Chapter Thirty-Four: Dead Yet Heartless

When I awoke, my whole body felt uncomfortable. Staring at the unfamiliar surroundings, I paused in confusion and sat up.

Where was I? How did I end up here?

I examined the room’s furnishings: yellow walls, floral curtains, a white round table opposite me, and an armchair.

A hotel? It didn’t seem like one.

I glanced at the bed I was lying in. Its structure looked somewhat familiar—it resembled a hospital bed.

A chill ran through me. Was this a hospital? The room was far too nice, though! And a private room, no less!

The door opened, and Xiao Qingwan walked in. Seeing I was awake, she exclaimed with delight, “You’re finally up! You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

Three days! The last haze in my mind cleared. I threw off the covers and sat at the edge of the bed. Ever since learning my days were numbered, I’d become especially sensitive to the passage of time.

Suddenly remembering something, I asked, “Is that Wei kid alright?”

Xiao Qingwan looked at me in confusion and was visibly displeased by my referring to Second Master Wei as “that Wei kid.” “Why wouldn’t he be?” she replied.

I was stunned. Didn’t he jump onto that foreign ghost ship? And nothing happened to him?

“You were far too careless. Out late at night, enjoying the sea breeze, and you fell into the water. Thankfully, Second Master rescued you,” she continued.

Sea breeze? Fell into the water? He rescued me? What was going on?

“He rescued me? Is that what he said?”

“Of course. He even carried you into his room so you could rest. We only learned about it the next morning. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s a good person. You should be more polite—don’t keep calling him ‘that Wei kid.’” She clearly minded my choice of words.

I almost wished I really had fallen into the water while enjoying the sea breeze! That night’s incident with the ghost ship—he hadn’t told anyone! Why was he hiding it? What was his true purpose in coming here?

I asked Xiao Qingwan where Ma Lao and the others were now.

She told me they were all resting at the hotel. Since I was unconscious, they were worried and wanted to wait until I woke up safely before dealing with Second Master Wei’s business.

Since when did I become so important that even Wei’s matters had to be postponed? It was almost certainly another excuse from Old Ma to delay things!

I assured her I was perfectly fine and ready to be discharged immediately.

Getting down from the hospital bed, I realized I was wearing patient clothing. My original clothes and shoes were nowhere to be found.

Xiao Qingwan told me there were new clothes and shoes in the nightstand drawer.

She opened the drawer and handed me the items—brand new, neatly packaged, tags untouched. Glancing at the clothing label, my expression changed instantly.

Silently, I removed the tag and went to the bathroom to change. Outwardly calm, my thoughts were tumultuous. There was no need to guess who paid for these clothes! If I remembered correctly, each piece cost four figures at least!

After changing, I didn’t dare look at the shoe brand. I slipped them on and followed Xiao Qingwan to handle the discharge procedures.

Arriving at the hotel, I went to greet Old Ma first, since I was now his apprentice.

Seeing me lively and unharmed, Old Ma looked disappointed. “You really don’t know how to fake illness and enjoy a few extra days in such a nice private room. Once you miss this opportunity, there won’t be another.”

If I stayed any longer, I might never wake up.

“What’s meant to come can’t be avoided. Dragging things out only postpones the inevitable,” I lectured.

Old Ma squinted at me, unconvinced. “It’s precisely because we know what’s coming that we want to enjoy a few more peaceful days. Who knows if we’ll survive after all this turmoil? Ah, getting old…”

He continued, “Now you should understand why I don’t want to get involved.”

I was surprised—did he know about the ghost ship that night?

Noticing my expression, Old Ma said, “You’re clever. How could a gust of wind knock you into the sea? Wei won’t speak of it, and I won’t bother to ask. You know, catching forbidden ghosts is just a pretext.”

Old Ma was perceptive. I’d never wanted to get involved in these matters, and after the red-headed ship incident, I was even less inclined to muddy myself in these waters.

“Old Ma, it’s been sixteen days now. My time is running out. Shouldn’t you help lift the ghost curse first?” I asked.

“No rush. Your matter isn’t that difficult, but it’s a bit complicated. Let’s deal with this business first,” Old Ma waved me off.

Who knew if it was truly complicated, or if he was deliberately stalling for some ulterior motive.

The next day, we set out. Su Feiyong finally explained the situation in full: our destination was a village near the Five Finger Mountain area. This village used to belong to the communal farming system. Communal farming meant several households related by blood formed small patriarchal families. Land and cattle were public, everyone worked together, shared equally, and helped each other.

About half a month ago, the village witnessed a rare case of forbidden ghosts causing trouble. It was rare because since the founding of the nation—with legal prohibitions, scientific and cultural education, and the reform of religious personnel—all the old measures of investigating and exorcising forbidden ghosts had disappeared. So, tales of forbidden ghosts faded from memory.

But the incidents that began two weeks ago rekindled memories of forbidden ghosts. It wasn’t people who suffered—rather, livestock in the village began dying mysteriously, one after another. Livestock deaths are not unusual; poisoning or epidemics could cause such things. The bizarre part was that every dead animal shared one trait: when opened up, their bodies were missing their hearts.

No external wounds, but the heart had vanished without a trace!

Naturally, the young people sought explanations through science, which was only right. My grandfather did the same in his day—first ruling out disease, then considering other possibilities.

The elders, on the other hand, were terrified, convinced the livestock had been forbidden to death, and that a forbidden ghost was plaguing the village.

The deaths continued, and the young folk couldn’t make sense of it, so they let the elders have their way. They invited an old “Mother Priest” from another village to investigate.

The Mother Priest is a type of spiritual leader among the Li people. Despite the name, both men and women can serve. Male Mother Priests are sometimes called “Mother Lords.” When performing major rituals, all Mother Priests—regardless of gender—must wear women’s clothing. Xiao Qingwan later explained all this to me; there are many different titles for spiritual leaders across regions, but in my eyes, they all perform similar rituals—no real difference.

The old Mother Priest failed to uncover anything. She advised them to have a veterinarian check the animals and to invite someone more skilled to investigate the ghosts.

I thought to myself, whether or not she had real abilities, her character was commendable. She didn’t make up wild stories or deceive people, and had enough scientific knowledge to suggest consulting a veterinarian.