
The camera is hastily fumbled off and the video cuts off there.
The last shot in the video is a short one, only a few seconds long — it’s just Xue Yang, absolutely drenched and standing in a deeper section of the stream, water up to his mid thigh, holding a squirming eel. He looks triumphant. He doesn’t look tired from his sleepless night, nightmares forgotten for the glee on his face. Xiao Xingchen stands next to him, smiling wide.
The video ends there.
567 COMMENTS:
@fuxuestan21: Something something Freud….
@supernattylite_hunter: Where are the GHOSTS?
↳(reply) @sexyghost: buddy, are you lost? if you’re not here for the homoerotic tension, why are you even here?
THE TRUTH ABOUT OWLS: more nightmares in the old growth forest (45:12)
207.2K views | posted 1 month ago
“Are these videos just going to be vlogs about how I can’t sleep?” Xue Yang’s voice starts. He sounds tired, voice slurred with sleep.
The video is dark again, clearly taken at night after another nightmare.
“I keep having this dream about owls,” Xue Yang says. “You know those weird ones, the ones that kind of look like aliens? Yeah.”
Xue Yang falls silent for a moment before shuffling around on his sleeping bag, the quiet shck of the fabric evidence of his movements until another sound breaks through and makes him freeze in his tracks.
A screech. Loud and shrill and inhuman.
Followed by another.
“What the fuck,” Xue Yang whispers, though the sound is almost too low to pick up.
He doesn’t move. The only sounds are the insects outside the tent, the chirping of the frogs and the wind through the leaves — the normal sounds of the forest.
Thirty seconds of nothing before another screech pierces through the stillness.
“Fuck,” Xue Yang breathes. “It sounds like someone’s screaming. No—something.”
His voice is tight.
Another set of screeches ring out and Xue Yang flinches.
“How the fuck isn’t Song Lan awake? Is he not hearing this?” Xue Yang whispers.
He shakes the camera, evident only in sound, perhaps in frustration. The sound of his breathing is evident, loud and quick near the microphone of the camera.
Xue Yang is quiet for a long time, but finally, no more screaming cuts through the silence.
The video continues on for long minutes of nothing. Just the sound of the forest and Xue Yang’s breathing — though eventually that dwindles in intensity as Xue Yang calms down
“How the fuck am I supposed to go to sleep after that?”
The next clip begins around the fire at their new campsite, the camera set up on something — a stump, perhaps — to show the two of them sitting on logs on the other side of the fire, sipping at two cups of coffee. As with many of their videos, they don’t begin talking immediately, but instead they let the atmosphere play out.
“I heard screaming in the woods.”
“That’s just an owl,” Song Lan says through a yawn over his coffee cup. “I heard it too.”
“What? No. That’s not the sound that owls make,” Xue Yang says.
Song Lan looks at Xue Yang and then huffs out a startled laugh. For a second, he looks almost surprised by his own delight, but quickly takes a sip of coffee and the expression is gone.
“It is one hundred percent what barn owls sound like,” Song Lan says. “Did you think it was supernatural?”
Song Lan raises his eyebrows with an expression of extreme doubt and Xue Yang curses at him under his breath, kicking a rock in his general direction.
“Maybe,” Xue Yang says with a glare. “I keep having dreams about owls, you know? Nightmares.” He hums. “Wait. Barn owls, which ones are those?”
“Flat face, small beak, usually kind of light?”
“The ones that look like aliens?”
Song Lan frowns, considering. Eventually he shrugs, coming to some conclusion about the appearance of barn owls. “Sure, I guess.”
“That’s the kind of owl I keep seeing in my dreams.”
“You probably subconsciously knew it was a barn owl,” Song Lan says. “They’re pretty identifiable.”
“I’m not some kind of biology nerd like you,” Xue Yang says.
He finishes off his coffee, sets down the mug, and then picks up a pine cone to toss into the fire. It crackles, pops, and bursts into flames.
“Hello!” Xiao Xingchen’s voice rings out from close to the camera.
Xue Yang flinches. So does Song Lan. Both of their heads snap toward the camera, to where Xiao Xingchen is clearly standing out of frame.
“Fuck me,” Xue Yang breathes out. “Are you trying to scare us to death?”
“I thought you were out here to be scared?” Xiao Xingchen says, smile evident in his voice.
As he talks, he wanders into frame, until he finally moves to sit down on Song Lan’s log. Xue Yang crosses his arms and kicks out at a twig.
“We’re out here to capture evidence of the supernatural,” Xue Yang says.
“He’s out here to be scared,” Song Lan says. “I’m making sure he doesn’t die.”
“Oh shut up,” Xue Yang says and pulls out a granola bar from his pocket.
He tears into it with his teeth, glaring at Song Lan as he does.
“Why do you pretend to like each other?” Xiao Xingchen asks.
Xue Yang stops chewing.
He looks at Song Lan and frowns. All of the previous ire seems to have fallen off of him, forgotten.
“You mean, why do we pretend to hate each other?” Xue Yang asks after a few careful seconds of silence. “Because the viewers think it’s funny. Right, Fuxue?”
“Right,” Song Lan says. He sounds a little strangled. His posture is stiff, his back ramrod straight.
“No,” Xiao Xingchen says, tone almost as if he’s talking to a child. “Of course you are pretending to hate each other, but in doing so, you are pretending to like each other as well. You don’t. Why pretend at all?”
“I think,” Xue Yang says, “we should stop recording.”
Song Lan walks up to the camera, coffee cup still in hand, and kills the video there.
“These mountains are really old,” Xue Yang is saying to the camera in the next shot. He’s walking up a ridge in dim light, likely dusk given the color and quality of the light. “I’m not sure if we talked about that, yet, but it’s worth mentioning. I know we already talked about how this is an old growth forest, one of the few that’s been untouched, but I’m not sure we talked about the mountains themselves.”
Song Lan is clearly holding the camera, given the steady footage and the framing.
“Xiao Xingchen said we could see a real nice sunset up here, but we might already be too late.”
The ridge they’re climbing up is rocky, steep. The shadows draw long, and Xue Yang stumbles, hissing out a curse.
“Oh my god, this terrain is the worst. We should go back.”
“We might as well try, we’re already almost there,” Song Lan says.
Xue Yang’s composure visibly snaps as he stumbles again and kicks out at a rock.
“How do you know that? Xiao Xingchen gave us the world’s vaguest directions and because he’s a pretty face you just — what, took his word for it?”
“Jiangzai,” Song Lan says.
“No,” Xue Yang growls, “don’t Jiangzai me, I want to know why you just took this random guy’s word for it when we have literally no idea where we’re going. We could be hiking to our death.”
“We aren’t hiking to our death. And you like him, too.”
“He’s fine,” Xue Yang says. “I mean he’s weird and cryptic and probably in a hippie cult and actively trying to recruit us, but he’s fine. I still don’t think we should just follow his directions.”
“You were telling the viewers about the mountains,” Song Lan reminds him.
“Ugh. They’re old, whatever,” Xue Yang snaps, clearly on a different page emotionally than in the beginning of the shot. “They’re all flat and shit because they’re so old, worn away by time. Not as impressive as some of the bigger-name mountains out there, but way, way older. Anyway,” he says. “Want to tell me why he’s not coming with us?”
“I don’t know,” Song Lan says. “I didn’t ask.”
“What, is his agenda full for the evening? His social calendar packed? What possibly could he have to do out here?”
“I didn’t ask.”
Xue Yang parrots the sound back at him, mockingly, but he keeps walking all the same. His back is to Song Lan and his shoulders are squared. Neither of them says anything else.
The video cuts and returns with the two of them on top of a ridge. Xue Yang is silhouetted against brilliant colors of a sunset that peeks over the rolling mountains in the background.
“Well shit,” Xue Yang says, hands on his hips.
“He was right,” Song Lan says.
“Fine, but you aren’t allowed to lord this over me. I don’t want to hear anything about it.”
“Shut up, Xue Yang.”
The camera moves as Song Lan moves to sit down next to Xue Yang. Eventually it comes to rest slightly lower, likely placed in his lap or on the ground in the space between them. The view stays pointed at the sky, at the brilliant watercolor sunset.
The two of them stay quiet. Only the sounds of the forest turning over toward night break the monotony as the sun sets. Eventually, someone cuts the video, but not before the most brilliant of the colors have long since faded.
The next clip is extremely dimly lit. The crunch of leaves, the rustling of fabric, and the shifting of hands on a camera punctuate the darkness.
“Getting back is going to be the worst. Fuck.”
“Shut up, turn your flashlight on.”
“I’m getting to it, hold your horses.” Xue Yang struggles with the flashlight before it finally clicks on and a bright beam illuminates the darkness. “Shit, are you recording? Why?”
“Why not? I thought you wanted to catch something supernatural on camera.”
“Don’t take that tone with me,” Xue Yang hisses. “I also want to get back to camp in one piece. That’s easier if you’re not distracted by the camera.”
“I’m not distracted,” Song Lan says. “Go on, keep walking.”
With a curse and backlit a middle finger flipped in Song Lan’s direction, Xue Yang continues walking forward, flashlight alternating between hitting the ground below them and the path ahead. At this point in the evening, the sun has almost fully set, though some hints of light remain, lingering around the edges of the forest, allowing a passable, if not clear, path forward between the trees.
