Chapter Fifteen: Hezi Village (VII)

Before I dared to look back, I saw the men standing watch under the tree reacting as though they’d seen a ghost. They threw their torches to the ground and, with shrill cries, bolted toward the village.

I reckoned they must have seen something extraordinary, and I was even less inclined to turn around. My body froze upon the tree, my legs shaking uncontrollably.

It is often said that deep in the mountains or at desolate river mouths, unclean things are most likely to appear. I reasoned that if there truly were a demon in this river, then, according to the Ancient Tome of Treasure Suppression, there must be a great treasure hidden beneath these waters.

Yet, at this moment, money meant little. When I saw Professor Gu signaling to me, I realized he must have some way of handling the situation. If only he hadn’t used English, I might have actually understood what he meant.

For a long moment, the riverbank was frozen in silence. Now, I was the only living soul here, with nothing but a red bridal sedan, a coffin, and some unknown thing crawling from the river. I tried not to picture scenes from the films and novels I’d read, but after the splash in the river, everything went quiet again.

After waiting in silence, I called hesitantly toward the red sedan beneath the tree, “Is anyone in there?”

It was so quiet that I wondered whether the sedan held a living person at all. Yet, a living sacrifice would hardly be a dead body stuffed into a bridal sedan and thrown into the river, right? Thinking this, I gritted my teeth and glanced back; the river’s surface was calm, not a trace of the horrors I’d imagined.

Relieved, I looked toward the village, estimating that the men who'd run off were already there. I slid down from the tree, took two steps toward the sedan, and lifted the curtain.

“Tong Xiaomeng?”

I could hardly believe my eyes. There she was, dressed in a bright red wedding gown, her makeup flawless, her ponytail draped over her shoulder, her eyes large and watery as she stared at me. If it weren’t for the black cloth stuffed in her mouth, I’d have thought I’d barged into someone’s wedding night by mistake.

“What are you doing here?” I pulled the cloth from her mouth and asked, “Were you really going to be the girl thrown in the river, just to end up as a case study in Professor Gu’s textbook?”

Tong Xiaomeng gasped for air and asked, “Have they all gone?”

I nodded. “A monster came out of the river. Lucky you didn’t go in, or you’d be the one lying in that coffin now.”

Having been trapped in the sedan, she didn’t know what had happened outside. With little time, I explained briefly: a monster in the river, and a black coffin full of women.

Then I noticed her hands and feet were bound. I drew my dagger to cut her free, but she stopped me urgently, “Wait!”

Our eyes met. Tong Xiaomeng stared at me and said, “You still have time to return to the village. Go to the ancestral hall and find the girl, then get her out of here. Professor Gu will meet you there. Go, now.”

I looked at her, puzzled. “What about the recording? We’re not filming anymore?”

“We’re done. The truth of this village is nothing like we imagined. Just do as I say and get the girl out. We’ll come back if we get the chance.”

Seeing the determination in her eyes, I nodded, cut the ropes from her hands and feet, and handed her the dagger. “Take care of yourself.”

I never imagined I’d one day be taking orders from a girl who hadn’t even set foot in a university, but something about the way Tong Xiaomeng looked at you when she was working made it hard to argue—as if not following her instructions would make me some kind of social degenerate. She had an overwhelming sense of justice.

I realized I’d underestimated these two professionals from the university. After a few final words, I climbed back up the tree, set the DV camera on a branch aimed at the black coffin, then hurried down and ran toward the village.

The night was deep and silent. I wasn’t worried about being seen by villagers—those carrying torches were easy to spot. As I ran, my mind kept circling back to the black coffin that had appeared so suddenly from the water.

Traditionally, Chinese people believe in burial for peace. To let a coffin touch water is considered a grave taboo. Even in water burials, coffins are sealed inside large boats, which are then sunk, but the coffin itself never meets water.

Yet here they were, lying together in one place. According to the old men, these were actually sacrifices offered over generations by River Village to the river god? It was too cruel to be believed. Worse, every woman was beautiful—enragingly so.

A water coffin that doesn’t rot, corpses that don’t decay—the answer likely lay somewhere in the Ancient Tome of Treasure Suppression.

I retraced the path I’d taken out of the village that day. Most villagers were likely still at Wu Lao Liu’s house. After all, persuading someone to drown their only daughter was no easy feat. Most importantly, I had to hurry. If I could find Professor Gu, the girl, and Tong Xiaomeng before the villagers realized the sacrifice was gone, we might all escape. Tong Xiaomeng was buying us time. If they found the sacrifice missing, not even gods could help us leave River Village.

I hadn’t exercised in years, and the sprinting left me breathless. By the time I reached the ancestral hall’s rear wall, I was gasping, but I forced myself up and over. Seeing no one around, I leapt down.

The moment I landed, a hideous face loomed before me, so close I broke out in a cold sweat and staggered back several steps before realizing—it was just a statue of a water ghost, one I’d seen in the video. There were several such statues: not only at the front of the ancestral hall beneath the flagstone street, but even in the rear, each with a different eerie design.

From here, I could see the ancestral hall clearly. It was ancient and grand, its size and air rivaling the grandest mansions in Tianjin City—utterly incongruous for such a remote village.

This place was wealthier than it appeared. Yet, surrounded on three sides by water and backed by a solitary mountain, with only fish and wild game for resources, how had they grown so rich?

Suddenly, a figure emerged from behind the water ghost statue, startling me. But it was only Professor Gu. I hurried over and asked, “Where is she?”

“In the ancestral hall,” Professor Gu replied, taking my hand and leading me around the statue. On its inner side was a small stone staircase, narrower than the main entrance but just wide enough for one person.

We climbed the steps to the back of the ancestral hall, where a small wooden door awaited. Professor Gu glanced around, pulled me inside, and there I witnessed the most astonishing scene of my life.

Before us stood an offering altar filling a chamber five or six meters high, its shelves lined with countless spirit tablets of the dead. Before each tablet burned a flickering candle. The altar rose in a pyramid; a rough count suggested nearly five hundred tablets, all venerated year-round.

“Do you know why no one in this village works, yet for centuries they’ve wanted for nothing?” Professor Gu looked at me.

I turned to him, dazed. “Why?”

“Because of these tablets.” Professor Gu gazed up at the altar. “Since the Longqing reign of the Ming dynasty, this village has maintained the tradition of sacrificing a fifteen-year-old girl to the river god each year. When I first read the county records at the university, I dismissed it as superstition. But after meeting Wu Xiaomei today, I realized things were far more complicated.”

“Wu Xiaomei?” I asked. “Wu Laoda’s daughter?”

He nodded. “She brought me here and told me a secret about this village that no one else knows.”

“What secret?”

“Do you know about blood jade?” Professor Gu asked.

“Yes. Jade cultivated with both the living and the dead, its veins suffused with blood—a king among jade.”

Professor Gu gave me an approving look. “This River Village has been cultivating jade with human lives!”