It was nearly dawn when Yi Sa finally returned to shore.
The black blood vessels on her skin hadn’t yet faded. She grabbed some clothing hanging outside a street-side residence to cover her face and head, then rushed into the hotel. The desk clerk noticed something amiss and followed her for several steps, only retreating half-convinced after she angrily threw out her room number.
Yi Sa had spare beast anesthetic in her luggage bag. She quickly gave herself an injection and then collapsed onto the floor with relief.
She had survived again. Over these years, she’d been quite lucky, with death narrowly missing her several times.
But this time, surviving didn’t bring the usual pride and joy.
Yi Sa tried to convince herself: It’s fine, you were never a good person anyway. Looking after yourself first is natural. You saved him before, he repaid you – that’s how it should be. Nobody owes anyone anything. We’re even now.
This trip was just to clarify Chen Tu’s matter. Now that’s been cleared up, she’d managed to stay completely hidden, remaining outside of everything, and unexpectedly learned about Old K’s existence. It could be considered a complete success.
As for Jiang Jun’s death and whatever Ding Changsheng was planning, she didn’t care. As long as they didn’t bother her, she just wanted to mind her own business.
This Old K was like a snake flicking its tongue – her first attempt at contact had nearly resulted in a fatal strike. Maybe it was better to leave that woman alone. She’d lived fine all these years without knowing the cause of her condition. Through her efforts, she’d built every aspect of her life into a comfortable fortress. Why force herself to investigate? Who could guarantee the result of searching would be positive?
She repeated these thoughts over and over in her mind as if trying to hypnotize herself.
—Yi Sa, go back to Cambodia, that’s the safest option;
—No one suspects you now, the quieter you stay, the safer your secret remains;
—So what if you’ve betrayed others? Who hasn’t betrayed someone? Are you Buddha? Even over thousands of years, there’s only been one of those.
…
There was a rustling sound outside the door.
Who? Could it be Zong Hang, returned?
Yi Sa’s mind jolted, suddenly feeling elated. She practically crawled on all fours to get to the door.
When she opened it, she saw no one at eye level. After a moment’s confusion, she looked down.
It was Wu Gui, soaking wet, its usual proud demeanor seemingly shocked out of it by the electricity. It appeared somewhat dazed – after coming ashore, it hadn’t caught up with Yi Sa, and she hadn’t thought about it. Fortunately, it was familiar with its owner’s scent and, after several wrong turns, had found its way back. The hotel staff, knowing it had “paid” its fifty-yuan lodging fee, hadn’t given it any trouble.
Yi Sa watched it for a while before opening the door wider: “Come in.”
Wu Gui wobbled inside.
Even an animal knew to “come back,” even if it had somewhere to return to.
What about Zong Hang?
She remembered his words before boarding the boat: “What if after Old K sees me, she doesn’t let me come back?”
He must have subconsciously felt close to her, considering her place his home.
Yi Sa realized for the first time that betraying people wasn’t difficult, but it depended on who you betrayed.
Betraying the heartless could be satisfying, but betraying someone who trusted you so much, who still thought of you even while being abandoned – that truly twisted one’s gut with a thousand different emotions.
She let out a long sigh and picked up her phone to call Jiang Xiaoguang.
It took Jiang Xiaoguang a long time to answer, his voice heavy with fatigue. If Yi Sa hadn’t known he was at Duck Head Mountain last night, she would have thought he was grieving for his son.
“Sasa, what is it? Oh, right, have you returned to Cambodia already?”
Yi Sa said: “Not yet.”
She sniffled, getting her emotions in place: “Uncle Jiang, Young Master Jiang was always so good to me… his passing hurts my heart deeply. I want to come see you, to help with his funeral arrangements…”
Using a dead person as an excuse was somewhat dishonorable, but she couldn’t worry about that now.
Jiang Xiaoguang hesitated before saying: “That’s fine, but… Sasa, when someone dies there are many things to handle – death certificates, funeral arrangements – Uncle might not have time to attend to you, we might not even get to meet. Why don’t you wait until everything’s settled, then come burn some incense at Jiang Jun’s grave? That should be enough.”