“Shit, did you see that?” Xue Yang asks, swiveling on his feet to point the beam of his flashlight off to the side. The camera follows, even as Song Lan sighs.
“I didn’t see anything. Watch your feet.”
“You watch your feet.” Xue Yang darts the flashlight around in the same direction before squaring his shoulders and continuing forward. “How do we even know we’re going in the right direction?”
“We are,” Song Lan says.
The walk back to the camp is more of the same. Every once in a while, Xue Yang will pause, throwing the beam of the flashlight in what appears to be an arbitrary direction, searching the forest for something neither Song Lan nor the viewers can see, before continuing on.
Until an owl screeches.
Xue Yang jumps and then scrambles backward until he bumps into Song Lan and the camera, hissing like a scared cat.
“It’s fine,” Song Lan grumbles, fumbling with the camera and Xue Yang, trying to keep him upright and also from running off. “It’s just an owl.”
“Fuck owls,” Xue Yang says and keeps walking.
3427 COMMENTS:
@jiangzaiftw: HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT THING??? If you pause at 15:24 (when they’re hiking up the mountain) on the bottom left corner there’s a blurry white shape that looks like the edge of something larger. The quality isn’t very good but it DOES NOT look natural and it DOES NOT look human.
↳(reply) @bonesandteeth: Omg what the FUCK is that thing?!? They didn’t seem to notice it at all either! HELLO BABES ARE YOU READING THESE? LOOK BACK OVER YOUR FOOTAGE.
▾37 replies
@SongXueTruther: Something even more disturbing than 15:24… at 28:57 I noticed an unusual shadow in the top right. You can’t see it on here well because it’s too dark by that point, but you should be able to see it somewhat if you turn the brightness on your screen all the way up. I took a screengrab and fiddled with the brightness/contrast and there is definitely something really strange out there. At a glance, it almost looks like a deer, but it’s far too tall, and its neck is elongated. Anyone else see what I’m seeing?
↳(reply) @scardy_cat: That is so fucking scary!! I did the same thing – screen grab and then fiddled with the settings – and whatever it is, there is definitely something there.
▾ 82 replies
@fuxuestan21:OK but is no one going to talk about the way that Xiao Xingchen 100% called them out on actually hating each other? I know that’s just one fan theory, that they’re just pretending for the clicks, but, like, uhhh? Outside confirmation?
SLEEPWALKING?: jiangzai’s big night on the town (29:02)
96.9K views | posted 1 month ago
“There’s—a sound.” Song Lan’s voice comes through the speaker at a near-silent whisper. “Someone walking.”
Once again, the video is dark, taken in the middle of the night with no flashlight or lantern to illuminate the surroundings
“I’m in my tent,” Song Lan whispers. “It’s probably about three in the morning. And someone’s walking around outside in our camp.”
Faintly, the camera picks up the sound of leaves crunching, twigs snapping. Faint, but rhythmic.
“It’s probably Jiangzai.”
There’s a moment of quiet, of solitary waiting, before the footsteps get louder and Song Lan takes a breath.
“What the fuck?” he whispers, as the footsteps move purposefully closer to him and the camera, before coming to a stop.
Then, the sound of the tent’s zipper starts with a jolt, loud in the silence of the night.
Song Lan curses again and moves. He drops the camera, which continues to record, and then grabs a flashlight. When the light clicks on, the camera shows half of the tent’s door, half of the floor.
The tent’s zipper continues opening and in the stark light of the flashlight, all of the color is washed out and overexposed. For a moment, Song Lan does not move — but then, as the tent door opens further, his posture relaxes ever so slightly. Xue Yang is there, standing in front of Song Lan’s now open tent door, frozen in an uncomfortable looking half-crouch.
“Jiangzai,” Song Lan says, voice low. “Jiangzai.”
Xue Yang doesn’t flinch, doesn’t respond at all. Song Lan shines the flashlight right at him, though his face is not fully caught in the angle of the camera.
“Jiangzai!” Song Lan says, louder this time, abandoning all pretenses of keeping his voice lowered for the night, his whispers long since abandoned.
Xue Yang moves then — but he does not come awake. Instead, he begins moving forward, stepping into the tent before Song Lan can stop him, though Song Lan protests all the way.
With Xue Yang’s movements, the camera jostles. Xue Yang’s feet are bare and his legs are covered in mud.
“You smell like a swamp,” Song Lan hisses, though Xue Yang then does nothing other than plop himself down in the middle of Song Lan’s tent floor, legs crossed underneath him, gaze staring straight forward with glazed eyes.
“For the love of—Xue Yang,” Song Lan says, grabbing Xue Yang by the shoulders to give him a rough shake. “Wake up.”
Xue Yang jolts. And then he gasps. He sounds, for just a moment, like he’s drowning on land, like he forgot entirely how to breathe.
That only lasts for a second. Soon, he fumbles backwards, shoving himself away from Song Lan and his tight grip, legs flailing. One of his feet kicks the camera and the video goes black.
It is morning. Bright and sunny with blue skies. Only smoldering coals are left on the fire. Song Lan and Xue Yang sit on the same log next to the fire. Song Lan is cleaning one of their vlogging cameras. Another sits in what has become the usual spot, recording them both. It’s sunny again, beautiful and bright.
“I don’t sleepwalk,” Xue Yang says.
“You clearly do.”
“I don’t, though. I never have. I also never have fucking nightmares and I’ve had nightmares every night we’ve been in this forest since that rainstorm, since we made it further in. What about you? How have you been sleeping?”
“Fine, until some idiot let himself into my tent at three in the morning to have a breakdown.”
“You were attacking me!”
“I was trying to wake you up.”
“I was having a fucking nightmare, Song Lan. And you tried shaking me out of it. Pretty sure that’s the opposite of what you’re supposed to do.
“You didn’t look like you were having a nightmare. You were just sitting there, covered in mud. There isn’t mud anywhere around here.”
“I was definitely having a nightmare.”
“About an owl, again?” Song Lan’s tone verges on condescending.
“Oh fuck you,” Xue Yang snaps. “And yes, actually, it was about owls. Plural. There were so many of them, you would have been scared, too.”
Song Lan hums in doubt and Xue Yang glares.
Then, before their argument can continue, both of their heads snap up, gazes falling off camera, presumably at a sound that the microphone doesn’t pick up.
“Hello!” Xiao Xingchen’s voice rings out. The sound of footsteps becomes more clear until he appears on camera.
“Oh thank god you’re here,” Xue Yang says. “Another minute with him and I was going to kill myself.”
Xue Yang pushes himself up from the log and stretches, making a show of it.
“I’m going to go on a hike. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Xue Yang winks at Xiao Xingchen and then begins wandering off.
“Oh,” Xiao Xingchen says with a small frown, before Xue Yang can wander off too far. “I brought you something. I was hoping you’d stay.”
Xue Yang stops dead in his tracks. “You—brought me something?”
“Well, I brought you both something. Sweets, made out of maple sap.”
Xiao Xingchen pulls out a small wooden bowl and offers it out toward Xue Yang, who seems to consider it for about two seconds before rolling his eyes and stalking back toward Xiao Xingchen to snatch the bowl out of his hands.
“Candy? Do I have to share?” Xue Yang asks, looking down at the gifted sweets.
Xiao Xingchen hums. “Well, I would like it if you did.”
“You haven’t even tried them,” Song Lan says.
“Yeah, well they’re mine,” Xue Yang says. He shoves multiple candies in his mouth, pauses, and then his eyes go wide, surprised at first — and then delighted. “Hey, these are good,” he manages through a mumble, mouth full.
“Did I interrupt something?” Xiao Xingchen asks, perhaps sensing the tense atmosphere.
“Jiangzai sleepwalked into my tent last night,” Song Lan says.
Xue Yang makes an affronted noise. “Hey fuck you, that’s private information,” he snarls, though the angry affect is diminished by his full mouth.
“Ah,” Xiao Xingchen says. He sits down next to Song Lan, though his eyes are still on Xue Yang. His tone hovers somewhere between serene and explanatory. “Dreams are one way the restless, subconscious mind finds ways to wander. The veil can be thin in this forest, the pull can be strong.”
Xue Yang makes a face. He swallows. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Song Lan looks at Xiao Xingchen, looking just as lost as Xue Yang.
“What do you see in your dreams, Xue Yang?” Xiao Xingchen asks.
“Owls,” Xue Yang says.
He stands there, between the camera and the two of them, the bowl of candies clutched to his chest.
“And what else?” Xiao Xingchen says.
“Nothing else, just owls.”
Xiao Xingchen hums. “Come here. Sit.”
He scoots over and pats the space between him and Song Lan — not that there’s much of it, but that doesn’t appear to bother him. Xue Yang glowers, eyebrows furrowing, perhaps at the idea of sitting so close to Song Lan and a stranger — but eventually he relents. He takes long, quick strides until he’s standing between the two of them, shoving Song Lan over with his elbows as he plops down in the space that Xiao Xingchen made for him. Song Lan’s face shifts toward a frown, too, but he doesn’t get up.
“I want you to think harder,” Xiao Xingchen says. He reaches out and gently takes the bowl of candy and passes it to Song Lan. Then, he takes Xue Yang’s hands in his own, his fingers delicate and long as they intertwine with Xue Yang’s. “Close your eyes. Tell me what you dream of.”
