Chapter 86: The Hollow Town

The woman from earlier was now standing inside the archway. Her umbrella had vanished, and she clutched the porcelain vase in both arms.

Xue Liangliang was startled to find that once he’d reached the archway, the river’s pulling current had vanished—so had the suffocating dread that had wrapped around him like a noose.

He immediately began to gulp down breaths of air. But though he was making the motions of breathing, there was no relief. His mouth and nostrils felt sealed shut—no fresh air came in.

He suddenly realized that it was only his perception that had changed, not reality.

He was still at the bottom of the river.

But how was this possible?

He knew how to swim. Back in his hometown in Anhui, he often played and swam with the neighborhood kids. Even in college, he would sometimes hit the pool with his friends for long laps. But he never believed himself such a strong swimmer that he could stay submerged this long. He should’ve run out of breath ages ago.

He touched the skin beneath his ears. Still normal. No gills.

He even glanced behind him and further back. Was it possible… he had already drowned? And what he was experiencing now was—

Xue Liangliang gripped his head tightly, forcing himself to calm down. He tried the same techniques that helped him focus during exams or design reviews—but this time, they failed him.

His mind was still in a panic. His body shivered uncontrollably. His teeth chattered.

He was afraid—terrified of the riverbed, of the archway, and of the woman standing within it holding the vase. He desperately wanted to flee—if that was still an option.

Then the woman began to move, walking inward.

Xue Liangliang didn’t move. He didn’t dare step into the archway, didn’t dare venture deeper into this strange town.

But once there was some distance between them, the suffocating sensation returned.

He was forced to stumble forward a few steps, quickly closing the gap. The sensation disappeared.

He understood now. If he drifted too far from her, that suffocating pressure would return.

The woman continued walking ahead, and Xue Liangliang had no choice but to follow her—into the archway.

He had no other choice. Anyone who’s just tasted the despair of asphyxiation would think twice before risking it again.

There was no visible connection between him and the woman, yet he felt as though a chain bound them—one end gripped in her hand, the other looped around his neck.

Beyond the archway stretched a long stairwell, over thirty steep steps descending down.

Xue Liangliang was puzzled. Typically, unless forced by terrain, most ancient towns built around archways wouldn’t lead immediately downward like this. Instead, they’d often elevate the area behind the arch, giving the whole entrance an imposing grandeur.

But here, not only was it not elevated—it had been deliberately dug downward, and deeply at that.

No wonder, from outside, the buildings of the town had appeared so misty and obscured. Much of them had been sunken out of view.

The stair design was also strange. Usually, the smooth walkways lay on either edge, while the center was made of uniform steps for people to walk on. But here, the center was a giant smooth surface, and the narrow, steep steps were crammed along the sides.

At times, Xue Liangliang had to turn sideways just to make his way down. As if the original walkers here all had bound feet.

At the bottom was a narrow, claustrophobic path paved in upright stone bricks, not laid flat. Each brick stood on end, presenting only its smallest surface. This design used far more material and labor than necessary.

And because of time’s erosion, even well-laid ancient roads would be uneven—but with this method, it was nearly impossible to find a flat place to land your foot. Each step only found purchase on a sliver of surface. It took great care not to twist an ankle or fall.

Fortunately, the woman ahead was walking slowly, allowing Xue Liangliang to keep pace.

Once he adjusted, he began examining the buildings on either side.

The layout was tightly packed, resembling a Jiangnan riverside town—white walls, gray tiles.

Each house had a shallow trench, less than half a meter wide, between the door and the street, covered with stone slabs—likely a drainage channel.

But drainage? At the bottom of a river? Unless… this town had only been submerged later.

To the left of each doorway was a wall niche, each containing a single candle burning with a ghostly green flame.

At first, all the doors had been shut, but soon Xue Liangliang saw one left open—inside, only darkness.

An uneasy sensation rose in his mind—not fear, but a sense of wrongness. Especially as he noticed something about the doors.

They had no thresholds.

Modern homes often skip thresholds, and people are used to it. But in traditional architecture, doors were tall and imposing, and thresholds played a key role. Without one, the entry felt disturbingly exposed—like a yawning mouth.

Like a monster’s mouth, open and waiting.

“Ah!”

As he walked, he suddenly spotted someone sitting inside an open doorway on the right.

Startled, he staggered back—only to lose balance on the uneven road and fall. He landed seated—facing that door directly.

Inside sat an old woman.

Her skin was pale and slightly swollen—perhaps from long immersion in water.

She wore a bright blue jacket, just as vivid as a burial robe, though more elaborate in design.

Her head, neck, and hands were decked in jewelry.

She just sat there—as if she’d been sitting for a long time. Fortunately, her eyes were shut.

“Huff… huff…”

If they’d been open, Xue Liangliang was certain he would’ve passed out from fright.

Even though the town and the woman leading him were already strange, something about these houses—their design, their still occupants—added another layer of terrifying intensity.

He got up. That choking sensation began to return. He quickly jogged a few steps forward, closing the distance.

But that woman sitting in the doorway stayed with him—burned into his mind. The darkness behind her concealed any furnishings. This tight, two-story home felt more like a tomb crafted just for her.

An open grave.

This wasn’t an abandoned town drowned by the river.

So then, the closed-door houses—were they occupied too?

And the open doors with no one visible—were the owners upstairs?

Thinking that, Xue Liangliang instinctively moved closer to the woman ahead.