Yi Sa took the offered exit: “That… works too. Uncle Jiang, please take care of yourself in your grief.”
After this call, Jiang Xiaoguang would probably think she was insincere and slick, just being superficially polite.
But it didn’t matter – she didn’t care what impression she left on people.
Yi Sa gripped her phone, frowning deeply.
Jiang Xiaoguang wasn’t in his hometown, but he was trying hard to convey the impression that “he was there, just too busy to see anyone.”
Why did he want to capture Zong Hang? And where would he take him?
In a flash, she remembered what Yi Yunqiao had mysteriously told her.
—Has the boat arrived?
If, as Yi Yunqiao said, there was another boat.
Jiang Xiaoguang knew about it, and so did Ding Changsheng.
That day at the dock, Jiang Xiaoguang had left with Jiang Jun’s body in full view of everyone, while Ding Changsheng continued with the passenger boat – could it all have been a front? Were they secretly planning to meet on that mysterious boat?
In other words, to find Jiang Xiaoguang, could she… start with Ding Changsheng?
For her second call, Yi Sa dialed Ding Yudie.
As usual, Ding Yudie was grumpy from just waking up. Yi Sa held the phone away from her ear, waiting for his complaints to finish before getting to the point: “Are you at the Temple?”
“Yeah.”
“What about Ding Changsheng, did he continue to Jiujiang with the boat?”
“No, he and his godson, along with several others from the Ding family, also got off at the Temple. I think they want to survey the location since Golden Soup will open sooner or later.”
“Where are they staying?”
“They went to stay in the county town. The Temple is in a rural township, understand? ‘Rural’ as in the countryside. They couldn’t possibly stay here. Only someone as undemanding as me would stay in a farmhouse inn.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course! The Temple is tiny – we all got off the boat together. He even invited me to ride with them, but I couldn’t be bothered to go with them, so I refused.”
Yi Sa pondered: They got off the passenger boat at the Temple and went to stay in the county town – could it be because that other boat hadn’t arrived yet?
Ding Yudie finally caught on: “Why are you asking about this?”
Yi Sa avoided the question: “Will you be staying there all day today? Going underwater to look for the sunken ship?”
“Yeah,” Ding Yudie got excited at the mention of this, trying to build suspense, “Sasa, you know what? The place names here are really interesting. There’s a Falling Star Mound in the lake, and across from it, what’s now Lushan City used to be called Star County. Locals say it’s because a meteorite fell here once. A poet wrote about it: ‘Today’s lake stone was once a heaven-sent star.’ Even Li Daoyuan wrote about it in the Water Classic Commentary, saying ‘It’s said a star fell here, hence the name’…”
“Oh.”
Just “oh”? After his long and passionate explanation, she just says “Oh”? Ding Yudie felt like he’d offered warmth only to be met with cold indifference.
“When you’re underwater, help me watch for a boat.”
Ding Yudie responded irritably: “How could there not be boats on a big lake? Boats are coming and going all day, okay?”
“No, this boat must be different somehow, like staying in one place without moving. There might be people from all three families on it, and Ding Changsheng might come back to board it – if you see him, help me keep an eye on him and let me know right away.”
Ding Yudie was puzzled: “But why? Why should I help you do this kind of trivial task? Couldn’t you just send one of your Yi family water workers? I, as a respectable water ghost…”
Yi Sa hung up.
This three-foot-tall Wu Dalang – asking him for help without any explanation, and she dares to hang up? Ding Yudie’s anger flared as he shouted at his phone: “Divorce! I want a divorce from you!”
After breakfast, Ding Yudie went out wearing just a tank top and shorts, plastic slippers on his feet, his phone tucked into a waterproof case with a lanyard – of all his attire, only his hair knot was carefully groomed, with a butterfly hairpin inserted on top.
He had already forgotten Yi Sa’s words.
Among all the water ghosts, the butterfly pin was the most attractive – today he would spread his wings in this so-called “deadly waters.”
