Yi Sa listened carefully.
Everything was quiet, with no more sounds.
Zong Hang pressed his index and middle fingers together, pointing first at his eyelids and then in the direction of the sound, meaning: should we go look?
After doing this, he felt quite accomplished: being able to communicate without making a sound – the water ghost techniques really worked, and he wasn’t bad either, already able to apply what he’d learned.
Yi Sa shook her head and lowered her voice, almost mouthing the words: “Finish making your shoes first.”
Fine, when Yi Sa said something, there was usually a reason. Besides, whether they ended up fighting or fleeing, having shoes would be better than being barefoot.
Zong Hang bent down to pick up the rubber pieces, quietly sitting against the ship’s cabin and borrowed the Wugui dagger to punch holes in the rubber. Yi Sa also leaned her back against the cabin wall, continuing to listen intently to the movement outside.
Considering everything, she felt this sound was “isolated,” more like an accident rather than something human-made.
Seeing Zong Hang constantly looking at her, Yi Sa said quietly: “When you’re in a dangerous situation and notice something unusual, don’t immediately stick your head out, or you might walk right into trouble.”
Zong Hang nodded. Tong Hong also wouldn’t let him watch fights, afraid that when people got violent, their fists and feet would be indiscriminate and might catch him.
He unraveled the nylon parachute cord, threaded it through the holes in the rubber, and tied the heel to the shoe, finishing one before moving to the other, tying them very securely to ensure they wouldn’t fall off while running.
After finishing, he gripped the fire shovel tightly, waiting for Yi Sa’s instructions.
Yi Sa wasn’t sure what to do either.
She felt this ship graveyard was strange from all angles, with dangers potentially coming from every direction. If there were people or “things” lurking in the shadows, any movement would expose them.
But they couldn’t stay hidden here forever.
She beckoned Zong Hangover and drew in the sand with her finger to explain: “Follow me, try to avoid open spaces, and stay close to the ships’ hulls. I’ll go first, you follow, but don’t stick too close. Keep your eyes active, watch all directions, and call out immediately if you notice anything wrong.”
Understood – she was entrusting him with watching their backs. Zong Hang felt the heavy responsibility, his palms sweating.
Yi Sa circled out of the cabin, leading Zong Hang toward where the sound had come from earlier.
The ship graveyard was still silent. This kind of ruined “city” was the most terrifying – you never knew if something might suddenly burst out from under a pile of wooden debris when passing by. That’s why they say silence is more frightening than noise – if you hear wolves howling across the mountains, at least you know your opponent is wolves. But now, whether jackals, tigers, demons, or ghosts – anything was possible.
After walking for a while, Yi Sa stopped and looked up.
It should be around here.
This area was mostly wooden boats, piled chaotically, leaning and tilting against each other like a maze-like district. Just when you thought you’d hit a dead end, one turn would reveal another path.
After two turns, Yi Sa suddenly stopped.
Zong Hang quickly stopped too, and when he looked ahead, his head began to buzz.
He saw a pair of feet.
More precisely, from this position, they couldn’t see the whole body – the ship’s stern blocked it – only a pair of feet wearing leather sandals were visible. They appeared to be a man’s feet.
The heels were on the ground, toes pointing skyward – the person must be lying down.
Yi Sa sighed inwardly. She never liked seeing creepy scenes, especially those involving people, but now she had no choice but to steel herself and proceed.
She instructed Zong Hang: “You keep watching our surroundings. We two must never let the same thing capture both our attention at once, in case it’s a trap.”
Yi Sa gripped the Wugui dagger tightly, maintaining as safe a distance as possible as she circled the stern.
When her vision cleared the obstruction, her heart jumped, then began racing wildly.
It was Jiang Xiaoguang!
Lying face-up, deathly pale, body rigid – he must already be dead.
But she still tried calling out: “Uncle Jiang?”
No response.