Xue Yang stares at Xiao Xingchen for a moment, forehead furrowed in what looks like incredulous doubt, before he rolls his eyes and then finally closes them. He looks uncomfortable, back and shoulders stiff, but he does not get up, nor does he pull his hands out of Xiao Xingchen’s grip.
“Uh,” Xue Yang says, voice lower than before, quieter. Typically he pitches his voice for the camera, so much of what they do for an invisible audience, but it appears that he has dropped that, now, disarmed perhaps by Xiao Xingchen’s request. “The forest,” he continues. “I was in the forest and it was dark but not too dark. I could see shapes, shadows, trees.”
“Were you alone?” Xiao Xingchen asks. His voice is quiet, melodic, almost dreamy.
“I think so,” Xue Yang says. “Song Lan wasn’t there. It’s just me. I was on—a path, I think. I wasn’t wearing shoes. The ground beneath my feet was—wet, loamy. Warm, like standing in a patch of sunlight, even though it’s night.”
Xue Yang swallows. He shifts.
“I didn’t feel alone, though. I felt like—I feel like something’s watching me. I—”
He takes a breath.
“Something was definitely watching me. The trees—they were moving all around me, shifting, like they’re alive.”
Song Lan snorts. Xiao Xingchen shushes him. Xue Yang continues.
“There were—eyes, all the way up in the trees. When I looked closer, I could see them. The owls. And when I looked down, to try and get away, to walk away from where I was standing, they were there too, behind the tree trunks, staring at me in the darkness. I wanted to get away, to leave, and when I turned—”
Xue Yang sucks in a breath, almost like he’s reliving the dream, seeing it again for the first time.
“There was something there, something right behind me. Something huge, something dark, something so close I could feel it breathe.”
Xue Yang’s eyes snap open.
“Well,” Xue Yang says, shoving himself abruptly up from the log and brushes his hands off on his pants, stumbling away from Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen. “That’s enough of that.”
His chest is heaving.
“Xue Yang—” Song Lan says.
“Nope! I’m going to go take that hike I was talking about. I’ll see you for dinner?”
“Will you just—” Song Lan starts, but Xiao Xingchen puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Let him go, give him space to stretch his legs in this reality,” Xiao Xingchen says. “I’ll catch us something to eat so you have something warm to come back to.”
Without answer, Xue Yang stalks off.
The video hangs on by a thread, silence stretched between Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen in Xue Yang’s absence, accentuated by his sudden departure.
Song Lan does not move. He just looks off in the direction that Xue Yang walked off in. There’s a slight crease in his forehead and his eyes are narrowed. His leg bounces ever so slightly, leaves crunching beneath his boot.
The sounds of the forest provide a background to their silence for a long spell before Xiao Xingchen finally breaks it by turning to Song Lan and placing a hand on his bouncing knee.
“Perhaps I was wrong,” Xiao Xingchen muses quietly.
“Hm?”
“The way you pretend,” Xiao Xingchen says. “The root of it.”
“Huh?” Song Lan asks, still looking out to the woods. After Xue Yang.
Xiao Xingchen hums. And then he says, “Shall we catch something for dinner?”
Song Lan jolts, ever so slightly, as if startled. Then, he turns and looks at Xiao Xingchen, who is smiling gently at him. Cautiously, Song Lan smiles back.
“Sure,” Song Lan finally says.
He looks thoughtfully at the woods once more before he shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts and then pushes himself up from the log and walks right at the camera. He picks it up, the video dropping to the forest floor, to moss and leaves and grass and dirt.
“I think I had that same dream,” Song Lan mutters under his breath, right before he turns off the video.
2003 COMMENTS:
@2200931: Jiangzai definitely saw the thing from the last video.
@spookysh1t: Did anyone find anything on this vid?? I’ve combed over every frame but I don’t think they captured anything. I wish Fuxue had opened his tent and actually filmed outside…
@fuxuestan21: Did Fuxue say something about having the same dream right at the end there? He was mumbling but it sounded like that’s what he said.
↳(reply) @2200931:I think you’re right, it does sound like that! What do you think that means? Are they sharing dreams? Is something controlling BOTH of their dreams?
▾ 82 replies
@rkxszz: The sleepwalking is super scary. Terrifying entities in the woods or not, it’s SUPER dangerous to be sleepwalking in the middle of the woods… and the mud means he found water, something deeper than that little creek.
WTF: strange occurrences in the old growth forest (27:01)
200.1K views | posted 1 month ago
“They’re out fishing together,” Xue Yang says. “Again.”
He’s belly up, stretched out on his back on a patch of mossy grass, camera set up on the ground next to him, catching him in profile.
Xue Yang looks tired. He taps his fingers against his sternum and sighs.
“It shouldn’t bother me,” Xue Yang says. “Song Lan can do whatever he wants, obviously. It’s just—I don’t know.”
His throat works as he swallows. His eyes dart from one side to the other, looking at something above him, perhaps a circling bird, a vulture. Perhaps something else. The camera only sees Xue Yang — the moss below him and the forest behind him, nothing else.
All around are the sounds of the forest, the crickets loud in the afternoon light. This time the sound of frogs is loud, easily discernible on video, accompanied by birdsong and the gentle breeze.
“It’s stupid,” Xue Yang mumbles.
His fingers drum an imperceptible rhythm against his chest.
He opens his mouth to say something else, to take in a breath — but then the video’s sound cuts out. Or it appears to. Every sound in the forest, the perpetual background to every video they have filmed in the forest, ceases. Except Xue Yang’s breathing is audible, which makes it clear that the camera’s microphone is working fine — it is the forest itself that quieted to absolute silence.
The change is instant and without warning. Eerie.
Xue Yang freezes. He snaps his mouth shut.
And then he sits up slowly, carefully. Even the subtle shift of his clothing sounds loud in the absence of sound. His gaze darts around, clearly trying to get his bearings, to make sure there is no imminent danger. But he sees nothing, hears nothing. His body is held tight as he pushes himself slowly up onto his knees, body held in a crouch — ready to run. To flee.
He continues looking around in the deafening silence of the video. The camera can no longer hear his breaths, but the occasional rustle of fabric as he shifts sounds loud in comparison to the nothingness.
He waits.
And waits.
But nothing happens.
The minutes of the video draw long, seconds ticking past like an eternity, as Xue Yang stands stock still in the middle of the frame, tense and on guard.
And then, slowly, the forest comes back to life.
It begins with the crickets in the distance, the gentle chirp enough to make Xue Yang flinch, but then the other bugs begin as well. The frogs soon join in alongside the birds, and soon everything returns to normal.
The breath Xue Yang takes in is shaky, loud. And then he laughs, loud and for a long time, near hysterical, until his body falls and he lets himself land in a sprawled mess, ass on the moss and legs out long in front of him.
He sits like that for a long time, silent amidst the loudness of the forest, just looking relieved. And exhausted. Camera completely forgotten.
Footsteps herald the approach of someone. Xue Yang immediately turns, whole body, to follow the noise, coiled tight again.
“Hey,” Song Lan’s voice says. “Is Xiao Xingchen here?”
Xue Yang visibly relaxes, shoulders loosening.
“No,” Xue Yang replies. “I thought you were fishing.”
“We were,” Song Lan says. “But we finished a little while ago. We agreed to meet up at our camp—I wanted to check out an area downstream. But when I came back, he wasn’t there. Neither were you.”
“Aw,” Xue Yang says. “Were you worried about me?” His question doesn’t lack the usual bite that it might have. Xue Yang’s posture indicates that he’s clearly still affected by what just happened — his body is tight. And his tone is, too, coiled like a spring.
Song Lan doesn’t say anything. He’s not in the camera’s view, but Xue Yang is, so he sees whatever it is that plays out over Song Lan’s face. And the look Xue Yang gives to Song Lan in reply is almost confused, head tilted to the side in almost surprise.
“Shit, wait, you were worried about me.”
“Shove it,” Song Lan says, though there’s no real venom behind it.
Xue Yang takes a breath. Then lets it out.
“Not going to lie, something really weird just happened,” Xue Yang says through an exhale. “I kinda feel like maybe I was dreaming, I kinda hope I was, but—you could check the footage, if you want.”
Xue Yang doesn’t make a move for the camera. Hesitant. Or perhaps unwilling to check the footage himself.
Out of view of the camera’s shot, Song Lan shifts. He lets out a sigh. And then he moves, settling down at Xue Yang’s side, sitting down cross-legged next to him on the mossy forest floor. Given the angle of the camera, his head doesn’t quite end up in the frame, but most of his body does. He’s positioned close to Xue Yang, knees almost touching Xue Yang’s sprawled legs.
Clearly neither of them are trying to position himself for the video’s best shot.
“Tell me about it,” Song Lan says.
Xue Yang does.
2782 COMMENTS:
@bonesandteeth: What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck
@spookysh1t: I’ve never heard a forest go quiet like that before. That was extremely scary.
↳(reply) @scardy_cat: Could it be a large predator? Like a mountain lion?
@SongXueTruther: Did anyone catch anything visible?? I saw something that looked a bit weird at 7:14 on the far left, but I’m unsure…
@jiangzaiftw: Sorry, that’s a normal deer I think. Nothing spooky.
