Huang Facai led Su Ya and her group deeper into the village. After walking for about ten minutes, he stopped and pointed to a dark, sprawling compound ahead.
“We're here. This is the village's ancestral hall, set aside specifically for your filming crew. It's spacious inside, making it convenient to store your equipment.”
Everyone looked in the direction he pointed, and their hearts skipped a beat.
The ancestral hall was of an old-fashioned brick-and-wood construction, with upturned eaves and black-tiled roofs.
The main gate was left slightly ajar, with only a faint glimmer of candlelight leaking through the crack.
Two damaged stone lions stood at the entrance—one was missing its eyes, and the other was missing half its body.
Even the door god posters pasted on the gates had faded to yellow, their curled edges brittle.
The entire courtyard smelled strongly of incense ash, the kind of scent found only in temples where incense was burned.
Most unsettling of all, sharp, piercing cat meows drifted from near the ancestral hall from time to time.
Anyone who had heard cats in heat knew that the sound was nothing like a pet's usual cute, affectionate meowing.
The meows were drawn out, sounding like the heart-wrenching screams of a tiny infant.
...
“We're staying in an ancestral hall?”
One of the Players frowned, instinctively repulsed by the idea. “This place is pitch-black and filled with dead people's memorial tablets. It's so creepy.”
Just the thought of sleeping in a room filled with memorial tablets made her entire body feel uncomfortable.
“Exactly,” another Player agreed in a low voice. “An ancestral hall... isn't the yin energy too heavy? Doesn't the village have those modern Western-style villas? Can't we stay there instead?”
A pitch-black ancestral hall lined with memorial tablets versus a two-story Western-style villa glowing with warm yellow lights.
Even a fool would know which to choose.
“Didn't I arrange this because I thought you wanted to film our folk culture?”
The smile on Huang Facai's face didn't change at all as he said readily, “Staying in the villas is fine too. We have plenty of empty houses in the village anyway, so you can stay wherever you like... it's just...”
He dragged out his words, stopping mid-sentence.
“Just what?” Lin Jianguo pressed.
“It's nothing,” Huang Facai waved his hand. “It's just that some of those villas haven't been lived in for a long time, and I'm afraid you won't get used to them. The ancestral hall was cleaned up specifically for you, and it's safe.”
It would have been better if he hadn't said that. Once he did, the few people who were already afraid of the ancestral hall became even more tempted.
“Even a house that hasn't been lived in for a long time is better than an ancestral hall,” Chen Man immediately chimed in. “At least there are windows and electric lights inside. We can sleep with the lights on at night—”
It was better than sleeping in front of a pile of memorial tablets.
After all, the ancestors resting in there weren't hers; they wouldn't bless her.
“I also think the villas are better,” a Player quickly chimed in under their breath. “The ancestral hall is too eerie. What if something happens at night?”
With the two of them playing off each other, the remaining new Players also found it reasonable and nodded one after another.
Everyone's gaze fell on Su Ya.
Throughout the journey, Su Ya was the only one with experience in an Instance, so everyone subconsciously looked to her as their anchor.
Su Ya frowned and didn't speak immediately.
Suddenly having to take responsibility for the lives of so many people made her feel inexplicably nervous.
Logically speaking, the accommodation actively arranged by the Instance was very likely a default safe zone, just like the bus earlier, offering temporary safety.
But this ancestral hall indeed looked perilous, and it was filled with memorial tablets. Who knew if something was hidden inside?
Su Ya was just an ordinary person who had only survived one Instance; she wasn't some all-knowing, all-powerful veteran. Thus, she couldn't be sure which choice was correct.
“Uncle Lin, what do you think?” Su Ya instinctively sought advice from Lin Jianguo, who was around her father's age.
Lin Jianguo pondered for a few seconds. “I suggest we stay in the ancestral hall.”
“Why?” Chen Man immediately voiced her disagreement. “The ancestral hall is so terrifying. What if... someone dies again tonight?”
She uttered the last few words very softly, but everyone understood her meaning.
