Chapter 194: A Mountain Suspended, A River Submerged (8)
When Yan Shixun arrived just a short while ago, the garden was still bathed in brilliant sunlight. The golden and white chrysanthemums shone vividly in the light, radiant and almost transparent in their beauty—an absolutely breathtaking sight.
But winter sunlight always faded quickly. After just a leisurely lunch, the sun had already shifted behind the mountain peaks, casting no more light into the small courtyard.
Without the sunlight, the once-vibrant garden turned cold and ominous. The white and yellow chrysanthemums, still in full bloom, now seemed to adopt an eerie, lifeless air.
It was like a gloomy cemetery under a rainy sky, with chilling wind howling through it—chrysanthemums silently paying tribute to the dead.
There was something deeply unsettling and bone-chilling about it.
Yan Shixun stood outside the fence, still focusing on the rocking chair behind the window. He furrowed his brows, trying to make out where the old lady was.
But before he could spot her, the viewers squatting in front of their screens erupted first.
Yan Shixun had spent years dealing with ghosts and supernatural entities. He could walk through a mass grave at midnight without so much as a twitch of his expression. Ghosts simply didn’t scare him.
But the audience was different. They lived their lives in the normal world. Even though they had witnessed some terrifying scenes since the show began, at heart, they were still afraid of ghosts. They could never keep a straight face like Yan Shixun.
Now, the eerie little courtyard, bursting with chrysanthemums, gave many of them chills just from looking at it. It felt like a coldness creeping up from the soles of their feet.
[Just now, when the sun was out, it didn’t feel scary at all. But now? Why does it look so terrifying?]
[Damn! There’s a moss-covered well behind the flowers—way creepier! My brain is automatically imagining a corpse climbing out of it…]
[Wuwu I’ve always said chrysanthemums are terrifying. Especially white ones. I’m genuinely scared of them. They always remind me of the time I saw a ghost while visiting a grave with my mom when I was little.]
[Hiss… I was just happily watching in the living room a moment ago. Now I suddenly feel cold. I can’t take it—I’m getting under the covers.]
[What is Brother Yan looking at? He seems like he’s searching for someone.]
[I missed the earlier stream. Just tuned in. Is Brother Yan looking for an old lady? Maybe one with a disability or something?]
[How would you know if you didn’t watch earlier? Our show doesn’t have replays.]
[I think I know why… Try using a bigger screen and crank the brightness all the way up. Then just stare at the window. I’m getting chills from head to toe. It’s so scary—I don’t even dare look at my own window right now.]
Once someone mentioned seeing a shadow behind the window, more viewers strained their eyes trying to spot it. But they saw nothing clearly wrong, and the live chat soon filled with rows of “???” in confusion.
Some people started doubting whether that earlier comment was just trying to be spooky and grab attention.
But those doubts were quickly silenced by a new comment that sent a chill down everyone’s spine:
[Holy sht, holy sht holy sh*t!!! My scalp is tingling—I feel frozen all over! I swear, trust me, do not switch to a computer or tablet and turn the brightness up. It’s way too terrifying. My god, now I’m starting to suspect someone might be standing behind me too.]
Apparently, that viewer had followed the earlier “instructions” and saw the same thing.
Now everyone was hooked. Some viewers even got defiant, thinking: You’re telling me not to do it? Do I look like I’ll back down? I’m definitely doing it now!
In no time, many people grabbed whatever bigger-screened devices they had on hand. Following the steps exactly, they maxed out the brightness and squinted hard at the screen.
At first, there was nothing—just a patch of blurry black pixels.
Some grumbled, thinking, There’s nothing here. Were we just tricked? Maybe that warning earlier was fake?
But as they stared longer, more and more people started noticing something strange.
Normally, when the outside is brighter than the inside, the space behind an open window becomes a dark blur where you can’t make out any details. The light enters but doesn’t bounce back, leaving the interior a blank shadow.
But this shadow—this one didn’t seem flat.
Viewers noticed the darkness inside the room had contours, shapes that weren’t uniform.
They leaned in, squinting harder, trying to make out what those shapes were.
And then it hit them, all at once—That uneven silhouette… wasn’t it shaped exactly like the curves of a human body?
