“Bang, bang, bang.”
The sounds of window-banging grew denser, coming from more than just one side.
Pressed against the front, back, left, and right windows were the faces of the deceased Players.
There were both men and women, and every single face looked exceptionally hideous from the agony they suffered before death.
Malice gleamed in the eyes of every corpse, as if they were demanding of the living why they weren't the ones who had died.
“They're coming in...” Zhou Chang's teeth chattered, his voice cracking.
“What are you standing there for? If you don't want to die, close the door!”
Jiang Chen suddenly roared, throwing himself toward the open bus door and straining against it.
“Zhou Chang! And that girl! Come help!”
Kang Xiaojia shuddered. Zhou Chang snapped out of it and immediately rushed over, pushing against the door with both hands.
—In the grip of extreme terror, a person's mind goes blank, and their limbs refuse to obey.
“Pull, pull! This kind of old-fashioned bus door can be opened and closed manually—”
Zhou Chang shouted hoarsely, reaching out to grab the door handle.
The metal handle was bone-chillingly cold, like grasping a block of ice.
He and Kang Xiaojia each grabbed a side, pulling back with all their might.
The door was incredibly heavy, as if frozen to the frame, or as if something outside was pushing in, trying to stop them from closing it.
The three of them strained until their faces turned red, and finally, they heard a loud clang.
The door shut heavily, and the pneumatic latch clicked into place.
The wind was shut out.
The bus interior fell slightly quieter for a moment, save for the persistent banging on the glass.
But before they could catch their breath, wisps of freezing air snaked in through the gaps of the door, condensing into a layer of white frost on the floor.
The gap was too wide.
The old-fashioned door wasn't airtight to begin with, and after being deformed from their struggle just now, a finger-wide gap was left at the bottom, through which the wind howled inside.
If this continued, they would freeze to death in the bus before the ghosts could even get to them.
“Block, block it!”
Kang Xiaojia sobbed, hurriedly taking off her school uniform jacket, crumpling it into a ball, and stuffing it into the gap under the door.
But the jacket was too thin. The wind blew right through it, puffing it up; it couldn't block the draft at all.
Zhou Chang also realized this and frantically took off his suit jacket, then began tearing at the fabric covers of the seats—
“It's useless! It's useless!” Sweating profusely in his panic, his hands trembled.
The footsteps outside grew faster and more urgent.
It was as if the more panicked the people inside became, the more excited the things outside grew.
“Bang, bang, bang! Clang, clang, clang!”
The force of the banging on the glass suddenly intensified, shaking the entire window.
The bus frame groaned and creaked, as if it would fall apart at any moment.
Terrified, Kang Xiaojia squatted on the floor, tears streaming down her face.
Zhou Chang leaned against the door, his face deathly pale.
They couldn't block it.
This piece-of-junk bus had gaps everywhere. Those things would get in sooner or later.
“I'm going to drive!”
Jiang Chen had no intention of dying in this godforsaken place, let alone turning into one of those hideous things after death. He yanked aside the curtain of the driver's cabin and leaped into the driver's seat.
The driver was long gone.
But the moment he got a clear look at the dashboard, the blood in his veins ran cold.
There was nothing.
Nothing at all.
The driver's area was completely empty.
There was no accelerator, no brake, and certainly no clutch pedal.
The space beneath his feet was empty, save for a layer of cardboard floor painted with black patterns.
The instrument panel was drawn on, crooked and uneven.
The fuel gauge, tachometer, and water temperature gauge were all drawn with ink. The needles were pinned dead at zero, and even the tick marks were lopsided.
The steering wheel was made of cardboard, its edges peeling, with simulated anti-slip patterns drawn on it.
The seat was made of paper-mache, pasted with a faux-leather pattern.
This bus was made of paper-mache.
As this realization flashed through his mind, Jiang Chen cursed the Instance furiously in his heart.
This thing was exactly the kind of paper car burned for the dead during the Tomb-Sweeping Festival!
All of them had been riding a paper bus meant for the dead, traveling all this way along the winding mountain road.
Cold sweat instantly broke out on Jiang Chen's forehead, trickling down his temples.
He had guessed that the things in the Instance would be sinister, but he hadn't expected them to be this sinister!
How was he supposed to drive a paper-mache bus with no accelerator or brakes?