IT HAPPENED AGAIN: irrefutable evidence (33:49)
184.2K views | posted 1 month ago
“So, he’s not, like, the worst,” Xue Yang says.
He’s holding out the camera in front of him in typical vlog fashion. His tone is bright, cheerful, but his appearance betrays the casual joviality he’s aiming for. There are dark circles under his eyes and his hair looks limp and is tied up messily at the back of his head. He looks worn thin but he’s not letting that stop him from vlogging in the middle of the stream.
“Our new pal, I mean. Not Fuxue, he is the worst. Isn’t that right, Xingchen?”
Xue Yang turns the camera to show that he isn’t alone. Xiao Xingchen looks as he usually does, calmly serene and put together in a peaceful, free sort of way. Caught in the background of the shot, Xiao Xingchen waves.
His pants are rolled up high, as are Xue Yang’s, and the two of them are standing in the middle of the stream, water up to their knees.
“I think Song Zichen is very nice,” Xiao Xingchen says.
Xue Yang gasps at him. The camera goes a little sideways.
“Zichen?” Xue Yang says. “He lets you call him that? Shit, he must be in love.”
Xiao Xingchen laughs politely, something near to a giggle.
“Hush, Yang-er” Xiao Xingchen says. “I thought you were interested in learning how to catch a fish?”
“I’ve caught an eel already. Forget the fish—I’m now way more interested in the fact that Song Lan didn’t murder you for calling him that.”
Xue Yang re-centers the camera. He looks directly at it and makes a face of disgust at it.
“Do you all hear this? The outrage. The betrayal. The fucking audacity,” Xue Yang says. He’s being his usual dramatic self, but there’s a sharp snarl in his voice that doesn’t quite stay hidden. And the joviality doesn’t quite make it to his eyes.
Xiao Xingchen sighs, but when he looks at Xue Yang there is a pleasant fondness to the expression. “Yang-er. Jealousy doesn’t become you.”
Xue Yang startles. He goes a little red in the cheeks. In the tips of his ears.
He turns his head and looks away before grumbling:
“I’m not fucking jealous. I’d never be jealous of Fuxue and I resent the implication.”
“Ah,” Xiao Xingchen says, some sort of understanding dawning on his face. “I don’t think you’re jealous of Song Zichen. I think you’re—”
Xue Yang makes a sound. A strangled, angry sound. His face twists up into something angry, something furious.
“Shut up,” he hisses, pointing at Xiao Xingchen with a ferocity like he wishes his finger were a knife. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
And with that, he stalks away, leaving a quiet Xiao Xingchen in the stream behind him, smiling. The camera shuts off part-way through his trek up the bank and back to their camp.
The video cuts back in at the same location — or a similar one to the viewer, at least.
Xue Yang and Song Lan are sitting at the edge of the stream, legs dangling over one of the banks. The camera is on the opposite side of the stream, catching a good view of the two of them, the burbling water, and the forest behind them. Xiao Xingchen is nowhere to be seen.
The forest is loud around them, alive with the sounds of the evening. The frogs and toads are louder here, close to the water, as are the calls of certain birds. There’s rustling in the underbrush — something small, searching for food.
“I can’t believe you let him call you Zichen,” Xue Yang says.
He’s carving a small twig with a pocket knife in his hands. He doesn’t look at Song Lan when he talks, but he’s certainly not talking to himself.
Song Lan jolts. And then he glares at Xue Yang, his brow creasing in frustration or annoyance.
“I don’t let him do anything,” Song Lan says slowly. “I just shared the name with him when he asked and I haven’t stopped him from using it.”
“You stopped me from using it,” Xue Yang snarls.
Song Lan makes a noise, something clearly annoyed and dissatisfied, but he never gets the chance to start his next sentence. Because, all of a sudden and like before, the forest goes silent. Even the wind seems to cease. The world going quiet, still.
But unlike before, the sound of the stream continues. But without the usual background noise of the forest to accompany it, the quiet babbling sounds strange, foreign. Unnatural.
Xue Yang and Song Lan freeze. Their eyes dart toward each other and their muscles coil tight — perhaps an instinctual reaction to the deadening of all of the sounds around them, something unnatural afoot.
Then, Song Lan leans toward Xue Yang and opens his mouth. “What the fuck,” Song Lan whispers.
Quick as a shot, Xue Yang reaches over and covers Song Lan’s mouth with his own hands, preventing him from saying anything further. He locks eyes with Song Lan for a moment, eyes wide and startled. But Xue Yang only stays like that for a heartbeat before he begins looking around — behind him, to the side, behind Song Lan — eyes darting in every which direction while still covering Song Lan’s mouth and trying not to move.
Song Lan, for his part, stays still. His expression stays mostly hidden behind the press of Xue Yang’s hand, but his eyes are similarly wide and he is visibly straining to hear evidence of anything around them other than the stream. Other than their own breathing.
But neither of their eyes track on anything in particular. Their heads tilt toward no particular sounds.
And then, as quickly as the quiet had begun, it ceases. After about five minutes of nothingness, of absolute soundlessness, the forest awakens anew. The bugs begin first, then the frogs, and soon the birds. Small rodents begin their scurried foraging, roused out of whatever trance or slumber or fear they had been frozen in. And only then do Song Lan and Xue Yang move. Slowly at first, with Xue Yang uncoiling from pressed right up against Song Lan, releasing his mouth from the cover of his hands. And then more, with the two of them twisting this way and that, looking around as if to see if anything else were around them.
Their surroundings seem darker now than before the bout of unexpected quiet, but the afternoon had been on the brink of shifting toward evening, the sun at such a point that mere minutes could be potentially noticeable.
“Well. That was weird,” Song Lan says.
Xue Yang winds up fast. He seems filled with an anxious sort of energy, a restlessness. His hands flail as he talks and he pushes himself up to almost-pace.
“That! That’s exactly what happened the other day! Everything went dead silent and there was nothing.”
“Very strange,” Song Lan says, after a long pause. He appears contemplative. He looks over at the camera like perhaps he’s wishing to review the footage, but doesn’t move from his spot on the opposite streambank.
“Did you feel like you were being watched?” Xue Yang asks.
Song Lan’s brow furrows. “No.” He looks at Xue Yang. “Did you?”
“Hell yeah I did. But I didn’t see anything. Did you?” When Song Lan shakes his head, Xue Yang continues. “Something made everything go quiet. That’s, like, what happens when big predators—”
Song Lan’s eyebrow raises. “A big predator? Not a ghost?”
“Shove it,” Xue Yang says. “This isn’t anything like a haunting. This is real weird shit, Song Lan.”
“It’s not unprecedented.”
Xue Yang spins toward him and hisses, “You just said it was weird.”
“It can just be weird,” Song Lan says. “I don’t think it’s evidence of the supernatural.”
“Oh come on.”
With that, Xue Yang jumps down from his side of the streambank and stalks toward the camera. Once it’s in his hands, the view shifts toward the canopy of tangled branches above and the deep blue sky beyond them — and then the video cuts out.
The video cuts in with another familiar shot of a black screen, though a flashlight’s light quickly turns on. There’s rustling, scuffling, the sound of someone fumbling with something unknown.
“Jiangzai is sleepwalking again,” Song Lan’s voice comes through the camera. “That’s every fucking night for five nights now.” He sounds tired. Sleep-rumpled. “Wake up.”
The camera focuses, finally, on Xue Yang. His eyes are open but entirely unfocused. He’s shirtless and cross-legged on the floor of Song Lan’s tent, covered in mud up to his mid-calves again. There are leaves in his hair. His face looks calm as he looks straight through Song Lan and the camera.
In the background is the familiar screech of an owl, muffled underneath the movement of Song Lan and the shifting of the camera. Underneath that are crickets. And the gentle howl of wind through the towering trees.
“I don’t want to go alone,” Xue Yang slurs. Clearly sleep talking, clearly not yet awake.
Song Lan, however, does not prod him for more information or play along in any way. He reaches out, grabs Xue Yang by the shoulder, and shakes him.
“Xue Yang. Wake up,” Song Lan hisses.
It is evident from his tone that this is not the second time he’s tried this. Nor the fifth. Likely not even the tenth.
Finally, Xue Yang does.
He comes up gasping, sucking in a sharp breath before looking around the tent frantically. Song Lan drops the light of the flashlight from his eyes, allowing him to look around uninhibited, but the camera stays focused on him as he comes back to himself.
Song Lan is the first to speak. “Why the hell are you covered in mud? You smell like a swamp again.” He sounds more awake now. More annoyed.
“I don’t know,” Xue Yang says. His eyes are glazed, dreamy. Not quite finished waking up.
The tent door behind Xue Yang is wide open.
The whites of Xue Yang’s eyes are brilliant as he looks at Song Lan, bright. He offers up nothing more, none of his usual talking to fill up the conversational space. He just stares at Song Lan, looking a little lost and a lot exhausted.
“You should get cleaned up,” Song Lan finally says.
“Yeah,” Xue Yang mumbles.
He doesn’t make a move to get up. Song Lan doesn’t say anything else for a long while, though he does shift on his feet, panning the camera over Xue Yang, cataloging the general state of him and that of the floor of the tent: a muddy disaster.
Finally, Song Lan offers him a hand. Xue Yang looks at it for a long moment, then takes it. Soon, the camera switches off.
