Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Lin Xingshu sat on the field's edge, idly scrolling through photos on his camera, yet Xie Guan's face kept replaying in his mind.

Should he inquire about him? Xie Guan had clearly rejected him yesterday. Would it be too presumptuous to pry further? If Xie Guan found out, he'd probably be annoyed…

…Whatever!

Lin Xingshu took a deep breath, mustered his courage, and stepped into the village. It was working hours, so most young people were away, but many elderly villagers were gathered at the activity center, playing Chinese chess.

"Hey, Xiao Lin!"

A white-haired old man in the crowd turned and greeted him warmly. It was the same old man who had shared drinks with him that night.

Lin Xingshu smiled and approached. The old man beamed, his eyes crinkling with delight. "What brings you here? Not taking photos today?"

"I was just about to. Um… Grandpa, I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure, go ahead!" The old man replied cheerfully.

Lin Xingshu hesitated, looking almost guilty, and lowered his voice. "Do you know… Xie Guan?"

The old man stiffened abruptly, his lips twitching. A flicker of fear flashed in his cloudy old eyes before quickly vanishing. He hastily waved Lin Xingshu closer. "Never heard of him. There’s no such person in our village."

"Huh?"

Lin Xingshu was baffled, a trace of confusion crossing his face. He couldn’t help muttering under his breath, "How can that be? He told me he was from Xiushan Village… Grandpa, then do you know—"

Before he could finish, the old man had vanished in a flash, leaving Lin Xingshu standing there, utterly bewildered.

Forget it. Maybe he should ask Liu Rong instead. Perhaps the old man was too old to keep up with the younger generation’s affairs…

Muttering to himself, Lin Xingshu decided to head to Liu Rong’s house.

This was his first proper visit to the village. True to its reputation as a century-old town, many buildings retained their traditional appearance—blue-gray bricks, dark tiles, and every household bursting with colorful flowers, some even spilling over the walls.

As Lin Xingshu walked, snapping photos of the village, he unwittingly found himself standing in front of Xiushan Village’s ancestral hall again.

With less than three days until the grand sacrificial ceremony, the hall had been thoroughly cleaned. A red silk ribbon adorned the plaque, and some painters were inside, whitewashing the walls. From the entrance, Lin Xingshu could clearly see the statue in the main hall, draped in red cloth.

He recalled the story Xie Guan had told him. This statue must be that poor child, he thought.

Feeling a pang of sympathy for the unfortunate soul, Lin Xingshu, as if by some strange impulse, stepped inside. Just as he raised his camera to take a photo, one of the painters spotted him and immediately stopped working, snapping sharply:

"Don’t you know the rules? You can't enter the ancestral hall at this time! Get out now!"

Startled, Lin Xingshu quickly bowed his head apologetically. "I’m sorry! My apologies! I didn’t know the rules. I’ve caused trouble; I’ll leave right away!"

The painter snorted and turned back to his work, but his colleague tugged at his sleeve and whispered urgently, "Are you mad?! Do you even know who that is? How dare you speak to him like that!"

"Huh?"

"Haven't your parents told you anything since you got back from your trip? He’s the bride chosen by the deity—His wife! He can come and go in this ancestral hall as he pleases. Who are you to stop him? If you don’t want to incur divine wrath, go call him back and apologize right now!"

Hearing this, the painter’s eyes widened in disbelief. Realizing his mistake, he immediately dropped his brush and rushed after Lin Xingshu, calling out frantically:

"I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!"

Lin Xingshu turned around to see the previously hostile painter now all smiles and apologies. "I'm truly sorry! I didn’t know earlier. Please, feel free to look around as much as you like!"

He spoke while making an inviting gesture, his expression ingratiating. This sudden change made Lin Xingshu feel flustered by the unexpected deference, and he quickly waved his hands, "No, no! I just accidentally—"

"Don't be polite! It was my fault earlier. I apologize. Please, go ahead and look around! It's fine!"

Lin Xingshu opened his mouth, staring at the man's smiling face, unsure how to refuse. He nodded haltingly and stepped back into the ancestral hall.

The painters exchanged glances and continued working silently, none daring to look up.

The ancestral hall was vast. Besides the main hall housing the deity statue, there were two spacious rooms on either side. The left room held ancestral tablets, solemn with wisps of incense curling upward. The right was a smaller room filled with strange clay figurines, with a yellowed book placed at the center.

As if compelled by supernatural forces, Lin Xingshu cautiously approached the book. The first thing that caught his eye was the title, "Chronicles of Xiushan Village," covered in a layer of dust.

He carefully reached out but hesitated mid-air. Peeking around, he asked, "Um... sir, may I take a look at this book?"

After a long silence with no response, Lin Xingshu walked to the entrance only to find the painters had vanished without a trace.

He glanced at the book again—neatly bound and didn't appear too ancient. Surely... it should be fine to read.

After a moment of hesitation, he returned to the book and gingerly turned the pages.

