SES Chapter 75 Part 1

Chapter 75

The delicious bowl of instant noodles with a fried egg that Yan Hongsha had been eagerly waiting for turned out to be nothing but a pipe dream.

Mu Dai said, “There’s a rag doll floating in the water… creepy as hell. This water’s only good for washing feet.”

Yan Hongsha was curious. “What rag doll? Mu Dai, let me see it.”

Mu Dai gave two dry, awkward laughs—laugh, pause, laugh—and said, “Yeah, no.”

She wasn’t about to touch that thing.

Yan Hongsha was timid, but her curiosity was eating her alive. In the end, she couldn’t hold back—she grabbed a torch, put a plastic bag over her hand, and ran screaming “Ah! Ah! Ah!” all the way to the well, yanked it out, and ran screaming “Ah! Ah! Ah!” all the way back.

From upstairs, Mu Dai stomped her feet in frustration. “That cursed thing! Don’t bring it back here!”

Yan Hongsha, still screaming, found time to shout back, “What, you expect me to just stare at it by the well?”

She didn’t stop until she was downstairs. Then she dropped the rag doll, held up the torch for a closer look, and made a surprised sound. “This rag doll’s a Saoqingniang. Looks like the one Luo Ren mentioned.”

Mu Dai leaned over from the upstairs balcony, peering down in the firelight.

It did look similar—right hand holding a little broom, real bamboo strips tied together with thread wrapped around its hand, left arm hooked with a basket and a small bundle.

Except… this one was a crude, makeshift version.

Yan Hongsha even squeezed the little basket and said, “The basket they stitched together actually has some rice in it.”

Mu Dai said, “Are you coming back up or not?”

When Mu Dai lost her temper, she sounded like a fierce older sister. Yan Hongsha could only sulk and climb back up.

Once upstairs, she turned back for a last look. The Saoqingniang doll lay on the ground, its two jagged, uneven eyes staring.

If there was rice sewn into its basket… what if its eyes had beads sewn in?

Yan Hongsha scared herself with the thought, yelped, and darted into the kitchen.

Mu Dai said, “Now you’re scared? I told you not to bring it back in the first place!”

That night, a heavy downpour began—thunder and lightning, the mountain echoing so loudly the whole house seemed to hum.

The house was stone, but the roof was all wood and thatch. There were several leaks—at first, the water poured down like little streams, but after the rain stopped, it slowed to a steady drip, drip, drip.

Half-asleep, Mu Dai thought, Guess I’m spending the night listening to spring rain in my little building.

She dreamed of Luo Ren again.

In the dream, she was in rags, weaving cloth at a loom. It was pouring outside, and inside, water was leaking from several spots.

Luo Ren stood beside her with a whip, barking, “Faster. Once it’s done, I’ll trade the cloth for wine.”

In the dream, she was miserable, wiping tears while weaving. “All you care about is drinking…”

Mu Dai actually woke herself up laughing. She pulled her coat tighter and thought, That bastard Luo Ren.

The next morning, Mu Dai woke and, when she opened her eyes, let out a cheer.

The sun was out. Not blazing, but enough to cast some light.

She used her bottled water sparingly to brush her teeth and wash her face. When she returned to the room, Old Man Yan and Yan Hongsha were both up. The old man gave her a look and said, “Mu Dai, step outside for a bit. I need to talk to Hongsha.”

Yan Hongsha blushed, looking awkward. She thought her grandpa was being petty—after spending so many days together, he still didn’t trust Mu Dai.

She decided that no matter what Grandpa told her, she’d tell Mu Dai later.

Mu Dai was used to the old man’s attitude. She just said “Okay,” grabbed some water and dry bread, and left.

If they wanted her out of the way, she’d go far enough.

She wandered the village, chewing her bread. The abandoned thatched huts really were all deserted—when she peeked inside, the pits in the floor were full of water, deep enough to raise fish in.

Bored, she wandered back to the well.

People in ancient times used water as a mirror—but did anyone ever use well water? She leaned forward to look.

Floating on the bright water’s surface was… a Saoqingniang rag doll.

All the blood rushed to Mu Dai’s head. She froze for a second or two, then ran back toward the small building, peering over the railing.

Last night, she clearly remembered Yan Hongsha had tossed that Saoqingniang down to the ground floor.

But now, nothing—just bare dirt, scattered stones, and coarse shoots sprouting from cracks.

She turned toward the old, creaky well.

So… what happened last night? Did someone pick up the doll and toss it back into the well? Or—

—On that windy, rainy night, did the Saoqingniang doll sit up, sway step by step, and walk itself back to the well?

The clouds parted, and sunlight grew stronger.

But Mu Dai only felt layer after layer of cold creep over her.

According to Old Man Yan, today they still had to cross the mountain, but they’d be returning the same way that night. That meant they could leave most of their luggage behind and only take what was essential.

Essentials included: a long rope for the well, a shovel, a bamboo hat, a machete for defense, torches, walking sticks, and a little dry food.

Mu Dai packed her backpack. Yan Hongsha dragged the shovel, looking sour, but Mu Dai was too preoccupied to notice.

Once they entered the mountains, her mood sank even lower.

The heavy rain had changed everything—broken branches, mud, and split trees washed down from higher up, making the road harder and, worse, covering most of the marks she had left yesterday. That would make it much harder for Luo Ren’s group to follow them.