The video comes back on to the two of them at the stream, too dark to see much around them other than blackness. For a moment, the camera focuses on Xue Yang, wading into a deeper part of the stream, lit by the faint light of a lantern that is balancing on a large protruding rock in the middle of the stream. Then, the camera pans off of him again, giving him space or privacy to clean himself off. He doesn’t point to anything in particular — just away from Xue Yang. Toward the forest and halfway toward the sky.
“You said something,” Song Lan says.
“Yeah?”
There’s the sound of splashing in a stream. The chirp of crickets. The sound of wind through leaves.
“While you were sleepwalking. You said something. Do you remember?”
“Not even a little bit,” Xue Yang says. “Not even a single fucked-up alien owl.” He laughs, just a little bit. A quiet chuckle accompanied by another gentle splash.
“You said you didn’t want to go alone,” Song Lan says. “Do you know what that meant?”
Xue Yang pauses. The only sound is that of the stream. The camera shifts, but whatever is in its view is indecipherable. Dark, just tree branches and the night sky.
“No,” Xue Yang says, contemplative. Thoughtful. “I have no goddamn clue.”
In the distance, a barn owl screams.
1762 COMMENTS:
@SongXueTruther: 16:21 there is literally something in the background RIGHT BETWEEN THEM when they’re sitting by the creek, before Jiangzai gags Fuxue.
↳ (reply) @spookysh1t: The perspective in this video is oddly distorted… I can’t tell if that’s something quite close to them, or something huge in the distance.
▾ 82 replies
@ghostbeliever: Okay but spooky forest demon or not Jiangzai is going to walk off of a cliff. Are they just going to keep filming until he dies?? I doubt they could even get a helicopter out there to get them if he gets really hurt.
GAME PLAN: gopro time (8:29)
52.8K views | posted 3 weeks ago
“This is just so fucking stupid,” Xue Yang snarls.
He’s talking to the camera, holding it out in front of himself with shaky hands.
The circles under his eyes are dark, near purple and creased. His hair looks matted, dirty and disheveled. His eyes gleam with a manic brightness, a feral intensity saved only for his most passionate of ghost hunting videos — though this series of videos has been anything but close to their usual hunting content.
“We haven’t seen fucking squat,” Xue Yang is saying. “We’ve been out here for over a week and we’ve got literally nothing to show for it except for a bunch of dirty clothes and a sleep deficit.”
The camera’s angle shifts as he sits down, back up against a tree trunk — one of the lighter colored ones with knots that look like eyes. He tilts his head back against it and closes his own eyes for a long moment, breathing out a sigh of frustration and exhaustion before opening them again.
“Fuxue’s out again with our new pal. Of course. Fishing or whatever.”
Xue Yang hums. “Actually, You know what’s spooky? Maybe the only spooky thing that’s actually happened in the however-many days we’ve been out here? Fuxue hates new people. Loathes meeting them. It takes a million years for him to warm up to anyone. Like, I’ve known him since high school and still hates me. And yet, Xiao Xingchen? They’re best buddies. Fuxue just can’t get enough of him.”
Xue Yang picks up a rock and lobs it at a nearby tree trunk. It hits the trunk and then the ground with an audible thwop. Right into a pile of leaves.
“That’s spooky as fuck, if you ask me.” He laughs, words jovial and tone joking.
He curses and picks up another rock. He doesn’t throw this one, though, just tosses it up and catches it viciously out of the air, again and again.
“I hate wasting my time,” Xue Yang muses. “I mean, it also wastes your time, because you’re watching these videos, but honestly—I don’t care about that; I’m not nice. I know it, you know it, Fuxue sure knows it. I don’t like wasting my time. And this has been a massive waste of time. The only thing concrete—which isn’t even concrete—is that I’ve had nightmares every night we’ve been deep in this fucking forest, which isn’t something that happens to me. But that could be anything, you know? It’s not proof, it’s not evidence. It’s just me, getting mud all over Fuxue’s tent to have him yell at me again. Shit, I’m so tired.”
He closes his eyes again and bonks his head against the trunk of the tree, as if that might prompt himself into thinking. Like it could knock something loose.
And maybe it works, because after a moment, his eyes snap open and he looks at the camera, nearly manic.
“Mud,” Xue Yang says. “I’m always covered in mud. We’ve hiked pretty much everywhere around and there’s not mud anywhere near here. It hasn’t rained since that first big storm. So—where the fuck am I getting covered in mud?”
The rock in his hand gets pelted into the forest.
“We’ve got to have a GoPro somewhere. Fuxue’s probably got one stashed at the bottom of one of his packs. The footage from them isn’t great, but it’s better than nothing. Shit. This is good. Maybe this is something. Maybe we’ll finally get somewhere.”
The video ends and then begins again with Song Lan digging through one of his bags. Xue Yang is clearly holding the camera, watching him and bouncing on his toes — if the movement of the camera is anything to go by.
“Come onnn,” Xue Yang is saying, though Song Lan seems neither empowered nor bolstered by the words. And certainly not inclined to search faster.
“I don’t understand why you’re so adamant about this, anyway,” Song Lan says. “You’re just wandering around in circles and then waking me up.”
“Why am I muddy?” Xue Yang asks. “Why do I always come back muddy and we can never find any mud? You said so yourself!”
“I shouldn’t have,” Song Lan mutters, though he’s still digging through his bag, going through the outer pockets, now. “Wherever it is, it probably dries up by morning. Dew or something.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Xue Yang hisses. “Look, aren’t you even a little curious about where I go when I sleepwalk?”
“Not particularly,” Song Lan grumbles.
But he finally pulls something out from his bag, victorious. He holds it up to Xue Yang and the main camera.
“This is for science, Fuxue,” Xue Yang says.
“Oh,” Song Lan says, rolling his eyes with sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Well, if it’s for science.”
Xue Yang curses, steps closer, snatches the GoPro out of Song Lan’s hand. And then he kills the video right there.
661 COMMENTS:
@scardy_cat: What IS the deal with that other guy, anyway?? Maybe Jiangzai has a point. Like. Where does he even GO? Where is his camp? It IS weird that Fuxue is always off fucking around with that guy. Like, hello, this is your job??
↳(reply) @ghostsRreal: I think they’re just straight up fucking lol
↳(reply) @disbeliever11: that dude is hot, though. he can GET IT
@98765_no: Super excited for the gopro. I wanna know where Jiangzai goes at night.
BODYCAM FOOTAGE: i sleep-walked and found a lake (45:20)
324.1K views | posted 3 weeks ago
The video begins with a green-hued shot of shades of green and black — night vision evident. The shot is of something indefinable that remains mostly unmoving for about thirty seconds and then something shifts, jerks, and the angle abruptly changes to show a night vision view of the door inside of a tent.
There’s another jerk before the camera shifts and begins to move toward the tent door, the shot briefly panning down to bare feet as hands begin to work on unzipping the door of the tent. The sound through the camera, clearly the GoPro isn’t as good as with the rest of their equipment, but it still picks up the sound of the tent zipper and the sound of Xue Yang’s breathing.
It becomes evident that the camera is strapped to Xue Yang’s chest with some sort of harness and, with the lack of narration, that Xue Yang is sleepwalking.
He moves slowly, almost mechanically. The first thing Xue Yang does outside of the tent is just stand there in the middle of the clearing their camp is set up in, and slowly spin in a circle. The camera catches a view of Song Lan’s tent set up near Xue Yang’s, their firepit, and even the small clothesline they’ve set up to dry their clothes on. For a beat, Xue Yang faces Song Lan’s tent, the camera shifting as he breathes.
Somewhere in the distance, muffled by the audio quality, an owl cries out. Once, again, and then again.
After a moment, Xue Yang begins to move again — not toward Song Lan’s tent, but away, turning and beginning to pass through their clearing and out into the thicker woods at large. His movements are slow, but steady, unhalting in his progression forward: he is not wandering aimlessly but is walking with purpose, toward some sort of unknown, uncommunicated goal.
Because the camera is strapped to his chest, the video is unwavering in its view: showing only what is in front of Xue Yang, nothing to the side nor behind him.
For twenty some odd minutes Xue Yang walks forward. Through crowded thickets of vegetation and past ancient trees with thick trunks, past huge boulders that litter the forest floor, showing up white and bright on the night vision camera. Beyond anything close by, darkness reigns, an oppressive void that Xue Yang continues walking toward, undeterred in his quest forward.
Eventually, he breaks through a strand of trees and the forest opens up to a wide clearing. The camera goes all green for a moment, bright and blinding, trying to distinguish between ground and sky. Then, as Xue Yang continues closer, the landscape becomes apparent: Xue Yang stands in front of a large and sprawling lake, cut right into the valley between tall, ancient mountains.
He stands at the lake shore for a long moment, finally coming to a halt.
An owl calls.
The sound echoes through the hills, the scream reverberating through the trees until the sound repeats, renewed.
Xue Yang jerks forward, taking one halting step and then another, until he approaches the muddy banks of the lake. His movements are less fluid now, less purposeful. Almost as if there is something holding him back. The camera’s view is not a clear one given the positioning, but the shimmering water of the lake is clear, as is the darkness that stretches beyond it, huge and all encompassing, almost as enormous as the lake itself.