But the commotion outside grew louder. Several of the corpses seemed to have noticed his movements and pressed themselves against the front windshield, their faces flattening and deforming against the glass—
Jiang Chen braced himself and twisted the paper-mache key, a fierce look flashing in his eyes:
“Come on! Either you die today, or I do! Bring it on!”
He didn't believe in unwinnable situations.
—Since the Instance had established the rule that they were safe while the vehicle was in motion, then this thing had to be able to move!
The next second, a miracle occurred.
The bus shuddered slightly, and the guardrails along the roadside began to recede at an extremely slow pace.
The corpses in front of the bus were run over, causing the tires to bump violently as they rolled over them.
The other three on board gripped their seats tightly, their mouths shut tight like clams, their eyes filled with the joy of surviving a disaster.
It actually worked!
The bus crawled forward, leaving the corpses on the road behind.
...
After driving for an unknown amount of time, a faint light appeared in the fog ahead.
Scattered like stars, it was exceptionally prominent in the pitch-black night.
“There's light ahead!” Zhou Chang suddenly cried out, his voice filled with pleasant surprise. “Is it a village?!”
A village meant people.
At the very least, they wouldn't freeze to death on the bus tonight.
Jiang Chen's spirits lifted as well. The paper bus slowly accelerated, heading toward the light.
They drew closer and closer.
The group could even make out clusters of lights, scattered houses, and the faint sound of musical instruments drifting through the wind and snow.
Yet Jiang Chen's brow gradually furrowed.
He stared at the village ahead, his heart sinking slightly:
The village was hung with white lanterns. Despite it being the middle of the night, the blaring of the suona and the beating of drums never ceased.
It sounded like celebratory music, yet also like a funeral dirge. The two melodies blended together, producing an indescribably eerie tone.
This village clearly looked wrong.
...
...
...
The First Mirrored Instance.
The bus slowly drove up to the entrance of the village and came to a halt.
Su Ya and the others stepped out of the bus with trepidation, wearing the winter clothes they had dug out of their luggage.
If nothing else, the Instance was quite considerate.
Their identity within the Instance was set as a camera crew. Aside from winter wear and toiletries, their luggage also contained some shooting equipment.
The death announcements had not stopped once along the way.
By now, the other Players were completely numb with fear, following closely behind Su Ya like timid quails.
“Is this Wenshan Village?”
Chen Na stamped her feet, exhaling a puff of white mist. “This village looks pretty wealthy. I thought it would be some impoverished mountain gully.”
It was indeed beyond everyone's expectations.
They had expected a dilapidated village hidden deep in the mountains, with nothing but mud brick houses and dirt roads.
Instead, as soon as they got off the bus, they were greeted by the sight of grand modern buildings and detached villas.
Three- and four-story villas stood side by side, their outer walls covered in gleaming off-white tiles. The courtyards featured artificial rockeries and running water, with sedans parked in front of the gates.
Swept by the bus's headlights in the snowy night, Wenshan Village looked like some high-end residential community.
Every now and then, young men and women walked past, dressed in fashionable down jackets, chatting and laughing. They looked even more polished than city folk.
From deep within the village came the sounds of instruments.
The suona, gongs, drums, and electronic speakers blended together into a lively din, as if some grand, joyful event was being held.
“How does this look like a mountain village...”
One of the Players muttered to himself. “This is more prosperous than my hometown's county seat.”
Lin Jianguo remained silent.
Having run businesses for half his life, he had seen many villages.
A village deep in the mountains, with no resources or industries, and where all the young people fled to the cities—how could every household live in a villa and drive a luxury car?
This was far too anomalous.
The man who had come to receive them quickly walked over, smiling brightly and revealing several teeth stained yellow from smoking:
“Ah, we've been looking forward to your arrival! I am the eldest of the Huang family, Huang Shoucai, and I'm also the village chief. I was the one who contacted you before!”
He spoke in a booming voice and was excessively enthusiastic, reaching out to shake hands with Su Ya.
Lin Jianguo stepped forward, reaching out to shake his hand instead.
The hand felt ice-cold, completely unlike that of a living person.
Huang Shoucai withdrew his hand, noticing nothing, and turned to lead them into the village:
“Come on! Everything has been arranged at home. We're hosting a continuous banquet in the village these next two days. Tomorrow, you'll arrive just in time for my mother's shrouding. The footage will turn out great, guaranteed to be authentic!”