Last night, while chatting with the small inn’s owner, the owner spoke endlessly about local legends:
“Let me tell you, there’s a lake monster down there. Some people who survived shipwrecks have seen it – white, like a giant broom, several hundred feet long…”
“When it appears, oh my, there’s fierce wind and rain, thunder and lightning – no boat can withstand its destruction…”
Not all legends should be dismissed as nonsense. Ding Yudie thought these stories actually had similarities with American diving expert Boer’s memoirs.
Boer described: a white light with tremendous suction force, rolling and twisting at the lake bottom, which took away his companion.
The legend described: a white lake monster, like a giant broom, hundreds of feet long.
Both were white, long and could move.
Ding Yudie chose a secluded spot, applied two drops of brightener to his eyes, and plunged into the water with a splash.
He thanked his ancestors for blessing him with this livelihood.
Professional divers had to be fully equipped with sufficient oxygen when diving, moving slowly underwater. Even minor emergencies like getting tangled in water plants or broken fishing nets could be life-threatening.
But water ghosts were different.
Ding Yudie felt he was a fish, a merman, naturally suited for water, never worrying about oxygen as he could extract it continuously from the water, and unafraid of water pressure because his body could self-regulate.
The water wasn’t too deep here, about thirty meters. He swam underwater, moving like a leopard on all fours. The bottom had silt, which billowed up like dispersing fog when he stirred it with his hands.
After spending the whole morning searching, he found nothing.
Ding Yudie decided it was time for a nap.
He dug a hole in the silt, buried himself in it, lay face-up, and covered his cheeks and forehead with mud, leaving only his nostrils and eyes exposed.
It felt amazing, like a full-body mud mask. Lying so still, like a corpse, watching boat bottoms pass overhead was like watching people’s shoe soles walking back and forth.
If the people on the boats knew there was a pair of eyes staring at them from the lake bottom, how creepy would that be…
Ding Yudie was thoroughly satisfied.
Just as he was feeling smug, he glimpsed something swimming past about ten meters above.
This area had many boats but hardly any fish – Ding Yudie hadn’t seen a single one swimming all morning. Suddenly seeing something alive made his heart jump, and his first thought was—
A finless porpoise?
These creatures, also called river pigs, could grow to about 1.6-1.7 meters long, weighing 150-160 jin.
Looking more carefully, no – this was humanoid.
His eyes followed the figure, his heart beating faster and faster, choking back countless “holy craps.”
No equipment at all, yet swimming leisurely at a depth of over ten meters – even water octopuses couldn’t do this, only water ghosts could.
But the three families’ water ghosts each had distinct characteristics, and both Jiang Taiyue and Ding Haijin were too old to dive anymore. Who was this? Could there be water ghosts outside the three families?
Ding Yudie moved as slowly as possible, staying close to the bottom, gradually following.
Sunlight had limited penetration in the lake water – there was still light at about ten meters, but the bottom was quite dark, so Ding Yudie was essentially moving through shadows, extremely well-concealed. After following for a while, the person turned sideways – quite slender.
A woman?
Looking closer, her entire body was tightly wrapped, even her head was covered, like a mobile, layered mummy. Moreover, everything she wore was fish-belly white, which at first glance did resemble a finless porpoise.
She began floating upward.
Ding Yudie held his breath, identified the boat’s shape, and swam around from another side, but stayed consistently lower than the woman.
The woman surfaced silently, floating against the boat’s side, and tapped the hull rhythmically with long and short patterns, like a pre-arranged signal.
Soon, a rope ladder was lowered from the boat.
The woman began climbing.
Ding Yudie tried to hide in a blind spot, his body vertical in the water, head tilted back almost parallel to the surface, with only a thin layer of water above his eyes.
This was an inland waterway working vessel, commonly used for channel maintenance, underwater dredging, surveying, and salvage operations. They were common sights, and long-term mooring was normal – not “strange.”
He saw someone bend down and pull her up as she neared the deck.
Their lips seemed to form the words “You’re here.”
Holy crap!
Ding Yudie’s neck was getting too stiff, so he bent backward and submerged again.
