Chapter Thirty-Eight: Injustice

Huang Wenyang spoke almost without thinking, blurting out, “No one’s ever died from injustice here—we’re just ordinary folk, what kind of grievances could possibly kill? Sure, there were disasters in the past, but that’s all ancient history now.”

As he said this, his eyes darted away, and the order of his answers was off: Old Ma had asked first about disasters, but he’d answered about grievances instead. He was definitely hiding something from us.

“If neither great injustice nor great disaster applies, then it must be dire misfortune or something unknowable,” Zhuang Xingrui suddenly interjected.

His failure to divine the spirit had already cost him face, and Old Ma had seized the moment—he was seething with suppressed anger, desperate to restore some measure of pride.

Before Old Ma could press further, Zhuang Xingrui cupped his fists toward that young man surnamed Wei and declared, “Second Master, I will get to the bottom of this! If forbidden spirits are at work, I will drag out the forbidden father and mother, and catch the spirit itself!”

With that, he turned to Huang Wenyang, his tone shifting to one of imperious command. “Lead the way! I intend to search this village thoroughly!”

Gathering his things, he strode purposefully out of the house.

Huang Wenyang nodded and bowed to the young man surnamed Wei, then obediently trailed after Zhuang Xingrui to show him around.

Frankly, Huang Wenyang’s fawning was less off-putting than Zhuang Xingrui’s pompous posturing. We weren’t blind to his theatrics.

The young man named Wei cast Old Ma a glance, then went outside. His two bodyguards and Su Feiyong followed closely, exuding the air of local toughs.

And with that, the matter was settled. The owner of the house, seeing everyone had left, asked Old Ma a question before attending to the dead dog’s remains. Only Old Ma, myself, Xiao Qingwan, and Gu Yangyu remained inside.

I turned to Old Ma and asked, “Is it really dire misfortune or something unknowable?”

Huang Wenyang’s demeanor made it clear he was hiding something.

“How should I know? In any case, that Zhuang fellow’s gone to check. With his skills, if there’s anything to be found, he’ll find it.” As Old Ma spoke, his gaze drifted, not so subtly, toward Xiao Qingwan’s chest.

I casually took two steps to block his line of sight and asked, as if nothing were amiss, “So what should we do?”

Old Ma saw through my maneuver and muttered, somewhat displeased, “True enough, we’ve taken their money to resolve their troubles—we ought to do something. Here’s what: my good apprentice, go around the village and ask about things. The village head’s not young anymore—he might be confused, memories fading, so we shouldn’t trust only his word, right?”

“Master’s absolutely right. I’ll go right now!” I beckoned to Xiao Qingwan and headed for the door.

“Hold on! I told you to go—I didn’t say you should drag the young lady along! Miss, I need a word with you—don’t go!” Old Ma’s voice chased after us, ending with a grumble, “You little rascal!”

Outside, Zhuang Xingrui and the young man named Wei had already vanished.

“What exactly are we supposed to ask?” Xiao Qingwan was still confused.

Old Ma might not have spoken plainly, but since we were in someone else’s territory, he couldn’t be too direct.

“If there’s no disaster here, then it must be injustice,” I replied.

Xiao Qingwan and I wandered through the village, looking for people to talk to, but at this hour, the children were at school, the adults out working—we couldn’t find a single idle soul! I was genuinely impressed by the village’s industriousness. No wonder they were doing well financially. If even with such work ethic they couldn’t prosper, then the world really had no justice.

We did come across a few idle elders, but unfortunately, we couldn’t understand the local Li dialect or the Hainanese.

Finally, we found a heavily pregnant woman, who proved to be quite talkative—ask her one thing and she’d rattle off a torrent of words.

“There were plenty of disasters here in the old days! Before the founding of the country, this place was poor—no medicine, barely any doctors, everyone lived in thatched huts! You know what those are? Wooden frames piled high with layers of straw, shaped almost like a boat, no windows, dark as night inside, day and night all the same! Every house was like that, and outside, cow dung and pig slop everywhere—stank to high heaven! I grew up in one of those huts, with pigs and cows running wild…”

Seeing her digress further, I quickly interrupted, “But what disasters do you mean?”

“Oh, oh, just like before the founding—no medicine, lots of rain, humid and hot, so many diseases, and people died for nothing sometimes! There was leprosy too, terrifying stuff! And typhoons! When I was young, living in those huts, typhoons would rip half the roof off! Waking up in the night soaked by rain—life was so hard, but things are better now…”

Clearly, her childhood had been so bleak that she carried the scars, and, like a modern Cassandra, poured out her woes to anyone who’d listen.

“Alright, I get it. Life was tough, housing was bad, people were poor,” I interrupted again, then asked, “But I want to ask you something else. When we entered the village, we met a child—the village head’s grandson, Zeyi. Do you know anything about his mother?”

She was the child of his niece, so by family rank, a grandson, though not by blood.

The woman’s expression shifted noticeably, and her words became hesitant. “I—I know a bit.”

She’d been so eager to speak before, but now her reply was clipped and cautious—her evasiveness couldn’t be more obvious.

Xiao Qingwan looked at me, puzzled, not understanding why I’d brought up Zeyi’s mother’s suicide a year ago.

Suicide—I didn’t believe it.

Even if she had taken her own life, there must have been a reason.

“How did she come by her child?” I asked.

“How else? She got pregnant fooling around—had a kid while she was still young,” she replied, her tone faltering.

I continued, “I heard your people used to have a custom called ‘stranger’s night,’ where young men and women would visit each other, sing, and fall in love freely, spending the night in the girl’s room after they’d made a match…”

“What are you trying to say? You outsiders are always imagining things! It wasn’t as casual as you think—unless it was genuine, nothing would happen!” she snapped, clearly displeased.

“I didn’t mean that—I just thought maybe Zeyi’s mother was young and inexperienced, lost her head. Didn’t her parents want to find the man and bring them together?”

She grew evasive again. “Bring them together for what… she was fooling around outside, who even knows with whom… Besides, her parents died long ago.”

A chill ran down my spine. “If her parents died early, then who did she live with?”