“Don’t be nervous. I don’t know what’s going on either, but no bad person would dare come here. You’re very safe.”
Zhang Mei Jiang gently raised a hand, and two plates of fresh fruit floated out from deeper inside the cave, slowly settling in front of Qin Shu and Pei Zhao.
“Have some fruit first. These were offerings Chen Shui’s uncle brought me. I tried them—they’re very fresh.”
Qin Shu took out his phone and checked the time, only to discover that there was no signal here anymore and even the GPS was barely working. Since that was the case, they might as well talk with Zhang Mei Jiang first and see whether they could find any clues.
So he picked up a plump, juicy grape and chewed it for a moment. His expression instantly stiffened. He hurriedly forced himself to swallow, then gave a grave assessment. “…It really tastes like a candle. A wet, soft candle.”
“Haha.”
Zhang Mei Jiang laughed twice. The bloody tears on her face had already congealed, making her laughter sound extremely stiff, but judging from her expression, she had apparently only been playing a little joke on purpose.
Qin Shu laughed too and said helplessly, “Sister Zhang, I really can’t afford to let my guard down around you. Do you know where in Phoenix Village we are right now?”
“I do. At the junction of Yinpeng Mountain and Jin’e Mountain—the ancestral burial grounds of Phoenix Village. The safest place there is.”
Zhang Mei Jiang genuinely had no idea how Qin Shu and Pei Zhao had somehow been transported above the ancestral tombs, nor could she think of anyone who would do such a thing.
After all, she had been floating alone inside the cave for nearly a year without encountering so much as another ghost.
Qin Shu pressed her for some details about the First Municipal Hospital, but unexpectedly, she did not actually know very much.
That was because Zhang Mei Jiang had already been buried once by her clan.
She had died by suicide, of course, but not inside Phoenix Village. She had died in a property she owned in Yuncheng, lying in a bathtub of hot water and cutting her wrist—a very classic method.
The relatives she had contacted in advance confirmed that she was dead, then quickly transported her intact body back to the village. They properly held her funeral, nailed her inside the coffin that had been prepared ahead of time, and carried it deep into the cave.
The people of Phoenix Village did not particularly reject suicide. After all, death was a subject that had accompanied them from the moment they were born, so they had developed their own simple way of looking at it.
Whether living or dead, everyone was a child of the Cave God. If a child wanted to go home, then they would send her home to rest. That was all.
But because Zhang Mei Jiang had not personally witnessed Xu Qian’s revenge, nor did she know whether Xu Qian had finally let go and departed in peace, her lingering obsession never completely dissipated.
She should have fallen asleep, yet after being buried, her dead soul climbed back out and hovered uneasily over her own coffin. A properly buried soul could not stray far from its grave, and the funeral rites themselves contained restraints meant to keep the soul from wandering everywhere. Unable to leave, she could only float alone inside the cave.
She missed Xu Qian, felt guilty, and spent long stretches reflecting on everything. Most of the time, however, she simply stared blankly into space. Her grief waxed and waned, and time ceased to be something that flowed in a straight line.
“Sister Zhang, did you know Xu Qian’s remains have already been brought to Phoenix Village? Your clan chose an auspicious time. At noon on the sixteenth, when the sunlight is strongest, they’re going to hold a joint burial ceremony for the two of you.”
“…I didn’t know.”
Zhang Mei Jiang froze slightly, then frowned. “That’s dangerous. My coffin has already been sealed. If they take it out and bury me again, they may disturb the other ancestors’ rest. Even she and I… aren’t exactly stable factors.”
“That’s why they called me here. Apparently I’ve got plenty of yang energy, haha.” Qin Shu slipped a hand into his pocket and secretly poked the eyeball that was playing dead. “And don’t worry about Xu Qian, Sister Zhang. Her only lingering obsession now is to be buried together with you and never be separated again. Oh, right—when she took revenge before, she was absolutely vicious about it. I couldn’t stop her even when I tried. Everyone who deserved to die is dead, so she definitely didn’t let herself suffer.”
For some reason, the eyeball refused to come out and see her. It had clearly been bouncing around excitedly only moments earlier, yet now it was merely swelling anxiously inside Qin Shu’s pocket, absolutely determined not to show itself.
Hearing Qin Shu’s words, Zhang Mei Jiang laughed softly. The ethereal laughter unique to a female ghost echoed layer after layer through the cave, creating an excellent horror atmosphere. “That’s exactly what she’s like. She’s afraid of nothing and never lets herself suffer. She’s even tougher than a witch like me who grew up in Yuncheng.”
