As an “international” landlady, Yi Sa kept meticulous records of her rental accounts across different locations. She maintained a small notebook with detailed tenant information, including a column for “evaluations” – after dealing with people several times, she could generally categorize and rate them. Some were marked as “honest and reliable,” others as “slow but hardworking,” and some as “deadbeats.”

Suka was an absolute deadbeat through and through.

Despite his extremely honest-looking face, he had a sly and slippery heart. She had visited this village three times and never collected rent from him. His tears would come on command, always armed with plenty of excuses: his uncle had died, he had broken his wrist (showing her his bandaged arm while saying this), he had been robbed (tilting his head to show her the large scrape marks on his neck).

Yi Sa learned from other sources that while his uncle had indeed died, it was over ten years ago. His wrist wasn’t broken; he had just wrapped it in bandages for show. As for the scrapes on his neck, those came from fighting with a prostitute in Phnom Penh when he didn’t want to pay after the deed was done.

Did he think she was stupid? She was already a dying person – what kinds of demons and monsters hadn’t she seen? To pull these tricks in front of her!

So this time when she came, she cursed Suka until he was thoroughly humiliated, cursing him so badly that villagers gathered around to watch. Suka crouched on the ground, clutching his head, wiping tears and snot while wailing loudly.

Yi Sa’s Khmer was quite limited. As she cursed, she naturally switched to more fluent Chinese. It didn’t matter since no one understood anyway – she cursed whatever came to mind.

“You need money, but don’t I need money too? I’m poor too!”

She wasn’t poor.

“If everyone was like you, defaulting and dragging out payments, what would I rely on in my old age?”

She felt she had no future, no “old age” to plan for – she was purely venting her anger.

While she had cursed to her satisfaction, she had also confused the crowd of onlookers. The villagers only vaguely understood that Suka owed money. After exchanging glances, they dispersed in small groups, then gradually returned, all carrying items: candles, soap, cloth for making clothes, cabbage, and some households that were truly destitute could only offer a small bunch of green onions.

Yi Sa knew the local custom – it was the whole village’s effort to help Suka repay his debt. But why should a village full of honest people have to compensate for a slippery scoundrel? Besides, what would she do with all these items?

With no other choice, Yi Sa shouted: “I don’t want any of it, I don’t want anything!”

She then went up and gave Suka a couple of hard kicks. Suka, knowing the debt was now written off, was happy even after being kicked, and even said “thank you” to her.

Yi Sa felt quite defeated, feeling she had suffered a setback, but also felt the time was precious and not worth wasting on being angry with such a person. So she turned and walked toward the river – she had come by boat this time, with Wu Gui standing calmly on the deck, watching this farce with composure.

After walking just a few steps, three elderly villagers caught up with her, dragging Suka along as a translator. They gestured and talked at length. Suka’s ability to adjust was truly remarkable – his expression was already back to normal as he explained that everyone was grateful to her and wanted to invite her to stay for a meal.

What meal? In such a poor village, the food would probably be barely edible. Yi Sa refused without a second thought. After Suka exchanged a few words with the two men, he persisted: “It’s a celebration, it will be more lively with outside guests.”

Yi Sa casually asked: “What celebration?”

“Someone’s getting married.”

“Today?”

“Tonight.”

As if possessed, Yi Sa agreed.

Partly out of curiosity: a wedding tonight, yet she couldn’t see any signs of celebration.

And partly because…

She quite enjoyed watching weddings, finding them festive and fortunate. It was like watching someone wear beautiful clothes – although the clothes weren’t sparkling on her own body, just watching made her feel quite happy.

By evening, the atmosphere finally became somewhat festive. Normally, Cambodian weddings last three days, but because the village was poor, everything was simplified, keeping only the most basic ceremonies.

Children loved watching the excitement, all crowding to the front, while Yi Sa stood far back to observe.

The groom was in his twenties, short in stature, dark-skinned and simple-looking, carrying mats and bedding on his back, holding basins and pots in his hands, grinning non-stop – here it was customary for men to “marry into” the woman’s family. He didn’t have much property; everything he owned was bundled up on his back.

