Chapter Thirty-Two: The Past of Savage Village (Part Two)

The young woman led Old Qiu down the mountain once more. She twisted and turned, and before he realized it, Old Qiu found himself back at the settlement. Panic seized him, for he knew that if Lord Qian Shu discovered his return, it would mean certain death. Determined not to go further, he clung to the outskirts and refused to enter.

Grabbing the girl's arm, Old Qiu pleaded, "We can't go in there. The people inside will kill us."

To his astonishment, the girl only offered him a strange, cryptic smile. With barely any effort at all, she slipped away from his grasp. He described it carefully: "She didn't walk—she floated. No one could move that fast on foot, and in a blink, she was ten yards away."

Hearing this, Chen Wenbin finally broke his silence for the first time. "You didn't follow her?"

"No, I wouldn't dare," Old Qiu continued. The girl advanced while he dared not make a sound, simply watching her. His eyesight was unusual—he could see clearly even on the darkest nights.

The girl went straight to Lord Qian Shu's house. The door was barred from within by a wooden peg thick as a teacup. Yet, Old Qiu never saw her push the door; it was as if it had never been shut at all. She drifted right through—passed through the wall!

In all the years of his life, this was the first time Old Qiu felt a shiver run down his spine, the skin on his scalp tingling with dread. He began to reconsider the girl's earlier words.

Soon after, he saw her emerge from the house and slip into another, the residence of one of Lord Qian Shu’s men. Before entering, she glanced back at Old Qiu and smiled. That smile terrified him so thoroughly that he dropped to the ground where he stood.

The woman passed through the wall again. In less than the time it takes a stick of incense to burn, the door opened and a man staggered out, his steps like a sleepwalker’s, teetering all the way to the pond. Without hesitation, he plunged headfirst into the water with a splash. A second man followed suit. Lord Qian Shu had five men in total; one had drowned in the afternoon, leaving four. One after another, each walked to the pond and jumped in, as if compelled by some silent agreement.

Not long after, the young woman returned to Old Qiu and said, "You are at least an honest man. You told the truth and did not join in their misdeeds. But you were tempted by greed and took something that belonged here. Therefore, you must keep this secret forever." With those words, she turned and walked away alone.

Old Qiu was filled with fear; this girl seemed nothing like the wounded woman from before. Watching her retreating figure, he called out, "Miss, what do you mean by this?"

"Did I not say I would show you something?"

As Old Qiu recounted this, his body began to tremble. "That woman—I saw her head twist all the way around, while her body still faced away from me!" He gestured with his hand to show us, adding, "Her tongue was this long!"

Judging by his gesture, her tongue was half the length of a grown man’s arm—no human could possibly be like that.

"Finally, I heard her tell me that I must stay in the Wildman Hamlet all my life and never speak of this, or she would come for me." Old Qiu looked at us and said, "So, children, it’s not that I wouldn’t tell you—it’s that I cannot."

"Then why are you telling us now?" Fatty asked.

"I’m old, and my time is running out. My chest has been hurting these last few days. With you keeping watch over those ponds, I know trouble is bound to come sooner or later. You all seem decent enough, so I wanted to warn you: stay away from those ponds, keep your distance."

Chen Wenbin stopped Fatty from asking more questions and said, "Old Qiu, there’s something else I want to ask. Your daughter—how much was she involved in all this?"

"Of course she was involved. It’s my retribution! I stayed here all these years, but Lord Qian Shu didn’t die—he escaped. I saw him run right past me, shouting about ghosts. He has some tricks up his sleeve, that one. Around his neck he wore a protective amulet from the Celestial Master’s Sect of Mount Qingcheng, said to be personally blessed by Celestial Master Zhang Daoling himself. There are only one hundred and eight such amulets in the world, and he happened to have one. Maybe that’s what saved his life.

"In 1931, when the Japanese invaded the Northeast, many refugees fled into the forests. Three families moved into the Wildman Hamlet. I’d been alone here for over a decade, so having neighbors was a blessing. We gave them two houses to use.