The book recorded various events in Xiushan Village throughout history. Skimming through a few pages, he found the section on the "sacrifice" Xie Guan had mentioned.

Just as Xie Guan had said, the account was heavily embellished, lavishing praise upon the magistrate while never once mentioning the sacrificed child—until Lin Xingshu spotted the child's name in the very corner of a middle page.

His eyes widened in shock. He bent down abruptly, murmuring in disbelief, "Xie... Guan?!"

As if electrocuted, Lin Xingshu dropped the book. His lips moved soundlessly before he shook his head with a forced laugh. "It must just be the same pronunciation. A coincidence, *pure* coincidence."

He tried to reassure himself, but a chill crept up his spine. Gripping his camera tightly, he backed away step by step.

He fled the room. Just as he was about to cross the threshold of the main hall, a sudden gust of wind swept through, forcing his eyes shut. The next moment, something draped over his head. Startled, he opened his eyes to find the cloth that covered the deity statue now covering him like a bride's ceremonial veil.

Lin Xingshu yanked the red cloth off and collapsed weakly to the ground. Looking up, he met a pair of pitch-black, bottomless eyes. When he saw the deity's face clearly, his pupils shrank instantly.

The towering statue loomed in the hall, its pitch-black eyes unnervingly realistic, gazing down at him. What stunned him most was that the statue's face was identical to Xie Guan's.

Lin Xingshu's breathing grew ragged. Clutching the doorframe, he staggered to his feet, then clutched his camera and bolted from the hall. The wind howled past his ears, but he ran on tirelessly, blindly without direction.

Thud—

"Ouch—!"

At the next corner, Lin Xingshu collided with a young woman, knocking her to the ground while he stumbled back a few steps.

"Who is it? Running like you're racing to be reborn!"

The woman cursed. Lin Xingshu hurried to help her up and went stock-still—her face was familiar. It was Liu Rong, returning from the fields.

"Sister Liu Rong!"

Lin Xingshu gasped, quickly gathering the scattered vegetables and fruits into her basket. Liu Rong, dizzy from the impact, teetered unsteadily to her feet. "Oh, it's you... Why run so fast? The village paths are narrow. Lucky you hit me—what if it were an elder?"

Rubbing her waist, she stood and noticed Lin Xingshu's pale face. She paused. "Xiao Lin, what's wrong? You look so pale."

"N-nothing..." he lied.

Lin Xingshu gave a strained smile and handed the basket to Liu Rong. Liu Rong looked down as she reached for it but noticed his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold the basket.

"Xiao Lin, tell me, what's wrong?"

Liu Rong frowned, refusing to take the basket, her piercing stare locked onto him.

"I..."

Lin Xingshu opened his mouth, a flash of determination in his eyes. He took a deep breath and looked up at Liu Rong. "It's really nothing, just... I wanted to ask you—is there someone in Xiushan Village called Xie Guan?"

At the mention of the name, Liu Rong's face went rigid for a second before quickly returning to normal.

"Yes, there is. Why?"

"There is? Then... is he still alive?"

Liu Rong's lips quivered slightly, her eyes betraying a hint of unease. "Why do you ask?"

Lin Xingshu didn’t notice her reaction. Hearing this, he felt relieved that Xie Guan was indeed a real person, his tension easing slightly. He smiled and explained, "Yesterday, I went to take photos in the back mountains when it suddenly rained and a fog rolled in. I got lost, but then I met Xie Guan. He showed me the way out of the woods, and I wanted to thank him properly."

He didn’t mention the incident in the cave to Liu Rong—something about it gave him pause.

"Sis, do you know where he lives? I’d like to visit and thank him in person. Oh, and get this—Xie Guan looks exactly like the deity statue in the ancestral hall! Isn't that weird? Is there some story behind it?"

Lin Xingshu kept bombarding Liu Rong with questions, completely oblivious to her rigid expression.

"Sis? Sis?"

Frowning, Lin Xingshu shook Liu Rong’s shoulder lightly. She jolted back to awareness, hastily grabbing the basket and slinging it back onto her back. Forcing a smile, she said, "I... I have to go home and cook."

With that, Liu Rong hurried away, her departure flustered and abrupt.

Lin Xingshu stood frozen, his frown deepening.

Something wasn’t right.

Liu Rong hadn’t told him Xie Guan’s address, nor had she directly answered whether Xie Guan was alive. She'd looked panicked, her movements stiff.

She was lying.

He kept replaying yesterday’s encounter with Xie Guan in his mind. Now that he thought about it, something about Xie Guan had been off.

His clothes were made of coarse linen, but the style was outdated—clearly not modern. His gait while walking up the mountain had been peculiar, and his skin was ice-cold...

Lin Xingshu spaced out, absentmindedly gnawing at his knuckle.

He didn't believe in ghosts, but everyone’s reactions forced him to wonder—could Xie Guan be that sacrificed child from years ago? And the Xie Guan he met yesterday in the mountains... was he a ghost?