“But right now, she doesn’t seem too willing to let you see her… Maybe it’s because her ghostly form looks a little unusual? She scared Liu Yang Yang and Chen Shui half to death without even trying. They’re both pretty afraid of her. Honestly, she’s not that scary. At least, I don’t think so.”
That was what Qin Shu said, but after thinking about it, he decided to respect the eyeball’s wishes and did not forcibly pull it out.
“She cares about appearances. Especially in front of me,” Zhang Mei Jiang said in complete understanding, not surprised in the slightest. She murmured softly, “I’m the one who turned her into a monster like that. Technically, I should be the one too ashamed to face her. I knew she wanted to take revenge with her own hands, but Jiangcheng is an extraordinarily dangerous place. Even the strongest malicious ghost can easily be reduced to nothing there… I didn’t dare let her take revenge alone. I simply couldn’t stop worrying.”
Jiangcheng is an extraordinarily dangerous place? Seriously? Qin Shu did not quite understand, but he did not interrupt and quietly listened as she continued.
“So I begged the Cave God and used a secret art to alter the fundamental nature of her existence. That’s why I know exactly what Xu Qian looks like now. She would become a mass of sticky, writhing, horribly distorted scraps of flesh and severed limbs. She would absorb every chaotic kind of power she encountered and turn it to her own use. She would no longer fear contamination by anything filthy or impure.” Zhang Mei Jiang closed her eyes. “Because… because she herself is the deepest abyss, murkier than even the river beneath Naihe Bridge. There is nothing left in this world that can easily make her break down again. That puts my mind at ease.”
Mm… If someone has already been completely broken, then you don’t have to worry about them breaking again.
That way of thinking seemed a little twisted.
After listening to Zhang Mei Jiang’s sorrowful yet strangely relieved confession, Qin Shu suddenly felt that the Cave God did not seem like much of a good god either. Although the eyeball’s current condition did not appear nearly as broken and distorted as Zhang Mei Jiang described, Qin Shu had not forgotten the grotesque state of those doctors. It was one of the rare sights that had completely destroyed his appetite.
Of course, he did not dare say any of that aloud inside the ancestral tomb. Qin Shu cleared his throat. “As long as you know what’s going on, Sister Zhang. Then you two can formally meet again on the day of the joint burial. It’ll even make the occasion feel a little more ceremonial.”
“Okay. Thank you. My mother has already passed away, and all I have left in Phoenix Village are distant relatives from collateral branches, so I don’t have much I can give you in return… If you need to buy Gu creatures, go find Granny A-Shu at the southernmost end of the village. She’s the most formidable Gu witch here. Mention my name and she’ll give you her best Golden Silkworm Gu, as well as some more unusual varieties depending on what you need.”
Elio’s Notes: The Golden Silkworm Gu is one of the best-known varieties of Gu in Chinese folk tradition and is generally portrayed as an exceptionally potent form of Gu. Specific legends about its abilities vary by region and story.
Zhang Mei Jiang spoke seriously, then paused before continuing. “You two should leave here as soon as possible. A cave-burial tomb is only suitable for dead souls. The yin energy is extremely dense, and if you stay too long, it will gradually erode your physical shell.”
“I’ll remember that. Granny A-Shu at the southern end of the village. Thanks, Sister Zhang.” Qin Shu was in no hurry to leave. “But we still haven’t figured out who transported us onto that cliff. We need to solve that first, or I’m worried something will go wrong during the joint burial.”
Zhang Mei Jiang nodded lightly. “Did you notice anything unusual while you were on the cliff?”
“Mm… There were a lot of ghost fires. They were practically fighting to emerge from beneath the grass. I shouted down toward the cliff once and nearly got surrounded by them—they were everywhere.” Qin Shu looked to her for confirmation. “If I’m not mistaken, ghost fire is just something that happens when corpses decay, right? There isn’t some other strange reason for it.”
“…Correct. It means there are a great many corpses around us that are currently decomposing.” Zhang Mei Jiang’s expression changed slightly.
“Phoenix Village shouldn’t have had many deaths recently. And when it comes to a large concentration of corpses, the only place I can think of where something abnormal might be happening is this burial ground.” Qin Shu looked thoughtful. “Sister Zhang, can you let us go in and take a look? I mean wherever the coffins are stored.”
“You can, but the way our coffins are stored is somewhat unusual. You won’t be able to reach the deepest parts.” Zhang Mei Jiang hesitated. “The yin energy is extremely heavy. If the Cave God hears any disturbance, the deity may also look over to see what we’re doing, and the pressure is very strong. Will the two of you be all right?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got the Cave God’s son right here with me, and we get along pretty well.” Qin Shu hooked Yuanbao’s tail out from his sleeve, letting a flash of vivid dark red appear in the gloomy cave before tucking the little centipede away again.