As if he couldn't hear their conversation, Huang Facai went ahead and pushed open the doors to the ancestral hall.
The wooden latch fell away, and dust rained down. Suddenly, two or three small wild cats darted out from inside.
“Meow-gowl!”
“Meow!!”
Looking closer, each cat had a rat clamped in its mouth. The rats weren't dead yet, emitting shrill, desperate squeaks.
The group's nerves were already stretched to their absolute limits; even the slightest disturbance could make them break down.
Particularly after surviving the livestream room, many of them shuddered at the sight of rats.
...
“Let's stay in the ancestral hall,” Lin Jianguo said with conviction. “It's highly likely that this place, like the bus, is a safe zone arranged by the Instance. It only looks terrifying. If we change locations on our own and something goes wrong, no one will be there to bail us out.”
Beside him, Su Ya nodded and added, “I agree. Right now, we are a film crew shooting a folk documentary. For a documentary crew, staying in an ancestral hall is perfectly logical. Staying in a villager's home might actually be inappropriate.”
Perhaps because her class was Architect, Su Ya always felt that those modern Western-style villas and two-story houses were flashy but lacked solid foundations. They were like castles in the air, easily shattered with a single poke.
Her reasoning was solid.
“I also think staying in the ancestral hall is better,” Yang Hexuan quickly followed up on Su Ya's words. “We've already reached this point; who cares about sleeping comfortably? We should huddle together tonight and try to stay in one room so we can look out for one another. Splitting up is too risky.”
Haven't they seen in horror movies that the ones who die are always those who wander off alone? He had absolutely no desire to die here.
“I wasn't obsessing over whether it's comfortable; I'm just afraid of dying,” the Player who spoke first muttered, but she didn't voice any further objections.
No matter how dark the ancestral hall was, at least all ten of them would be here. Even if the ghosts in this Instance were ferocious, they couldn't possibly wipe them all out in a single night, right?
...
The courtyard of the ancestral hall wasn't large. Facing the main gate was the main hall, which was pitch-black and lit by a scattering of candles.
The candlelight flickered, faintly revealing rows upon rows of densely packed memorial tablets.
They were stacked from the offering table all the way up to the rafters, layered so thickly that it was impossible to count them all.
On both sides of the courtyard were side rooms. One side was a storage room, while the other was an empty room with straw laid out on the brick bed, looking like it had once been used by the caretaker of the ancestral hall.
“You'll stay in the western side room,” Huang Facai led everyone toward it. “It's been cleaned up, but there are a lot of cats in the village, so it gets very noisy at night. The eastern side room is piled with clutter, so don't touch anything there. And don't wander into the main hall; the ancestors are all in there, and it's bad luck to offend them.”
Huang Facai spoke casually.
However, everyone silently committed his words to memory:
The eastern side room and the main hall were forbidden areas.
The group followed him into the western side room, which was slightly more spacious than they had imagined.
It had adobe walls and a damp brick floor. A few old wooden board beds were pushed against the walls, alongside a pile of straw, clearly prepared in a hurry.
“If you really can't get used to it, you can go stay in the villas. It's quiet over there, with no cats to bother you.”
Huang Facai held out the keys to the neighboring villas, then gave a few more instructions.
“I almost forgot the most important thing.”
He fished several paper packets from his pocket.
“This is quicklime. Before you go to sleep, sprinkle a circle of it along the threshold and window sills. There are many wild cats and dogs in the village, as well as some unclean things. The lime can help block them.”
He added, “Also, when you sleep, remember to lie with your head facing the door. We have a saying here: sleeping with your feet facing the door easily attracts dirty things.”
Hearing this, everyone's heart tightened.
As expected, there were taboos.
Fortunately, they had stayed behind; otherwise, they really would have run into major trouble.
This Instance was truly fraught with deadly perils at every turn; a single moment of laxity would lead to death.
“Understood. Thank you for the warning, Chief Huang,” Su Ya replied seriously, taking the packets of quicklime.
