Manual for Survival in a Strange World

“What are we doing now?” Feng Yushu asked.

“Going to the He Mansion,” Ning Zhe answered without hesitation. “Didn’t Zhang Yangxu say that Ye Miaozhu died at the He Mansion? Let’s go check it out.”

“Ah?” Feng Yushu immediately became anxious upon hearing this. “Isn’t it dangerous to go there now?”

After all, Ye Miaozhu had died there.

“Yes,” Ning Zhe did not deny it. “If we go unprepared, rushing in blindly like Ye Miaozhu, it’s basically a death sentence.”

But things were different now. Now, he had stolen part of the Serpent God’s identity. If there was ever a time to venture into the unknown and take a risk, it was now.

Ning Zhe walked briskly across the uneven stone path. Due to his light steps, he nearly tripped on the gaps between the stones, but his extraordinary reflexes allowed him to adjust quickly, continuing on without breaking stride.

“Even the Serpent God has to face consequences if they break taboos…” Ning Zhe sighed.

Rules were impartial. They didn’t change based on who you were. If the Serpent God broke the law, it was no different from the common people.

The two of them left the ancestral hall and walked north along the main street of Hejia Village. The daylight provided much better visibility than the night, and they could clearly see the distant green mountains. These were the edges of the basin where the village was situated, layered with endless shades of green, stretching out far and wide.

There were still people bustling along the streets, with elderly folks who had just finished eating sitting on wicker chairs, squinting their eyes as they watched their children and the neighborhood kids play and chase each other. Yellow paper, stuck to their faces, fluttered in the wind.

The children would sometimes pause to look curiously at Ning Zhe and Feng Yushu as they walked past, watching them from a distance as they moved toward the upstream of the river.

If it weren’t for the dried, ancient yellow paper stuck on everyone’s faces, with their names scribbled on it in crooked handwriting, these scenes could almost be considered heartwarming. The stone slabs beneath their feet and the roof tiles above their heads looked ancient and gentle, as though they had wandered into some time-worn, forgotten town. Both the weight of history and the shallowness of human culture could be felt here.

They passed through an intersection where two clusters of deep green trees dotted the sides of the road. Several black-and-white birds stood quietly on the branches, neither flying nor calling.

“What kind of birds are those?” Feng Yushu asked, looking up at the birds in confusion.

“Magpies,” Ning Zhe replied casually. “Black with white spots, deep blue wings, and a tail tipped with a hint of bright yellow—very traditional magpies.”

“I’m surprised you recognized them so quickly…” Feng Yushu thought. She had only asked out of the oppressive silence on the journey and didn’t expect Ning Zhe to immediately answer.

Ning Zhe continued, “By the way, those two trees are wild plum trees, not grafted. You can tell from the main trunks at the base. Wild plum trees, like osmanthus trees, don’t have a thick, clear main trunk. They grow more like bushes, unlike the tall, upright ones, which need to be grafted.”

“Wild plum trees?” Feng Yushu blinked.

She looked up at the deep green plum tree canopy at the intersection, then at the magpies quietly perched on the branches. A phrase involuntarily slipped from her lips: “Joy on the Plum Branch?”

“Joy on the Brow?”[tl:Both phrases sound quite similar in Chinese, with only a small difference in characters: “梅梢” (plum branch) and “眉梢” (eyebrow tip)] Ning Zhe was puzzled for a moment before quickly realizing what she meant. “Oh, ‘Joy on the Plum Branch,’ right? You’re talking about the traditional custom from Qinzhou? It’s said that when newlywed couples see magpies standing on the plum tree’s branches, it’s a good omen for a harmonious and happy marriage.”

Feng Yushu nodded repeatedly. “Yes, the older generation believes in this a lot. When I got married, my father even hired a famous traditional Chinese painter from Yunzhou to paint a ‘Joy on the Plum Branch’ ink wash painting, saying it would bring a good omen for a peaceful and happy life.”

“That’s nice,” Ning Zhe responded without commenting further. After all, he couldn’t afford to hire a master painter from Yunzhou for his own wedding.

He would never even get married.

Ning Zhe stopped beneath the plum tree where the magpies perched, raising his head to observe the birds. A sense of curiosity arose in him.

He still remembered the scene he had witnessed in what seemed to be a hallucination from the Serpent God’s memories. A young woman, leaning by the window, humming a tune as she gazed at the misty drizzle outside. She wore a bright red dress, loose and flowing because it lacked a waist tie, and her lips were as red as if freshly painted with rouge.

“Is that the traditional bridal attire of Qinzhou?” Ning Zhe couldn’t help but wonder.

If he had only seen the vision itself, he wouldn’t have thought much of it. But now, finding corresponding clues in different places made him reconsider.

‘A woman in bridal attire has no facial features.’

‘The magpies on the plum branch at the intersection, silent and still.’

Could there be a connection between these two?

He kept this question in his mind as he and Feng Yushu continued walking toward the upstream of the river.

Past the intersection with the plum trees, the street ahead was lined with pink bursts of color. These were fragments of firecracker paper scattered along both sides of the road, soaked by two rainstorms from the previous night and morning. Even the standing water on the roadside was pink, emitting a faint smell of gunpowder.

“Looks like we’re on the right track,” Feng Yushu murmured. “According to Zhang Yangxu, he and Xie Sining walked down a path covered with firecracker paper fragments like this before reaching the wide He mansion.”

“Daytime is fine, but walking this road at night would probably feel oppressive.”

Ning Zhe looked around. He hadn’t noticed when, but fewer and fewer people were on the street. By now, the place was completely deserted. Looking around, the doorways and houses were empty, with no sign of anyone.

He casually approached a two-story small building, extending his hand to touch the clay chimney built into the wall. “Still warm.”

The chimney was warm, but there was no one in the kitchen.

The street-side shops were still open, and their interiors were clearly visible. In the pharmacy, a small bunch of licorice was placed on the scale, a half-basin of clean water sat on the doorstep, and a broom made from bamboo sticks was lying in the middle of the street.

Every detail indicated that, until recently, there had been activity here. This was a lively marketplace, yet before Ning Zhe stood a desolate, abandoned scene.

Feng Yushu turned her head to look. A lounge chair outside the fruit shop was gently rocking before slowly coming to a stop, as though the person who had been sitting there had just gotten up and left for somewhere else.

“Strange, where did everyone go?” Ning Zhe became more vigilant, carefully avoiding the pink firecracker paper fragments sticking to his shoes as he continued walking cautiously.

Suddenly, he thought he heard something—faint but distinct.

“What’s that sound?”