The black figure behind the window wasn’t a shadow at all—it was clearly a person dressed in black!
In other words, from the very beginning, they had been staring face-to-face with someone standing behind the window—close enough that their faces were almost pressed together as they tried to see more clearly.
Realizing this, many viewers gasped, nearly flinging their tablets out of their hands.
Some even went so far as to smack their screens away, screaming “Ahhhh!” in panic.
[Which damned bastard said we should take a closer look? I nearly coughed up my heart! I was scared out of my damn mind!]
[That’s a freaking person, okay? A real person! I almost ascended right then and there.]
[See? I told you not to keep watching—curiosity killed the cat… My scalp’s still tingling, my whole body’s gone limp from fear. I want to crawl back into bed but I’m too scared there might be someone standing behind me—I don’t even dare to turn my head.]
[It would’ve been better if you hadn’t said anything. Now that you did, we all want to look again!]
[When I finally saw it clearly, I was practically glued to the screen. I got so scared I smacked my laptop across the room. But I was watching the livestream while slacking off at work… Now everyone in the office is staring at me. I want to die of embarrassment.]
[Wait a sec, did anyone notice something weird about the way that black figure was positioned?]
[Anyone remember how, in the beginning, someone asked if Brother Yan was looking at an old lady? They even described what she looked like. Look again at that shadow—what does it remind you of…?]
Prompted by these comments, the viewers nervously swallowed and hesitantly mustered the courage to look back at the shadow.
Then they realized… the shadow resembled an old lady dressed in black, suspended behind the window, her figure blended into the darkness.
As if she had…
Been hanged there.
[AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!]
The moment they saw it clearly, countless people felt a chill creep across their scalps, sending a wave of cold dread through their bones.
No matter how thick their clothes were, it felt as if a blast of icy wind slid down their necks, slowly draining the warmth from their bodies.
They stood frozen in place, hands and feet so cold they were almost numb.
But Yan Shixun had no idea what was happening behind the screens.
He stood outside the fenced courtyard, frowning slightly. After a brief pause, he raised his hand, curled his fingers politely, and knocked on the fence.
“Grandma, are you home?”
The yard was completely silent. No one answered.
Yan Shixun waited a few minutes, then decisively pushed open the gate and strode in.
Because the village was remote and deep in the mountains, there were hardly any outsiders, and thus no need to lock the doors. Yan Shixun easily made his way through and entered the wooden cottage.
Unlike earlier, when the place had been bathed in sunlight, now without the light, the wooden structure suddenly felt dark and oppressive. The cozy, natural feel of the timber had vanished.
The rocking chair was no longer moving. It had slowly come to a stop.
Yan Shixun looked around but saw no sign of the old woman.
It seemed that when he had first arrived, she must’ve just left, which was why the rocking chair had still been swaying.
However…
Yan Shixun frowned and scanned the entire cabin, taking in every detail of the room—but the old woman was nowhere to be found.
Where could she have gone?
She was paralyzed from the waist down. Even moving around inside the room was difficult for her; she had to lean against the wall for support.
With that level of mobility, how could she have vanished while the rocking chair was still in motion? That kind of speed wasn’t something her body should’ve been capable of.
Besides, unlike in the city, there weren’t many entertainment options in the village.
Although life here was peaceful, there wasn’t much to pass the time. Along the way, Yan Shixun had observed that the elderly either worked early in the day to grow their own food, or basked in the sun when it was out. He hadn’t seen them gathered anywhere to chat.
Moreover, the old woman’s house was different from the others in the village—it was unusually far from the rest.
There were only two houses by the riverside: the old woman’s and the one belonging to the show’s guests.
Everyone else lived on the opposite side, separated by large fields of chrysanthemums and trees in the village center.
With these questions in mind, Yan Shixun searched the cabin thoroughly for the old woman’s figure, but turned up nothing after a long while.
As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, he had no choice but to give up for now. He decided to find the guide and come back later to see if the old woman had returned by then.
But just as he turned around, he suddenly caught a whiff of something bloody.
There was a sharp scent of blood, tinged with a sweet, damp undertone, quietly mingling with the air in subtle waves.
If one didn’t pay close attention, it would be easy to miss.