After a while, the bride was brought out amid drumming for the “string-tying ceremony,” similar to China’s red string tradition. The bride and groom pressed their palms together in prayer position while several elders wound two or three silk threads around both their wrists in circles.

It probably symbolized that from now on, the two people would be joined as one.

The ceremony was simple, the groom wasn’t handsome, the bride wasn’t beautiful, and the furnishings were poor, but Yi Sa genuinely felt from the bottom of her heart that everything was wonderful.

During the wedding feast, when the newlyweds came to toast the guests, Yi Sa suddenly remembered she hadn’t given a wedding gift. She quickly took out her wallet and gave them all the cash she could spare, then felt foolish afterward – it was quite something to come to collect a debt and end up with an empty wallet instead.

Suka brought a plate of food and came to chat with her, eating with his fingers: since he was the only one who could somewhat communicate with her, they couldn’t let a guest feel neglected.

The conversation was fitting for the occasion.

Suka: “Are you married?”

Yi Sa: “No.”

Suka appeared very concerned: “You should get married too. Here, girls can marry after they turn fifteen.”

Inwardly, he thought Yi Sa was unmarriageable: he had never seen a woman with a worse temper than hers, seemingly born with a black face. Since establishing their debtor-creditor relationship, Suka had never seen Yi Sa smile at him, except for cold smirks.

Sure enough, Yi Sa gave another cold smirk, her expression seemingly saying: None of your business.

Suka, failing to read the room: “So what type do you like? I could introduce someone to you.”

Do you introduce someone? With your circle of snake and rat friends, what kind of person could you possibly introduce?

Yi Sa wanted to snap at him, but for some reason, when she opened her mouth, she found herself giving a serious answer: “Someone tall and fair-skinned.”

Suka’s face darkened, and he glared at her before turning away.

Yi Sa was bewildered, only realizing after a while that Suka probably thought she was deliberately mocking him: Cambodia is a tropical country where men and women are generally of medium build, and this fishing village’s inhabitants spent their days working near water, most with dark complexions.

Her wanting someone “tall and fair-skinned” seemed like an intentional provocation.

Yi Sa felt awkward.

But was it her fault? She had only spoken the truth.

That night, Yi Sa was invited to stay in a stilt house.

The room was also simple, with just a bed, but there was conveniently a nail above the headboard, which saved her some trouble – she took out a pre-knotted hanging rope with elastic loops from her water ghost bag and looped it around the nail, then turned to instruct Wu Gui: “Stay alert, I’m letting you sleep in the room not for your comfort, but to work, understand?”

Wu Gui stretched its neck out long, its two eyes gleaming like small lamps, and for a moment, Yi Sa almost believed it understood – but after a while, it turned to look elsewhere again.

Yi Sa sighed. Truly spiritual animals were hard to find. She didn’t like cats or dogs and had heard chickens were good, with intelligence supposedly higher than human toddlers, but she spent most of her time on the water – bringing a chicken would just be asking for it to drown.

She’d have to make do with Wu Gui – they could provide end-of-life care for each other.

She blew out the candle and slowly lay down, first placing a towel under her neck, then slipping her wrist into the rope loop: these were all preventive measures, guarding against wounds mysteriously bleeding, and against losing consciousness and sitting up in bed at night, possibly self-harming with a knife like Yi Xiao had – the loop would tighten if pulled, hindering her movement, and Wu Gui was at least a living creature; if it heard movement and came to push or nudge her, it would help her regain consciousness quickly.

Living alone with no one to help, she had to find ways to create convenience for herself. It seemed troublesome at first, but you never know how adaptable humans are until you try – once you get used to it, it’s fine.

She lay in the darkness for a while. The wedding’s festive atmosphere seemed to linger, still fermenting in the humid air.

Yi Sa turned to look at the bedside.

After more than a year, she still couldn’t break this habit of thinking about Zong Hang in the lightless nights before sleep.

