Chapter 25: 24, Corpse Lotus Root

24、Corpse Lotus Root

“You stayed in the wine cellar all day—did you have any strange dreams? Any hallucinations?” Zhou Chang asked Shi Danshi, who looked deeply worried.

Shi Danshi turned his head in surprise at the sound: “Brother, did you have dreams in the cellar too?”

The boy’s trickery had been exposed; his standing with Yang Rui was likely ruined, so he grew especially close to Zhou Chang—preparing for his own future.

Zhou Chang nodded.

Shi Danshi lowered his eyes, recalled for a moment, then told Zhou Chang: “At first, I felt nothing. Then it felt like a warm, damp wind blew into the coffin from somewhere unknown, and then I started dreaming.”

At first, the dreams were chaotic and hard to remember.

Later, I dreamed I sank into a vast lake…”

Here, Shi Danshi grew fearful: “The lake water was a deep, vivid green. All I could see were blurred shapes.

Then I heard a gurgle, gurgle behind me—like something exhaling.

I turned to look—and suddenly the water cleared. I saw section after section of lotus roots, colorful and vivid, growing in the muddy bottom of the lake. Water flowed through their pores, making the sound I’d heard.”

“Colorful lotus roots?” Zhou Chang raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe they were lotus roots…” Shi Danshi hesitated. “There were eight or nine main segments, each sprouting several branches. For some reason, they were all dressed in those colorful, women’s dresses…

I thought it strange, so I leaned closer—and suddenly the nine lotus segments swayed as if pushed by water, their flowered dresses swaying too—

One segment was near me. I saw a black rope wrapped tightly around it, nearly cutting it in half. Many fibrous strands drifted out from the severed end, swaying in the water—then suddenly turned into black hair!

The segment nearly severed became a swollen woman’s head!

It grinned at me, its wild hair tossing.

I panicked—and the other segments turned into swollen women dressed in flowered skirts, their necks nearly severed by ropes, waving at me frantically in the water!

Several women’s feet sank into the mud, and white, squirming lumps wriggled beneath. I looked closer—they were countless female corpses buried deep in the mire!

Cold sweat broke out on my back. I scrambled toward the surface—

The women’s corpses lay beneath, staring fixedly at me!

The higher I rose, the more I saw a tall, thin figure with a queue like those from the old dynasty, holding a fishing rod, fishing by the lake’s edge.

He muttered the ‘Pure Quiet Sutra’ we’d recited this morning.

‘One man doesn’t enter a temple, two men don’t stare into a well, three men don’t embrace a tree…’”

Shi Danshi, lost in his terrifying memory, muttered helplessly, unable to control himself!

…

“Dad, the new braised meat shop next door smells amazing.”

The child, small-bodied with a large head and slightly swollen belly, stared at the sign outside ‘Li’s Braised Meat,’ sniffed hard, and spoke to the man ahead of him.

The man carefully supported a middle-aged woman as they walked toward their home.

Hearing his son, he glanced at the braised meat shop and whispered: “Fewer people raise pigs and cattle these days. What kind of meat could that shop use?

Maybe it’s human flesh… don’t eat it…”

The man frightened his son with his words.

But the child wasn’t afraid. He nodded dismissively, his topknot bobbing: “I know, I know, Dad. Mom’s still sick, we need money everywhere—I’m just telling you…

That shop’s braised meat really smells good…”

Hearing his son’s mature words, seeing the child’s suppressed longing, the man’s eyes stung.

He opened his mouth, but only sighed, “Ah,” and helped his wife into the main room. The child immediately brought a stool for his dazed mother to sit.

Outside, the sky grew darker.

Inside, the light grew dimmer.

In the dim room, the rumbling of father and son’s empty stomachs grew louder.

“The wine shop says your mother will recover in a few days at least,” the father said, shifting his son’s attention—they now had only one meal a day. “Old Li from the end of the street had madness. His family took him to Yongsheng Wine Shop for a day.

He came back, stared blankly for a few days, then got better.”

