Chapter 1: The Ninth Day of the Seventh Month, Prohibited from Linhe

At dawn, Xu Yuan rose, pulled on a loose, tattered coarse linen tunic, and before heading out to work, glanced at the almanac:

Today is the ninth day of the seventh month, the ninth year of Huangming Xingyou.

Auspicious: travel, cleaning, moving, keeping livestock.

Inauspicious: earthwork, buying property, digging wells.

Prohibited: Cold Food, Linhe, night travel!

Xu Yuan memorized it carefully.

The first two items—auspicious and inauspicious—were merely guidelines, but the final one, prohibited, could cost you your life if broken!

These prohibitions ran deep in every subject of Huangming; the habit of checking the almanac upon waking was etched into their bones.

“Prohibited from Cold Food? Then no raw or cold food—you must go into the mountains to chop firewood.”

“Prohibited from Linhe? Then stay away from every mountain stream and river.”

“Pity—I can’t go to Mei Yue Pond today to sneak a peek at those two water ghost sisters bathing,” Xu Yuan mused, nodding in approval: “The scholar was right—lust carries a blade above its head.”

Xu Yuan was a laborer in the inn’s back courtyard; after rising, he did chores—cleaning horses, unloading goods—then prepared to enter the mountains to chop wood after breakfast.

Someone of his station ate only two meals a day.

He slung his axe over his waist rope and hoisted a bundle of coarse hemp cord onto his shoulder, ready to leave, when three figures emerged from the front courtyard.

The boy in front was the apprentice of Accountant Liu, wearing a white loincloth and a black gauze cap covering his hair.

He spotted Xu Yuan and raised his hand: “Hey!”—then forgot his name, so he blurted: “These two merchants are heading to Wangxiang Village to collect mountain goods; you’re going the same way—guide them.”

The two merchants, both around thirty, were sturdy; the taller one had a thick beard and a missing segment of his left pinky.

The shorter, stocky one had mismatched eyes but kept a constant smile, seeming easygoing.

The burly man spoke bluntly: “Get us there, and you won’t go unrewarded.”

Xu Yuan stood blocking the gate: “Gentlemen, there are things we must settle before we go—not about the reward, but—”

The mismatched-eyed man nodded: “We know the rules. Once we enter the mountains, we follow you. If we disobey and draw something down on us, you save yourself—don’t let us drag you down.”

Xu Yuan gave a thumbs-up, then turned and walked out: “You two know the ropes—follow me.”

Ghost Witch Mountain teemed with malevolent spirits and bizarre phenomena.

Yet it also held treasures worth more than gold, drawing merchants to collect them; Xu Yuan had been here half a month, and this was already his fifth group.

The villages inside the mountains were no ordinary places, especially the mountain runners—none would dare make a living in Ghost Witch Mountain without skill.

Xu Yuan always delivered them to the village gate—and never entered.

Half a li beyond town lay a dirt embankment, over a zhang tall, beyond which flowed a river.

The mismatched-eyed man suddenly heard a call: “Husband~”

The voice was soft and melodic, like a pale, slender hand gently scratching inside his ear.

He couldn’t help turning toward it—there, atop the embankment, a beautiful woman’s head emerged, her eyes brimming with longing, gazing at him with deep affection.

“Husband~” she called again, and the man instantly felt she was his destined soulmate; without realizing it, he stepped toward her.

The burly man sensed something wrong and lunged to grab him—then heard the same tender call: “Husband~”

Another woman’s head rose from the embankment—delicate brows, almond eyes, a tiny oval face, pale skin radiating fragile, pitiable charm—every feature perfectly matched the burly man’s taste.

He forgot everything, unconsciously reaching toward her: “Miss, are you in trouble…?”

Two rope nooses flew through the air, snapping tightly around their necks and yanking them back.

They snapped awake, chilled to the bone: “What kind of aberration is this?”

Xu Yuan had already stuffed his ears with scraps of cloth and gestured for them to do the same.

Once their ears were blocked, the soul-stealing “Husband~” calls vanished.

The two women’s heads atop the embankment flew into rage, their faces twisting into monstrous grins, fangs bared, shrieking: “Damned brats, you keep ruining our fun!”

A rustling rose from the embankment—row upon row of beautiful female heads emerged, packed shoulder to shoulder, each screaming curses at Xu Yuan.

As they raged, they began to surge forward—revealing behind them massive, jet-black snail shells!