He rambled on as they walked.
One moment he talked about his mother—Old Lady Huang—having great fortune to have a happy funeral at eighty, and how all four of her sons were filial.
The next moment, he talked about how warm-hearted the villagers were, how they had gone all out for this birthday feast, and how every household in the village had come to help. In short, it was incredibly lively.
Su Ya didn't even have a chance to ask what kind of special birthday ritual a "shrouding" was.
Although it was late at night, the village remained noisy.
The villagers were all dressed in splendid clothes with smiles on their faces, nodding and greeting the Players as they passed. They looked warm and simple.
Yet upon closer inspection, one would notice that their smiles looked as if they were cast from the same mold, devoid of any spark in their eyes.
Yang Asha followed closely beside Su Ya, her small hand clutching the hem of Su Ya's clothes, her palm slick with sweat.
Despite the continuous beating of gongs and drums, and despite there being so many "living people," it still sent shivers down everyone's spines.
...
...
It was only when they walked under the grand archway at the entrance of the village that they finally saw the true scene inside.
At this sight, everyone froze in place.
This was in no way the style of a joyful celebration—
The entire village was hung with white paper lanterns that swayed back and forth in the wind.
White paper banners hung from the eaves of the Huang family's house. Mourning staffs stood at the doorway, and rows of funeral wreaths spilled out onto the road.
The elegiac couplets on the funeral wreaths were neatly written, but instead of the word "Condolences," they bore the crookedly written red words "Congratulations."
White paper banners fluttered in the wind like countless pale human hands hanging down.
—What had looked "lively" from a distance was, upon closer inspection, clearly the full layout of a funeral.
The suona troupe sat in a shed at the entrance of the village, their cheeks puffed out as they blew a funeral dirge. The melody, blended with the theatrical chanting from the electronic speakers, was indescribably bizarre and grating to the ears.
“Is... Is this a funeral?” a Player named Xiao Ding blurted out, her face frightfully pale. “Didn't they say it was a birthday celebration?”
What kind of normal old lady used white funeral wreaths for her birthday?
Furthermore, the main quest was to 【Complete Old Lady Huang's Wish】. The person was already stiff; how were they supposed to find out what she wanted?!
“Yes, it's a happy funeral!”
Huang Shoucai turned back, not appearing to find it strange in the slightest:
“My mother passed away three days ago. She was seventy-nine when she died, and her eightieth birthday is in seven days.
My mother suffered her whole life and never got to enjoy her eightieth birthday. We, her sons, are filial, so we thought we'd take advantage of her seventh-day return to throw her eightieth birthday celebration together with it!
We'll make it lively and send her off with grand style, so she can bless us from the underworld to strike it rich!”
He spoke as if it were only natural, leaving the group utterly bewildered.
Truly a filial son.
His mother was dead, yet instead of letting her rest in peace quickly, he insisted on pulling a stunt like this.
Nobody had ever heard of putting "the seventh-day return" and "eightieth birthday" together.
He was truly something else.
“A birthday celebration on the seventh-day return?”
Lin Jianguo chose his words carefully. “This custom... I've never heard of it.”
“It's our village custom!”
Huang Shoucai chuckled twice and lowered his voice. “To tell you the truth, we brothers consulted a fortune teller!
Doing it this way makes my mother happy in the underworld, so she can bless our descendants to make a fortune. Look at the state of our village now—it's all thanks to our ancestors' blessings!”
He pointed at the modern buildings nearby, a proud look on his face, as if he had truly hit the jackpot.
The group felt their skin crawl.
Su Ya stared at Huang Shoucai's face, a wave of disgust washing over her.
“Let's go, let's go. For the next few days, you'll stay in the ancestral hall. We've already cleaned it up.
Tomorrow is the shrouding, so the village won't be cooking. Everyone will eat at the continuous banquet. The dishes are very hearty, prepared by excellent chefs we hired from outside. Eat and drink your fill.”
Huang Shoucai paid no heed to their expressions, turning around to continue leading the way:
“I just want to send my mother off in grand style. Remember to film it well, especially the parts showing how filial we are. There will be plenty of red envelopes for you when the time comes.”
Just as he finished speaking, a long, shrill cat's meow echoed from the entrance of the village.
“Damn cat,”
Huang Shoucai cursed. “I'll skin it sooner or later.”
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