Manual for Survival in a Strange World

A blazing sun ascended to the heavens, steam rising from the humid stone-paved road, enveloping the entire Hejia Village in warm, damp sunlight, like a giant steaming basket.

The firecracker papers piled up along both sides of the street were also scorched dry and brittle under the fierce sun, crackling under the feet of the young man as he walked.

After parting ways with Feng Yushu, Ning Zhe ran alone across the empty street. The moist air carried a faint scent of gunpowder, and the popping sounds from afar made him realize why the long path he had just walked was so deserted.

He arrived at an arched bridge upstream of the river, standing at the railing and gazing into the distance. He could already see the He Family mansion that Zhang Yangxu had mentioned.

Large red lanterns hung on the wide lintel, and a three-story bamboo and wood structure stood atop a stone foundation. Surrounded by nearby houses that were only one or two stories high, the mansion loomed like a bright star among the crowd. The courtyard walls were over three meters high, standing out like a crane among chickens.

The popping sounds Ning Zhe had heard earlier came from that direction. In the distance, several servants in green shirts and small hats were lighting firecrackers on the steps in front of the mansion’s main door. The explosions of gunpowder echoed through the street, and red paper fragments flew in the smoke.

A set of red-painted tables and chairs was placed on the left side of the stairs, where an elderly man with white hair sat at the table, holding a brush. Around him, a noisy crowd seemed to be waiting for something.

Ning Zhe quietly approached and saw a villager come to the table, gently removing a yellow paper from his forehead and placing it before the old man.

The yellow paper on his forehead read: He Renliang.

The old man took the brush and wrote a string of small curled characters on the paper before nodding slightly.

“He Renliang” then stuck the yellow paper back on his forehead, and a servant nearby immediately let him pass, allowing him to enter the mansion through the front gate, which was decorated with lanterns.

Ning Zhe couldn’t see what the old man had written on the yellow paper, but he saw the people in line before the mansion move forward step by step. One by one, the yellow papers passed through the old man’s hands, and each person entered the mansion.

“This scene looks familiar,” Ning Zhe thought to himself.

When he was young, he had gone with his grandmother to a wedding banquet held by a relative in the village. The scene back then was just as lively, with firecrackers and the noise of people mixing together. Ning Zhe had squeezed in with his grandmother to hand over a red envelope to the accountant.

If the people outside the mansion were queuing to give red envelopes at a wedding banquet, then…

Ning Zhe looked up, his gaze passing over the crowd, and focused on the He Family mansion’s main gate.

The vermilion door was even grander than the temple on South Street, where the Serpent God was worshipped. The two sides of the door, like the temple, were decorated with a red-and-white couplet:

“Welcome the new bride, flawless as a white jade”

“Send off the old, a full moon with a flaw”

“Contentment brings happiness”

‘This is a wedding? Someone in the He family is getting married?’ Ning Zhe wondered.

The current situation indeed resembled a wedding, but even if one ignored the strange red-and-white couplet, just the content of the couplet itself felt odd. At least if it were his own wedding, Ning Zhe would never allow such a couplet to be pasted at the door—it seemed inauspicious.
[tl: “Send off the old, a full moon with a flaw” – The full moon traditionally symbolizes completeness and harmony. Saying it has a flaw suggests imperfection or something lacking. This contrasts with the hope for a perfect marriage.
“Flawless as a white jade” – Jade represents purity and beauty. But calling something “flawless” can imply unrealistic expectations. This could lead to pressure or disappointment in the relationship.]

“The He Family Village has too many strange things. Even though I’ve figured out the rules of the ghosts, this village is still shrouded in mystery.”

Ning Zhe let out a quiet sigh. Not wanting to dwell on the unsolved mysteries, he quietly bypassed the busy main entrance and circled around to the side of the mansion.

The layout of the He Family mansion was based on a “回” (hui) character structure. The main entrance faced south, with side doors to the east and west, and a back door to the north, aligned with the proper orientation of “north facing south.”

Ning Zhe didn’t go through any of the four doors. Instead, he arrived at a low building next to the He Family mansion, nimbly scaling the roof, where he lay flat on the tiles, peering over the wall to observe the inside of the mansion.

The courtyard was bustling with activity. Tables and stools were arranged from the main hall to the side rooms, with a sparse number of guests sitting around. The three batches of firecrackers in front of the door had yet to be set off, and it wasn’t time for the meal to be served. Ning Zhe could only see guests leisurely sipping tea and chatting, children chasing each other on the stone path, and the kitchen was busy preparing.

