Chapter 78: The Bai Family Matron

“So, Liangliang-ge, does that mean the idol dug up by the River Engineering Dept. and the coffin pried open at the fish farm are at least three hundred years old?”

“That’s right, you could interpret it that way. But what’s odd is—even though three centuries is a long time—it’s still strange that none of the local customs surrounding the Bai Family Matron have survived. Not even the older folks remember her.

But the county annals are clear. We even uncovered her temple. There are written records and real ruins—it’s impossible for there to be no trace in local folk culture. That’s just too strange.”

Li Zhuiyuan shook his head. “Liangliang-ge, an old professor once told me, ‘Existence isn’t necessarily rational—but if something exists, it must have a reason.’”

“Xiaoyuan, are you saying that even if something doesn’t exist, there must still be a reason?”

“Yeah. I think maybe the Bai Family Matron wasn’t suitable for worship—or to evolve into a folk belief. Her image, or rather the image of the Bai family and Bai Family Town, might be very different from what we imagine.

I just went through the annals you brought back. There’s definitely a lot recorded about the Bai Family Matron. They did a lot during the Ming and Qing dynasties. The style of writing is similar to strange tales of the supernatural, but they all seem to be missing something...

Those supernatural stories usually end with phrases like, ‘The locals, grateful for her kindness, built a temple and worshipped her without cease.’

But the records about the Bai Family Matron? They’re just records. If it were one or two entries missing that ending, maybe we could chalk it up to omission. But all of them are like that.

Meanwhile, other figures—both historical and supernatural—have proper temples. Real-life heroes, Taoist priests and monks in folklore, even the Dragon Prince of the East Sea, all have that kind of ending in the annals.

Even if the worship has faded, at least there’s a trace of it.

So I believe the severance between the Bai Family Matron and local folk custom has to be deliberate.

Their deeds might be about ‘slaying demons and suppressing evil,’ but maybe that wasn’t for the purpose of ‘protecting the people.’”

Xue Liangliang gave Li Zhuiyuan another wide-eyed stare. He’d lost track of how many times today this middle-schooler had surprised him.

“Liangliang-ge, do you remember what the temple they dug up looked like?”

“Yeah. It was tiny and cramped. If it weren’t for the height of the idol inside, I’d have thought someone built it to the scale of a roadside shrine.”

“And the chains…”

“Right, the chains. The idol was bound in chains—anchored to the four corners of the temple. You couldn’t demolish it without breaking the chains. No way a normal person could tear it down.”

“Then it wasn’t built for worship. It was for containment.”

“Containment?” The realization struck Xue Liangliang. “Yeah, exactly! Who would ever accept offerings in that kind of form?”

He began pacing, fired up.

“The coffin setup and the inscriptions on the wood carvings at the fish farm also talked about containment. So the logic behind the Bai Family Matron’s actions in both places actually lines up!

But if she was sacrificing herself for the greater good, why didn’t the people remember her fondly?”

“What if Bai Family Town only cared about the process, not the outcome?”

“Xiaoyuan, you mean—the Bai Family Matrons were focused on using themselves to suppress the evil, but whether it was actually evil, or where it came from, is... ambiguous?

Ah... If they created the evil themselves—raised it, then sealed it away—then of course the people wouldn’t be grateful. They’d want nothing to do with them.”

“Exactly.”

Li Zhuiyuan nodded. The Records of Strange Happenings in the Martial World had quite a few accounts of demonic cultivators meeting gruesome ends. These corpse-raising maniacs would stop at nothing.

Among them, there was a widely shared belief:

The lake is for raising corpses, the river is the ladder to the heavens. Follow the current to the sea, and you reach Heaven’s Gate.

Nantong, right at the Yangtze River’s mouth, with Chongming Island as the gate itself—through their twisted logic, it was Heaven’s Gate.

The demonic cultivators upstream would either cultivate their own corpses or hijack someone else’s coffin. Then, when the time came, they’d ride the river all the way out to sea.