Yi Sa walked forward, examining Jiang Xiaoguang’s corpse, then looked up to see a broken mast jutting out at an angle.
From the condition of the corpse and the lividity patterns, he’d been dead for some time. The initial assessment suggested he might have been hanging from the mast up high, and as the wood gradually couldn’t support the weight, it finally broke – the corpse fell from above, hitting the ship’s rail and breaking boards along the way, which explained the continuing sounds.
Then it landed here.
Zong Hang vigilantly surveyed their surroundings, but after hearing “Uncle Jiang,” he knew it was someone “familiar” – the same “familiar” person whose head he’d hit with a bowl. He couldn’t help stealing glances, his heart creeping with dread.
There were many blood trails on Jiang Xiaoguang’s body, long since congealed and darkened. Many cuts went through his clothes straight to the flesh – whoever killed him must have had terrifying fingernails.
Yi Sa reached out to grip Jiang Xiaoguang’s shoulders, lifting his upper body to look.
The back of his head was caved in, struck by something unknown – the fatal wound must have been to the back of his head.
Yi Sa signaled Zong Hang to stay put while she climbed up to look around. Besides some messy scratch marks on the ship’s boards, she found nothing else.
She returned the same way.
Zong Hang anxiously met her: “How is it?”
Yi Sa shook her head, looking down at Jiang Xiaoguang’s corpse with a sense of melancholy: someone alive just days ago was now lying here lifeless.
All along, regardless of any hidden motives, Jiang Xiaoguang had treated her quite well.
She gathered some old wooden materials to roughly cover Jiang Xiaoguang’s body, then called to Zong Hang: “Let’s go.”
Zong Hang was stunned: “Where are we going? What about Mr. Jiang… are we just leaving him?”
Jiang Xiaoguang was around his father’s age, and he had hit him on the head with a bowl – he felt quite guilty about it.
Yi Sa asked him back: “What else can you do? Drag him along? Right now, the most important thing is finding a way out – everything else is secondary.”
She was already feeling dizzy from hunger, her lips getting drier with each lick.
She estimated that in at most half a day, survival needs would override everything else. By then, things like breathing soil, ship graveyards, killers, and secrets would all become less important than a mouthful of water or a corner of bread. Yet their situation kept developing in more unpredictable directions, without any hope of escape in sight.
Finding a way out – she spoke with certainty, but when it came to actually doing it, they were at a complete loss.
This cave was like a garbage dump, ships everywhere – tilted, leaning against walls, piled up. Looking around, there seemed to be no exit passages at all, like a giant barrel with a lid.
How could they get out? Was it like the limestone cave at the clam bed, also sealed by breathing soil? Would they have to burn their way out again? But this place was so big – where should they start burning?
After searching for a long time, they were exhausted. Fortunately, there was no shortage of places to rest: any reasonably sized ship, once you found a breach to crawl into, could serve as decent cover.
Yi Sa found an unturned small cargo ship in a hidden spot, went in and found a bed, shook out the mattress, and curled up to lie down.
She was too tired – her mind even more exhausted than her body.
Zong Hang still wanted to do something: “Yi Sa, how about I go out and look for something to eat?”
Yi Sa spoke weakly: “Don’t wander around. If you get lost, I won’t know where to look for you. There won’t be anything edible – even sealed cans would have spoiled after several decades. Get some sleep first, conserve your energy.”
That made sense. Zong Hang dragged a mattress from next door and set it up beside her bed, then moved tables and chairs to block the entrance securely before lying down.
Shortly after lying down, he heard his stomach growling. He pressed his hand against his belly, trying to force it to be quiet, but just as he was fighting this battle, Yi Sa’s stomach growled too.
Zong Hang looked up at her.
Their eyes met for a moment, and they almost simultaneously broke into smiles.
Zong Hang wanted to chat to distract from their hunger: “Jiang Xiaoguang was with Ding Yudie and the others – now that something’s happened to him, what about the rest?”