It looked like a typical village banquet, nothing particularly special.

The only peculiarities, if any, were the couplet on the door and the yellow paper pasted on the faces of the guests.

“Earlier, the ghost using Zhang Yangxu’s identity sent a message to Auntie, saying that Ye Miaozhu had died in the He Family mansion.” Ning Zhe scanned the scene, but didn’t find any clues: “Where is her body? Where’s Zhang Yangxu?”

Full of doubts, Ning Zhe observed the scene for a while longer before deciding to act. He didn’t hesitate and jumped from the roof, grabbed the top of the wall, and quickly climbed over.

The mansion’s courtyard wall was made of stone bricks, more than three meters high. It was difficult for an average person to scale it, especially for someone like Ning Zhe, who looked like typical a high school senior and often neglected physical training. But Ning Zhe wasn’t an average student. His physical fitness was excellent, ranking first in physical tests while also excelling in academics, a perfect example of a diligent student.

Once over the wall, Ning Zhe hid behind a mimosa tree planted in the courtyard, his presence masked, and quietly moved toward a row of guest rooms on the side of the main building.

The normally idle guest rooms were now filled with tables and chairs, with several guests sitting inside.

After ensuring no one had spotted him, Ning Zhe leaned against the wall, letting out a quiet sigh of relief.

At this moment, a faint conversation came from within the window.

The voices were very light, not like normal conversation but more like the rustling of mice sneaking into a barn, nibbling on grain. It was clear, yet suppressed. Ning Zhe focused intently and heard a deliberately hushed female voice murmur:

“What? Even your family’s offerings were eaten?”

“Yeah, quite picky too. Didn’t touch the bowl of rice, just dug out a plum.”

“Is your kid that naughty? Even the Serpent God’s offerings dare to eat?”

“It’s not the kid. There were a few children playing right in front of me, never went into the altar hall.”

“It’s not the kid. Then what was it…”

The guests continued gossiping, their tones tinged with a heavy Hakka accent, but fortunately, Ning Zhe, who grew up in Gubei Town, could understand their conversation.

A few village women were casually drinking tea and chatting about the stolen offerings, suspecting everyone from mischievous children to roaming wild cats. No one could provide a definitive answer.

Ning Zhe quietly listened until one of them spoke up:

“Could the food offered really not have been eaten by humans?”

“Don’t talk nonsense. The Serpent God hasn’t manifested for so long, how could they come down to eat?”

“Who knows, really…”

The women’s idle chatter continued for a long time until all the firecrackers were set off and the tables were filled with guests. The smell of meat wafted from the kitchen to the guest rooms, and the banquet finally began.

“I’ll go call my kid.”

A village woman wearing a headscarf opened the guest room door and walked along the stone path, surrounded by stone bamboo flowers, toward the main hall.

Seizing the brief moment when no one was around, Ning Zhe tiptoed forward, casually picking up a stone slab and following her. Without hesitation, he swiftly struck her on the back of the head.

The back of a person’s head is one of the most vulnerable and lethal areas of the body. Even a small child who slips and bumps their head on a desk corner can suffer a fatal injury. Let alone when an adult male deliberately strikes with a heavy blunt object.

With a dull thud, the woman collapsed to the ground, motionless, the life drained from her instantly.

The yellow paper on her forehead fell off, revealing the name: He Yulan.

Blunt force trauma typically doesn’t cause uncontrollable bleeding. Ning Zhe used the woman’s headscarf to cover the blood on the back of her head, then stuffed her body into a lotus pond, covering it with bright green leaves and red flowers, hiding the death that was mere inches away.

Afterward, Ning Zhe deliberately made noisy footsteps, retracing his steps back to the guest room and gently knocked on the half-open door.

“Who is it?”

“Ah, I can’t find the kid. I don’t know where he ran off to…”

A faint female voice came from Ning Zhe’s throat. As the door opened, the boy’s shirt and trousers had transformed into simple hemp clothes, and his fair skin had darkened, resembling a farmer.

This was the ghost’s rule:

—When the others in the room initially believe the one knocking at the door is He Yulan, he truly becomes her.

Ning Zhe had stolen the identity of the village woman He Yulan and blended into the banquet.