Yan Shixun only caught the smell for an instant—then it was gone.
As soon as his expression hardened, Yan Shixun swiftly turned around, alertly scanning the surroundings. However, the faint scent of blood had already disappeared.
The small wooden cottage, which was slowly being overtaken by shadows, seemed like a monster quietly opening its bloodstained mouth in the darkness, intending to swallow anyone who came too close.
From within the darkness and the cracks, faint, scattered noises could be heard.
It was as if a rat had scurried across the wooden floor, or someone was tiptoeing, but it could also have been the wind playing tricks on the ears.
The wooden wardrobe had a small gap in it, and from within the darkness, something cold and ominous peered out, watching strangers with a chilling gaze.
From beneath the bed, a swollen, pale hand reached out, lifting the hanging bedsheet to reveal a single eye peeking out.
On the wooden beams above, a bloated, white figure, resembling a steamed bun, silently stared down.
Yan Shixun stood at the door of the small wooden cottage, calmly raising his gaze to survey the entire room. Yet, he saw nothing.
It was still the same old room, filled neatly with everyday items, but there was an unsettling, eerie feeling about it—like the home of an elderly person.
After standing still for a moment, Yan Shixun casually withdrew his gaze and turned to walk out of the small house.
His long fingers, hanging by his sides, clenched into a fist, and his neatly trimmed nails dug into his palm, the pressure so intense that it left visible marks, almost drawing blood.
He silently repeated to himself, reminding himself to remember the sense of unease he felt, vowing to never forget it. He needed to investigate the truth of this strange feeling.
But as he stepped forward, those memories faded like the retreating tide, slipping through his fingers in vain.
By the time Yan Shixun reached the gate of the courtyard, the heightened tension from earlier in the small cottage had completely dissipated.
In its place was a comforting warmth, like the gentle bubbling of milk on a cold winter day, bringing relaxation and contentment. It was as though nothing could cause worry, and all he wanted to do was let his mind go blank and avoid thinking about anything else.
But… something was wrong!
This wasn’t his usual self!
Yan Shixun’s footsteps slowed as he came to a stop at the gate. His tall frame faced away from the small wooden cottage, his posture stiff, though it was unclear what he was actually thinking.
A body, trailing a line of blood, slid down the wooden stairs. It had intended to slip into the water through a nearby window but had frozen when it saw the stranger lingering in the yard. The figure paused on the stairs, trying to move as quietly as possible.
Hidden in the darkness, the figure slowly opened its eyes, its swollen and decaying eyeballs staring vacantly toward the outside of the small house.
A series of hollow stares silently settled on Yan Shixun’s back.
Yan Shixun could feel a faint, sharp pain in his palm.
He looked down at his hand, noticing the faint crescent-shaped marks left by his nails, and deep within them, tiny beads of blood had begun to form.
Yan Shixun was certain that he wasn’t the type of person to self-harm. If he had wanted to change something, he wouldn’t have clenched his fist in silence but would have acted decisively.
So what about these bloodstains…
He calmly lowered his hand, concealing the faint injuries from view. Then, he pushed open the door and left the courtyard as if nothing had happened.
As soon as Yan Shixun stepped out of the courtyard, a figure suddenly dropped down from the window. The rope stretched downwards before gently swaying in place.
A pair of deformed legs dangled from the window, and the shoes were reversed, making it impossible to tell which side was the front and which the back.
But looking up from the shoes, a face with a lowered head was unmistakably that of the old woman.
Her neck was bound by a hemp rope, the other end firmly tied to the wooden beam. She hung suspended in the air, gently swaying like a pendulum.
Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful, even relaxed, with her body hanging limply, no longer struggling. Her limbs were stiff, and the skin exposed outside her clothes was bloated and pale, devoid of any texture, resembling skin that had been waterlogged for too long.
Even though the hemp rope had deeply cut into her skin, there were no red or purple marks around her neck. It seemed that the tightness of the rope had no effect on her at all.
The audience, following Yan Shixun’s point of view, did not see this scene either.
But they were certain—absolutely certain—that they had clearly seen the old woman hanging in mid-air behind the window. So why was it that, once Yan Shixun went inside, he found nothing?