Huang Facai gave a few more warnings about not running around or touching things before yawning and taking his leave.
He said he had to go back to busy himself with the birthday feast and would come to fetch the film crew for the shrouding first thing tomorrow morning.
...
By the time everyone finished settling in, it was already past midnight.
The door of the western side room was bolted, and a thick wooden bar was propped against it.
The windows were also latched shut from the inside, with rags stuffed into the gaps.
Yang Hexuan took the quicklime and sprinkled a circle of it along the threshold and beneath the windows.
The thin white lines spread out like a cordon.
With ten people squeezed into the tiny room, the sounds of breathing, shifting bodies, and suppressed coughing blended together, making the atmosphere feel far less eerie.
They agreed to take turns keeping watch over the next few days.
Lin Jianguo and Yang Hexuan drew the first watch. The two of them were currently sitting on small wooden stools near the door, speaking in hushed tones.
Su Ya and Yang Asha slept on the edge of the wooden board bed closest to the door.
The girl, who was only a few years younger than Su Ya, slept on the inside, clinging tightly to her.
However, Yang Asha was no longer afraid. Her eyes shone with excitement, making her look as though she were having a late-night chat with a close friend for the first time.
“Sister Su Ya, do you think... something will really come tonight?” Yang Asha leaned close to Su Ya's ear and whispered.
“It's hard to say,” Su Ya shook her head honestly. “This entire village is very bizarre. Don't be afraid, we have strength in numbers.”
She wondered what the other two teams had encountered to lose seven members all at once.
“Mm,” Yang Asha replied, squeezing a bit closer to her.
After a moment, she whispered again, “Sister Su Ya, you're so nice. Don't worry, I'll protect you.”
Su Ya didn't take it to heart, simply patting the girl's head instead.
“Go to sleep. Rest up; we have a quest tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Yang Asha closed her eyes, her breathing gradually turning slow and even.
Su Ya, however, felt no sleepiness.
She kept her eyes open, staring at the pitch-black rafters.
...
An unknown amount of time passed. The room grew very quiet as everyone else fell asleep.
The sound of rhythmic breathing filled the air.
Evidently, everyone was utterly exhausted.
The wind outside picked up slightly, rustling the grass in the courtyard.
Yang Hexuan seemed to have something on his mind and had remained quiet. Suddenly, his ears twitched, and he nudged Lin Jianguo, lowering his voice.
“Uncle Lin, listen. I think I hear a cat crying.”
Lin Jianguo held his breath and listened closely.
Indeed, a faint cry was carried on the wind.
“Meow-wuh—”
It started as a thin, high-pitched, drawn-out cry, resembling an infant's wail—feeble and miserable, yet exceptionally clear in the quiet night.
Then, one after another, the sharp wails grew longer.
The sound carried an unspeakable malice, sounding like a woman weeping and a child laughing at the same time, sending shivers down one's spine.
Most bizarrely, as if trying to drown out the sound of the cats, the din of suonas and gongs in the village suddenly grew much louder.
“Deeli-deeli-la— Deeli-deeli-la—”
“Deeli-deeli...”
The piercing sound of the suonas carried far into the deep night, but the cats' cries grew more mournful with every passing second, as if their owner were searching for something.
Yang Hexuan's palms were slick with sweat.
Lin Jianguo's back went rigid as well.
Both of them could sense that something was lingering just outside the door.
Pacing back and forth, pausing and starting, rustling.
It felt as though something were searching for a gap, trying to squeeze its way inside.
Could the quicklime line really hold it back?
Neither of them was certain.
They could only stare unblinkingly at the crack of the door, praying silently in their hearts: Don't come in, don't come in.
After enduring for an unknown length of time, a faint pale light finally began to touch the horizon.
The cats' cries gradually drifted away.
The footsteps in the courtyard vanished as well.
The two of them exhaled in unison, only then realizing they were shivering—their backs had long since been soaked in cold sweat, leaving their clothes sticking to them in a clammy, uncomfortable mess.
The first night had finally passed without incident.
...
Rate on N.U.