Since they had truly connected, he had always shared a room with her: sleeping in an extra bed when available, on the couch when there wasn’t one, or making do with a bedroll beside her bed when nothing else was available.

And he was talkative, always trying to chat with her after the lights were out. She was usually irritable, and he was like a little ground squirrel trying hard to pop up while she was like a rubber mallet hammering him down, determined to quiet him before sleep could truly begin.

But now, every day was quiet. Sometimes when she felt lonely, she would talk to Wu Gui, but after babbling away, she felt emptier inside than if she hadn’t spoken at all.

Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating that section beside the bed.

Bright moonlight before the bed.

Yi Sa smiled faintly and turned to face the inner wall: this year had been neither good nor bad, neither shocking nor joyful. Unlike others counting down their final days, she didn’t desperately grasp at last passions to do different things, see different landscapes, or shine different lights – she continued living as before, following the great river, collecting rent when due, investing in interesting new ventures when they arose as if she still had plenty of time as if nothing had changed.

…

While in a half-asleep state, her phone suddenly rang.

Yi Sa opened her drowsy eyes to check her phone – it was Ding Yudie, requesting a video call.

Yi Sa accepted and said, “Wait a moment.”

Yawning, she undid the rope loop and rubbed her cheeks to wake herself up. Then she got up to light a candle, sat on the floor, and adjusted her phone to the right angle.

Wu Gui was quite alert, its feathers all puffed up – showing good performance.

On-screen, Ding Yudie appeared dazed, wearing thick snow gear, his cheeks red from the cold, with snow on his eyebrows and along the edges of his hair.

In contrast, she wore a loose tank top, her back sweating from the heat – two different worlds on either side of the screen.

Yi Sa said, “You’re at the Three Rivers Source again.”

Ding Yudie’s voice drooped: “Mm-hmm.”

“Any results this time?”

“No.”

They both fell silent for a moment.

A year ago, after sending Zong Hang away, Yi Sa and Ding Yudie, along with fifty or sixty more people sent from the three families, had spent an entire month searching around the Three Rivers Source area, but they never found the drifting cave again, let alone any “ground gateway.”

Yi Sa’s heart grew distant at first, and she only told Ding Yudie about her situation: “Regarding Uncle Panling’s matter, I’m willing to help when I can. If you find anything, send me word – if I’m not dead or paralyzed, I’ll come right away. But I won’t keep searching here with you. I want to go back and live some comfortable, carefree days.”

Ding Yudie hadn’t stayed there continuously either, but his visits were frequent. This trip was his eighth time, each stay lasting over ten days – truly giving it his all.

…

After a while, Ding Yudie finally spoke: “There’s not a single trace. The trajectory map Uncle Panling left behind is completely useless now. Following that route, we can’t find anything.”

“I’ve added more people to see if it might have changed its path, but there are still no results.”

He fell silent again.

They had done far more than just that.

– The Jiang family had no more water ghosts. Yi Yunqiao had acquired property around the Old Master Temple area and regularly went underwater to check, but everything remained calm.

– Ding Yudie had placed hope in the ancestral tablets of the three families, and had tried using the Ding ancestral tablet for another Hukou Golden Soup Lock, but when the tablet touched his forehead, he felt like he’d fallen into primordial chaos, and nothing happened except nearly having his internal organs displaced by the torrential currents.

Yi Sa consoled him: “This is like searching for a needle in the ocean. I told you earlier when we went down last time, we must have damaged it. Its time flows differently from ours. While our recovery might take one or two months, it might need ten or twenty years – by then, who knows where I’ll be.”

“So you need to adjust your mindset, observe patiently, and don’t keep rushing there so frequently. Many things can’t produce results overnight.”

Ding Yudie was very depressed: “I understand the logic, but I’m just too eager to know Uncle Panling’s fate. Whether alive to see the person or dead to see the body, this in-between state… I go through all the possibilities every day.”