Some people were so anxious they could hardly sit still, wishing they could climb through the live stream, crawl through the camera, and warn Yan Shixun in person.
[Ahhhhhh Brother Yan, Brother Yan, look behind the window! There’s an old lady hanging there—save her!]
[Wait, didn’t Brother Yan look in that direction already? How could he not have seen her?]
[I remember it clearly! I looked that way too… but there was absolutely nothing there. I swear, there was an old woman in black hanging there—but the moment Brother Yan entered and looked again, it was completely gone.]
[Don’t… don’t you guys think this is terrifying? That black outfit she was wearing looked really familiar. I just realized—it’s the mourning clothes we use here when someone dies!]
[Oh crap, stop talking. I wasn’t scared before, but the more you say, the more freaked out I get.]
[This is too strange. I swear I saw something earlier… but what did I see? Weird. I was just about to type something, but now I can’t remember what it was, no matter how hard I try.]
[What are you guys talking about?]
[Huh? Weird… why does it feel like something’s slipping out of my memory? Like I can’t hold onto it.]
[What black clothes?]
[What old lady? You guys must be misremembering—wasn’t it always an old man we were seeing?]
[Wow, this village is really something. Just watching the livestream makes me feel so happy. It’s so warm—like soaking in a hot bath.]
The viewers quickly forgot the shock and doubts they had just experienced. The comment section returned to peace, filled with cheerful chatter about the scenery along the village paths.
Only the old woman, gradually swallowed by the shadows, remained forgotten in the darkness.
She hung silently outside the window of her own home, swaying gently in the cold wind that swept through the corridor. The movement stirred the wooden beams, making a faint creaking sound.
“Creak—”
“Creak…”
…
When Yan Shixun found the guide, he was at the home of the old man who had initially welcomed the film crew. The guide was squatting on the ground, peeling the skin off a roasted sweet potato.
The golden-orange roasted sweet potato had caramelized heavily. As soon as the skin was peeled, sticky syrup clung to his fingers. The sweet, fragrant smell burst out, carrying a warmth and pleasant familiarity that could chase away the winter chill.
In front of the guide, the fire still hadn’t gone out. Ash and cinders were scattered at his feet, and his hands were covered in soot, suggesting he had impatiently pulled the sweet potatoes straight from the fire just moments ago.
But the guide looked completely at ease, smiling broadly and peeling the sweet potato with practiced, unhurried movements. It was as if the heat didn’t bother him in the slightest—no signs of the reflexes normal people had when handling something hot.
Yan Shixun’s eyes swept across the guide’s hands and frowned slightly.
The old man chatting cheerfully with the guide sat across from him, facing the courtyard gate. He saw Yan Shixun walking over and looked up.
“Guest, what brings you here?”
The old man smiled and asked, “Did we not make enough for lunch? Was there not enough to eat?”
As he spoke, he stood up from his chair and walked briskly into the small wooden building behind him.
“Wait a moment—I’ll go ask my wife to whip up a bit more.”
“No need,” Yan Shixun called out to stop him. “Lunch was plentiful. Thank you for your hospitality.”
He turned to the guide. “I came here for him.”
The guide raised his eyebrows in surprise, clearly not expecting that Yan Shixun had come specifically for him.
Still holding the sweet potato in one hand, he brushed the dust from his pants with the other and stood up, smiling as he asked, “What can I help you with, Mr. Yan?”
As Yan Shixun stared at the guide, a wave of unsettling images suddenly surged through his mind.
The strange and lurid chrysanthemum pattern beneath the bedboards, the eerie noises in the old woman’s house, the oddities in the village elders, and—most of all—that dazzlingly bizarre smile the guide had worn before…
The images had only flashed for a brief moment before vanishing from his mind, leaving nothing but a blank void.
Very quickly, a warm sense of happiness filled the space, making his brain instinctively unwilling to pursue the matter any further—he just wanted to stay in that cozy, safe place.
Yan Shixun snapped out of his daze and quickly regained his composure.
“Are there still any outsiders currently living in the village? We’re not sure if they’re around, but the production team would like to interview them.”
Without changing expression, Yan Shixun calmly made something up: “Since this is for publicity purposes, having people who previously settled here would make it more convincing.”