Xue Yang’s progress, however halted, does not stop on the muddy banks. Once he reaches the water, his movements smooth out again, as if calmed by the water that no doubt laps at his ankles. He continues forward, moving further in by the breath, the water line drawing closer and closer to the camera as he continues straight toward the center of the lake.
Undeterred by the undoubtedly cold temperature of the water, by the presumably difficulty moving forward, Xue Yang continues until the water line flirts with the camera’s lens, until everything the camera sees is bright watery green.
Then, as the water line finally consumes the entirety of the lens, the video turns to static.
And finally, after another long minute, it cuts out.
1961 COMMENTS:
@jiangzaiftw: Fuck okay I got a bunch right in a row on the right side of the frame at 17:13, 17:42, 18:04, then you can see it again at 22:35 and 22:58, AGAIN at 38:21, and then one final time center frame right at 43:18. It’s blurry because of poor camera quality and constant movement but I’m 99% sure it’s the same huge thing we saw before.
@SongXueTruther: Horrible but yeah I saw all the same ones. I think there might have also been a brief glimpse right at 9:49 also. Did anyone else see that??
▾82 replies
@ghostbeliever: FUCK the supernatural HE WENT INTO A LAKE??
@spookysh1t: Obviously they’re gonna watch this footage to see the lake but the shots of that thing are all super fleeting… ugh I hope they’re not so busy freaking about the lake thing that they miss the giant monster stalking him. Do they even have a laptop out there, or are they watching the footage on a small screen? Does anyone know?
SHUN THE NON-BELIEVER: skeptic fuxue should pack up and go home (22:58)
99.8K views | posted 3 weeks ago
“Holy shit, holy shit,” Xue Yang is muttering, over and over again.
He looks strung out, frenetic with energy and a lack of sleep.
“How many times are you going to watch that?” Song Lan asks.
He looks more sour than usual, arms crossed across his chest and a frown cutting across his face as he stands behind Xue Yang. Xue Yang seems undeterred by his hovering, sitting on a stump next to their fire, curled around what looks like the GoPro in his hands, attention sharp on the camera’s tiny little screen.
The fire burns steadily at the side of the shot, gently blazing away.
“Approximately a million,” Xue Yang says. “This is spooky as hell, Song Lan. Tell me you don’t think this is spooky.”
“The part where you sleep walked half an hour away from our camp in the middle of the night, or the part where you shorted the camera by walking into a lake?”
His tone suggests some heavily opinionated views on the latter option.
“The camera,” Xue Yang hisses, though his eyes never leave the little screen. “Something shorted the camera, not the water. These things are supposed to be waterproof.”
“Yeah, the infallible nature of all technology,” Song Lan grumbles under his breath. “I’d really put my trust into that.”
Song Lan moves to sit down next to Xue Yang, though Xue Yang doesn’t so much as register him. His eyes are trained on the GoPro’s footage, whatever can be seen in the tiny screen on the back of the little camera. He is transfixed, hypnotized.
“I’m much more concerned with the fact that you wandered that far. We didn’t even know that lake was there. What if something had happened?”
“Nothing happened,” Xue Yang says, though he still doesn’t look up. “What, are you trying to say you’re worried about me?” His voice goes sarcastic, a little mean.
Song Lan huffs. He visibly clenches his jaw, and then looks sharply at Xue Yang, shoulders set. “Yes.”
At that, Xue Yang actually looks up, meeting Song Lan’s eyes like a startled animal. He looks shocked, caught off guard. A little like something cornered, a little like something ready to bolt. And then, like the tide, that surprise shifts organically to incredulity, to anger. From prey to predator.
“Oh, that’s rich,” Xue Yang says, with a tone that doesn’t quite match his posture. He’s still surprised, but clearly trying to hide it from Song Lan — and doing a medium job of it.
“Don’t start,” Song Lan says, patience worn thin. “You haven’t been sleeping well, you look dead on your feet and you know it. You’ve been sleep-walking practically every night. It’s bad, Xue Yang. It’s not ‘spooky;’ it’s concerning.”
“Fuck you,” Xue Yang says, snapping toward Song Lan and snarling at him like a wild dog. “If you don’t like it, then leave.”
Song Lan jolts as if Xue Yang had slapped him. Then, after a moment of simply looking at Xue Yang, staring at him dead in his wide eyes, Song Lan laughs. “You’re serious, aren’t you. You’d have me leave you here.”
“Dead serious.”
After a beat, Song Lan pushes himself up, snatches the GoPro out of Xue Yang’s hands, and walks toward the camera that’s recording them. He reaches toward it, hand hovering over it for a second before he speaks.
“You need to sleep Xue Yang. Take a nap.”
The shot ends there.
The next cut begins at dusk, a camera in Xue Yang’s hands, pointed at his face. Behind him are trees, shifting in and out of frame as his hands move.
His hands are shaky, rendering the footage difficult to watch, parts of it blurry, unfocused.
“Fuxue can go suck a dick,” Xue Yang says to the camera.
His eyes are dark, and accentuated by the dim lighting of the forest and the shadows under his eyes, they look almost totally black. With his shaky hands, Xue Yang looks almost like a dream himself, something half-there, something not fully real.
“Something weird is happening here whether Fuxue believes it or not. The nightmares are only part of the equation. I know we haven’t caught shit on camera, but things feel weird. I know that’s not cold hard evidence, but it’s something. It’s got to be something.”
Xue Yang does not appear to be walking in any direction in particular. Instead, he is weaving in and out of the trees, just walking without purpose, holding the camera out in front of him and talking to it.
“So I’m going to catch something. I’m going to do it all by my fucking self,” Xue Yang says. “It’s not like Fuxue’s even around to help if I wanted. He’s always with Xiao Xingchen. And look—it’s not that I hate the guy. He’s fine. He’s nice. He’s hot. He’s alright to spend time with, you know? He always makes you feel—”
Xue Yang’s face goes a little pink, his ears a little red, as he looks off to the side, away from the camera, and continues to crunch through the undergrowth.
“Whatever. He’s fine, is the point. It’s just that Fuxue is supposed to be here helping film shit. But every time I look for him, he’s off with Xiao Xingchen. Fishing or hiking or watching the fucking sunset.”
Xue Yang falls silent for a bit, just plowing forward like it’s his mission, a look on his face that spells sleepless determination.
Until he stops suddenly in his tracks.
“Oh shit,” Xue Yang says, scrambling with the camera. “There’s something there. Something — something in the woods.”
His speech is fast and hurried, as is his handling of the camera. He fumbles with it, turning it around to try and catch whatever he saw in the trees.
With the harried nature of his handling, the view is even more unclear, even more unfocused. Dark shapes and trees streak across the screen, lightning fast as Xue Yang whips the camera around, this way and that. The camera struggles to focus, especially in the darkness.
“Shit,” Xue Yang is saying, “there, there.”
The camera pans over a section of the forest and something white streaks through the trees, across the screen from one corner to the other — and then back again, as Xue Yang tries to hold its focus.
“Something white, in between the trees, do you guys see it?”
Xue Yang’s voice sounds tight but excited, his energy frenetic but bordering on scared
“Is that an owl?” Xue Yang asks.
The white streak comes together into something smaller, an ovular shape, though it remains blurry and out of focus, even as Xue Yang attempts to focus on it, to zoom in.
“Maybe,” Xue Yang says. “Maybe. Except—”
As his shaky hands hold the camera, the shape divides, multiplies, and soon there are multiple blotches of bright white in the darkness, fanning out between the trees — at eye level and above, blinking in and out of view, like the camera is malfunctioning, kaleidoscoping reality, until suddenly everything clears and the white coalesces into a white spot at the edge of the frame. Something moving.
“What the fuck,” Xue Yang breathes, trying to zoom in on this shape, which is now moving steadily closer in an organic way.
Something alive. And something growing closer with every passing moment.
Xue Yang holds his breath and stands his ground. He tries to hold the camera steady, but the frame shakes and the images are partially unclear. Until the white shape gets closer. Until truth becomes impossible to ignore.
“Oh, absolutely not,” Xue Yang mutters, as it becomes clear that the white shape is none other than Xiao Xingchen, walking through the forest.
As the shape gets closer, as the camera is able to bring more of the figure into focus, it becomes clear that Xiao Xingchen is not alone. At his side is Song Lan.
“Fuck that,” Xue Yang hisses.
He stands there for a little too long, camera focused on Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen as they walk through the trees together, deep in an unheard discussion, before Xue Yang ducks behind a tree and stalks off in the opposite direction, unseen.
724 COMMENTS:
@jiangzaiftw: Ugh it’s so frustrating that they’re stuck with that tiny little screen… I don’t think they noticed the thing in the last video, and then this time it was just people.
@fuxuestan21:Okay but what the HELL is the deal with that Xiao Xingchen guy. Like. Seriously. I know people have been joking about him being the real monster here for breaking up the duo or whatever but he gives me the heebie fucking jeebies.
@xyismy1andonly: HELLO BABIES PLEASE READ YOUR COMMENT SECTION YES THERE ARE MONSTERS YES YOU CAUGHT THEM ON CAMERA PLEASE GO HOME AND DON’T DIE.
ALMOST CAUGHT SOMETHING: the failures of technology (12:01)
90.3K views | posted 3 weeks ago
“I think you should leave,” Xue Yang says.
