Zong Hang felt the logic was a bit confusing.
He could understand why the disaster that befell the Three Water Ghost Families would affect Yi Xiao, but why would it affect him? No, even the word “disaster” wasn’t quite right – he should have died by gunshot, yet here he was alive and kicking. Was this perhaps… a blessing in disguise?
Yi Xiao remained silent. She rolled up her left sleeve, revealing countless scars on her arm – horizontal, vertical, diagonal strokes, as if someone had tried to write characters with a knife. The overlapping scars were so numerous that any intended writing was now indiscernible, leaving only a mass of scar tissue.
Zong Hang drew in a sharp breath.
What happened next was even more chilling: Yi Xiao extended her right hand and began clawing at her left wrist, violently scraping toward her elbow.
Zong Hang quickly turned away, his voice trembling: “Don’t… please don’t…”
Having suffered from her hands before, he knew how sharp her nails were and how strong her grip could be. Such violent scratching would surely tear flesh from bone. The mere thought made his skin crawl – he didn’t want to watch. In the past, when watching horror movies, he would look down during bloody scenes and wait for them to pass. After all, why let fake gore disturb his real peace of mind and life?
Yi Xiao commanded: “Turn your head back.”
Her tone left no room for negotiation.
Zong Hang gritted his teeth and turned back. His world had already changed – tonight’s events might just be a prelude. Who knew what dangers lay ahead? To move forward, he had to steel himself: if you push yourself hard enough, the world won’t push you too far.
The arm was indeed torn open, but there was no blood – just a ghastly white furrow among the crisscrossing scars.
Jing Xiu had mentioned Yi Xiao’s inability to bleed, but he hadn’t taken it seriously, even countering: “How hard could you have scratched? Maybe her skin is just thick, or perhaps she bleeds slowly and you just didn’t see it.”
Now he knew better.
He couldn’t help but ask: “Where’s your blood?”
Yi Xiao, without looking at him, pinched the torn flesh as if trying to seal it back together. “Why their downfall affected us this way, I don’t know either. I’ve been trying to figure it out.”
“But what I do know is that the Three Water Ghost Families won’t tolerate things like us, even though I’m a Yi, even though I was once their Water Ghost.”
She slowly raised her eyelids, revealing a cold gleam: “You saw how Ding Xi dealt with me – he’d stop at nothing. If he learns that you’re not only alive but have become such an aberration, what do you think he’ll do? What will the Three Families do?”
“I don’t know exactly how many people the Three Families have altogether, but there must be at least a thousand able-bodied members who could track and hunt you down. Each one of them is a danger, your enemy. I could let you go home, but would you dare?”
Chills crawled up Zong Hang’s spine like writhing earthworms.
“Keep your face hidden, don’t reveal your abilities in front of others, guard your secrets well. Don’t tell anyone, not even Jing Xiu – she already knows too much…”
Zong Hang tensed up instantly, like a cat with raised hackles, his eyes full of wariness: “Leave her alone! Jing Xiu was dragged into this – she just wanted to make money!”
Yi Xiao smiled mockingly: “Is that so? How long have you known her? Do you understand her? Can you guarantee she won’t betray you if something happens? What if someone bribes her? Or tortures her?”
Zong Hang was stumped.
He suddenly understood why people with secrets in movies and TV shows were always lonely: because deadly secrets couldn’t be shared. Each additional person who knows is like another draft in a winter window – you can never feel completely secure and warm.
Yi Xiao’s expression softened again. Zong Hang realized that despite her repulsive appearance, her voice was quite pleasant, especially when speaking gently – there was an almost bewitching charm to it: “She’s not on your side – I am. You’ll understand eventually that the strongest bonds are formed between people who share the same trials and face the same dangers.”
Zong Hang steeled himself: “Why don’t you let her go now, while she still doesn’t know too much? Consider the persimmon gold as hush money. Jing Xiu is a good person – I believe that with the money, and considering how I’ve helped her, she won’t talk.”
Yi Xiao said: “You need someone to take care of you now.”
“I’m already better…”
Yi Xiao’s expression suddenly turned cold: “No, far from it. Zong Hang, look at my face.”
Zong Hang met her gaze, his eyes still showing stubbornness and defiance.
“Am I beautiful?”
Zong Hang remained silent.
Since childhood, Tong Hong had taught him never to judge others’ appearances. If given the choice, everyone would want to be loved by all, but natural features were beyond control. Being good-looking wasn’t an achievement worth bragging about, and while some people might be ugly, it was normal – mocking or maliciously critiquing them was shameful.