Hearing this question, the guide looked troubled.
Scratching his head awkwardly, he said, “To be honest, Mr. Yan, there aren’t any outsiders living in the village at the moment—only you folks.”
The old man nodded in agreement and added, “Winter’s here now. A lot of people can’t handle the damp chill in the mountains, so they’ve all gone elsewhere for the season. When spring comes, they’ll return.”
“You haven’t stayed long in these mountains, so you wouldn’t know.”
The old man continued. He pointed toward the river. “In other seasons, that river brings everyone a lot of joy, but winter is different. The mist rising from the water makes it cold and damp here. Unless you’re used to it, it’s hard to adapt.”
“Those young people said they wanted to settle down here, but honestly, many of them have already left—or at least left for the time being.”
The old man sighed with regret. “If you were hoping to see them now, I’m afraid it’s just bad timing.”
Was it really just a coincidence? Not a single one of them was here?
Yan Shixun furrowed his brows slightly, careful not to show any reaction.
Even if it were true that some couldn’t adapt to mountain life, many of those who came to settle were seasoned backpackers who regularly hiked through the wild. They should’ve been more than capable of handling the conditions. So why weren’t even they around?
Had they really left because of the weather?
But if that were the case, why had the outside world never heard a word about it? Not once had anyone posted an update or a photo saying they were leaving Longevity Village for the winter—or that they had already left.
Yan Shixun opened his mouth to ask something, but the smiling guide shoved a roasted sweet potato into his hands.
“Mr. Yan, was there something else you wanted to ask?”
Smiling warmly, the guide continued, “Today was exhausting. Everyone hiked all the way into the village. Why don’t we rest for now and talk about anything else tomorrow?”
“Besides, it’s not like we can leave the mountain right now anyway.”
The guide spread his hands helplessly and said, “The river rises with time. Only before noon does the water level remain normal. After that, it floods the path out of the village and the road signs. If you try to leave rashly, you’ll probably get lost.”
“After all, the geography here is quite unusual. You scholars might call it a disrupted magnetic field. All the traditional methods stop working. Once you’re lost in these mountains, it might be impossible to get out.”
The guide appeared honest and sincere, as if everything he said was true.
The words Yan Shixun had been ready to ask stayed stuck in his throat.
He quietly looked at the guide for a few seconds. The man showed no fear, standing there confidently under scrutiny, as though he had nothing to hide.
The burning heat in his palm pulled Yan Shixun’s attention back.
He looked down. The roasted sweet potato wrapped in paper still radiated heat, making his palm turn red.
But the guide, who also held a roasted sweet potato, showed no discomfort at all, seemingly unaffected by the heat.
Was it just that his hands were covered in thick calluses from years of labor, so he didn’t feel the burn?
The thought briefly crossed Yan Shixun’s mind.
He nodded, hiding his suspicions, and instead put on a disappointed expression. “That’s really unfortunate. Looks like we’ll have to wait for another chance to interview them.”
The old man chuckled and said, “You’ll get the chance, you will. You’ll be meeting them soon enough.”
The guide smiled as he prepared to see Yan Shixun off. “It gets dark very quickly here. Even though the sun’s still out now, by the time you walk back, it’ll probably be nightfall. You should take in the village scenery while you still can—otherwise you might not get another look.”
“Take care, Mr. Yan.”
The guide stood at the courtyard gate, waving at Yan Shixun with a casual expression.
But as soon as Yan Shixun’s figure disappeared from sight, the smile on the guide’s face slowly faded.
He turned back toward the old man in the courtyard, and his face twisted into something cold and vicious.
“You’re really not going to do anything about it?”
His voice turned icy. “This is exactly why I said we shouldn’t agree to any of that damn official cooperation. What if there’s someone special among them? That could put us in danger.”
“The last few times the officials sent people here, I was nervous every time we managed to fool them.”
The guide sneered coldly, “And yet, you people never learn. You came again this time.”
The old man waved his hand dismissively, still wearing a kind and gentle expression. “Don’t worry. As long as he’s here, nothing will happen.”
“He will protect us—from the pain of birth, aging, sickness, and death, and from the worries and troubles of the mortal world.”
