There really did seem to be a village ahead—its outline barely darker than the surrounding darkness. Mu Dai handed the torch to Yan Hongsha, took out her flashlight, and jogged ahead to clear the way.
Reaching flat ground, she shone the beam around.
It was a hollow in a mountain valley with seven or eight houses, most of them dilapidated thatch-and-wood structures whose roofs had caved in. One stone house, similar to Zha Ma’s, stood with an empty ground floor and a wooden ladder leading to the second floor.
In the center of the hollow was a well.
All was silent. The stillness felt eerie. Mu Dai called, “Anyone here?”
Her voice echoed back from the surrounding mountains, raising goosebumps on her arms.
Yan Hongsha led the old man closer, scanning nervously. “Grandpa, nobody lives here.”
A gust of wind swept through, rustling the forest on the slopes, as if people were hiding in the dark trees. Mu Dai tightened her grip on the machete and pointed to the wooden house. “Let’s stay there tonight. I’ll go check it first.”
She was scared herself, but she was the bodyguard—she had to go.
Climbing the ladder, she found two rooms upstairs: a kitchen with a big pot on the stove, neatly stacked firewood, and water jars, basins, and ladles; and a bedroom with planks covered in rice straw and animal hides.
Nothing unusual. Relieved, she helped Yan Hongsha bring the old man up.
“This village is probably abandoned,” the old man said. “This house must be kept as a hunter’s lodge. Hunters sometimes stay a night or two when they’re in the mountains.”
Simple as it was, having a place to rest lifted their spirits.
“It’s just like wilderness survival,” Yan Hongsha said.
Both rooms had iron brackets for torches. They lit two, flooding the place with warm light.
First, they boiled water for noodles and enjoyed a satisfying meal. Then they boiled more water to wash their feet and clothes before settling in for a good night’s sleep.
Mu Dai told Yan Hongsha to start the fire while she went to draw water from the well.
The well had an old-fashioned winch. Mu Dai hooked the bucket on the rope and dropped it down.
Plunk—there was water, but her first throw landed off-target and came up light. She tried again, letting the bucket fill before hauling it up.
When she lifted it, something dark floated in the middle.
She shone her flashlight inside, and the sight made her jump back two steps. After a moment, she patted her chest and muttered, “It’s fine—it’s just a rag doll.”
But when the light hit it again—
It was a handmade “weather goddess” doll, who knows how long it had been soaking. It reeked of mildew. Its eyes were stitched in black thread onto white cloth, the crude seams crooked like jagged teeth.
Meanwhile, back at Zha Ma’s house, Cao Yanhua was eating sweet potato porridge and cornbread, staring wide-eyed as Zha Ma finished telling the story of the wild woman.
“She really… attacked a man in his fifties?”
Zha Ma nodded. “Yeah. People in the village heard him screaming, so they gathered, brought dogs and sticks, and went up the mountain. They found him with his clothes torn to shreds—dead.”
Cao Yanhua’s eyes went wide. “That’s so twisted! Why go after an old man instead of a young guy?”
“That path is hardly ever used,” Zha Ma said. “The old man was taking a shortcut with his goods—just unlucky.”
“Did you see it yourself?” Cao Yanhua asked.
Zha Ma shook his head honestly. “No, just heard it from others.”
Cao Yanhua clicked his tongue and turned to Wan San. “Brother San, you’re in danger.”
Wan San jumped up like he’d been pricked. “Why me?”
Cao Yanhua grinned awkwardly. “Brother Luo is strong—he’s not afraid of wild women. I’ve been training hard too; I’ve got some skills. But you…”
He shook his head, eyes full of both sympathy and schadenfreude.
Wan San fumed. “Old Man Yan’s in more danger than me—he’s the one who’s old!”
Luo Ren, who had been listening with amusement, didn’t take it too seriously. “Alright, get some rest. We’re traveling tomorrow.”
He then asked Zha Ma if they had any large tarps—he wanted to sew them into makeshift rain boots.
Did the village have a hunting rifle? If so, could they borrow or buy one?
Knives, too—everyone should have one. Torches were a must. They should also carry walking sticks with sharp tips for emergencies.
They reorganized their supplies, leaving anything unnecessary in Zha Ma’s house and taking only water, medicine, and dry rations to travel light.
After giving instructions, Luo Ren headed back to his room. Zha Ma followed, hesitating.
“What is it?” Luo Ren asked.
“That girl, Mu Dai,” Zha Ma stammered. “Is she your girlfriend?”
Luo Ren smiled. “Yeah. Why?”
“What, you like her?” he teased.
Zha Ma flailed his hands. “No, no, no!”
Luo Ren laughed. “Just kidding.”
Zha Ma rubbed his hands nervously. “Last night, my mom read her fortune.”
Luo Ren froze.
They already knew Zha Ma’s mother was a marriage shaman. Since tonight’s guests were all men, the old lady had left early and hadn’t stayed with them.
Luo Ren suspected the result wasn’t good—why else would Zha Ma bring it up so seriously?
Sure enough: “My mom said you two won’t end up together.”
Luo Ren felt a pang in his chest. “That’s hardly set in stone.”
“Right, right,” Zha Ma said awkwardly. “My mom’s often wrong. But Mu Dai got really upset. She cried while she was telling me.”
Another pang. Luo Ren didn’t know what to say. After a pause, he smiled faintly. “My girlfriend cries easily.”
“She was standing right there,” Zha Ma said, pointing behind him. “Crying, and she wouldn’t answer me, no matter what I said. In the morning, she wouldn’t eat, and when I saw her off, she didn’t talk to me.”
He rubbed his hands again, unsure how to apologize.
“I get it,” Luo Ren said with a smile.
After Zha Ma left, Luo Ren turned to look at the spot he’d pointed out.
So last night, she had stood right there, wiping her eyes, alone with her little backpack. She probably hadn’t slept well, and her eyes were swollen when she set out this morning.
He felt a twinge of heartache.
Girlfriend, don’t cry. How could you take the words of an old lady so seriously?
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152