“Oh…”

“What’s the name of the owner of that new braised meat shop? I think I heard it before.”

“Something like Li Xiamei…”

“Hmm.”

The father and son chatted a few more words, then fell silent.

They were just too hungry.

And the scent of meat kept drifting from the shop next door.

The man saw a few customers gathering outside the shop. He swallowed hard, stood up to close the door, hoping his son would sleep early.

At that moment, his wife, sitting like a clay statue on the stool, murmured something unclear: “Yiren bu…”

“What?” The man startled, rushed to his wife’s side, staring at her face. “Wife, what did you say?”

“One man doesn’t…”

“One man doesn’t enter a temple, two men don’t stare into a well…” Her words grew clearer. Her eyebrows trembled slightly; expression slowly returned to her face.

The man was overjoyed.

But the child found his mother’s expression strangely unfamiliar.

“She’s waking up!

Ya’er, your mother’s waking up!” The man was so thrilled he nearly wept. He looked left and right, then suddenly fixed his gaze, made a decision, pulled several copper coins from his pocket, and handed them to the child: “Go!

Ya’er, go buy a piece of braised meat to eat!

Buy the cheapest kind!”

…

Zhou Chang pushed the cart back home.

Yang Rui, face grim, led Shi Danshi inside.

“Ah, this man—” Zhou Sanji watched the grim-faced master and apprentice, sighed helplessly—he seemed to know something.

“Wine is medicine—it cures heart sickness…” Zhou Chang mused. “Does Old Yang have some heart sickness? Today, when he heard the wine shop people say Shi Danshi wasn’t mad, he looked distinctly unhappy.

And he didn’t smile once on the way back.”

Zhou Sanji turned back to Zhou Chang, smiling: “You don’t understand. It’s all old-generation gossip.

As long as you’re well now, I’m satisfied. Don’t worry about the rest.

—He’s already taken Shi Danshi as a disciple. No one’s done anything wrong to him. He won’t drive him away. Don’t worry—nothing’s wrong.”

The old man refused to say more, so Zhou Chang didn’t press. He turned to the side room door and asked: “What did Bai Xiue do today?”

“She’s been sewing that hundred-beast robe at home—foolish nonsense!” Zhou Sanji glared at Zhou Chang, his tone turning sharp.

“I’ll go see her,” Zhou Chang said, walking toward Bai Xiue’s bedroom door.

His thought threads had all been strengthened in the wine cellar, but their number hadn’t increased.

So he still needed to get closer to Bai Xiue, draw more thought threads from her, and bring them to the wine cellar for strengthening.

“Hey, don’t go!

Come back and light the fire—dinner’s ready!

You brat, when you get better, you stop listening!”

The old man shouted behind him, but Zhou Chang ignored him.

He reached Bai Xiue’s door, paused a moment, then pushed it open without knocking.

The crimson glow of sunset entered the dim side room with his tall figure.

Bai Xiue, seated on the small wooden bed, visibly startled at the sudden intrusion, quickly hid what she held behind her back—she gripped a gray-black pelt the size of a bowl, stitched together from several rats.

What Bai Xiue truly wanted to hide wasn’t the rat pelt.

It was the several ground beetles clutched in her hand—beetles still active in the dead of winter, their carapaces now stitched together with fine, translucent white threads, hidden beneath the rat pelt.

“Miss Bai, sorry for the intrusion.”

Zhou Chang stood at the doorway, not stepping inside—this eased Bai Xiue’s tension slightly.

She lowered her head, whispered: “Young Master Zhou, what do you want? Next time, please knock first…”

If he knocked, how could he discover Miss Bai’s secret?

Zhou Chang saw the rat pelt she’d hidden—it was clearly stitched from several rat pelts—but not a single stitch mark remained on it. Even the needlework basket beside her held all spools neatly tied, unused.

She indeed had special thread—used to sew the ‘Hundred Beast Robe’ agreed upon with her grandfather.

That thread must be of the same origin as Zhou Chang’s Thought Robe.