Zhang Mei Jiang trembled all over, as though she had been startled—but then again, perhaps not. She was a ghost, after all. Her facial muscles had been stiff for so long that she could not produce many vivid expressions anymore.
“All right. Follow me.”
She did not ask anything about Yuanbao and simply floated silently toward one side of the cave, steadily leading the two of them forward while maintaining a safe distance.
After passing through two cold, narrow forks, the space before them suddenly opened up.
They had reached the deepest part of the cave—a vast natural chamber, both high and broad. Yet it also looked as though an enormous invisible hand had hollowed out all the rock and earth at the very heart of Jin’e Mountain, leaving behind a terrifying void large enough to hold the bones of dozens of generations.
The air was cold and dry, carrying a faint fragrance of wood. Qin Shu had no attention to spare for the peculiar atmosphere, however. His eyes widened as he looked again and again, almost too stunned to speak.
After obtaining Zhang Mei Jiang’s permission, Qin Shu took out his phone, switched on the flashlight, and used the wide-angle camera to take several photographs from different directions.
This was not merely an ordinary ancestral burial ground.
This was… a work of art constructed out of coffins and woodcraft.
The artisans of Phoenix Village had used enormous quantities of long, rectangular pieces of red timber to construct repeated crisscrossed square frames across the floor. The interlocking supports created stable compartments into which coffins could be placed layer after layer in alternating arrangements.
The countless coffins came in all different shapes and styles. Supported by the red wooden frames, they rose from the floor and stacked upward through innumerable tiers. They looked chaotic at first glance, yet clearly followed an order of their own.
Qin Shu raised the beam of his phone toward the depths. There were seemingly endless square compartments stretching farther and farther into the cave, filled with countless overlapping coffins until the structure disappeared beyond sight.
Most importantly, this extraordinarily distinctive cave-burial “building” had a definite shape.
The arrangement of the coffins was so ingenious that no matter which direction Qin Shu stood in the cave, he saw the exact same image.
He saw a woman’s face.
Generation after generation of Phoenix Village clanspeople had actually used their own corpses and coffins to construct the face of a woman inside Jin’e Mountain.
Her black hair was woven into a thick braid and pinned neatly behind her head with dyed cloth, accompanied by a beautiful phoenix tail feather and silver ornaments. Loose strands fell beside her face. She was exceptionally beautiful. The young woman smiled faintly, her brows and eyes lowered, her gaze seeming to rest eternally upon the land of Phoenix Village as she silently watched over the remains of her sleeping clanspeople.
There was the liveliness of youth in her features, yet also a faint trace of the compassion seen in statues of gods and Buddhas. Perhaps because of their surroundings, Qin Shu could also sense a subtle eeriness.
Not a single rivet or scrap of cement had been used. This breathtaking structure was supported entirely through mortise-and-tenon wooden joinery, combined with exquisitely designed hand carvings and seamless color matching.
The design was practically perfect, yet it could still continue gaining more color, making the woman ever more vivid. Every time someone in Phoenix Village died, another coffin could be incorporated into the structure, further refining the details of her clothes, facial features, and expression.
…He had gotten distracted.
He was off topic.
Whenever Qin Shu concentrated too deeply on observing something, his eyes automatically captured every detail worth supplementing and launched into a long analysis.
It was one of the side effects of opening his Heavenly Eye, and the effect was growing stronger and stronger. Although it was genuinely useful in some circumstances, Qin Shu still had trouble controlling it, and this was certainly not the time to stand around spacing out.
Qin Shu forced himself back to his senses and deliberately lowered his voice. “That’s Long E, isn’t it? The hero from the legend who was betrayed by the local villagers in ancient times?”
“That’s her.” Zhang Mei Jiang raised a hand and slowly pointed toward a pitch-black coffin near the outer edge. “That one is mine. I’m very honored—I became a tiny beauty mark beside the corner of her mouth.”
“That’s incredible. Seriously incredible. You could absolutely apply to have this recognized as intangible cultural heritage… It’s just a shame the circumstances surrounding Phoenix Village probably aren’t suitable for publicizing.”
Qin Shu paused thoughtfully. “Honestly, I thought there would be several statues of the Cave God inside the ancestral tombs. But unexpectedly, all the mythological imagery in Phoenix Village seems to revolve around Long E instead.”
“The Cave God is our savior and gave us a path to survival different from that of the ordinary world… but as people of Phoenix Village, generation after generation, we have always known exactly who our first benefactor was. The story has never stopped being passed down because we also know that we are the descendants of sinners.”