"In those turbulent times, food was all we could hope for. The hamlet was remote but safe. One of the families had a daughter, and half a year later, she was betrothed to me. A year after that, we had a daughter together. I was overjoyed; times were hard and supplies scarce.

"One of the families had been silversmiths. I wanted a longevity lock for my child, and remembered a gold coin at the bottom of a chest. Though I’d promised not to leave the hamlet, I hadn’t said I wouldn’t touch the gold. So, I took it for the lock.

"My daughter wore the lock and all was well, so I thought nothing of it. At night, wild animals often raided the corn, so we kept watch. When my daughter was seven, I went out as usual to the cornfield on the slope across from our home—it’s built over now.

"The moon was bright, and I dozed off in the field. Suddenly, a cold wind jolted me awake. I saw a woman outside my house, smiling at me. I recognized her—it was the wounded woman from years before. I didn’t even think to run; I fled for my life. On the way, I saw my wife carrying our daughter, both walking step by step toward the pond. I shouted, I called, I threw stones, but they were less than ten yards away when I saw my wife jump in with our daughter in her arms…" At this, Old Qiu wept, his voice breaking.

Perplexed, I asked, "Why? What grudge could they have with that woman?"

Old Qiu became agitated, slapping his thigh. "She said it herself—anyone who touched the treasure could never leave. How could I have forgotten?"

It turned out that a week before the tragedy, Old Qiu's wife and daughter left the hamlet for a visit. She’d been living here for eight or nine years, and still had relatives outside. Her father took her and the child out to see what the world had become after so many years. But the Japanese were still there; Manchukuo had been established. That very night, they hurried back.

The longevity lock was always on his daughter, and his wife had naturally touched it. The next night, his father-in-law also walked into the pond. In the blink of an eye, the entire family vanished without a trace.

We were all stunned by this tale. In an era that prided itself on atheism, we’d all been raised on Marxist thought, materialism as our foundation. Although we’d encountered “zombies” when we first arrived, those at least had rational explanations. But this story sounded utterly absurd.

On the way back, Fatty asked Chen Wenbin, "Boss Chen, you’re the only one among us who understands these things. Could this really be true?"

Chen Wenbin didn’t answer directly. Instead, he asked, "Does it sound like he’s lying to you?"

Fatty shook his head. Yuan Xiaobai said, "I think it’s true. The key thing is, right now we…"

"Right! That gold coin!" I suddenly remembered. "We all touched it, and the old Party secretary too. Now we’re in trouble. Will that ghost woman come for us?"

Chen Wenbin stopped us and said, "If it’s fate, you can’t escape it. Tonight, arm yourselves. Xiaobai, you can’t stay home alone. We’ll all gather at Old Qiu’s house—something might happen tonight. Fatty, go to the Party secretary’s house and get the gold coin back, no matter what."

"Alright, I’ll do it. Should I bring him too?"

"No, not for now," Chen Wenbin replied. Then he turned to me, "Xiao Yi, you’ll help me gather some things: a chalk line, a coil of hemp rope, sheets of red, green, yellow, and black paper, a length of red silk thread, and seven copper coins."

He continued giving orders: "Xiaobai, go to the village and buy a rooster—the older the better. Ask Aunt Zhang to cut out two sets of paper clothes, one in red, one in green. She’ll know what to do. Fatty, bring the Party secretary’s black dog. Get some candles and incense from the temple at the village entrance while you’re at it."

We each took on our tasks. Chen Wenbin, carrying a hatchet, headed to the northern edge of the village, where an old peach tree grew—one that flowered every year but never bore fruit. With a few sharp blows, he felled it. In those days, this was a risky move: even a barren fruit tree was collective property, and if anyone made a fuss, we’d be in real trouble.

When we returned home, Chen Wenbin set to work. The branches were whittled into wedges, each fork yielding only one. The trunk was carefully smoothed, and by dusk, when Fatty returned with the black dog, we saw Chen Wenbin had fashioned a genuine peachwood sword.

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