Manual for Survival in a Strange World

“Anything… you’re sure?”

“Yes.” Feng Yushu placed her hands over her chest. Beneath her snow-white collarbone was her full bosom, and her fair, tender skin was more beautiful than the white jade pendant hanging from her neck. “As long as I can leave this place, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Alright, then hand over the money.” Ning Zhe said immediately. “What valuables do you have on you? Cash, jewelry—anything works. But let me be clear: I don’t want things that are hard to liquidate, like jade pendants, pearls, or bodhi seeds. I’ll only accept cash, gold, or silver.”

Feng Yushu opened her mouth as if to say something, but ultimately said nothing. “Alright…”

She raised her hand and removed the gold-inlaid jade hairpin with a phoenix design from her bun. Her jet-black hair, now unrestrained, cascaded down like a waterfall of ink. Then she took out all the cash from her small leather bag and removed the rose-carved diamond ring from her left ring finger, handing everything to Ning Zhe.

Feng Yushu didn’t resent Ning Zhe’s extortion. On the contrary, she felt a trace of relief. Money and possessions were only useful in a world where society functioned normally. The fact that Ning Zhe demanded cash and jewelry suggested he was confident and determined to leave this village and return to the real world.

As long as she could leave, what did a bit of money or jewelry matter?

But what Feng Yushu, thinking she had deduced this, didn’t realize was that Ning Zhe was operating on a much deeper level.

“This woman is unexpectedly clever,” Ning Zhe thought calmly, “but my demand for her valuables should subconsciously make her start trusting me.” He stuffed the hairpin, ring, and cash into an inner pocket of his jacket.

“So, Ning Zhe, what’s our next step?” Feng Yushu asked, tying her loose hair into a bun with a bodhi-seed bracelet originally worn on her right wrist.

Ning Zhe examined the gold engraving of “Phoenix Perched on Wutong(Chinese Parasol tree)” at the tip of the hairpin and said, “There are two rules in Hejia Village.”

“First, the Serpent God. The Serpent God uses the almanac to inform us of daily omens.”

“Second, the ghostly anomalies. Ghosts replace people’s identities through some unknown method.”

“And there are two mysteries.”

“First, the Serpent God. We know it has a periodic madness, but the cause remains unknown.”

[Mystery 1: Why does the Serpent God go mad?]

“Second, the ghost. It can’t kill directly but uses identity impersonation to make people violate taboos, which leads to death at the hands of the Serpent God.”

[Mystery 2: How does the ghost impersonate someone’s identity?]

“The ghost wandering in Hejia Village can’t replace people’s identities at will. If it could, we’d all be dead by now.”

“Just as the Serpent God requires you to break taboos to bring misfortune or directly violate death taboos to kill, the ghost also needs specific conditions to impersonate someone. It can only act if those conditions are met.”

Ning Zhe twirled the hairpin between his fingers and finally said, “I have two paths: find the cause of the Serpent God’s madness or uncover the conditions that allow the ghost to impersonate others. Or perhaps solve both. If we do, we might unravel the truth about Hejia Village and find a way out.”

“Sounds dangerous.” Feng Yushu tied her hair into a practical bun for easy movement. “Which will you tackle first?”

“The Serpent God or the ghost?”

“Neither.” Ning Zhe shook his head. “I’m tired. I need to rest. Let’s discuss it in the morning.”

“Huh?” Feng Yushu was dumbfounded.

Ning Zhe smiled at her. “Thinking is exhausting. So, Auntie, stand guard for me.”

“Uh… okay.”

Confused, Feng Yushu followed Ning Zhe out of the ancestral hall and up onto the roof via a narrow alley cluttered with firewood and old furniture. The damp tiles were cool and slippery, and Ning Zhe lay down on the roof, pulled a silk kerchief from Feng Yushu’s bag, and covered his face to block the moonlight. He closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep.

Faced with trouble, he simply slept.

“What kind of person does this?” Watching him sleep with a kerchief over his face, Feng Yushu felt both nervous and amused.

She turned to look at the cluttered alley they’d climbed earlier. Piles of firewood and dismantled folding tables leaned against the ancestral hall’s outer wall, their old wooden surfaces mottled with mildew from the damp air.

“Why are there so many tables and chairs by the ancestral hall?” Feng Yushu wondered aloud. She wanted to ask Ning Zhe but realized he was already fast asleep.

“Ah, youth,” she thought, amused. “Falling asleep the moment your head hits the pillow. Unlike me, who needs sleeping pills to get any rest.”

She thought of Zhang Yangxu and Ye Miaozhu. Had they found the “door” to escape?

And her daughter, Ah Zhi—had she noticed her mother was missing? Was she worried?

Thoughts like these and the cumulative fear and exhaustion began to take their toll. The cool night breeze swept through the streets, and Feng Yushu, wrapping her clothes tightly around herself, drifted into a deep sleep.

—

As dawn broke, Feng Yushu groggily woke up, stretching only to find her movements restricted. Deep-seated fear jolted her awake. Sitting up, she saw a red cloth draped over her—a makeshift blanket that looked oddly familiar.

“Looks familiar, doesn’t it? That cloth originally covered Lin Zhiyuan.” Ning Zhe, sitting nearby, remarked casually. “You promised to stand guard, but you slept even deeper than me. And your sleeping posture was terrible—you kept leaning on me for warmth. So I found you a blanket.”

“Don’t bother thanking me,” he added. “Just follow my instructions later.”

“…Sorry. W-what instructions?” Feng Yushu rubbed her eyes, still drowsy.

Ning Zhe pointed below. “Look over there.”

Feng Yushu followed his finger to see a once-closed shop across the street now open. From within, a woman with her hair tied in a cloud-shaped bun and a square piece of yellow paper stuck to her face emerged. The paper bore a name: He Huifen.

This woman, the presumed shopkeeper, walked briskly toward the ancestral hall.

And she wasn’t alone. Doors across the village creaked open, one after another, as more villagers emerged.

Each wore a yellow paper name tag on their faces: He Runsheng, He Quanyou, He Rongqiu… Every name began with “He,” and all the villagers moved stiffly, their motions jerky, like puppets on strings.

“The villagers here aren’t real people,” Ning Zhe muttered. “They’re more like byproducts of some kind of rule. If I can avoid it, I’d rather not deal with them.”

He pulled Feng Yushu down flat beside him to avoid being noticed by a few curious villagers looking up at the rooftops.