The more Shi Guanming thought about it, the more wrong it felt. "Indeed, these two seem to be discussing something."
"It's not like that—it's just!" Shi Dali's expression turned serious. "Brother Shi, you must be cautious. No matter what they say, don't believe them. Xu Su has been eliminated, and the newcomer, Su Tingting, is just a pawn in their hands. Next, they'll come after us!"
"Don't worry, Brother Shi; I'll listen to you!" Shi Guanming immediately pledged his loyalty. After all, if it hadn't been for Shi Dali's help, he would have been killed by Ke Long long ago.
"Oh!" Shi Dali sighed. "Now the situation is critical; it's just you and my brothers who have a glimmer of hope!"
As Yang Xiao slept in a daze, the door opened. It was the housekeeper Liu, who had arranged for a servant to bring the food box and some new information. The servant, a familiar face who often accompanied Liu, spoke up. "Su Fuke, Housekeeper Liu asked me to see if you'd like to go to the play tonight?"
"Um... All right." Su Tingting agreed, her face pained.
"Why do you look like that? Don't you want to go?" The servant frowned. "If you don't want to, I can ask the two lucky guests in the other room."
"Cough... Cough cough..." Yang Xiao pretended to cough. At that moment, Kwang Hongyi glared at him, holding a candlestick ominously.
Su Tingting immediately changed her mind. "I do, I do! Please give me this glorious task!"
"In that case, I'll inform Housekeeper Liu. In about an hour, someone will come to take you to the designated hall. As for what happens next, you'll have to follow their instructions." The servant pointed to the food box on the table. "Eat while it's hot, then get some rest. You'll be busy tonight."
Afterward, the servant picked up another food box to leave but was stopped by Yang Xiao. "Do you still have to deliver food to another room?"
The servant glanced him over and nodded.
"They must have news for them. I wonder what their task is tonight?" Yang Xiao mused, wanting to confirm his suspicions.
The servant hesitated before responding, "It won't hurt to tell you—they won't be with you tonight. We will be recruiting souls. They will handle the water duties."
Hearing this, Yang Xiao and Kwang Hongyi felt somewhat relieved, but recruiting souls was still a dangerous job. Even if Su Tingting was leading, the two of them would not be idle.
Despite the meal being decent, everyone felt downcast, and the food didn't taste good. They anxiously waited, and finally, the hour arrived.
A scruffy man emerged from the door. Older than Housekeeper Liu, he was blind in one eye and dressed differently from the house staff. His old gray coat was knee-length, with a dirty piece of cloth draped over his left shoulder.
The man scrutinized Yang Xiao and the others with his only remaining eye for a moment before turning to leave. "It's time. Come with me."
His remaining eye was cloudy and stained, which made Yang Xiao and the others wonder if he was actually blind. The man emitted a foul odor, reminiscent of rotting meat.
Outside, the sky was as dark as night. Red lanterns hung everywhere, swaying gently in the night breeze as if greeting them.
As they passed one lantern, Yang Xiao's gaze froze on the old man's feet. The black cloth shoes were identical, indistinguishable from one another.
"Is he also a member of Yinxing?" Yang Xiao was startled. A papermaker had just died, and he hadn't expected the Feng family to invite another master.
Kwang Hongyi nudged Yang Xiao and pointed at the cloth on the old man's shoulder, mouthing the word "shroud."
No wonder... No wonder there was that rotten smell.
The old man must also be a senior of Yinxing, though it was unclear which lineage he belonged to. His confident demeanor suggested he surpassed the deceased papermaker.
The atmosphere grew tense. The old man remained silent, and Yang Xiao and the others didn't dare to speak. They finally arrived at Master Feng's residence, which had changed dramatically. A stage was set up in the yard, with sacrifices arranged before it and rows of long wooden stools lined up, densely occupied by dozens of paper figures.
The paper figures faced the empty stage, as if watching a performance. Red lanterns of varying sizes hung all around, casting a faint red glow over their pale faces. The scene was unsettling.
Su Tingting's legs trembled.
Yang Xiao and the others held their breath, focusing on a large expanse of white cloth drawn behind the stage, almost completely covering the area behind it. At that moment, a figure became visible on the white cloth.
"When everyone arrives, take the girl to the back to put on makeup and teach her the rules." The old man's hoarse voice rasped like sandpaper.
The figure behind the curtain stepped forward—an old woman holding a white lantern, her gaze fixed on Yang Xiao and the others, cold and indifferent.
They recognized her immediately; she was the old woman who had brought them into the house. Her thick rouge, paired with sagging eyes, gave her a ghastly appearance.
Without a word, she seized Su Tingting's hand and pulled her toward the curtain with stiff movements.
"What do you need us to do?" Kwang Hongyi asked, overwhelmed by the old man's aura.
The old man turned to him, his murky eyes slowly drifting. "Tonight's ghost play requires your cooperation. The girl will sing, one of you will serve incense to welcome guests outside, and the other will sit beneath the stage to change the leftover wine and dishes for the guests."
Kwang Hongyi glanced at the rigid paper figures anxiously. Unexpectedly, the old man suddenly smiled, revealing a mouthful of pale teeth. "Don't panic, children. Ghost plays are naturally performed for ghosts, but as long as you follow the rules tonight, you'll be safe."
The old man pointed a bony finger at Kwang Hongyi. "You look too tidy. Better to go outside to welcome guests. Remember, hold three sticks of incense, smile five points, nod when you see people, and don't speak a word."
"When the gong sounds, open the door to welcome the guests. Those who come today are all guests. Abide by the rules; don't stare into their eyes, and don't look down at their shoes. Change the offerings in time before the incense burns out. Remember, the incense must not break, as it conceals your essence."