He’s pointing the camera accusatory at a startled looking Song Lan, who is sitting next to their fire, drinking his coffee in the diffuse and gentle morning light. He looks unprepared for this sort of conversation, still rumpled from sleep. He looks softer than usual — but it doesn’t take long for his edges to harden, for his posture and gaze to go sharp.
“This again?” Song Lan says. “Did you sleep at all last night?”
Xue Yang doesn’t answer that. He just stalks closer to Song Lan, the camera shaking slightly in his hands.
“You need to leave,” Xue Yang says, ignoring Song Lan’s words completely. “You’re hindering the investigation.”
“There is no investigation. Nothing has happened,” Song Lan says. “We have nothing to show for the fact that we’ve been out here for weeks. We should call it. Go back home, regroup.”
“Nothing has happened? Nothing? What about my sleepwalking? Or—or the time where everything went quiet. You experienced that! You were there!” Xue Yang’s voice raises into a shout as he continues talking.
In his hands, the camera shakes with sleeplessness and rage.
Like a switch is flipped, Song Lan shoves himself upward, clearly spurned on by Xue Yang’s tone, his energy.
“That could have been anything,” Song Lan snarls.
“It wasn’t anything. It was something. You know it was something, you were just as unnerved by it as I was.”
Song Lan doesn’t appear moved or swayed by Xue Yang’s argument, however vehement. However crazed.
“All we have are your nightmares,” Song Lan says. “Your sleepwalking. And that’s not ‘spooky;’ it’s concerning.”
“It’s not happening to you,” Xue Yang hisses. “You don’t get to have an opinion on it.”
He sounds rabid, but tired. His voice is hoarse like he’s been yelling for hours.
Song Lan pauses. He opens his mouth, closes it. He takes a steadying breath.
“Look, we haven’t even caught anything on camera,” Song Lan says, tone clearly aiming to de-escalate the situation. To walk Xue Yang back from whatever ledge he’s currently on.
This doesn’t appear to work, though. If anything, it shoves Xue Yang even closer to the edge, pours even more gasoline on the fire to stoke his flames. Xue Yang just winds tighter and the camera shakes more in his hands.
“How could we?,” Xue Yang says. “You’re never here to help. You’re always out with Xiao Xingchen.” Xue Yang’s voice is a snarl, sharp like a knife. “Are you fucking him in the woods?”
Song Lan’s face goes blank. He glares at the camera, jaw clenched and gaze hard. Steadfast.
“I’m not dignifying that with a response,” Song Lan says. “You’re clearly delusional. And sleep deprived.”
“Have you even seen his camp?” Xue Yang hisses, plowing on undeterred. “Do you even know who he is? He could be anyone, Song Lan. He could be anything.”
Song Lan stares at him, eyes unblinking. Then, after a beat, he starts to laugh. Surprised at first, and then going mean and cutting.
“You’re really telling me you think Xiao Xingchen is some sort of spirit entity,” Song Lan says, tone flat. “Get a fucking grip.”
“If anything,” Xue Yang says, gesturing wide with the camera in a way that throws the view around into the forest. There’s every possibility that he’s forgotten he’s even holding the camera at all. “This is proof of the supernatural. The Song Lan I know wouldn’t be acting like this, he wouldn’t be off fucking some stranger while we’re supposed to be working.”
“Would you listen to yourself?” Song Lan says. “This is delusional. You’re delusional, Xue Yang. You’re not even going to post this video, it’s absurd.”
“Yes I will,” Xue Yang hisses. “This is proof you’re acting out of character. It’s proof, Song Lan.”
Song Lan makes a motion to grab for the camera, but Xue Yang jerks it away, the view going toward the tops of the trees, branches cutting across the blue sky like spiderwebs, like jagged bolts of lightning caught in stillness.
“I’m acting normal,” Song Lan says. “You’re the one who hasn’t slept, who’s being paranoid. Give me the camera, Xue Yang, before you break it.”
“You don’t get to pull this shit. I’m the one out here in the woods with someone I don’t trust,” Xue Yang says. And then he laughs and amends that to: “Two people I don’t trust.”
Song Lan’s face twists — maybe toward hurt, maybe toward anger, but it’s impossible to say, given that Xue Yang jerks the camera away from him before the expression resolves itself into something static, something more easily decipherable.
And with that sharp movement, Xue Yang stalks away, taking the camera with him.
The video cuts there.
Long seconds of black linger between this clip and the next.
The camera clicks back on inside a tent. Once it focuses, there’s a lantern on, its golden light illuminating the grey walls of the tent.
“He hasn’t come back, yet,” Song Lan says, voice low. His tone is heavy with quiet worry.
He sets the camera on something, likely his backpack, and then sits down cross-legged on his own sleeping bag. Outside the tent the night is dark. Crickets chirp and frogs croak. Song Lan takes a long breath and lets it out, a mighty sigh.
“He’s been gone for hours. I don’t have any way of reaching him.”
He puts his face in his hands and takes another breath.
“It’s fine, he’s fine,” Song Lan tells himself, as if speaking it might make it true.
A sound jolts him up from his slouch, has him listening like a hound.
The sound of someone crashing through the underbrush, running through the forest at full speed, is loud enough to be caught on the camera, echoing through the dead of the night.
“Song Lan!” Xue Yang shouts from the woods, from somewhere outside Song Lan’s tent, loud and wild and frenzied. “Song Lan!!”
Song Lan jolts forward and fumbles with the zipper on the tent before he can compose himself. The camera gets knocked to the side in the frenzy, giving only a partial view of the door of the tent and Song Lan scrambling out the door, all long legs and concern.
“What, what?” Song Lan says. “Are you alright?”
“I saw it!” Xue Yang says, tumbling into partial sight of the camera. “It was right there, holy shit, I fucking saw it.”
“What did you see?” Song Lan asks. “Are you hurt, are you fine?”
“There was something in the woods. In the trees. As tall as the trees, sometimes, as dark as nothing—it—”
Xue Yang whips around, presumably looking out at the woods that surround their little camp. At the forest he just ran from. In the distance, almost too far away to hear, an owl calls out.
He gestures, wide and huge. “It was so huge. And there were so many—”
“You’re bleeding,” Song Lan says, his words softened by concern. He reaches out, though the camera can’t see it as he touches Xue Yang, presumably from wherever he is injured.
“That’s not important, what’s important is—”
“It is important,” Song Lan says. “Fuck, Xue Yang, you’re bleeding and you don’t even care about it—are you awake? Are you still dreaming?”
“Of course I’m awake,” Xue Yang says, like it’s more than obvious, though Song Lan’s answering huff shows what he thinks of that. “It was huge, Song Lan. Huge and dark and it was looking at me. Right at me. I couldn’t see its face but I could feel it looking at me. Like it was looking from everywhere all at once.”
The excitement in Xue Yang’s voice cannot completely cover the instinctual fear that lingers there, the animal tightness in his voice and in the way he’s holding himself. It becomes apparent that he’s shaking. Shivering.
“Okay,” Song Lan says after a long breath and an even longer pause. His voice goes gentle, softer. “Okay. Why don’t you tell me about it while I fix up your head.”
“We’ve gotta—”
“Please, Xue Yang?”
Something about Song Lan’s words or maybe his tone makes Xue Yang stop short. He pauses like that, frozen for a moment like a deer caught in headlights, before suddenly he wavers. And then sags. Like all of his strings have been cut, all of the fight falling out of him at once.
Fast as a shot, Song Lan steps forward and catches him, arms going tight around Xue Yang’s weak, shaking body.
“Okay,” Xue Yang says, from the circle of Song Lan’s arms. “Okay.”
The camera falls as Song Lan ushers Xue Yang back into his tent. There’s a shuffle. Light and dark and light again — and flashes of Xue Yang: his tired face and a bloody forehead, and then of Song Lan’s eyes, concerned and just as exhausted — before the camera is switched off and the video ends.
820 COMMENTS:
@xyismy1andonly: I hate this so much… I’m so worried about him…
@98765_no: Get a grip, this is fucking fantastic! Some of the best footage they’ve found in all the time they’ve been filming and you’re freaking out over some mud or whatever? I’m just pissed that he didn’t think to bring his camera out with him.
@fuxuestan21: It’s not just us – Jiangzai also thinks that Xiao Xingchen is weird and maybe not human
@bonesandteeth: he still thinks hes hot tho, have u seen the way he looks at that guy?
SO LONG AND THANKS FOR ALL THE FISH: farewell, old growth forest (16:50)
107.2K views | posted 3 weeks ago
There are butterfly bandages on Xue Yang’s forehead, holding a long gash closed. There are other scrapes alongside it — likely picked up from Xue Yang’s midnight sprint through the trees.
He’s sitting on a log next to a lazily crackling fire. The camera is balanced on something a little ways away.
“Song Lan wants to leave,” Xue Yang says. “He wants me to leave, specifically.”
In the background, Song Lan grumbles. “I want us both to leave. I want you to go to the fucking doctor.”
“You checked me out, I’m fine. My head barely even hurts.”
“You’re having nightmares. You’re sleepwalking. You sleep-walked into a lake, Xue Yang, not to mention whatever happened last night. I want you to go to the doctor for that.”
