Chapter Thirty-Two: The Red-Headed Ghost Ship

He rushed to the helm and barked an order without explanation: “Follow that ship!”

The helmsman didn’t object at all and immediately complied.

Damn! This guy isn’t joking! Not only is he hunting forbidden ghosts, now he’s chasing a ghost ship too!

He hurried back to the foredeck, and I followed. The yacht roared to life at full power, surging forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, cutting through the waves in pursuit of that strange vessel.

As the distance closed, the shape of the mysterious ship gradually came into view. Indeed, it was a large wooden vessel, its prow painted a vivid vermilion. Along the side, the inscription was clear: “Number 168, Tian Fuxing Merchant Ship, Twin-Masted, Lingkou, Chaozhou Prefecture, Guangdong Province.”

I was stunned. Was this a Chaozhou Red-Headed Ship? Good lord! How many years ago did ships like this exist? This was a real, bona fide ghost ship!

The Chaozhou Red-Headed Ship was a type of merchant vessel from the Qing dynasty, used by Chaozhou Prefecture for overseas trade. Back then, Chaozhou Prefecture was what is now the Chaoshan region. During the Yongzheng era, pirates plagued the southern seas, so the authorities implemented strict measures: all merchant and fishing vessels had to paint the prow, stern, and upper mast in specific colors, and carve into the hull their province, prefecture, identification number, and so on.

Because Guangdong’s Chaoshan region lies in the south, associated with the fire element, red was chosen as the color for the prow, with blue for the carved inscription—hence the name “Red-Headed Ship.”

These ships gradually disappeared with the rise of steamships at the end of the Guangxu era. The late Guangxu era, that’s 1908! This might predate even the Titanic!

The ship was eerily silent, not a soul in sight. Thank goodness, too—if there were people onboard, who knew what they might be?

I thought, well, we’ve caught up now, seen it with our own eyes—this is luck on par with winning the lottery. Surely this kid named Wei would finally be satisfied.

But then I saw him step back a few paces, take a running start, vault over the railing, and leap across the sea—heading straight for that Red-Headed Ship!

I was left dumbstruck, only coming to when I heard the thud of feet landing on deck. I used to think that rich kids courting death was just overblown talk, but now I see that “courting death” is putting it mildly. This Wei fellow is practically seeking it out!

Is it because he’s had too much handed to him at a young age and has no direction in life, so he idolizes death?

No wonder Old Ma was so reluctant to take his business! My god!

Who knows what’s going on with this Red-Headed Ship. If anything happens to that kid, with his family’s wealth and connections, wouldn’t everyone on this yacht be held responsible? No, I had to find Old Ma and the others—fast.

I was about to go to the cabins to get them when I saw the Red-Headed Ship veer off in a bizarre way, its glow dimming. The yacht kept close, but the ship kept shifting away inexplicably, as if caught in some supernatural event.

Damn! I really was losing my mind with worry. This was a supernatural event to begin with!

The Red-Headed Ship was drifting farther out. By the time I got the others, who knew what the situation would be? I hesitated for a moment, then made up my mind—took a few steps back, waited for the yacht to close the gap again, ran, vaulted the rail, and leapt after that Wei kid.

I wasn’t as fit as him, and with that strange drift, I barely missed the deck and slid down the side. I managed to grab the edge just in time and hauled myself up.

In my mind, I cursed Wei and all his ancestors for good measure, but there was no way I could just stand by and let him act recklessly.

The deck of the Red-Headed Ship was damp, at odds with the glowing hull I’d seen from outside—here, everything was shrouded in darkness. It seemed the glow had faded completely.

But soon I realized that wasn’t all. Not only had the hull’s light dimmed, but the surroundings had grown murky as well. The stars and moon were gone, replaced by a pitch-black sky. Mist rose from the sea, and the luxury yacht had vanished without a trace.

A sense of dread washed over me. Onboard and offboard felt like two separate worlds. Who knew where this ship was headed?

I had to find that kid fast!

I took out my phone and used the flashlight. Luckily, I’m a cautious person—I always keep my phone with me, even for a stroll at night.

The ship was terribly damp, as if it had just been dredged from the sea. And it wasn’t as intact as it looked from outside—at a glance, all I saw was age and decay.

Everything was oppressively silent.

“Second Master! Master Wei!” I called out. The deck was empty, no one in sight.

Had that kid gone inside? He really was fearless.

I made my way toward the cabin structure, each step on the wooden boards eliciting a long, creaking groan, as if the floor might give way at any moment.

All I’d wanted was to find Old Ma to save my skin—I hadn’t signed up for a ghost ship adventure. What madness was this?

The faint singing was much clearer now, but I had no time to worry about it. All I could think about was finding that damned Wei kid fast.

A thick, nauseating stench assailed me, wafting from inside the cabin. It was a complex, fishy, rotten odor. I wondered if some sea creature had died and was decomposing in there.

I hesitated, pinched my nose, shone my phone’s light inside, and called out, “Second Master? Are you in there? Say something!”

It was pitch black inside, cluttered with tools and objects of unknown purpose. My phone’s light couldn’t make sense of it all. I couldn’t pinpoint where the smell was coming from. I hesitated at the entrance.

Then—tap, tap, tap—a series of footsteps echoed. My heart leapt. The sound was coming from below deck. Had that kid gone down to the lower cabins?

This ship’s origins were murky and strange. Instinctively, I was reluctant to go below deck and decided not to descend.

Instead, I walked to the spot above the sound, planning to call him up from there.

The deck here was even more ruinous, rotten through in several places. I moved carefully, afraid of stepping through.

Reaching the spot above the noise, I shouted down, “Master Wei, enough fun. It’s time to go. If anything happens to you, we’ll all pay for it.”

No answer, only the steady tap, tap from below.

What was this kid playing at, staying silent now? Annoyed, I said, “Are you down there or not? If you are, just answer me!”

Still no response. Nothing but the monotonous footsteps from below. No other sound at all.

Puzzled, I called again: “Second Master? Master Wei?”

The tapping was unchanging, as if it hadn’t moved at all. Doubt grew in my mind—was it really that Wei kid making the sound?