Chapter 31: Equality

The sharp blare of the suona pierced her eardrums like a dagger, slicing through the quiet air of the alleyway; Feng Yu Shu hid between the corner of two buildings, cautiously peering out.

In the empty street, two rows of servants in white robes shuffled past, their steps uneven; the two at the front blew trumpets, while the two at the rear wore white flowers, scattering tiny red paper petals along both sides of the road as they walked.

In the center of the procession, four servants carried the four corners of a statue’s base; the elegant, soaring figure atop the lotus platform was unmistakably the Snake God.

Lord He’s servants had brought the Snake God out from the ancestral hall.

This bizarre scene nearly made Feng Yu Shu cry out in shock, but remembering Ning Zhe’s warning before they parted, she forced herself to calm down, covering her ears with both hands, burying her face in her chest, curling into a motionless ball.

“Don’t listen, don’t believe, don’t accept anything anyone says or does…”

“Don’t listen, don’t believe, don’t accept anything anyone says or does…”

“Don’t listen, don’t believe, don’t accept anything anyone says or does…”

Feng Yu Shu muttered the words over and over in her mind, not daring to move.

The piercing suona grew louder; the procession carrying the Snake God approached from the direction of the ancestral hall, drawing near Feng Yu Shu ’s hiding spot—the proximity and her solitude intensified her terror.

But suddenly, for no reason, the suona stopped.

“Huh… huh?” Feng Yu Shu lifted her head, her tear-streaked eyes glancing cautiously toward the street—the procession carrying the Snake God’s statue had halted without warning.

On the uneven blue stone slabs lay a fresh pool of blood; one of the front servants, holding the suona, had tripped and fallen, his head split open and bleeding.

“So… this is how it is…” Feng Yu Shu ’s doubts instantly cleared: “They’ve also broken taboos. Worshiping the Snake God is worship too, and now they don’t even know where they’re taking it—so their luck is terrible, even stumbling on the road…”

Before this thought could linger, Feng Yu Shu shook her head violently, banishing all extraneous thoughts. She forced herself not to think about what was happening on the street, lowering her head again as Ning Zhe had instructed, becoming a perfect ostrich—deaf, blind, indifferent.

Moments later, the suona sounded again.

The lead servant, whose forehead still dripped blood, paid no attention to his wound; he and his companion resumed playing the suona joyfully, parading the Snake God through the streets.

The suona faded into the distance; all seemed calm once more, and that familiar fear brought Feng Yu Shu a strange sense of relief.

But suddenly, a thunderous crash shattered this hard-won peace.

Boom—a sound of something shattering—startled Feng Yu Shu into a violent jolt, sending her tumbling to the ground. She barely managed to push herself up, lifting her head to see the procession carrying the Snake God had stopped again.

Did they have bad luck again? Feng Yu Shu thought instinctively.

This time, before she could dismiss the thought, it was negated—because this time, it wasn’t just the procession servants who suffered misfortune.

On the street, bright red blood sprayed everywhere; a towering statue had toppled, crushing the four servants beneath its base. The immense weight crushed their abdomens, spewing pinkish-white intestines outward, splattering the ground into a sticky, viscous pool.

Nearby, the Snake God statue itself had cracked open from the fall.

Looking at the shattered wooden carving of the Snake God, overwhelming shock surged through Feng Yu Shu .

“The Snake God is having bad luck too…”

Had the Snake God broken a taboo? Thinking this, Feng Yu Shu bit hard into her own white wrist—the sharp pain drove away the intrusive thought. She curled up again, forcing herself to obey Ning Zhe’s command: ignore everything, think of nothing. Perhaps by luck, she buried her head in the sand just in time—Feng Yu Shu , hugging her knees and crouched on the ground, did not see the servants crushed beneath the statue’s base rise as if nothing had happened, gather the shattered pieces of the Snake God, place them back on the lotus pedestal, and resume playing the off-key suona.

Carrying the Snake God’s remains, they continued toward the He family mansion.

Red petals and blood stained their path; the procession stumbled constantly, falling again and again. Their skin grew thinner from scraping against sharp stone edges; sometimes, unable to dodge in time, one servant was struck squarely by a falling signboard.

The heavy signboard severed his neck cleanly; his round head rolled away, dragging veins and lymphatic tissue, coming to rest in the corner—but the head’s owner still shook his head and blew the suona forward, though now he made no sound.

When the deathly suona finally faded into the distance, Feng Yu Shu trembled, lifting her head with trembling shoulders, her round, oval face streaked with dried tears.

“Is it over…?” she whispered cautiously.

Only after confirming the strange procession had truly vanished did Feng Yu Shu dare relax slightly against the wall, her mind empty, waiting silently for Ning Zhe to end it all.

Feng Yu Shu lifted her head, gazing up at the clear, boundless blue sky.

But suddenly, a man’s figure blocked her view of the sky: “Lady, why didn’t you answer your phone?”

Feng Yu Shu screamed and collapsed, her body limp and powerless; the figure that had appeared beside her without a sound—she knew it all too well.

“Zhang Yangxu…” Unnameable fear crawled across Feng Yu Shu ’s face, drowning her heart in thick, viscous mud—rage, struggle, helplessness.

Zhang Yangxu stepped forward, his expression earnest: “Lady, I know you doubt me, so I don’t expect you to believe me immediately. What I want to say is, Ning Zhe may have warned you about some things, but his words aren’t necessarily entirely true.”

“No, no, no… I won’t listen to you, I won’t listen to you, I absolutely won’t believe you… I…” Feng Yu Shu ’s lips trembled; she shook her head and scrambled backward, while behind her, Zhang Yangxu drew closer step by step.

He seemed patient, unhurried, afraid of frightening her; with a gentle expression, he kept speaking earnestly: “I don’t ask you to believe me, Lady. I only want you to listen to what I have to say. You don’t need to believe—just listen. Please?”

“No… no… don’t come closer…” Feng Yu Shu ’s mind teetered on the edge of collapse; her eyes glazed, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably: “I won’t believe you, I absolutely won’t believe you…”

“You don’t need to believe, Lady. You only need to hear what I have to say.” Zhang Yangxu lowered his voice: “This morning, when you and Ning Zhe were in the ancestral hall—you—”

Before he could finish, a clatter interrupted him—several roof tiles slid off and fell directly onto Zhang Yangxu’s head.

Even more coincidentally, the tiles landed point-down, like a playing card spinning into foam—sharpened edges plunged straight into Zhang Yangxu’s unprotected occiput, piercing his brainstem.

He was dead.

Zhang Yangxu, killed by falling tiles, collapsed before the nearly broken Feng Yu Shu —but his corpse did not remain. His blurred human form dissolved into wisps of phantom smoke, allowing Feng Yu Shu to clearly recognize what it was.

“Ghost…” Feng Yu Shu ’s shoulders still trembled, but her fear had largely receded: “It’s Ning Zhe—he must have done this. Ning Zhe used some method to make even ghosts suffer bad luck…”

Though Ning Zhe was not beside her, he still interfered with the ghost’s actions through some inexplicable means—he was still protecting her. This long-absent sense of safety settled her spirit like a drowning person clutching a straw.

The rule punishes all who violate it—equally, whether human, ghost, or god.

(End of Chapter)