Chapter 85: The Pagoda Incense Stick

Back on shore, Xue Liangliang boarded the tour bus and took a seat near the back. Not long after the bus pulled away, he dozed off in a daze.

As he slept, he suddenly noticed a chill around his lower body. He opened his eyes—and froze. He was sitting in the same bus seat, but somehow water had entered the vehicle, rising all the way to his waist.

He looked toward the front. The interior lights were on, and he could still see the people sitting ahead, even hear their soft chatter.

“The bus is flooding! Driver—sir—the bus is taking on water!”

Xue Liangliang shouted, but no one responded. It was as if no one had noticed.

“Sir, stop the bus! It’s flooding! Sir! Director, Director!”

Still, no one acknowledged him.

Gradually, the water rose to his chest. He tried pulling down the window, but outside was pitch black and the window wouldn’t budge.

Just then, a figure seemed to flash across the darkness outside, so fast he thought it might be a trick of his eyes.

But almost immediately, the figure reappeared—its face pressed against the glass.

By the faint glow of the bus’s interior lights, a murky face came into view. It was impossible to tell if it was male or female.

Crack—

Suddenly, the window flung open, pulled all the way down.

In the next instant, all the water in the bus surged toward him like it had found a long-awaited outlet.

Xue Liangliang felt himself squeezed out by the torrent, swept through the window and into blackness, his body drifting uncontrollably.

Splash—

He didn’t know how long he had been floating. It felt like he’d been spat out by the mighty river. His body ached all over, snapping him back to consciousness.

Looking down, he saw that he was lying on the riverbank, jagged stones beneath him. Blood streaked his palms, arms, chest, and thighs.

There were no deep cuts, but the widespread abrasions made every movement agony.

Gritting his teeth, Xue Liangliang struggled to his feet. He scanned his surroundings. The moonlight above was shrouded in gray mist, casting everything below in a dim, hazy glow.

He could just make out that he was by the river, not far from the spot where they had boarded the boat for the symposium.

But hadn’t he already left Nantong? How had he ended up back here?

Confused, Xue Liangliang suddenly spotted a woman up ahead.

She wore a blue dress and a ponytail, cradled a porcelain vase in her left arm, and held a black umbrella in her right.

Why… was she holding an umbrella?

It was only then that Xue Liangliang noticed—it was raining. A torrential downpour. The fat drops stung as they struck his skin.

Had it… been raining this whole time?

“Hey! Who are you?”

He called out to the woman.

She didn’t respond, simply continued toward the river with her umbrella.

As she drew closer, Xue Liangliang got a clearer look at her face. There was something tawdry in her makeup and eyes, but she was young.

Had Xue Liangliang checked the police bulletin board after leaving Siyuan Village and visiting the riverside hospital, he would’ve seen her photo—already marked as wanted.

Now, seeing her walking straight into the river, he lunged forward and grabbed the arm holding the umbrella.

“What are you doing? Don’t do anything stupid! You can’t go any farther!”

The woman ignored him and kept walking.

Splash—

Suddenly, an inexplicable force surged from her body, dragging him forward.

His hand seemed glued to her arm, impossible to break free. He was pulled with her into the river.

It was a terrible position to be in—off balance, his lower half scraping painfully across the stones.

Once the woman entered deeper water, Xue Liangliang finally managed to balance himself using the water’s buoyancy. But that was when the choking and suffocating began—and it was terrifying.

He struggled with all his strength, but it was useless.

The woman walked along the riverbed, surrounded by darkness. Xue Liangliang floated above her, still stuck to her arm, now hovering over her back.

He tried to scream, but every attempt let water flood into his mouth, cutting off all sound.

He had to use his other hand to grab her hair, winding it around his fingers and pulling.

The woman didn’t react, continued her march underwater. His pulling turned into pressure—pressing him down onto her back.

The hair grew—unnaturally long and impossibly strong. Even a few strands couldn’t be broken. The more he tried to pull away, the more tightly they bound him.

In the end, he was clinging to her from behind, as if she were carrying him.

The suffocating agony continued. Xue Liangliang couldn’t tell how long he’d been without air. It was unbearable. Torturous. But somehow, he remained conscious.

That wasn’t a mercy. It meant he could feel every second of the torment more clearly.

Now, he was begging to drown—just to be freed.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when, up ahead, a light appeared.

Light—under the Yangtze River?

And in that light, he could vaguely make out the shapes of buildings.

There really was a village on the riverbed.

Suddenly, the hair that had bound him unraveled, and his stuck hand came free.

He didn’t float upward, but landed on solid ground.

The woman continued walking ahead, following the light toward the barely visible village.

Then, Xue Liangliang saw them.

She wasn’t alone.

In the darkness around him, other figures appeared—women with long hair, dressed in various styles from different eras.

Each face was blank with death, their steps emotionless. They all moved in the same direction.

The water around him now had a current. Though he sat collapsed on the ground, Xue Liangliang felt himself being dragged forward, as if by an unseen force.

He tried desperately to grab onto something—stones flipped, mud dissolved.

No matter how much he resisted, it didn’t change the reality: he was being pulled along.

At last,

He neared the light. From a distance it looked like a single glow, but up close it was many red and white lanterns, clustered together.

The village ahead came into sharper focus. Neat rows of homes, each doorway adorned with a niche holding an ever-burning lamp glowing green.

Directly ahead stood an archway—grand and ancient, covered in moss.

Two rows of hanging lanterns flanked it, cascading down in size.

Red ones on the left—for celebration.

White ones on the right—for mourning.

At the center of the arch, three characters were carved.

Read right to left:

Bai Family Town.

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