"Also, no matter what those people do or ask, stay calm and don't answer. If you show your essence, no one can save you."
"There's a foot-high wooden pole outside the door. When you hear the singing, raise a red lantern behind you to inform those by the lake to act. That's your task tonight."
After assigning the tasks, Kwang Hongyi bowed to the old man and turned to leave the courtyard. The old man reminded him not to look back once he left.
"Sir, don't worry," Kwang Hongyi called out confidently.
The old man turned stiffly to Yang Xiao. "What you will do tonight is the most dangerous. You'll sit under the stage with those lonely ghosts attracted to the play, replacing the incense candles that have burned out. If your identity is revealed, you won't have a place to hide."
Yang Xiao took a deep breath and nodded seriously. "I'll be careful. Please give me guidance."
Raising his arm, the old man pointed to the stage, where several plates of sacrifices lay beside it—raw meat, rice noodles, melons and fruits, and candied sweets.
In front of each offering stood a triangular incense burner, thick stacks of yellow paper money pressed beneath them, with many unlit incense sticks inserted.
"When you hear the gong, light the incense in the burner as quickly as possible and return to your seat."
Following the old man's instructions, Yang Xiao noticed an empty spot on the far left of the first row of benches—void of paper figures.
Beneath the bench were four bamboo baskets covered with red cloth.
"There are four types of offerings in the baskets. When the sacrifices under the stage are nearly finished, you need to replace them promptly," the old man said, casting Yang Xiao a knowing glance. "Remember, ghosts only eat the essence of food, not its appearance. You must observe through the incense in the burner."
"The faster the incense burns, the hungrier the ghosts become. You must leave early to change the offerings, or they will seek something else to consume."
Yang Xiao kept the old man's warnings in mind, asking, "What are the taboos about changing the offerings?"
"Hang up red boots, walk the road of mourning, don't look back, don't speak," the old man said sternly. "Also, on your way to replace the offerings, ensure the new sacrifice doesn't touch the ground; that would be highly disrespectful."
The old man produced a pair of small red paper shoes from his pocket, tying them together with twine and hanging them around Yang Xiao's neck. The shoes hung limply against his chest.
Yang Xiao had never heard of hanging red boots; he only knew that dead people wore paper shoes, a way to conceal the breath of the living.
He understood the significance of walking the road of mourning. The dead had rigid ankles, unable to turn in arcs, often stumbling over high thresholds or barriers.
Walking this path required mimicking the dead's movements, generally reserved for sending resentful spirits to burial. Attention had to be paid to the friction of the soles; each step must be controlled, ensuring that the heel did not extend beyond the toes of the other foot, to avoid disrespect.
He understood why one shouldn't look back or speak. Those familiar with nighttime walks knew not to look back, lest they extinguish the yang fire on their shoulder—representative of one's fortune. People with low luck were more prone to be haunted by ghosts.
In the company of paper figures, speaking would reveal the living essence, leading to discovery. The outcome would be dire.
"Ghosts prey on the weak and fear the strong; this night requires not only caution but also bravery and cunning." The old man seemed pleased with Yang Xiao's response, adding, "You know what to do; you're a half-traveler, after all."
As he spoke, the old woman emerged from behind the stage, her expression as sour as before. She instructed Yang Xiao to sit down and began applying makeup with rough strokes.
The process was swift, taking only two minutes. When she held up a small bronze mirror for him to see, Yang Xiao was taken aback. In the mirror, he saw a ghastly visage—pale skin, dark circles under his eyes, bushy eyebrows, and bright red lips. The result was a comically poor imitation of ghostly makeup.
At that moment, Yang Xiao recalled the artistry of the papermaker. If he had been alive, the makeup would have been far better.
Seeing Yang Xiao frown, the old woman grew impatient. "Not satisfied? I can redo it!"
"No, no, no, that's fine," Yang Xiao stammered, trying to smile, though his reflection was more terrifying than intended.
After tidying up, the old woman returned the makeup supplies to her basket, twisting her waist as she exited. "Remember, once the gong sounds, tonight's play will begin, and you'll have time to light the incense."
It seemed the old woman was rushing to prepare Kwang Hongyi outside; after all, both of them were to impersonate ghosts tonight.
The old man then pulled out an exquisite cloth bag, embroidered with white lotus flowers. Inside lay a wrinkled piece of yellow paper, damp and sticky. Before Yang Xiao could get a closer look, the old man slapped it onto his face.
Yang Xiao blinked in confusion.
"Don't move. This is valuable," the old man said, holding Yang Xiao's shoulder while smoothing the edges of the yellow paper over his right eye.
Suddenly, Yang Xiao noticed a strange smell; the paper was not just wet but coated in oil.
"Try to see if you can open it."
Yang Xiao blinked his right eye carefully. He could open it, but the wax was so blinding he couldn't keep it open for long. Closing his left eye turned the surroundings into vague outlines through the translucent yellow paper.
"Use your left eye to look at people, your right to see ghosts." The old man pierced Yang Xiao's eyebrow with a silver needle, stitching the yellow paper onto his face. "Remember, don't panic, no matter what happens, until this play ends."
With that, the old man left, leaving Yang Xiao alone in the vast yard.
No, not alone—Su Tingting was behind the white curtain.
But Yang Xiao couldn't see her now, guessing she might be squatting or lying down. The front and back of the curtain felt like two separate worlds.
After calming himself, Yang Xiao moved to his seat, realizing how strange the paper figures appeared. Each had different postures, and their makeup was even more bizarre—some were completely devoid of hands and feet, mere defective remnants of their creation.