Chapter 47: The Struggles of Social Anxiety

“What is it?” He Yanxin forced himself to perk up.

Song Yeqing took a large box from her spatial storage and placed it on the table.

“A drone? This brand’s pretty good—great battery life too,” He Yanxin remarked, not understanding her intention. He thought she just wanted to show it to him.

“Do you think it’s feasible to use this to spread the message?”

Song Yeqing opened the box. The drone’s battery was still full.

It was a newly purchased model—not very large but packed with features, including a speaker system and a hook capable of dropping items weighing under two kilograms.

Without signal or GPS, the drone could only fly up to 120 meters high and had to stay within visual range. But for simply spreading information, it was more than enough.

He Yanxin’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Totally feasible. That’s a great idea.”

“Mhm. That way, we won’t need to go find the village chief,” Song Yeqing replied, leaving him to study the drone while she pulled out the map to review.

This was where the original owner had grown up, so they had initially planned to go to the village chief’s house late at night to have him inform the rest of the villagers.

But with the drone, the message could be delivered faster with less risk of exposure, and their departure wouldn’t seem as sudden.

If they were going to spread the word, they’d need to head toward more populated areas, and their route would have to be adjusted and expedited to avoid any unexpected dangers.

Song Yeqing re-examined the map and revised a few destinations.

Originally, they had planned to head south for about a month and a half to leave Qizhou. Now, they would first head west to leave Qizhou early, then continue south.

This new route would cut their travel time in half.

So, they had to reach the first destination—Kangyou Town—within five days.

Ten days…

Fifteen days…

Song Yeqing carefully made notes next to each destination.

If they made good time, they could be out of Qizhou in about eighteen days.

Though this detour would make the trip to Zhaozhou longer, the added safety was worth it.

He Yanxin began a test flight of the drone indoors. It wasn’t very loud, emitting only a soft buzzing sound.

Fortunately, the main room wasn’t too low-ceilinged, and he had solid flying skills. Otherwise, crashing the drone right away would’ve been a disaster.

Sadly, without satellite signals, they couldn’t do real-time video streaming. The large camera on the drone could only take photos for later review.

“Should we record audio to play, or drop written notes from above?” He Yanxin asked as he landed the drone smoothly.

“We don’t have that much paper,” Song Yeqing said. After confirming the route, she neatly stored the map and writing materials back into her space.

Paper was expensive in this world, and books even more so. The paper she had in her spatial storage was too precious to waste like that.

Not to mention the time and energy required to write out all those messages. Dropping paper messages wasn’t practical either.

Plus, literacy rates among the people of Da’an were low. This would have to be done at night.

Flying a drone during the day would draw too much attention. At only 120 meters up, a skilled archer could easily shoot it down.

Even if they wrote all those notes and dropped them, there was no guarantee people would find them. Even if they did, they might not understand the writing.

And even if they understood it, would they believe it?

But that wasn’t their concern. They were doing it for their conscience. Whether people believed it or not was out of their hands.

So audio broadcasting was the best option—less power consumption, low cost, high return.

“With voice recording, we’ll have much more flexibility,” He Yanxin said.

His previous gloom seemed to lift, as if he’d just been injected with adrenaline. A mischievous grin slowly spread across his face.

“How about… we go big?”

“Up to you,” Song Yeqing replied indifferently, showing no sense of responsibility for the drone being hers.

Seeing her disinterested attitude, He Yanxin hesitated for a moment and called out just as she was about to leave.

“How about… you talk to Auntie and the others tonight instead, okay?”

Song Yeqing stopped and turned back. “What’s wrong?” Hadn’t they agreed he would do it?

He Yanxin carefully watched her expression. Seeing that she was only slightly confused and mildly troubled, with no major resistance, he decided to continue.

“After dinner, I need to head out to retrieve the ox carts. Plus, tonight I can start using the drone,” he said, waving the device in his hand.

“I’ll be back pretty late. So… I think you should go.”

They’d already picked out the carts. Farming hadn’t been productive this year, so many people were selling their oxen. He went all in and bought two.

They’d already paid the deposit and could go pick them up anytime. The carts were in a village two mountains away from Anshan Village.

The only reason they hadn’t gone yet was because they were waiting for the right time to leave.

But over the past few days, He Yanxin had been observing Song Yeqing’s behavior and noticed a big problem.

Her relationship with Auntie Ge and the others was still as distant as when she first arrived—and even more so now.

Since that dinner visit, she hadn’t gone next door again.

And when Auntie Ge and Madam Chen came to see her, she always seemed… awkward?

He Yanxin felt this wasn’t good. For now it was manageable, but over time, they were bound to notice something was off.

Sudden distancing like this would only make others more curious, even suspicious, prompting them to dig deeper and make assumptions.

It wouldn’t matter if they weren’t going to interact again, but since they’d decided to bring the others along, they’d be spending a lot of time together.

Avoidance wasn’t a solution. They needed to interact more with outsiders to gradually shift the image left behind by the original owner.

Change required a subtle process, and regular interaction and communication were necessary parts of it.

“Alright,” Song Yeqing nodded after listening to his explanation.

This was important. Since he wouldn’t be available, it was only right that she do it.

But after agreeing, her expression turned serious, her brows furrowing deeper as if they were about to tie in a knot. She clearly didn’t look thrilled.

Seeing her conflicted face, He Yanxin almost gave in and said he’d go after all.

But Song Yeqing had already walked out, so he gave up.

Forget it. If he didn’t push her a little, she might never take this step.

Strange, He Yanxin thought, shaking his head.

This girl could charge headfirst into deadly ghosts without flinching—but when it came to dealing with a few ordinary people from ancient times, she seemed… scared?

At first, when he suggested going together to visit the neighbors, she never outright refused, but always came up with some excuse.

At the time, he thought she simply didn’t want to associate with people from this era, or just didn’t feel like going.

But later, from her attitude and expressions, he realized—she was probably just scared?

In modern terms: social anxiety.

And truth be told, He Yanxin’s instinct was spot on.

Song Yeqing really was afraid.

Just now, her frown wasn’t because she didn’t want to go.

She was just torn about how to explain things clearly and whether or not to imitate the original Song Yeqing’s tone and demeanor.

She genuinely wasn’t used to dealing with strangers, and deep down, she was a bit scared of interacting with elders and acquaintances like Auntie Ge.

She exhaled deeply, and her brows finally relaxed.

She decided: just explain things to them simply and clearly, as quickly as possible.

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(End of Chapter)