He counted on his fingers at the screen: “One, Uncle Panling succeeded; two, he didn’t succeed and is still fighting the ancestral tablet, like a ticking time bomb, not knowing how much longer he can hold on; three, he failed and has already been subdued by the ancestral tablet. Oh, let me tell you, I read a novel the other day called ‘Seven Deadly Notes’ – the situation was quite similar to Uncle Panling’s. Five people fighting against seven deadly qi forces, and in the end, they sealed the deadly qi within their bodies, also not knowing how long they could resist…”

Yi Sa said, “That’s just a novel, made-up story.”

Ding Yudie was dejected: “I know… Oh right, our Big Master knows about this now, have you heard?”

Big Master meant Ding Haijin. Given the magnitude of the situation and his heart bypass surgery, they had been afraid to upset him and hadn’t told him – but with so many casualties, especially the loss of two significant figures like Ding Panling and Ding Changsheng, it couldn’t be hidden anymore. Last month, Jiang Taiyue finally stepped forward and told him everything.

Yi Sa made an affirmative sound: “Aunt Yunqiao told me. She said he took the black notebook and reads it over and over every day.”

Ding Yudie was frustrated: “Exactly! At his age, with a bad heart, yet he insists on getting involved. Now I’m terrified whenever the phone rings, afraid it’ll be news of his funeral… peh peh peh.”

Realizing his words were inauspicious, he quickly spat on the ground.

After spitting, his humanity finally returned, and he remembered to ask about her: “Sasa, how are you? Oh, is that Wu Gui behind you?”

Yi Sa turned to look at Wu Gui: “Yeah, we’re dependent on each other now, both trying to give each other end-of-life care. We’ll see whether I bury it first or it sends me off first. Just look at me with my flower-like beauty, spending all day with such an ugly Wu Gui…”

Suddenly, anger rose in her heart, and the more she looked at Wu Gui, the more annoyed she became. She yelled at it: “Get out, get out, get out!”

As she spoke, she got up, ignoring Ding Yudie watching on the screen, opened the door and pushed and shoved, even using her foot to nudge Wu Gui, who wore an expression of “What did I do?” and “Who did I offend?” – as she forced it outside.

Ding Yudie couldn’t bear to watch and kept shouting from his end: “If you’re feeling bad, why take it out on it?”

“Ah, with this terrible temper of yours, who could put up with you! In this life, from what I’ve seen… truly only Zong Hang could get along with you.”

At the mention of Zong Hang’s name, Yi Sa’s movements froze, and even her final nudge to Wu Gui became gentler.

She closed the door, leaned against it for a moment, then sat back by the bed. After hanging her head for a while, she suddenly asked him: “Ding Yudie, my decision was right, wasn’t it?”

Ding Yudie didn’t know how to respond: “I think… it should be right. After all, after several decades, people need to move into new lives. Although he can’t accept it right now and keeps asking me about you, I think given enough time…”

Yi Sa only heard what she wanted to hear: “He asked about me? How did he ask?”

Ding Yudie snorted: “Just pretending to be casual, beating around the bush. What do you think of my intelligence? How could I not see through that? And you, blocking him completely, then turning around to ask me non-stop.”

He exhaled through his nose, and in the cold weather, it created a white mist effect: Look at these hypocritical heterosexuals.

Yi Sa always had her twisted logic: “What’s wrong with blocking him? When cutting off relations, you need some sense of ceremony.”

Ding Yudie gave her a sidelong glance: “But let me tell you, I just saw his social media post. Zong Hang now… seems to be in Cambodia.”

Yi Sa’s heart jumped, and she sat up straight: “Really? Show me!”

Ding Yudie rolled his eyes at her, neither agreeing nor refusing, and suddenly went offline.

Yi Sa was annoyed, her heart scratching like cat claws. Just as she was about to call back to yell at him, a message came through.

It was a screenshot of a social media post. Yi Sa quickly opened it.

The screenshot showed a location tag, and it was in Siem Reap. On a busy night in the Old Market area, Zong Hang sat in a tuk-tuk bar, taking a selfie with a ten-dollar bill.

The caption read: The place where I once got beaten up and my former worth.