Yi Sa rolled over, lying on her stomach on the mattress, also pressing her hand against her belly: “Two possibilities. One is that there’s something here that got to everyone. Two is that these people are killing each other. Honestly, those scratch marks…”
Using the process of elimination: Given Ding Yudie’s personality, she would never attack Jiang Xiaoguang, and Jiang Jun was Jiang Xiaoguang’s son – surely father and son wouldn’t kill each other…
That seemed to leave only Yi Xiao, this sister she didn’t understand and never had the chance to know.
Yi Sa closed her eyes.
She had a dream.
She was so hungry that she was eating even in her dreams, shoveling food into her mouth like a starving ghost, rice grains scattered all around the bowl. Yi Xiao sat across from her, tapping her bowl and scolding: “Look at you, eating like a pig at a trough…”
She raised her head, wiping rice grains from her lips, and saw Yi Xiao’s chopstick-holding hand – her fingernails were full of blood.
Yi Sa asked her: “Was it you? Did you kill Uncle Jiang?”
Yi Xiao suddenly smiled eerily.
Then leaned in close, enunciating each word: “Sasa, I’m no longer me, and you’re no longer you either.”
What did that mean?
Yi Sa felt chills throughout her body. The Yi Xiao before her gradually changed, becoming like an image, looking carefully, it resembled those popular layered composites, countless photos assembled into one face. Those photos gradually enlarged, cycling before her eyes, all faces of strangers, men, and women, young and old, beautiful and ugly, their eyes all fixed on her. Suddenly their lips opened in unison, all saying the same thing.
“They’re coming.”
The voices of countless people surged like a great tide from all directions, wave after wave, all densely packed repetitions of “they’re coming.”
Yi Sa shouted: “What do you mean? Who’s coming? Who are they?”
…
Among the countless blurred voices, suddenly Zong Hang’s voice mixed in: “Yi Sa? Yi Sa?”
Yi Sa’s whole body jerked as she suddenly opened her eyes, almost choking on her breath.
Still, on the ship they’d taken shelter in, it was completely dark now. Zong Hang was watching over her bedside, looking at her with concern: “Yi Sa, were you having a nightmare? You kept talking in your sleep.”
Maybe, Yi Sa’s head was splitting with pain. She reached up to wipe away the sweat covering her forehead, her back also feeling chilly: “What was I saying?”
“You kept saying ‘they’ and ‘they’re coming,’ looking very panicked. I couldn’t wake you no matter how I tried.”
Really? Yi Sa felt weak, lying there to recover for a while before suddenly raising her head: “Why did it get dark?”
That didn’t make sense – there shouldn’t be day and night in the cave. The light came from that thin layer of breathing soil on the cave ceiling – could it be resting?
Zong Hang couldn’t answer; he had also been woken by Yi Sa’s sleep-talking and in his nervousness hadn’t noticed the darkness.
Just as he was about to say something, Yi Sa suddenly grabbed his arm: “Don’t speak.”
Zong Hang shut his mouth.
After a while, he pricked up his ears, his body hair standing on end.
He heard a “swishing” sound, like something being dragged along. After a while, this sound seemed to reach outside, and a faint flickering light shone in.
Yi Sa gripped her dagger and said quietly: “Let’s stay quiet and take a look.”
As she spoke, she got up and walked outside. Zong Hang grabbed the fire shovel by his bedside, held his breath, and followed her to the porthole. Just as he glanced out, his mind exploded, followed by countless white fireworks seeming to burst in his head—
He saw breathing soil, as thick as a banner and like transparent gauze but giving off a faint fluorescence, slowly dragging across the ground, with someone’s legs wrapped in its end.
It was Jiang Xiaoguang.
Silent and motionless, his arms hanging by his sides, being pulled along by that breathing soil, jerking and pausing, slowly passing before their eyes.
Where had all the people on the ships gone?
Perhaps this was how it happened – one by one, they were dragged away.