“Ancient people favored sons over daughters — it’s not unusual that women’s names weren’t recorded,” Fu Miaoxue said dismissively.

“Even without a name, there should at least be some record of their origins.” Bai Youwei opened to the village head’s page and pointed it out to her.

The village head’s surname was Zhao.

The village head’s wife’s family name was Ma.

So beside the village head’s name was written: *Zhao Ma-shi, married into this village from the Ma family village…*

Even without a given name, the information about Ma-shi as a person was clear and complete — where she was born, into whose household she had married, how many sons and daughters she had borne — all of it was recorded in the register.

Now look at Li-shi: beyond knowing she was Li the Scabhead’s wife, there was nothing else.

Fu Miaoxue followed along for several more pages, murmuring: “You’re right, that is strange…”

“There are two possibilities,” Shen Mo analyzed. “Either she was native to this village, or she married in from elsewhere. Given that the Li family required the whole village’s help to manage even their funeral rites, Li-shi likely had no other relatives in this village. The probability that she came from somewhere else is very high — she might even have been purchased.”

Du Lai said with puzzlement: “If she was purchased, then by the time Li Qianggui died, he was already seventy. After all those years, wouldn’t even the deepest resentment have faded? Besides, the man is dead, and the village head is dead — even if Li-shi harbored hatred and grievances, shouldn’t everything be settled by now?”

“…Look at this.” Bai Youwei turned another page. “It’s the old woman from just now — she doesn’t have a name either.”

Li the Scabhead’s next-door neighbor: the old man’s surname was Liu, so the old woman was left with only the appellation Liu-shi.

But Liu-shi had slightly more written about her than Li-shi: *Liu-shi bore three daughters, who respectively married into such-and-such village, such-and-such village, and such-and-such village.*

It seemed this place was truly so poor that any family with daughters preferred to marry them off to other villages.

They turned the register back and forth several times. They gathered no small amount of information, but it was all scattered — impossible to piece together into one complete chain of evidence.

Fu Miaoxue’s brow twisted, and she grew somewhat restless and irritable. “Are all the main game versions this mentally exhausting? Why on earth won’t the bone-carrying woman stop?”

Du Lai gave the matter serious thought. “Could it be that she died alone and forsaken, and was never properly buried? Perhaps we should go look at Li-shi’s grave.”

Bai Youwei nodded. “We should look not only at Li-shi’s grave, but at Li Qianggui’s as well. If Li Qianggui’s grave is undisturbed, then the whole idea of ‘carrying bones’ makes no sense — is Li-shi really carrying bones? Are they truly Li Qianggui’s remains she’s carrying?”

Fu Miaoxue rubbed her arms. “Stop talking, you’re going to give me goosebumps!”

Bai Youwei glanced at her arms. “…Ha.”

“Can’t I just describe how I feel?” Fu Miaoxue said, displeased, and tucked her hands behind her back.

“Let’s go.” Shen Mo glanced up at the sky, heavy with dark clouds. “Hopefully we find it before the rain comes.”

Shen Mo pushed Bai Youwei’s wheelchair, Du Lai took Fu Miaoxue’s hand, and with the two women momentarily quieted, the four of them set off together toward the graveyard.

…

The graves were on the hillside not far from the village — the very place where the four of them had first come down from the mountain at the beginning.

Walking up the mountain path, every few steps brought another cluster of burial mounds: simple little earthen mounds with tombstones, or a few sheets of yellow spirit paper weighted down with stones.

The sky had grown very dark, heavy and overcast, and the rain seemed as though it might fall at any moment.

Considering that Li Qianggui had died the previous year, his grave should be relatively recent. Shen Mo and Du Lai split up to search.

After some time, they finally found Li Qianggui’s burial mound in a patch of desolate, overgrown weeds —

The grave had been dug open.

A rotting black straw mat protruded from the damp earth. Beneath the mat, dim and indistinct, the white of bones could be seen.