Chapter 112: Undying, Unperishing

Ning Zhe stepped out of the bedroom and plucked a sour jujube from the bamboo strainer on the windowsill, peeled it, and tossed it into his mouth—the familiar taste, sour enough to make even his mother not recognize him.

“Didn’t expect to find wild fruit from Qinzhou here.”

After scraping off the thin layer of flesh, Ning Zhe spat the oval pit into his palm; five evenly spaced circular indentations formed a perfect ring on its surface, like a pentagram. Hence, when made into a bracelet, sour jujube pits are called “Five Eyes, Six Powers Bodhi Seeds.”

……Freaks who collect curios call everything “bodhi.” Pick up a brick off the roadside? Stone bodhi. Steal a rebar from a construction site? Iron bodhi. Step on a beer bottle at the scrap yard? Lucky break—that’s jade bodhi.

Ning Zhe tossed the leftover jujube pit into his pocket and walked out the front gate of Ji Taimei’s grandmother’s house. He still hadn’t found Ji Taimei.

Last night, Feng Yu shu had watched Ji Taimei run down the path into the village, but when she arrived at Ji Taimei’s maternal grandparents’ home, she found no trace of him—instead, the grandfather, who’d been notified ahead of time by his daughter that his grandson was coming to stay, mistook Ning Zhe for Ji Taimei.

Along with the identity of “the Ji Taimei the grandfather knows,” only fragmented childhood memories flooded Ning Zhe’s mind—useless bits of information.

Yanglao Village was this tiny—much smaller than Gubei Town. If he hadn’t gone home, where could Ji Taimei possibly hide?

……Could he have been killed?

“Hss… huu.” Ning Zhe adjusted his breathing and stepped forward to leave.

But suddenly—a sharp crack came from behind. Ning Zhe turned instinctively and saw the living room’s side cabinet had been opened; two blue-and-white porcelain bowls lay shattered on the floor.

No one else was in the living room. The grandfather was in the bedroom, the grandmother had taken the younger sister out to worship the Earth God—the room was empty except for the open cabinet and the scattered shards.

“What broke?” The grandfather emerged from the bedroom, frowned at the broken porcelain, scolded Ning Zhe briefly, then turned to fetch a dustpan and broom from the corner, muttering, “Why so hasty just to grab a bowl? Clumsy fool. Bowls aren’t worth much, but don’t cut your hands.”

“There are two mooncakes left in the stove. Take them and eat. I’ll go get some vegetables from the field. We’ll cook when your grandma comes back.”

“Understood.” Ning Zhe stared long at the open cabinet, then turned to the stove to take the mooncake.

Anyone else might’ve thought the cabinet’s wood or hinges had aged, or that the wind had blown it open, or that the bowls were poorly placed and simply fell when bumped—but Ning Zhe was meticulous. He remembered clearly: the cabinet’s double doors had been locked with a small copper lock. Not locked with a key, but certainly not something a casual bump could open.

Only a nimble hand could swiftly unhook the small lock hanging from the cabinet door—meaning someone had been in the living room just now.

An invisible someone.

“Is it Ji Taimei? The Earth God? Or something else?” Ning Zhe entered the kitchen, grabbed half a mooncake, and bit into it as he walked toward the door.

There was no doubt ghosts existed in this village—but the rules governing them were obscure, offering no clues to investigate.

Ning Zhe left his grandmother’s house and headed toward the village’s Earth God shrine.

Unseen by Ning Zhe, driven by dread, a ragged, barefoot figure crept after him—each step his mangled legs took left a bloody footprint on the ground.

Yet those footprints were invisible, intangible, odorless, tasteless.

Following Ji Taimei’s childhood memories, Ning Zhe walked down the old street overgrown with grass. Yanglao Village was small, and many of its houses stood empty—abandoned homesteads left behind when families moved to Yun Capital. Few remained; perhaps only three out of ten households still had residents, mostly elderly like Ji Taimei’s grandparents, with almost no young people. Notably, coffins were everywhere in Yanglao Village.

Every few steps along the path, Ning Zhe saw a coffin placed beside the road—covered with waterproof tarp, sheltered under a shed, or stored in a small concrete-block hut… Every house in Yanglao Village had at least one coffin exposed outdoors, making the already desolate village feel even more chillingly empty.

“Could these coffins be connected to the village’s ghost?” Ning Zhe wondered.

Gazing at the coffins lining both sides of the road, Ning Zhe paused, then pulled a curious thread from Ji Taimei’s memories.

—Yanglao Village had long been famed far and wide as a village of longevity. Its elderly lived exceptionally long lives: octogenarians were common, centenarians not rare, and at least two had lived past 120. The few who died “early” in their sixties or seventies had all perished from accidents—tripping down stairs and hitting their heads, or being hit by cars.

Beyond that, few in Yanglao Village died of illness or peacefully in their sleep.

In short, this was a peculiar place.

Ning Zhe silently raised his guard, reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and checked the message Feng Yu shu had sent him:

【I just met two strange people by the roadside—a man with a crew cut and his elderly mother.】

【The old woman… ancient, ancient beyond measure. Her skin clung tight to her bones, barely any flesh left, eyes blind, ears probably deaf—like the skeletons in the horror movies Bai Zhi watches.】

【When I asked her son for directions, she peered at me from behind the door.】

=9+ Shu _ Ba

【Under the eaves outside the door, a coffin was covered with a sack.】

【Where are you?… I want to find you.】

Ning Zhe looked up, holding his phone, and saw an old woman in a red tank top crouched on the balcony of a second-floor house nearby, her bony hands fumbling over something drying on the windowsill—likely pickled radish.

Click—Ning Zhe snapped a photo of the woman and sent it to Feng Yu shu:

【Is this the kind of old woman you meant?】

Feng Yu shu replied instantly:

【Yes! I just saw two more like them—so ancient they looked dead, yet still alive, still moving.】

Ning Zhe tore his gaze from the second floor and replied:

【Come to the Earth God shrine in the north of the village. There’s a ginkgo tree there—needs ten people to encircle it. Hard to miss.】

Feng Yu shu:

【Got it!】

After sending the message, Ning Zhe slipped his phone back into his pocket and kept walking. Yanglao Village was small; from afar, he could already see the towering canopy of the giant tree in the northern part of the village.

And a wisp of smoke rising straight into the sky.

(End of Chapter)