SES Chapter 43 V1

Chapter 43

Yi Wansan fell asleep in the car. It was a shallow sleep, full of dreams—he dreamt he had returned to Wuzhu Village. The villagers either failed to recognize him, ignoring him completely, or they glared at him with murderous intent, chasing him with knives and sticks until he fled for his life.

When it came to that village, Yi Wansan could never have a peaceful dream. There was no nostalgia, no sentimental longing—only four words came to mind.

That godforsaken place.

But as the old saying goes, dreams are often the opposite of reality.

On the third morning, as the car bumped along a rough dirt road and finally pulled up at the village entrance in the soft light of dawn, Yi Wansan suddenly froze.

There was no familiar smoke rising from kitchen chimneys, no bustling voices, no crowing of roosters or barking of dogs. The silence was so absolute it felt like the end of the world. As they walked deeper into the village, they saw dilapidated homes—some padlocked shut, others left wide open with only heavy old furniture remaining inside. A rat darted out from behind a door and disappeared under a bed.

It looked like a—

Yi Wansan’s face turned pale. He shouted at Luo Ren, “Where are my villagers? Where is everyone?!”

He kept shouting until he finally crouched down, clutching his head, sobbing uncontrollably.

Even worse than his nightmares, this place wasn’t just a “godforsaken place” anymore. It was a ghost town, for real.

Luo Ren ushered Yi Wansan back into the car, and they drove to the nearest village along the route to ask around.

—“Wuzhu Village? Oh, it’s gone. Been gone for years. Nothing happened, really—they just moved out.”

—“They made a living harvesting pearls. Once the sea stopped producing, they had no choice but to go find other work. Wasn’t all at once—they trickled out bit by bit.”

This village didn’t get many outsiders, so the locals were eager to chat, vividly describing the coastal Wuzhu Village.

“I heard one year things got real weird. They got into a turf dispute with another seaside village. A man drowned in the fight, and his wife went mad. She took his ashes and rowed out to sea in the middle of the night. Nobody knows what she was thinking, but as soon as she reached open water, the boat capsized. And the creepy part came later. That year during the Mid-Autumn Festival, the old clams were sunning under the moon as usual—some said it was that rival village getting revenge. One big fire, and everything burned down.”

“That same year, the villagers didn’t get a single pearl. They figured the place was cursed. Hoped things would get better the next year, made the Sea God Festival in March even more elaborate than usual, but…”

The villager shook his head with a long sigh. “That part of the sea turned into a barren hen—laid no more eggs. Wuzhu Village survived on pearls for generations. Once they had no livelihood, they couldn’t hold on. First, a few families left, then more, and a few years ago, it was completely abandoned.”

He added, “But who knows, maybe they found better lives elsewhere. People go where life’s good. That sea stopped giving pearls—it just became another poor, bitter place. No point clinging to it.”

Yi Wansan asked quietly, “What about the old clan chief? Did he leave too?”

The villager suddenly remembered. He slapped his thigh. “Oh, right, forgot to mention him. That old guy had backbone. Refused to leave. Said the ancestral shrine was here, the spirits of his forebears were here—no way was he leaving.”

Every time someone tried to persuade him, he’d shut his eyes, and two lines of tears would stream down the deep grooves of his weathered face, soaking into his gray beard.

“Wuzhu Village’s been around since the Qin emperor unified Lingnan and created the Xiang Commandery. Our ancestors fed this village with that sea for over a thousand years. Just because we haven’t gotten pearls these past few years, you’re all abandoning it? ‘Where the pearls go, the pearls will return.’ I told you that story before, remember?”

He had told it—he was a well-read man, always sharing historical tales and quoting classical texts.

The story of “where the pearls go, the pearls will return” came from the Book of the Later Han, under the “Biographies of Benevolent Officials.” It was a legend from Hepu: a corrupt official overharvested pearls, so the old clams left. Later, Meng Chang became governor. He was upright and kind to the people. Less than a year into his term, the pearl-bearing clams returned.

From a modern perspective, that’s just the natural boom-bust cycle of pearl production. Meng Chang gave the clams time to rest and recover—it wasn’t some miracle inspired by a virtuous official. But the old clan chief didn’t see it that way. He believed—truly believed—that the clams would return.

Yi Wansan asked softly, “Then what happened?”

“Well, more and more people left the village. Then one day, the old man lost it. Hauled all the ancestral tablets out of the shrine, loaded them into a pearl boat, and rowed out to sea. He said, for the sake of the ancestors, the sea couldn’t cut off the village’s path.”

Yi Wansan imagined it: a misty morning, the prayer-worn wooden tablets lying in disarray in the boat’s hold. The old chief rowing out, murmuring over and over, “Spirits of our forebears, I beg you, I beg you…”

A sudden sadness welled up in Yi Wansan. An unnamed bitterness pressed against his chest. “And then?”

The villager looked around nervously, suddenly lowering his voice.

He raised a hand, palm down, then quickly flipped it upward.

“Boat flipped. Right in the middle of the sea. Remember I told you about that woman who also drowned out there? People say a water ghost took revenge. Some say it was that same woman—she grabbed his leg and dragged him under. Gives me chills just thinking about it…”

He shivered, breaking into a cold sweat.

—

After chatting with Mu Dai these past two days, Uncle Zhang had been a little worried she might take things too hard. But watching her lately—smiling, polite, well-behaved—she seemed okay.

Still, what kind of job suited someone like Mu Dai?

Uncle Zhang mentally cycled through every job he knew or had heard of, trying to see what would fit her. Everything seemed possible… but somehow not quite right.

Back when Mu Dai graduated from college, she had said, “I’m not interested in working in an office. Going to college was just to be a well-rounded person.”

Everyone thought she was joking. Turned out, she wasn’t.

When Huo Zihong was still around, Uncle Zhang had discussed this with her. He’d been worried. Huo Zihong, more laid-back, had said, “Everyone has their path. If Mu Dai hasn’t found hers yet, let her have her fun. There aren’t many years in life when you get to play freely, without worries.”

Since the boss had spoken, Uncle Zhang dropped the topic. He just nodded and turned to leave.