Chapter 200: No Living Souls on No-Lights Road

The moon shone bright against a scattering of stars tonight. Looking out the car window at the faint silver frost paving the road, the watery moonlight only deepened the sudden desolation in my heart.

"Streamer, we're at No-Lights Road." Balding Uncle pulled the car to a stop at the intersection. "Want me to drive you inside?"

"The road in there is rough. Don't worry about me." I pulled out the fare and handed it to Balding Uncle, but he waved it away.

"Keep the fare. Consider it a tip for your stream. You work hard at this, out early and back late, all while dealing with trolls cursing out eighteen generations of your ancestors. Sometimes I get mad on your behalf—makes me want to beat the living daylights out of those classless punks." He brushed a hand over his slightly bald forehead, speaking with the sweeping grandeur of a general directing his troops.

I smiled and insisted on leaving the fare. "You have to take it. Otherwise, if something happens to me tonight, you'll be dragged into it."

Tossing the cash onto the passenger seat, I opened the door and gazed at the dilapidated Old Town District. In an era of massive urban expansion and rezoning, this place alone remained the true root of old Jiangcheng.

"Streamer! Let's add each other on WeChat so we can stay in touch." Balding Uncle scrambled out of the car after me, clutching his two phones. "QQ, WeChat... I've even got a Momo account. How about we follow each other?"

"Brother, getting deeply involved with me will do you absolutely no good. Like I said before, you should stop watching my streams." I gave him a bitter smile. "A lot of the scenes you see on screen aren't fake. Most of them are entirely real—the bloody corpses, the deranged psychopaths, and the ghosts trailing right behind you before you even realize it."

"I get it, I get it. Industry secrets, right?" Balding Uncle gave me a knowing look that spoke volumes. "Whatever you say goes, alright? I just want your WeChat, is that too much to ask?"

Until ordinary people experience true horror for themselves, they'll probably never believe me. I gave a clear warning at the start of every single broadcast, yet no one ever took it to heart.

Unable to withstand Balding Uncle's nagging any longer, I gave him my WeChat and we added each other.

"Pinnacle of Happiness? Streamer, that's an intense handle!"

"Hurry up and get out of here, brother. I have real business to attend to." In truth, having Balding Uncle on my friend list was a huge advantage. Whenever I found myself trapped in a deadly scenario, I could reach out to him for help and get an outsider's perspective on the situation.

I only had two main concerns. First, I worried he might leak my personal information. Second, I was afraid that by getting too involved with me, he might be targeted by the Underworld Live Show or my other enemies. Forget the distant threats—Jiang Chen alone could come up with a hundred different ways to torture him to death.

After walking a dozen meters, I glanced back and saw the taxi still parked where I had left it. Balding Uncle had popped the hood and was inspecting the engine.

"What's going on? The car was perfectly fine the whole way here." Although puzzled, I didn't dwell on it and quickened my pace into No-Lights Road.

Past eleven at night, the labyrinth of alleys was already pitch-black. Most of the residents here were authentic old Jiangcheng locals who rarely ventured out so late.

Moonlight spilled across the ground. Even without streetlights, the darkness barely affected me; my numerous livestreams had long since accustomed me to it.

Navigating deep into the alleys by memory, I found the White Goods Store I had seen during my first visit to No-Lights Road.

The rolling metal shutter was half-open, revealing vague glimpses of the paper houses, spirit horses, funeral wreaths, and longevity buddhas inside.

I knocked lightly on the door before crouching to slip inside. "Excuse me."

An old man in his seventies sat on a recliner inside. His hands moved nimbly as he crafted paper goods. In the past, his trade had a specific title: a paper-tying craftsman.

Despite my late-night intrusion, the old man merely glanced up at me before returning to his work. "You're here to return the umbrella, aren't you?"

His words jolted my memory. When I first came to No-Lights Road, the sky had been dark and the rain torrential. The old man had lent me a black umbrella—the kind specifically used for visiting graves on Tomb-Sweeping Day.

"Old Master, I lent that umbrella to someone else. How about you name a price, and I compensate you for it?"

I was reaching into my pocket for cash when the old man waved his hand to stop me. "I don't want your money. And you don't have the kind of money I do want."

