Feng Chengyuan called out twice more. The creature’s gaze remained blank and unresponsive.
Yu Nian looked down and noticed strands of waterweed wrapped around his calves. She reached out and gently tugged at Feng’s sleeve. “Stop. Li Liang probably doesn’t even know he’s dead yet. That’s why he stumbled back to a place he used to crash in when he was alive.”
She drew three incense sticks from her bag and lit them one by one, then pressed a yellow talisman to the thing’s forehead. The incense burned with unnerving speed; as the smoke thinned, the creature’s vacant eyes slowly refocused, though their expression stayed cold and hard.
Yu Nian formed a seal with her left hand. A faint golden light leaked from between her fingers. She asked softly, “Who are you?”
The creature’s cracked lips opened and closed before a voice came, raw and distant. “Li Liang.”
“How did you die?”
“Drowned.”
“What did you see before you died?”
This time Li Liang didn’t answer right away. His swollen face went slack for a beat, then his eyes bulged and a muscle in his mouth twitched uncontrollably. His voice shook. “Dead fish mouths… the river flowing backward… and… the Goddess.”
“You saw the Goddess before you died?” Feng Chengyuan’s expression went blank for a moment. “But the villagers say the Last Goddess ascended five years ago—she should be gone.”
Li Liang seemed to recall something utterly terrifying and couldn’t speak another word.
Yu Nian frowned but didn’t press him. Under soul-summoning rites, the dead do not lie. Li Liang was just a pitiable victim. Yu Nian recited a sutra of passage; a warm gold light washed over the body and the figure dissolved into the night.
Feng’s leftover glance slid to the window. A tall, pitch-black silhouette was flattened against the glass, eyes like knives nailed to the room. It watched them without blinking, as if straining to peer inside. Feng startled to his feet, but the shadow wavered and vanished.
He knitted his brows. That last look had been unmistakably human. They’d only just arrived in Ningyuan; except for the couple who owned this house, nobody should have known they were here. And the couple were still asleep. Who had been lurking outside the window?
Yu Nian thought for a moment. “What Li Liang described—dead fish mouths, a river running backward, and the Goddess—those three things happening at once can’t be coincidence. We should see the village chief first thing in the morning. Maybe he knows more.”
The couple in the main house woke early. Dawn was only just graying when the scent of cooking drifted through the kitchen. He Zhiping, who had been asleep, snapped awake—not because of hunger, but because the memory of the previous night’s terror sat hard in his chest.
Before breakfast was brought in, Yu Nian and Feng Chengyuan were already out the door. He Zhiping and the others hurried to join them. Led by Chen Xian, the group moved through the village in a conspicuous line, drawing curious looks.
The village chief’s house sat at the center of the lane. Unlike the surrounding mud-brick cottages, it was a newly built two-story villa with fresh white plaster. It looked brand-new—as if erected only this month.
He Zhiping couldn’t hide his surprise. “Who in this backwater village can afford a place like that?”
Chen Xian snorted through his nose. “Our company paid a five-hundred-thousand-yuan deposit on the project a month ago.”
The gate swung open. A black mastiff appeared and, to everyone’s surprise, it didn’t bark; instead it wagged its tail when it saw Feng Chengyuan. Yu Nian put a calm hand to Feng’s shoulder. “He’s got an unusual aura and a pure heart. Animals tend to like people like him.”
They walked on. The dog ignored everyone until Lu Yao passed behind the group; then it erupted into savage barking, as if it had seen its mortal enemy. Its howl was raw and vicious—if not for the iron chain, it would have lunged. Yu Nian studied the dog for a beat. A guard creature like that being hostile to Lu Yao was normal, but Lu Yao was from Ningyuan—this was not a simple matter.
To avoid drawing attention, Yu Nian lightly patted Lu Yao’s back. The tall man vanished as if he had been snuffed out. A paper effigy fluttered to the ground; Yu Nian caught it and slipped it into her pocket.
A man of about thirty came out to greet them. Yu Nian noticed something off about his face: the features were small and oddly pinched, not ugly exactly, but enough to make one uncomfortable on first sight. As she glanced him over, the village chief’s son, Feng Qun, let his gaze roam over Yu Nian with a greasy, leering look.
Feng Chengyuan caught it and stepped in front of her, his presence cooling the air. He blocked the man’s view and said, low and dangerous: “Good dogs don’t get in the way. What are you doing standing there?”
Feng Qun blinked, surprised by Feng’s bluntness, and lifted his chin with a trace of arrogance. “I’m Feng Qun, the chief’s son. My father already explained things to Chen Xian yesterday. Why did you come back today?”
“If you return the deposit in full, we’ll leave right now.” Feng Chengyuan’s smile was thin.
Feng Qun choked. They’d used half the money rebuilding the villa; they couldn’t exactly tear the house down and give the cash back. His face drained pale and he stepped aside.
Inside the main room, an old man sat on the raised earthen bed, a pipe in his mouth sending lazy smoke into the air. The smoke made Qian Lin cough. When the visitors arrived, the village chief’s cloudy eyes flicked toward Feng Chengyuan and he nodded before speaking in a hoarse voice.
“Mr. Feng, we’ve all weathered storms. Let me be blunt. We signed with your company to attract tourists and revive the village. But Li Liang offended our taboo—he broke into the shrine the night before and angered the Goddess. She punished him. That deal’s off.”
The room filled with the easy cruelty of his words. It was clear the chief cared more about the village’s superstition—and its luck—than about the dead man’s life.
Yu Nian studied him quietly for a few seconds and said, “Take us to the river where Li Liang died.”
The chief barely lifted his eyelid and snorted. “Young girl, know your place.”
Yu Nian smiled. “The atmosphere’s upper boundary is roughly two to three thousand kilometers above Earth. The planet’s average radius is about 6,371 kilometers. It’s fine if you didn’t know—your thirst for knowledge is admirable.”
The chief stared, then slammed his pipe to the floor. “Playing dumb and talking nonsense! Say another word and I’ll throw you out of the village.”
Feng Chengyuan pulled out his phone and, slow and deliberate, opened the recording app. “Say another word, and I can sue you for breach of contract. A reminder: liquidated damages are triple the deposit.”
The chief trembled and snatched his pipe back up.
By noon, Feng Qun led them to the river where Li Liang’s body had been fished up. “It was right here.”
Yu Nian stood on the bank and closed her eyes for a moment. There was resentment in the water, but it was faint. She shook her head. “Not here.”
Feng Qun was puzzled. “Not here? Li Liang’s body was pulled from this river—I watched them haul him out myself.”
“Are there any other reservoirs or big rivers near the village?” Yu Nian asked.
Feng Qun’s eyes flicked, then he nodded with a practiced calm. “There’s a reservoir. But the village has an unwritten rule—this used to be the Goddess’s rain-sacrifice site. To avoid disturbing her, people only go there at night, and then only by bamboo raft.”