Xue Yang rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t put up the same argument as before, even though the set of his jaw is stubborn. He looks absolutely exhausted, bone tired and worn thin.
“I just need a nap,” Xue Yang says through a yawn. “I’ll be fine. You can go.”
“There’s no world in which I’m leaving you here,” Song Lan says.
Xue Yang turns to look at him, but he doesn’t appear to have a reply to that. He just opens his mouth, closes it, and then frowns.
“Just—please, Xue Yang. We’ll come back,” Song Lan says. “I’ll come back with you.”
Xue Yang stops short. His throat works through a swallow as he looks at Song Lan, studying his face with a searching look.
“You will?”
“I promise,” Song Lan says, and he sounds unwavering, his words heartfelt.
Xue Yang looks over at him, incredulous. “You’re… serious.”
“Of course I’m serious. You want to come back, I’ll come back with you. But I want to make sure you’re fine. I’m worried about you—is that so hard to believe?”
From the look on Xue Yang’s face, it is.
Song Lan looks away, off and into the forest. “I know we don’t always—see eye to eye, but that doesn’t mean I want to find you dead in a ditch somewhere. Or floating belly-up in a lake.”
“Okay,” Xue Yang says, after a long pause, one where his eyes never leave Song Lan’s profile. “Fine. But we are coming back.”
At that, Song Lan looks back at him. Their eyes lock.
“We are,” Song Lan promises.
Xue Yang breaks eye contact first. He looks away, toward their tents and around the clearing they’ve been set up in for so long now.
“Okay,” he says, nodding. Acceptance lands like a well-placed stab in an already bleeding wound. Xue Yang is too tired, too exhausted to fight the inevitable. And even he, fueled by wild determination and feral energy as he is, has to run dry at some point.
The next shot begins at dawn. The camera pans over the cresting, gentle light shining through the trees, at the way it floods the clearing and paints everything in soft gold. The angle changes, traveling in a circle around the center of the camp — showing their tents gone, their bags packed and ready to go. Even the fire pit has been dismantled, no evidence of it remaining other than a few stray pieces of burnt charcoal left as evidence.
“Oh,” Xue Yang says. The camera swivels to find him looking at a figure emerging from the woods — Xiao Xingchen — before Xue Yang continues talking. “You’re here. We looked for you, to try and find you, but—”
“But we didn’t know where to find you,” Song Lan finishes, voice sounding from behind the camera.
“Did I miss something?” Xiao Xingchen asks with a slight frown, looking around their camp. At the remains of it. “Are you relocating?”
“We’re heading out,” Xue Yang says. “Our supplies are running low, as are our batteries, and we can’t stay forever. We need to regroup, restrategize, before we come back.”
He makes no mention of his nightmares, but perhaps he would like to retain some pride.
“You’re hurt,” Xiao Xingchen says, striding toward Xue Yang with purpose. “How did this—?”
He reaches out to touch Xue Yang’s forehead, where the butterfly bandages are.
Xue Yang laughs nervously and ducks away from the touch before he can make contact. “Haha, that was all me. Got carried away and ran through the forest too fast, you know how it is.”
Xiao Xingchen’s frown deepens. “I can help,” he says softly. “If you’d let me look at it.”
For a moment, Xue Yang looks like he’s considering it. Wavering on his feet like he’s pulled toward Xiao Xingchen like a magnet, compelled by whatever gravitational pull Xiao Xingchen has. Even Song Lan takes a step forward with the camera
Then, Xue Yang shakes his head and pushes himself back again. Stumbling on unsteady feet, embarrassed by his own injury. “It’s fine, it’s nothing. I’ll get it looked at when we get back. Don’t worry about it.”
Xiao Xingchen does not press the issue, but his frown does deepen.
“Look,” Xue Yang says, “we’re planning on coming back soon. I promise—if you’re still here when we get back, it’ll be like we were barely even gone.”
Xiao Xingchen glances around the now-largely-empty clearing, eyes darting over all of their packed-up gear, at the way they’re dressed — ready to head out at any moment.
“I can’t convince you to stay?” Xiao Xingchen stays. “Whatever it is, I—”
“We have to go,” Song Lan says. “I’m sorry.”
“You’ll be here? When we get back?” Xue Yang asks him.
“Of course,” Xiao Xingchen says.
Xue Yang claps his hands, mustering up a small amount of energy from somewhere. “You’ll barely even have a chance to miss us, then.”
Xiao Xingchen holds something out for the two of them, then. A small linen pouch. “I came to bring you these. For the road, then,” he says.
“More candy?” Xue Yang asks.
Xiao Xingchen smiles, something pleasant, something kind. Gentle, like a summer breeze. “Your favorites,” he says.
“Thank you,” Song Lan says from behind the camera, while Xue Yang snatches the bag of candies to sneak one between his lips.
After that, Xiao Xinghcen lingers as they continue the final sweep of their camp and get themselves ready to leave. Song Lan films most of it, occasionally setting the camera down to fiddle with a strap on his backpack or shrug a jacket over his shoulders. Soon, they are fully ready to go, patting down their pockets and shrugging their packs onto their backs.
As Song Lan prepares to say goodbye to Xiao Xingchen, stepping toward him with an awkward slant to his shoulders, clearly unsure how exactly to say goodbye, Xiao Xingchen only smiles gently. He strides toward Song Lan, looking stark against the lush green background of the frame in his white linen, reaches out, and takes Song Lan’s hands. Then, without saying a word, he leans forward and presses his lips to Song Lan’s. Song Lan freezes, clearly surprised, his eyes open and startled — but he does not pull away.
Xue Yang stands in the background of the shot, staring at the two of them with wide eyes, clearly just as surprised as Song Lan. And just as frozen, too.
Xiao Xingchen lingers there for a long moment, for a few heartbeats, kissing Song Lan softly, before pulling away. He smiles and holds one of his hands out to Xue Yang. The other still holds Song Lan’s.
“Yang-er,” Xiao Xinghcen calls to him.
With halting steps, Xue Yang walks towards him and Song Lan. When he gets close enough, Xiao Xingchen takes his hand, and gently pulls him closer, closing the gap between them. Then, he kisses Xue Yang, too.
Xue Yang melts into it after a beat, kissing back hungrily despite the original stiffnes in his shoulders, the reticence. From only inches away, Song Lan watches them, gaze dark and a little lost. His eyes wander over the two of them, looking first at Xiao Xingchen and then Xue Yang. Then, he frowns. Blinks. And then shakes his head, as if to clear it.
Song Lan is the one who breaks their kiss. He puts a hand on Xue Yang’s shoulder and pulls him back. He doesn’t get a glare in return, just a bit of a dazed, guilty expression from Xue Yang as he blinks owlishly at Song Lan, exhausted. Xiao Xingchen merely smiles.
They say their goodbyes at the stream, as Xiao Xingchen stands on one bank and as they depart from the other.
“I wasn’t ready for you to go,” Xiao Xingchen murmurs right before the video cuts off.
The next cut begins with a vlog, Xue Yang holding the camera out in front of himself on a selfie stick, catching the two of them in the frame.
“So,” Xue Yang. He coughs and clears his throat. “Fuxue got his way and we’re heading back. We think we can probably make it in a day, maybe two, if we hoof it. We kind of meandered on the way here, there’s a more direct route back.”
“If we need to stop to rest, we will,” Song Lan says.
Leaves crunch underneath their feet as they make their way through thick underbrush, past thick, towering trees and large boulders.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway. Obviously, this is a huge bummer, and I’m not even sure how many of you have been watching these videos,” Xue Yang says to the camera, addressing the viewers. “We haven’t had enough signal to be able to read comments or anything, just to upload the videos—and that takes all night. But we’re looking forward to going back through the footage and doing a recap of our whole trip for you guys.”
The day is still bright, the sun high in the sky, and all around them the forest is green, alive.
“And hey, maybe you guys saw something in the footage that we missed. Your comments are always so great. So—look forward to another video soon. We’ll probably touch base once we hit the main road and signal gets a little less spotty. But one thing’s for certain, we’ll be back. Right, Fuxue?”
Song Lan’s eyes dart toward the camera. Then, he looks at Xue Yang and nods, just once. “Right.”
“Anyway,” Xue Yang says. “Over and out.”
He grins at the camera, wide and bright, before he reaches out to hit the power button and the video cuts out.
5682 COMMENTS:
@jiangzaiftw: Thank god they’re leaving. It might be cool if they come back but I don’t know if my heart can take another video series like this…
↳(reply) @SongXueTruther: Same, I’ve been biting my nails for weeks now *I* need a break
@fuxuestan21: Uh. Does anyone on here know them IRL? It’s been weeks since they posted this and they haven’t done any of the follow-ups – no hike back, no recap at home. Does anyone know if they MADE it home?
↳(reply) @xyismy1andonly: I heard through the grapevine that they really ARE missing but I wasn’t able to verify it.
▾ 19 replies
@spookysh1t: IS NO ONE GOING TO TALK ABOUT THE KISS? THE TOTAL MAKEOUT SESH??? HELLO!!?!?!
@scardy_cat: anyone think its weird that that xiao xingchen said he’ll still be there when they get back? does he just… live there?
@xyismy1andonly: Y’ALL HAS ANYONE HEARD FROM THEM?? its been three whole weeks now
@01110011: How unusual.