But the Bai family? They didn’t bother with all that. They cut to the chase and sealed evil at the Gate—trying to leap heavenward by stepping on their own foot.

Thinking about it made Li Zhuiyuan rub his temples. As deranged as those people were, their worldview was internally consistent—he’d accidentally fallen into it himself.

“Xiaoyuan, that explains why your cousin’s grandparents were killed. And the fish farm boss—even though we haven’t found him—he’s probably dead too.

It doesn’t make sense otherwise.

If the Bai Family Matron was the righteous one, and that porcelain bottle sealed away evil, then why did the evil immediately lash out at its liberators? Why such ruthless vengeance?

So, the real killer, the one who went berserk, was that supposedly righteous Bai Family Matron!”

Li Zhuiyuan gave Xue Liangliang a stunned look of his own.

After all, Xue Liangliang had never read The Records of Strange Happenings in the Martial World, and yet he’d followed the clues to reach such deep insights.

“And Zhao Hequan…” Xue Liangliang was still worried about his classmate. “So he’s been targeted by the Bai Family Matron from the river—and she’s taking all her vengeance out on him?”

If it was just a slight offense, an apology might suffice. But if he’d ruined her plan, then she’d hound him to death.

“But why did the Bai Family Matron spare you and me? No—this has nothing to do with you. Why let me off?”

“Maybe… she could only choose one.”

The dream that night had been clear. The woman could only take one of them. She’d hesitated many times between him and Zhao Hequan, as if she’d sensed something special about him. It had clearly troubled her.

“Huh?”

“The book said so.”

“Oh, so there’s a rule. That means Zhao Hequan’s definitely doomed?”

“Seems like it.”

“Then we…” Xue Liangliang waved frantically at Li Zhuiyuan. “Let’s set up the altar—now! We need to cut all ties with her!”

Just thinking that he hadn’t been spared out of mercy, but because she hadn’t gotten around to him yet, made him panic.

“Good idea.” Li Zhuiyuan agreed and pointed at the cabinet. “Liangliang-ge, snacks are in there, and there are stools outside. Bring them in and set up two tables. Make sure it’s an even number—put four offerings on each table. I’ll get incense and spirit money.”

With tasks divided, Li Zhuiyuan headed downstairs. When he came back up with candles and paper money, Xue Liangliang had already set up two small altars in the bedroom.

They immediately began the offering ritual.

…

In the east wing, Qin Li, who had been sleeping, suddenly opened her eyes.

Beside her, Liu Yumei—resting with eyes closed and gently fanning—also woke up. She covered her granddaughter’s face with the fan and said softly:

“Don’t worry, sweetie. They’re just cutting the last thread of karmic debt. Get some rest. You still want to play with Xiaoyuan in the morning, right?”

Qin Li slowly closed her eyes again.

Liu Yumei turned toward the window. Through the gauze, the night sky was visible.

After a while, she murmured with a hint of sarcasm:

“Still dreaming of that kind of salvation in this day and age?”

Just as she closed her eyes again…

Both Liu Yumei and Qin Li opened them at once.

This time, Qin Li’s gaze was clear and focused—something rare when she wasn’t looking at Li Zhuiyuan.

Liu Yumei’s expression had turned more serious too, though she continued to wave the fan over Qin Li, as if slicing through the air.

Qin Li glanced at her grandmother.

Liu Yumei said, “Sweetie, this one’s not coming for Xiaoyuan. Go back to sleep. No fooling around tonight. You don’t want dark circles tomorrow when you see him, right?”

Qin Li closed her eyes once more.

Liu Yumei looked faintly wistful. She’d slowly grown used to using Li Zhuiyuan as a pretext to talk to her granddaughter. It was both heartbreaking and effective.

Getting out of bed, she pulled the gauze curtain aside and shut the outer window tight, sealing off the night beyond.

“Out of sight, out of mind. Sleep.”

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