Each shell stood taller than a man, housing a beautiful head with sharp teeth—but for some reason, none dared leave the embankment.

They could only glare furiously as the three walked away, then slowly retreated behind the embankment.

Moments later, another caravan passed—“Husband~” came the same sweet, alluring call again.

…

Xu Yuan walked as he spoke: “That place is called ‘Beauty Embankment.’ It was built to separate the river—otherwise, on days of Linhe prohibition, the consequences would be dire. But a pack of malevolent spirits took it over.”

The mismatched-eyed man asked: “What if we’d walked across?”

“You’d have lived beautifully—the snail girl would build you a house—yes, dig a hole right into the embankment, though you’d see it as a grand, spacious tiled mansion.”

“Then she’d cook you delicious meals every day—yes, all made from mud she dug from the riverbed.”

“That mud would numb your pain. She’d eat you a little each day—you’re strong, your flesh firm—she’d likely have enough to feed on for… ten days.”

Both felt a chill crawl up their necks—Ghost Witch Mountain was truly cursed; even at its foot lurked such horrors!

They couldn’t help wondering: was “firm flesh” even a compliment?

The mismatched-eyed man suddenly recalled: “In Huguang Province, there’s a tale of a ‘Snail Girl’ marrying a farmer, cooking and building for her husband…”

Xu Yuan smirked down: “She’s got skills, property, and offers herself to you? What’s her motive?”

Both shook their heads, deeply convinced.

Further along, a large mound rose from the ground, beneath which curled a colorful object.

Xu Yuan said: “That’s the Hat Tomb.”

The massive grave looked from afar like a short, thick mushroom.

“Legend says it’s the tomb of a princess from the previous dynasty. Because it’s in Ghost Witch Mountain, no one dares rob it.”

As they drew closer, the two merchants saw clearly:

An old woman wore a patchwork robe of many colors, her face caked in chalk-white powder like plaster, smoking a brass pipe, squatting on a bamboo-backed chair.

The chair was small, the woman fat—it groaned under her weight but stubbornly refused to break.

Having learned from the Beauty Embankment, both dared not move.

Xu Yuan whispered: “That’s the Corpse Hag. I know every local aberration here—don’t speak. I’ll handle it.”

Seeing travelers, the hag croaked like a crow: “Am I beautiful?”

If the burly man came alone, he’d sneer: “You’re hideous,” and she’d fly into rage: “Your eyes can’t tell beauty from ugliness—keep them no longer!” and pluck them out.

If the mismatched-eyed man came alone, he might sense the trap and reply: “Beautiful—exquisitely lovely,” and she’d sneer: “Your tongue only lies—keep it, and you’ll harm others!” then rip it out.

The correct response was…

Xu Yuan took off his worn straw sandals and held them up to the hag: “Does this look like your tongue when you hanged yourself?”

The hag, furious yet uneasy, retorted: “I was not strangled with white silk!”

“You’re mistaken. Go check the records.”

She’d grumble and retreat into the tomb to consult texts, determined to discover how she truly died.

“It’s you, brat, who’s wrong!”

“Your brain can’t even remember things—when I find the truth, I’ll dig yours out and eat it!”

Xu Yuan slipped his sandals back on, waved to the two merchants, and motioned: Stay silent, move fast!

After passing the Hat Tomb, they navigated several other perilous spots, and Xu Yuan sighed: “We’re close to Wangxiang Village.”

The mismatched-eyed man smiled in praise: “We owe you everything, young man.”

He grinned, mouth wide—his mismatched eyes slanted sideways, giving the impression he was squinting.

He spoke only thanks, never mentioning payment.

Xu Yuan: “These outer areas—everyone in town knows how to pass. But it depends on the day. For example, the Corpse Hag—if today prohibits ‘turning corpses’ or ‘calling souls,’ she becomes utterly lethal, eating anything she sees. This path would be impassable.”

The mismatched-eyed man probed again: “We’d like to hire you to take us deeper—the price is negotiable.”

Xu Yuan shook his head again: “I can only take you this far. Beyond this, only the old mountain runners in the village can guide you. No one else is useful—even skilled cultivators who enter get trapped.”

“Then we’ll settle for you getting us to Wangxiang Village.”

Both merchants felt disappointed—killing this boy and harvesting his soul would only grant safe passage through the outer fringes; to go deeper, they’d need those old mountain runners.

Those old foxes were hard to outwit—not like this dim-witted boy.

New book launch—thank you, esteemed patrons!





(End of Chapter)