"What do you mean by that?" I suddenly sensed a profound layer of mystery in the old man's words. Narrowing my eyes, I lost my urge to leave in a hurry.

The old man finished his current task, revealing a plump, pale paper girl in his hands. It hadn't been painted yet, making its blank features look rather unnerving. "'A drizzling rain falls on Tomb-Sweeping Day; the mourners' hearts are breaking on their way.' That umbrella I lent you was meant for the dead. If you want to pay me back, you have to pay me in the currency of the dead."

Hearing such a classic poem recited by the old man at this hour felt undeniably eerie. I gave him a helpless smile. "Old Master, I definitely don't have any dead people's money. I gave your umbrella to a crazy old lady. She was wandering the alleys that night, searching for her little grandson. She looked so helpless and pitiful that I just gave it to her."

Reaching beneath the wooden table, the old man pulled out an antique-looking box. He opened it to reveal various watercolors. Unlike modern synthetic pigments, these paints gave off a strange, pungent odor, leaving me to wonder exactly what had been ground up to make them.

"If you can't return it, let it go. Why make up some nonexistent crazy old lady?" The old man dipped a brush into the paint and began coloring the paper doll. His strokes were practiced, his painting skills truly masterful.

"Old Master, every word I've said is the absolute truth." I recounted my encounter with the crazy old lady from start to finish, yet his reaction remained entirely flat, as unreadable as a bottomless pool of water.

"I've lived in the Old Town District for fifty or sixty years and I've never seen this crazy old lady you're talking about. There's no such person here." As he spoke, the Old Master finished the paper doll. With deft, light movements, he propped its interior up with bamboo skewers and set it by the door to dry.

Compared to my first visit, his attitude toward me had noticeably thawed. I recognized this as an opportunity.

Having lived on No-Lights Road for decades, he undoubtedly understood this place far better than I did.

"Old Master, you've lived on No-Lights Road for so long—have you ever heard any strange rumors?" I carefully organized my words, wanting to ask without offending him. "There are tons of urban legends online about this place. Stuff like how new streetlights always break the very next day, or how electric bikes suddenly lose all power if they drive through late at night. The scariest one claims that if you get lost in these alleys at night and happen to bump into someone, they might not actually be human."

The old man set down his paper crafts and gave me a mild look. "If the person you meet isn't human, then what would they be?"

His counter-question left me at a loss for words. "I'm just repeating hearsay. Please don't take offense."

"That online garbage is all fabricated. There are no streetlights here at night simply because the wiring is too old. Combine that with the fact that this area is slated for demolition, and naturally, no one bothers to fix it. With the city's new master plan, the Old Town District is a prime target for the wrecking ball. Soon enough, Jiangcheng won't even be Jiangcheng anymore." The Old Master sighed, resting his brush on the wooden box. "Times have changed. I've spent my entire life making paper crafts for the dead. Now, all I hope is that someone will make a few paper effigies for me on the day I finally pass on."

"Old Master, you're in great health. You'll easily live to be a hundred."

"Whether it comes early or late, it comes for us all eventually. Whether we leave early or late, we all have to go." The old man gave me a pointed look. "You don't need to return the umbrella. Just hurry up and do what you came to do."

"What I came to do?" I cupped my fists in a respectful salute. "Please, give me some guidance."

"Only you know what it is you have to do. I'm just an old paper-tying craftsman with one foot in the grave. How could I possibly guide you?" With that, the Old Master stood up and checked the clock on the wall. He lit two white candles and switched off the lights in the shop.

Carrying the newly made paper doll, he stepped outside onto No-Lights Road. He set the paper effigy ablaze until it crumbled into ash. "Sending off the soul!"

The old man's voice carried an eerie, rhythmic cadence. Once the ash scattered in the wind, he patted my shoulder. "You'd better stop visiting No-Lights Road. When a person dies, their lamp is snuffed out. There are no living souls on No-Lights Road."

Coughing twice, he stooped over and retreated inside, shutting the door behind him.

"No living souls on No-Lights Road?" Standing all alone in the labyrinth of alleys, I realized I could no longer recognize the path I had taken to get here.