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Cold,
Very cold...
Huangquan Road is long, with red spider lilies blooming.
Li Ling, clearly standing under the blazing sun, felt a bone-chilling cold that nothing could shield against, piercing straight to the marrow.
He numbly walked on an exceptionally wide stone bridge.
The bridge was crowded with people, densely packed, with men and women, old and young.
All of them wore the same tattered white garments, their expressions numb, their movements mechanical as they walked.
At this moment, the stone bridge was as congested as an ant colony.
"Are they all like me, people who have already died?" Li Ling's body moved involuntarily, yet his mind was clear.
Before his death, he was a middle manager at a media company. That day, he was driving and listening to old storytelling radio, cheerfully humming along, when suddenly a truck hit him.
Then, after a long and arduous journey, his soul arrived here.
"We're all probably going to be reincarnated, right?" Li Ling thought.
But obviously, while the others might be on their way to reincarnation, he was not.
He had been squeezed to the edge of the stone bridge by the pressing crowd.
He could see a vast river beneath the bridge, with waves rising from time to time, looking very refreshing—
—If it weren't for the people at the edge of the bridge being squeezed off into the river, letting out a bitter scream, then turning into a puff of smoke as the water burnt them, the scene would actually be quite nice.
According to his current rate of being squeezed, it won't be long before Li Ling, too, will join those unfortunate souls who fell into the Nether River.
"Darn it, I was ostracized by my colleagues while alive, and now even by ghosts after death. What kind of bullsh*t world is this?"
Complaining couldn't resist the pushing, but fighting back could.
But Li Ling's body wasn't under his own control; it was as if obeying some other will, allowing him to only move mechanically forward, with each step not his to command.
He couldn't even utter a sound from his throat; he couldn't open his mouth to curse if he wanted to.
Thus, the jostling continued.
He was first squeezed halfway off the bridge, one foot dangling in the air, and after that, pushed off completely.
Both his feet were now over the edge, his rigid and awkward body teetered toward the Nether River, yet he still maintained a mechanical, numb pace, walking in the air.
It was as comical as a glitched NPC.
"It's over after all." Li Ling looked down at the azure surface of the Nether River below, feeling speechless and calm.
Just as he had prepared to say a final goodbye to the world,
Suddenly,
A withered, skinny hand grabbed Li Ling's wrist.
"Don't fear stepping on the wind, but fear grabbing emptiness, my grandson, I have finally found you."
Grandson?
Li Ling's grandfather had died from a stroke caused by heavy drinking ten years ago.
"In these ten years, has he made a name for himself in the Underworld, and now he's come to rescue me?"
A flicker of hope sprouted in Li Ling's heart, and he was overjoyed.
"You are Zhou Xuan, I am your grandfather."
Uh... it turns out he mistook me for someone else.
On this bridge, there's nothing unusual but the vast number of people, all wearing the same white clothes. Mistaking someone's identity isn't anything strange.
The old man, smiling, pulled Li Ling back onto the bridge and after closely examining his "grandson's" face for a few moments, his brow furrowed.
"He couldn't have realized he saved the wrong person and now wants to throw me back down, could he?"
Li Ling truly wished he could talk, to say some kind words to the old man who saved him—"Old man, although you saved the wrong person, since the deed is done..."
"Looking at you these few times, ah, I've realized..." The old man seemed upset, sighed deeply, and said: "...My grandson, you've suffered in Soul Shepherd City!"
What?
Old man, what kind of vision do you have? Can't you recognize your real grandson?
And also, this isn't the Underworld but called Soul Shepherd City?
However, interpreting it literally, it doesn't seem to be much different.
"Zhou Xuan, your grandfather will take you home!"
The old man carried Li Ling, walking against the direction of the soul tide, toward a dark river in the distance.
Warm!
Warmth.
As the old man walked further against the current, Li Ling's body became warmer and warmer.
Something called life force, which had been absent from Li Ling for a long time, reappeared in his body.
His fingers could now move voluntarily.
He could also make vague sounds with his mouth.
Li Ling had a strong premonition that once the old man took him to the edge of the Ink River, he would be able to come back to life as a living person.
Of course, the return of life force had its price.
As the old man walked against the current, blood spouted from a wound on his body with every distance covered.
The gushing blood, running from the wound, soaked his clothes red.
Li Ling felt somewhat guilty; the old man paid such a steep price just to recover his own grandson.
But instead, he saved a fake grandson!
Several times, Li Ling wanted to reveal the truth, to tell the old man "I am really not your grandson," but he couldn't bear the feeling of warmth.
Being alive, truly, was rather nice.
Alas,
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Fine,
I might as well play the obedient grandson.
In the face of survival, morals, compassion, and shame are worthless.
Finally, after the old man bursts with eight bloody holes, he carries Li Ling to the edge of Ink River.
He waves to a small boat: "Ferryman, take my grandson back to Ping Shui Prefecture in Jing Country. The fare has already been paid."
The boatman escorts Li Ling onto the boat, and the old man waves to Li Ling: "Grandson, remember, your name is Zhou Xuan, when your soul returns, if your sister asks where your hometown is, you must say—Fangxiang Ming Hall, the Land of Nonbirth."
After giving his instructions, a ninth bloody hole explodes on the old man's body.
The blood that spurted out this time was like strong acid, corroding the old man's flesh and blood into a bloody skeleton.
A gust of cold wind blew, and the old man's skeleton collapsed with a crash.
Just now he was a whole person,
Now he was a whole puddle of a person.
Li Ling was shocked to his core. He stood up, wanting to say something to the bones of the old man, but nothing came out—
—he was knocked out cold by a paddle hitting his head from the boatman.