So he stayed quiet.
But he knew in his heart that Yi Xiao wasn’t just not beautiful – she was ugly. It wasn’t just about her skin; upon closer inspection, there was chaos and misalignment in her bone structure. Her eyebrows were too far apart, her nose crooked, and her jaw seemed misaligned. For her to ask “Am I beautiful?” seemed absurd, almost self-deprecating.
Yi Xiao understood his silence and gave a slight smile.
She pulled out a photo from her pocket.
It was a small color photograph laminated in clear plastic. The young woman in it was in her twenties, with bright eyes and white teeth, smiling with her chin resting on her hand. The hairstyle was a bit dated, reminiscent of 1990s Hong Kong stars, but her beauty would still be striking even by today’s standards.
She could hold her own against many celebrities.
Zong Hang asked: “Who is… this?”
He wanted to ask “Is this you?” but felt it would be too stupid: people’s appearances can change, but the bone structure doesn’t. Yi Xiao and this woman shared no facial similarities whatsoever – there wasn’t even a trace of resemblance to “vaguely make out.”
Yi Xiao smiled desolately: “Doesn’t look like me, does it?”
“Zong Hang, look carefully and understand: my present is your future.”
“I’m one of the lucky ones. Among those who were affected with me, some had bones breaking through their skin, others died covered in frost, feeling like hardened plaster to the touch, and some reeked of burning flesh.”
“Can you smell anything on me? Be honest, don’t hold back.”
Zong Hang hesitated: “Like rotting wood.”
“It’s quite unpleasant, isn’t it? But it’s not the worst. When it starts to smell like decomposing flesh, I’ll be close to death.”
Zong Hang stared at her blankly.
He didn’t know how to react anymore: every conversation with Yi Xiao was like bombs dropping from above, wave after wave, seemingly endless.
He had become somewhat numb.
Yi Xiao stood up, concluding their conversation: “You’re still new, while I’m worn out. I’ll die before you, perhaps very soon – one or two months, three to five months, depending on how much time heaven is willing to give me.”
“You should thank me for explaining and clearing things up for you. Back then, I was like a madwoman, wild and crazy, watching my companions die, watching myself rot, piecing these things together bit by bit.”
“My life was destroyed by this, and I won’t rest until I uncover the truth. Maybe if we keep investigating, there might be a turning point. I don’t have much time left, and everything is pretty much settled for me, but you might still have a chance.”
Zong Hang looked at Yi Xiao: “What should we do?”
“Investigate the secret the Three Water Ghost Families are hiding, why there were consecutive disasters,” as she said this, her gaze fell on the circled “7.17” on the calendar, “Time is running out. In three days, it will be the Jiang family’s day to open their vault.”
When Jing Xiu woke up, she received news that she had to return to China – immediately, as soon as possible, with no room for discussion.
Her documents were all in order; she just needed to retrieve them when no one was around. Yi Xiao had documentation too – Jing Xiu had caught a glimpse and noticed that while the passport was genuine, it seemed to belong to someone else.
She had heard about various methods of passport fraud these days: you could provide your photo and use the identity of someone who never traveled abroad to apply for a passport, or “rent” real passports from people who look similar, with makeup assistance provided. If fingerprint verification was required at customs, they even had fingerprint covers.
In short, they’d rack their brains for solutions. The route Yi Xiao would take was unclear.
But that wouldn’t work for Zong Hang – he was already too “well-known” here. From Yi Xiao’s hints, she planned to arrange for him to be smuggled across the border.
Jing Xiu figured Zong Hang would be quite resistant to this idea: after all, he was a well-behaved kid from a wealthy family, and smuggling was illegal.
Sure enough, while she was redressing his wounds, Zong Hang was troubled: “Jing Xiu, I don’t think I can do this. I can’t do bad things.”
Some people could remain calm after doing wrong, but not him. If he had something to hide, that secret would grow infinitely in his mind, making him act abnormally and speak awkwardly, like a monster bound to reveal its true form in broad daylight.
As a child, whenever he hadn’t done his homework, the teacher would always catch him. His classmate sitting behind him had tricked him by saying that when the teacher asked “Has everyone finished their homework?”, several strands of his hair would automatically stand up, sending out signals.
He believed it and went home to secretly pluck several strands from the center of his head while examining himself in the mirror.