Smiling, the old man added, “No need to worry. Anyway… it’s going to happen soon.”
Hearing this, the guide paused, then asked in return, “You mean in the next few days?”
The old man nodded. “Today.”
For a moment, the guide looked as if something had just dawned on him.
But he quickly wiped the expression from his face and snorted coldly. “Insatiable. Having one isn’t enough, you want two. If you keep this up, something’s going to go wrong sooner or later.”
The old man sighed helplessly. “Ah Ye.”
The guide huffed, turned around, and prepared to leave the courtyard.
He didn’t watch where he was stepping and accidentally kicked over the fire pit that had just been lit to roast sweet potatoes.
From the gray-black ashes, several partially burnt teeth rolled out. They had been blackened and yellowed by the flames.
The old man calmly picked up the broom nearby, walked over unhurriedly, bent down, and swept the ashes into a pile.
“Winter is coming. We should be preparing firewood for the cold season.”
He muttered to himself, “There’s not much firewood left at home… where can I find more?”
Murmuring under his breath, the old man walked steadily to the back of the wooden building, then skillfully dumped the ashes into a corner.
The door to the nearby woodshed was half open. A pale, white hand bone rolled out through the crack.
The old man saw it. He bent down and grabbed the hand bone, and with a firm tug, actually pulled out an entire skeleton that had been lying on the ground.
He opened the woodshed door and, without any change in expression, tossed the skeleton inside.
Immediately, the sound of bones crashing against each other echoed from within the shed.
The pale bones slammed into others that had been neatly stacked like bundles of firewood. Now they collapsed in a noisy tumble, clattering one over another, toppling from their upright positions onto the ground.
Some of the bones, likely aged and weathered with time, shattered upon hitting the floor, breaking into a scattered mess of white bone fragments.
“Creak—bang!”
The shed door opened and then closed again, followed by the sound of a lock clicking from outside.
Footsteps gradually faded into the distance.
Inside the now-quiet woodshed, faint, scratching sounds suddenly began again.
The skeleton strained to twist its neck bone, aiming its pitch-black eye sockets at the shed door.
Even without eyes or flesh, it still radiated a sense of utter despair.
It stretched out a bony hand, fumbling through the chaos of broken bones on the floor, reaching desperately toward the door—trying to open it, trying to leave…
………
Yan Shixun remembered it very clearly—when he had stepped out to find the guide, the sunlight, though no longer scorching, still shone brightly over the village. The golden chrysanthemums fluttered cheerfully under the sun, creating a breathtaking scene.
But now, after leaving the elderly man’s house and walking through the village, he noticed that the sunlight had begun to dim, growing fainter and grayer bit by bit.
And it was only three in the afternoon.
Why was it getting dark so early?
Yan Shixun frowned, recalling what the guide had said to him earlier.
The river had risen, making it impossible to enter or leave the mountain in the afternoon.
This was something the guide had already mentioned before he arrived.
During the early stages of planning for the shoot, the guide had discussed the schedule with the director’s team and clearly emphasized that they had to enter the mountain before noon.
Because once it turned dark, for a place as undeveloped as this deep forest, danger would begin.
Without sunlight to guide the way, it would be easy to get lost in the mountains. The darkness would obscure one’s sense of the terrain. The area was full of pits and cliffs—step wrong, and one might fall straight into danger.
Yan Shixun and the director’s team had all agreed with this assessment.
Especially Yan Shixun, who often ventured into remote mountains to find hermits—he knew better than anyone that the more untouched and pristine the landscape, the more hidden threats it carried beneath its beauty.
If someone without wilderness experience ventured in recklessly, they could easily end up injured, pass out, or even die from starvation or freezing after getting lost.
Still, even though he had mentally prepared himself, seeing how short the daylight lasted in Longevity Village made Yan Shixun feel unsettled. It also made him start questioning some of the other things the guide had said.
So, he stretched his long legs and walked toward the river.
Following the current downstream, Yan Shixun noticed that the giant boulder he had seen earlier in the river was now completely submerged. Only through the clear water could he see the rock sunken at the bottom.
The soil on the riverbank had become damp from the rising water, and the river itself now appeared much wider than when he first noticed it.