Jiang Xiaoguang! Instead of arranging his son’s funeral at home, what was he doing at the Temple?
Jiang Xiaoguang saw Yi Xiao soaking wet from head to toe, her face wrapped with only her eyes showing, and worried she might suffocate: “There’s a bathroom on board, would you like to dry off first?”
“No need, let’s get to business.”
Jiang Xiaoguang led her to the lower deck: “I told Ding Changsheng the boat hasn’t arrived yet and asked him to wait at the hotel for my notice, so you won’t run into each other.”
Yi Xiao made a sound of acknowledgment: “Did you catch him?”
Jiang Xiaoguang nodded.
“Did you use the electric fishing rod?”
“No, he didn’t jump into the water.” At this point, he couldn’t help asking, “What’s so special about him? I don’t see anything unusual.”
Yi Xiao said: “We agreed, didn’t we? When we see Jiang Jun, I’ll tell you.”
Down the stairs, through the corridor, they didn’t see anyone. When they reached the room at the end, Jiang Xiaoguang went to unlock it. After turning the key fully, he didn’t immediately push: “Yi Xiao, you’d better… be mentally prepared.”
Yi Xiao said: “I’m already prepared.”
Jiang Xiaoguang pushed the door open.
An incense burner sat beside the door, piled with ash, but even that couldn’t mask the overwhelming stench of decay.
The room wasn’t large but had been modified with iron bars welded from floor to ceiling, with a small iron door at the bottom right, secured with chains.
Behind the bars crouched a person with strange features – hairless, with an unusually large head like the God of Longevity, a deformed protruding forehead, but a withered, skinny body. Deathly pale, with flesh torn but bloodless, he kept writing on the floor with his finger, mumbling something incomprehensible, drool constantly dripping from his mouth corners.
On three walls and the floor were blood-written characters, overlapping, various sizes, all forming the same four words:
—They are coming.
The earliest characters showed ample blood, but later ones seemed written with depleting blood. What he wrote now was just raw flesh scraping against the floor, unable to form actual characters.
Yi Xiao didn’t speak, but her face covering rose and fell heavily with her breathing. After a while, she seemed about to say something, but only strange laughter escaped her throat.
The laughter grew more heartbreaking, eventually turning to sobs.
She crouched by the iron bars and said softly: “Jiang Jun, I’m Yi Xiao, I’ve come to see you.”
Jiang Xiaoguang remained silent, tearless, looking between the bars in a daze: twenty-some years ago, they were a golden couple walking down the street, drawing countless envious glances. Now they were both monsters hidden from daylight, living worse than street rats.
He said: “Back then, over the radio, I told Jiang Jun not to follow you into the Yi family matter, to avoid breaking rules. But he worried about you and went into the underground cave with you anyway. In this, the Jiang family did right by you.”
He hesitated before continuing: “Yi Xiao, initially, I was afraid Jiang Jun would suffer if imprisoned, so I made a deal with Ding Changsheng to help me hide Jiang Jun’s condition. Uncle wanted to help you too at the time…”
Yi Xiao said: “It’s fine, looking after your son is perfectly natural.”
She gripped the bars and stood up: “How long has he been… like this?”
“He’s been this way for the past few years, though not always. He has lucid moments, but whenever he starts talking about ‘them’ and ‘they’re coming,’ he enters this delirious state. Even without giving him knives, he’ll tear open his flesh with his fingernails, write in blood until it runs out…”
Yi Xiao murmured: “How did you endure it?”
She was asking Jiang Jun this question.
But Jiang Xiaoguang thought she was asking him, and gave a bitter smile: “You get used to it.”
He’d heard an explanation once.
They say when someone dies, the reason for extending the “sending off” process to forty-nine days, with countless rituals like paper horses and burning sky ladders, is to keep the bereaved busy with various tasks. The unbearable grief gradually seeps out through these trivial matters, through nearly fifty sunrises and sunsets, bit by bit.
He’d been letting go for over twenty years.
His heart had become an empty, dried-up pond, with no grief left.