Zhang Mei Jiang gave an eerie little laugh. “My father wasn’t from Yuncheng. My mother met him outside the village. But what my father did was even worse than what the ancestors of Phoenix Village did. So now I’m the descendant of sinners twice over.”
The eyeball bounced inside Qin Shu’s pocket again.
Qin Shu raised an eyebrow and said quietly, “Hey, Sister Zhang. Stop talking about yourself like that. There’s someone here who cares about you and apparently really hates hearing it.”
“…”
Zhang Mei Jiang froze.
She cautiously glanced toward the pocket where the eyeball was hiding, and the corner of her mouth gently curved upward.
Some of the self-loathing that had been pouring out of her faded, while the bloody tears threatening to spill again were deliberately drawn back from the corners of her eyes.
They really love each other.
It was just a shame that in this lifetime, they could never meet again in the world of the living.
Why did the world always seem determined to make quiet, law-abiding couples suffer? Zhang Mei Jiang and Xu Qian were like this. Liang Ming Yue seemed to have been the same…
A faint sense of insecurity quietly arose inside Qin Shu.
He did not show it. Instead, he silently raised his phone flashlight and looked up, examining the tall stacks of coffins one by one in search of something suspicious.
Zhang Mei Jiang could confirm that her own body had indeed become nothing more than white bones. The decomposition process had finished more than half a year ago.
As for everyone else, Zhang Mei Jiang could not open their coffins and could not see clearly inside them either. After all, every coffin was sealed with yellow talismans bearing different styles of handwriting, along with fire-phoenix totems painted in cinnabar.
Some of the older coffins also featured enormous-winged peng birds soaring through the air alongside the fiery divine birds, the pair flying together, while others bore elegant yellow dragons playing with pearls among the clouds. Their colors remained vivid and lifelike, as though neither time nor dust could ever wear them away.
They had considerable artistic value to humans, but to yao, demons, ghosts, and monsters, they also possessed powerful repelling and suppressive effects. Merely touching them made Zhang Mei Jiang feel awful all over.
“Zhaozhao, do you think the people inside these coffins could be the source of the ghost fires? Logically, they should all have become skeletons long ago, but I keep feeling like something isn’t right.”
Qin Shu raised the beam of his phone and aimed it toward Long E’s “lips.”
Suspended high in the air was a coffin painted entirely bright red.
As one of the blocks of color forming the woman’s lips, the coffin was red from end to end, without a single decoration, paper talisman, or hand-painted design. Yet somehow, it still seemed… lifelike.
“Lifelike” was not a word that should have been used for a coffin.
Yet once the word appeared in Qin Shu’s mind, he could not get rid of it.
Pei Zhao offered no opinion this time.
His attention was nowhere near the coffins.
Instead, he was curiously examining the tiny stalactites barely protruding from the ceiling like the tips of bamboo shoots. Hearing Qin Shu’s question, Pei Zhao merely answered unhurriedly, “You can see it. Look carefully.”
There seemed to be another layer of meaning in those words.
Qin Shu froze, and his suspicion solidified further.
He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, put his phone back into his pocket, and emptied his mind to concentrate.
It was not easy.
Because of Phoenix Village’s bizarre rules, all of Qin Shu’s bodily functions had completely lost their vitality. He was essentially a soft corpse. That meant preparatory actions such as deep breathing or briefly holding his breath were practically useless when he tried to force himself into a highly concentrated state.
But precisely because of that, his perception and understanding of his own soul were steadily improving through repeated trial and error.
Qin Shu entered an extraordinarily mysterious state.
All at once, he felt his body become lighter and lighter, like a wavering helium balloon. Starting from the center of his brow, something floated upward and passed through the restraint of his skull.
His field of vision rose with it and expanded outward, as though he had genuinely begun to fly, floating weightlessly in midair.
He looked left.
He looked right.
Then he lowered his gaze toward his own body standing on the ground…
He was still right where he had been.
He had not learned to fly. Instead, without realizing it, he had acquired another pair of invisible eyes that could see farther away and move as naturally as his own limbs.
See Through.
Those invisible eyes abruptly changed direction and shot straight toward the bright-red coffin suspended high above, rushing forward without warning.
Squelch.
A strange, faint sound of compression emerged.
Qin Shu’s pupils contracted at what he saw. He stared blankly for several seconds before finally understanding what had happened.
His endlessly extending line of sight had actually passed through the coffin’s bright-red exterior, as though forcibly tearing open the tiniest slit and squeezing his gaze through it.
And now, at this very moment, Qin Shu was staring directly at the owner of the bright-red coffin.
They maintained eye contact for far too long.
The situation gradually became extremely awkward for both of them.
Inside the coffin lay a decomposing corpse.
A decomposing corpse that was conscious.
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