What’s more, the water level was still rising—it hadn’t stopped but continued to spread rapidly.
It seemed the guide hadn’t lied—water levels were indeed rising.
From where he stood now, the river looked like this: while other areas had narrower riverbeds and faster currents, those places likely had even higher water levels.
After noon, it truly became dangerous to enter or leave the mountain.
Yan Shixun stood tall and still by the riverbank. Only in this uninhabited area did he have the chance to sort through his thoughts.
He lowered his gaze, deep in contemplation, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had forgotten something.
But… he had forgotten exactly what it was that he forgot.
He could only vaguely remember—it was something important. Important enough that he had planned to come back and investigate when no one else was around.
But the impression of it was faint—like words written in sand. With each wave, it faded a little more until it vanished completely.
Yan Shixun realized that the harder he tried to remember, the faster those memories slipped away, disappearing from his mind in a blink.
Yet the pain in the center of his palm reminded him—something wasn’t right.
I must have forgotten something important.
But what was it?
Yan Shixun frowned deeply. His normally pale lips pressed tightly together until they turned white, forming a straight line.
He bit the inside of his cheek, using the pain to keep himself focused and to stop his mind from drifting.
Ordinary people relied on willpower to control themselves.
But at this moment, Yan Shixun felt like someone conscious, yet trapped inside a foggy stupor—struggling with his own mind, fighting to reclaim control of his thoughts.
Something—or someone—wanted him to forget.
Then he had to remember.
He stood there for a long time. Only when the chill of early winter crept up from the ground, seeping through his combat boots and numbing his lower legs, did he finally snap out of it.
And this time, the memory came back clearly—something was off about Longevity Village. He had to leave, as soon as possible.
Even though he still couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong, he trusted his instincts, sharpened over years of dealing with spirits and monsters.
The very fact that he kept forgetting that something was wrong was, in itself, suspicious.
Even if the flooding made it impossible to leave today, that was fine. At dawn tomorrow, he would set out.
Yan Shixun made the decision swiftly.
After escorting the entire film crew out of Longevity Village, he would return alone—just to see whether he had falsely accused the village due to overthinking, or whether it truly was hiding something sinister, something it didn’t want others to uncover. A place full of strangeness.
……
Outside the mountain, at the guesthouse.
The hostess tended the stove, feeding it logs while listening to the sound of chopping wood from the backyard.
The crackling fire mixed with the steady rhythm of the axe brought her a sense of peace—like the warmth of a life lived quietly and steadily. It felt like the happiest kind of life she could ask for.
Soaking in the warmth before her, she rubbed her hands together and let out a satisfied sigh.
Even outside the mountain, it was this cold—she couldn’t imagine how freezing it must be deeper in. Next time her husband went back into the mountains to fetch water or buy produce from Longevity Village, she’d pack him a few more layers. Better safe than sorry.
“I really don’t know how those who moved in manage to bear it. It’s freezing, and they never seem to come out.”
She muttered quietly.
She looked up—and suddenly noticed the sky outside had gone dark.
Puzzled, she frowned. “It’s not even three yet. Why is it getting dark so early? Is the weather about to change?”
In all her ten-plus years running this guesthouse, she had never seen it get dark so early. It struck her as very strange.
The sound of chopping in the backyard stopped.
Then came a screeching, grating sound—so sharp it made her teeth ache.
It sounded like an axe being dragged. The blade scraped along the ground, cutting over stone and wood alike, producing an awful noise.
But the constant crackle of the fire masked those subtle sounds, so the hostess didn’t notice them right away.
What finally caught her attention was something else—she had been spacing out when she suddenly noticed a long, stretched shadow cast on the wall in front of her.
The shadow flickered along with the firelight, dancing wildly, growing and shrinking, twisted and grotesque—like a ghost.
Her heart jumped. Startled, she quickly turned around—only to see her husband standing in the doorway.
Her fear melted instantly. She laughed. “You walk so quietly. Scared me half to death.”
The man held an axe in his hand and didn’t reply.
He licked his chapped lips, dry from lack of water. The firelight reflected in his eyes—making them look blood red.
“You—”
“Ahhhhhhhh!!!”
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