…
Jing Xiu comforted him: “It’s okay, I hear smuggled people are usually hidden in ship holds or cargo. No one will question you, and even if they find you, just stay calm…”
She smiled slyly: “Don’t forget, you’re currently ‘missing.’ If they find you, they’ll consider you a ‘victim’ and send you straight home. You can get away from this twisted woman – isn’t that good?”
Zong Hang’s smile was forced.
In one night, everything had turned upside down. He and Jing Xiu were no longer on the same wavelength: he needed to go further and experience more before he could feel safe returning home.
He hesitated: “Jing Xiu, I mentioned to her about letting you go…”
Jing Xiu’s movements froze, suddenly tense: “What did she say?”
“She said I might still have episodes, that I’m not stable yet and need someone to take care of me… but don’t worry, I’ll figure something out. Maybe someday, when there’s an opportunity, I can help you escape…”
Jing Xiu interrupted: “It’s fine.”
She gestured for him to raise his arm so she could wrap the bandage around his armpit: “You saved me, so it’s only right that I take care of you. To be honest, given your condition, I’d be worried if I left now.”
“As long as she doesn’t pull any more stunts… Besides, we’re on the same side. With you here, I’m not afraid.”
Zong Hang remained silent.
Jing Xiu’s trust put more pressure on him – he feared he wouldn’t do well enough and would disappoint her expectations.
Zong Hang was arranged onto a cargo ship.
According to the captain, there would be a day and night journey by water, then a switch to land transport, with the final leg through Laos led by a smuggler. With good luck, they might catch a ride; with bad luck, they’d have to trek through forests and mountains. The client would receive the cargo, inspect it, and pay the remaining balance there.
Perhaps because Zong Hang appeared too nervous, the captain tried to comfort him: “Handsome boy, don’t worry lah! Before Chinese people went out, now you are rich, many people smuggle into China for black market work lah, I know many Vietnamese people lah, they all say to go to Zhejiang for work, Zhejiang has money lah…”
The captain was probably used to dealing with people from Guangdong and Guangxi, his Cantonese-accented Mandarin wasn’t quite authentic, but he never forgot to add “lah.” Zong Hang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry – should he be proud that people were smuggling themselves into China for illegal work?
He settled down in a corner of the lowest cargo hold.
This ship wasn’t meant for transporting people – it was full of timber, and its destination didn’t seem to be China, so he would be handed off multiple times. Zong Hang felt this was similar to a flight “transfer” – he preferred direct flights, as they felt more secure. This up and down, rise and fall, who knew what could happen?
Speaking of the devil, sometime after setting sail – it felt like he had barely dozed off – the ship stopped moving.
Damn, surely the border patrol couldn’t be this impressive, already intercepting the ship?
Heavy footsteps came down from above.
This is it – they’re searching the ship. Smuggling would be a stain on his life, he’d never be able to rise above the mud untainted…
In his panic, Zong Hang had an idea. He fell to the ground, forehead pressed against the floor, eyes closed, curled up with hands clutching his chest, wearing an expression of intense suffering.
Jing Xiu was right – he was a victimized “missing person.” Even on a smuggling ship, he was here under duress, not by choice…
The footsteps drew closer.
Then he heard the captain’s voice: “Handsome boy, you seasick lah, so serious? Want medicine or not lah?”
Under the captain’s concerned gaze, Zong Hang swallowed two motion sickness pills, then rubbed his chest and gave a positive review: “Much better now, my head isn’t spinning as much.”
The captain sighed in relief and brought over what he’d been carrying.
First was a sack, which when opened revealed a black thick plastic bag with some water in it, containing about ten fish, still half alive.
Then there was a large square cage covered with black cloth, with a bottle of baijiu hanging from the handle. When the cloth was lifted, it revealed a huge water bird, neither quite a chicken nor a duck.
Zong Hang stared at it: “What is this?”
“Cormorant lah, like you, going back to China lah. Handsome boy, help feed it fish, it needs to drink alcohol too, no choice lah, they say its owner very fierce, must do as told lah.”
The captain left, still chattering.
Zong Hang held the bottle of alcohol, looking at the dying fish flopping at his feet, then at the cormorant.
It was truly robust, standing firmly, still as a mountain, with a hooked beak and cold, gleaming green eyes.
Though not exactly cute, it was better than nothing. For his first smuggling experience, having to spend several dozen hours together, he should try to maintain good relations.
Zong Hang greeted it: “Hello, I’m Zong Hang.”
After a while, the cormorant turned around, showing him its backside.