Chapter Forty-Six: Burial in the Earth

We instinctively turned our heads toward the source of the meowing, which was coming from the room next door.

There was a cat in that room?

As we approached, the strange smell quickly intensified, so foul that even covering my nose couldn’t block the stench—it was enough to make me gag.

We reached the door, which was ajar. Peering through the narrow gap, we could just make out the scene inside. The scrawny child was crouched on the floor with his back to us, stroking a large cat. The cat lay stretched out on the floor, motionless and silent.

“Zeyu?” Xiao Qingwan called softly.

The little boy jerked violently, whipping his head around to stare at us with those bulging eyes, his expression bizarre and unreadable.

Before we could react, he leapt to his feet and rushed over, slamming the door shut with a thunderous bang.

I paused in surprise and pressed both hands against the door, giving it a push, but it didn't budge—it was locked tight from within.

What was wrong with this child? Last time, he ran over to push me, but now he looked at us as if we were ghosts. In fact, his reaction was even more complex than mere fear.

Xiao Qingwan raised her voice, “Zeyu, don’t be afraid. We’re just here to see you! We mean you no harm!” She knocked gently on the door.

There was no response from inside; everything was as still as death, as if the room were empty.

“Zeyu! Zeyu!” Xiao Qingwan called again.

I said, “Forget it. If he doesn’t want to see us, we should just go back.”

The room gave me a deeply unsettling feeling; I had no desire to linger. The child had seemed odd to me from the very beginning.

Xiao Qingwan sighed, “I suppose that’s all we can do.”

We were about to turn to leave when a voice suddenly called out, “Who are you?”

We turned and saw a young woman standing by the main door. Her long, straight hair was neatly draped over her shoulders, and she wore a pink short coat over an ankle-length skirt, her face touched with light makeup. Clearly, she wasn’t from the village. She carried several large bags, looking every bit the visitor.

She watched us warily, not coming closer. In fact, she seemed poised to retreat if things went awry. When we didn’t answer, she repeated, “You’re not from the village. Why are you looking for Zeyu?”

A suspicion formed in my mind, so I ventured, “Are you a friend of Huang Yunlei?”

Her wariness deepened; she gripped her bags tightly and subtly edged a foot backward. “Who exactly are you?”

Seeing her alarm, Xiao Qingwan hurried to explain, “We mean no harm. We only came to check on Zeyu. That poor child.”

I added, “Don’t worry, we’re not connected to Huang Wenyang.”

I briefly recounted our backgrounds. The woman did not fully believe us, but seeing that we were clearly outsiders—and that Xiao Qingwan seemed so harmless—she relaxed a little and came inside, closing the door behind her.

“These days you really see all kinds of people. I may not believe in ghosts, but you’re quite brave to be catching forbidden spirits,” she said.

I gave a wry smile. “We’re just doing a favor for someone—are you Huang Yunlei’s friend?”

She nodded. “We were classmates in elementary and middle school. We’d planned to go to high school and university together, but…” She gritted her teeth, a flash of hatred in her eyes, mixed with helplessness.

She set her bags on the ground outside the room. I glanced at them: all food, all long-lasting and easy to store. There were no daily necessities.

“All food? No toiletries?” I asked.

She gave a bitter laugh. “Food can be hidden and eaten slowly. If anyone finds new daily items here, both Zeyu and I could be in trouble. You probably don’t realize how complicated this child’s situation is. I only dare to come by when they’re not around. I came today because I heard Huang Lehao was hospitalized after being beaten.”

“We know a little about the child’s circumstances. Huang Yunlei was used by Huang Wenyang and his son as a money-making tool, wasn’t she?” I said.

Her expression changed instantly. She stared at us in shock. “You know? Someone here told you that?”

Her suspicion returned, as if she thought we were in league with Huang Wenyang and his lot.

“Don’t worry, we have nothing to do with them. In fact, it was my friend here who injured Huang Lehao,” I said, gesturing toward Master Wei. “Don’t be fooled by his gentle appearance—he’s quite capable, and not without a background. Now that we know about Huang Yunlei, we can’t just ignore it. If you trust us, we hope you can tell us everything you know.”

She stared at us, her eyes lingering on Master Wei, a trace of doubt flickering there. Anyone would have trouble believing, based on his appearance, that he was so formidable. Still, his bearing and dress did set him apart. She hesitated, uncertain whether to trust me.

Before she could decide, I asked her directly, “How did Huang Yunlei die?”

She shuddered, then quickly glanced toward the room, as if afraid Zeyu might overhear.

She gestured for us to step away. We moved to a corner, away from the house.

“Don’t let Zeyu hear—he might be hurt by it. Can you… really help Yunlei?” she asked doubtfully.

“We’ll do our best,” I assured her.

Xiao Qingwan added, “Huang Wenyang and his son have done too many evil deeds. We won’t let them get away with it.”

The woman hesitated, clutching her hands together. “I don’t know exactly how Yunlei died, but…”

“But what?” I pressed.

She was still conflicted, unsure if she should speak. To do so would mean irrevocably offending Huang Wenyang and his family.

She studied us, as if trying to decide if we were truly trustworthy. I let her take her time.

After a while, she seemed to reach a decision. “Yunlei wasn’t cremated. Her body is buried in the northern woods. Huang Wenyang and his son snuck out at night to do it. I only found out by accident. That’s all I can tell you—I can’t afford to cross the Huang family. I hope you really can clear Yunlei’s name.”

With that, she bade us a hurried farewell and left quickly. Her fear of Huang Wenyang and his son was obvious; it had taken all her courage to tell us even this much. After all, Huang Lehao had been able to gather twenty or thirty men armed with knives and clubs in the middle of the night for revenge—they were clearly capable of anything.

Though we didn’t learn the cause of Yunlei’s death, at least we had a valuable lead, one directly connected to her.

“What should we do next?” Xiao Qingwan asked.

“We go back to find Uncle Ma,” I replied.