...
When Li Ling wakes up again, he is lying on a bamboo bed in the outer courtyard of Zhou Family's Troupe.
He sees a towering willow tree not far away, its trunk painted with thousands of eyes in red paint.
An elderly man with gray hair, pierced through his aged body with nine thick coffin nails, is nailed to the trunk of the willow tree.
This old man is no other than the same old man who had saved Li Ling.
"Ah, old man, thank you, have a safe journey." Li Ling silently prays with folded hands, murmuring his thanks.
Besides the old man, there are dozens of people surrounding the willow tree.
The crowd consists of men and women, old and young, wearing strange clothes, donning masks like those of Evil Ghosts, circling the tree, performing a light and bizarre dance, giving off a witch's vibe.
Li Ling, who grew up in rural areas, had seen village witches performing deity dances as a child, and the flavor of those in front of him dancing was the same.
Under the tree is a woman in a black robe, barefoot, hunched over, carrying a White Paper Fan, holding a copper bell, shaking the bell while murmuring: "Where has the soul departed, let the soul return!"
On the back of the Paperman,
a name is written—Zhou Xuan.
With each murmur from her, the flesh and blood body of the old man nailed to the tree seemed to thin out slightly, and the willow tree's verdant leaves emitted a faint blood light.
Based on Li Ling's experiences in Soul Shepherd City and what he was witnessing now,
it was not difficult to deduce that these arrangements were part of some mysterious soul-summoning ceremony of the Witch family.
The willow tree is the core of this soul-summoning ceremony, the old man is the sacrifice for the willow tree, and the ceremony's conductor is the black-robed woman shaking the copper bell.
"Cough cough!" Li Ling, having just awakened, is very weak and couldn't help but cough out loud.
Someone in the dancing crowd, with sharp ears, immediately heard the noise and hurriedly shouted: "The Young Master is awake, the soul has been summoned back."
The dancing crowd all gathered around, but the black-robed woman, unlike the others who were enthusiastic, walked over to Li Ling with a steady pace.
She leans down to Li Ling's mouth, asking seriously, "What is your name?"
"Zhou Xuan!" Li Ling says.
"And where is your hometown?"
"Land of Nonbirth, Fangxiang Ming Hall." Li Ling replies according to the old man's last instructions before dying.
The black-robed woman, Zhou Lingyi, then lifts the bell high, announcing to the crowd: "That's right, the summoned soul is correct, it's my brother, my brother has returned! Thanks to grandfather, thanks to the Ancestor Tree."
The crowd also bows their heads to the willow tree and the "grandfather" on it, with sincere thanks and blessings: "Thank you, Ancestor Tree! Old Class Leader, the Young Master has returned, your wish is fulfilled, please rest in peace and reincarnate!"
"From the conversation between the old man and the boatman, isn't this place Ping Shui Prefecture in Jing Country?"
Li Ling, just revived and not quite stable soul, felt an extreme weakness in his body. Mumbling to himself, he fell into a deep sleep from the exhaustion.
The feeling of living again is good.
The only drawback is that he has to start a new life with the name and identity of "Zhou Xuan."
Having used his own name for so many years, to suddenly change it feels somewhat empty inside.
...
Ping Shui Prefecture is among the top cities in Jing Country in terms of scale, almost the top in economy, but relatively insular in cultural exchange.
Take movies, for example; in Mingjiang Prefecture, movies have long ceased to be novel, but in Ping Shui, they are still a synonym for fashion.
Misses from wealthy families chasing trends, prodigal sons who fancy singers, particularly like to make dates at cinemas.
Yun Asi also liked rendezvous at the cinema; he'd book around five or six rows of seats. With ample space and the original movie sound drowning noises, no walls have ears to fear.
In the noon screening at Ping Shui Cinema, Yun Asi, wearing a long robe, is sipping through a straw from a glass bottle of soda, sitting in a corner.
"Ah Si, the old Class Leader who has been senile for over two years, suddenly brightened up a few days ago, sacrificed his old life to awaken the hundred-year slumbering Ancestor Tree, and brought back the soul of Zhou Xuan," said a middle-aged man dressed in a suit with a small mustache, seating next to Yun Asi.
The middle-aged man is Li Lisheng, and actor of the Tangkou, White Paper Fan division in Ping Shui's Xijiawood district.
Yun Asi shakes his head and says, "The one who came back to life is a fake Zhou Xuan. The real Zhou Xuan's soul has already been taken care of by me."
"The Tangkou doesn't care whether Zhou Xuan is real or fake; what Tangkou cares about is whether he can be laid to rest sooner."
"It takes time," Yun Asi says.
"When will you make another move?" Li Lisheng urges.
"I've already made my move."
"Oh?" Li Lisheng is overjoyed and asks, "Have you played another Ghost Play? So prompt?"
"Can't perform Ghost Play for now, the other day when I summoned Zhou Xuan's soul, it already alarmed the Zhou Family, and now, the Divine People of the Zhou Family are on high alert at Zhou Family's Troupe, there's no chance to perform."
"How to deal with Zhou Xuan without Ghost Play?"
"Hehe, Zhou Xuan is a fake, and what's fake can never become real! I've discreetly leaked the word around the Zhou Family that the Ancestor Tree summoned not Zhou Xuan, but a wandering soul, a stray Evil Ghost as a scapegoat.
Zhou Family's Troupe will never tolerate a stranger's soul residing in a body of Zhou Family's bloodline,
Just wait and see, it won't be long before Zhou Lingyi personally kills Zhou Xuan."
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