Chapter 34

33, Bride’s Pond

Zhou Chang’s pupils trembled!

Even witnessing Li Xiamei kill and dissect a corpse could not match the shock of this scene!

What kind of horrific event was this?

She was about to become another’s bride—yet at this moment meant for joy, she chose to end her own life!

Thoughts swirled in Zhou Chang’s mind; his expression gradually faded into stillness.

Those gathered around the bridal sedan, seeing the bride hang herself inside it, instantly panicked.

Their unfiltered cries carried on the wind, one after another, into Zhou Chang’s ears.

“Why did she hang herself? Marrying into a good family in town as a concubine means she’d never lack food or drink—why hang herself?!”

“How do we explain this to the nobles in town?!”

“Damn! We’ve—how did we end up on this road?!”

“Brides taken this route, eight out of ten hang themselves en route—how did we turn onto this path?!”

“Hurry! Hurry!”

“White Grandma, watch over us from heaven—don’t let the women of White Village follow your example and go ‘strolling in the garden’…”

“Shh—be quiet! Do you really think White Grandma can’t hear you?!”

…

The bride’s neck rope was cut loose; the purple-red marks on her neck made Zhou Chang inexplicably think of Bai Xiue.

The bride’s corpse was shoved back into the bridal sedan, which became a coffin.

The crowd shouted and clamored, abandoning their musical instruments, and hurriedly carried the sedan back along the same path before nightfall.

Zhou Chang heard them mention “Bride’s Pond,” “White Grandma,” and “strolling in the garden”—he instinctively sensed these words concealed many unknown things, and quietly memorized them.

The group vanished down the hillside in an instant.

Zhou Chang glanced at the sky, guessing Shi Danshi must be growing anxious.

He dared not delay further, lowering his head and continuing along the narrow path.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew past; Zhou Chang felt a chill in his heart.

He walked out of the wild grove, and finally saw signs of people beyond.

Several carts loaded with large water jars were pushed and pulled by liquor house laborers as they passed Zhou Chang.

Those men glanced at Zhou Chang, their eyes strange, yet they said nothing to him.

The water carts quickly passed by.

Zhou Chang reached the quiet, clear pond, gazing at the towering trees on the opposite shore, their massive canopies shading the sky above the water, making the surface appear dark and deep.

Not a ripple disturbed the water’s surface.

“This is Bride’s Pond.”

Looking at the vast pond, Zhou Chang suddenly understood.

The Bride’s Pond those men spoke of was none other than Yünu Pond—the water source for Yongsheng Liquor House.

“Big Brother Zhou!” Nearby, Shi Danshi crouched behind several wild trees; seeing Zhou Chang approach Yünu Pond, his anxious face turned to delight, and he called out.

As he shouted, Shi Danshi leapt from the grass and ran toward Zhou Chang.

He saw Zhou Chang turn his head toward him, waving.

“Big Brother Zhou” smiled gently, his face paler than usual; as he waved, transparent holes gradually appeared across his body.

Fine white lotus filaments emerged from those holes, twisting into fluttering little hands that beckoned toward Shi Danshi: “Come… come…”

Shi Danshi jolted in terror, snapped his gaze away, and froze mid-step!

When he regained his senses and frantically looked back at where Zhou Chang had stood—by the icy, sinister pond—Zhou Chang’s figure was gone.

The daylight grew darker; the sunset glow faded entirely.

Around Yünu Pond, silence reigned; the towering wild trees, even in this chilly spring, still bore thick green leaves, and among the lush vegetation, shadowy figures seemed hidden.

They watched Shi Danshi in quiet stillness.

“Ah!”

Shi Danshi could no longer bear the chilling silence—he screamed and fled in panic!

…

Zhou Chang did not see Shi Danshi nearby.

He walked along the edge of Bride’s Pond; chirping birds called from the dense foliage, and occasional breezes stirred ripples on the pond’s surface.

Brilliant sunlight poured downward, filtering through the massive canopies, casting shifting light and shadow along the water’s edge.

Warm winds stirred, grass grew tall, orioles flew.

For a moment, it felt like a lazy late spring.

On this radiant spring day, Zhou Chang walked among the trees beside the pond and heard the laughter and play of women.

Their laughter, like the spring itself, was bright and carefree.

“Oh, we’ve wandered to Bride’s Pond! The wind here is so cool—during the day we feed pigs, cut pigweed, cook, work the fields… it’s rare to have such idle time.”

“Lying in the grass with the breeze, I feel like I could fall asleep right away.”

“The villagers say White Grandma, buried beneath Bride’s Pond, takes the life of every young woman who passes—our village shaman says White Grandma sleeps in a garden paradise, and the girls she takes are sent to bliss, free from the suffering we endure…”

“Suffering… My father betrothed me to the eldest son of the Wen family in town, but that eldest son has been paralyzed for years…”

“Your father just wants silver coins for you—but my family is the same. I’m at marriageable age too; I don’t know who they’ll marry me off to…”

“Life is suffering!”

“Yes, life is suffering!”

“Working day and night for your family, then forced to marry someone you hate, serving them for life—if only there really were a garden beneath Bride’s Pond…”

The women’s laughter and chatter in the woods slowly turned into a chorus of mournful weeping.

The weeping echoed in Zhou Chang’s spirit, now near, now far, never fading.

He heard a woman’s soft, melodic voice singing: “On the seventh day of winter, strolling in the garden, soul trapped in mire, at peace no more…”

The sunlight filtering through the canopy dimmed abruptly.

The pond’s water gleamed coldly, reflecting the withered, desolate landscape around it.

The bright, gentle spring scenery vanished, never to return.

Zhou Chang still stood by the pond; he felt someone watching him from above, and suddenly looked up—seven or eight young girls in coarse flowered cloth had tied vines to tree branches and hung their necks from them.

His spirit flickered—those bright, youthful girls became withered, rotting corpses wrapped in tattered, faded cloth.

Zhou Chang abruptly tore his gaze away—

By the pond’s edge sat a woman dressed in bright red bridal robes, burning paper money:

“On the seventh day of the twelfth month, strolling in the garden, soul trapped in mire, at peace no more; my beloved comes to gather my beauty, through life and death, never to part…”

Hearing the woman’s song, seeing her profile, Zhou Chang’s eyes stirred.

Why is Bai Xiue here?