On the 23rd day of the fourth month of the lunar calendar, the Grain in Ear solar term arrived. It was raining outside when Ning Zhe entered the ancestral shrine dedicated to the Snake God. He flipped open the old almanac nailed to the Snake God's wooden statue's tongue to check today's auspices and inauspicious:
[Auspicious: ]
[Inauspicious: travel, burials, mourning processions, rituals]
"'Inauspicious to travel'… Does that mean we can't leave the house today?" Ning Zhe studied the almanac before him, committing its contents to memory. The almanac's guidance was the key to surviving in this isolated mountain village.
The village, called Hejia Village, lay in a basin surrounded by mountains on all sides, cut off from the outside world. A river divided the settlement into east and west, connected by three arched bridges. Everyone in Hejia Village worshipped the Snake God, and each household displayed an image of it. The Snake God was depicted as a jade-green serpent with two curved horns. A wooden statue carved from camphor root stood in the clan shrine at the southern end of the village, surrounded by ancestral spirit tablets—this was the shrine Ning Zhe now occupied.
Every midnight, the villagers' most important task was to come to the shrine, turn one page of the almanac, and read the day's auspices and inauspicious before sleeping peacefully. According to local lore, the almanac's verdict was divine edict whispered by the Snake God. Each day the almanac listed random auspicious and inauspicious activities: following the auspices would bring good fortune, while violating the inauspicious warnings would invite bad luck. Repeated violations could lead to catastrophic misfortune, and severe or numerous transgressions sometimes resulted in mysterious sudden death.
Ning Zhe knew this from experience. On the day he first arrived, ignorant of the rules, he inadvertently violated the previous day's inauspicious warnings against "meeting strangers" and "exterminating pests," causing him misfortunes all day long: he tripped on gaps between stone slabs, was struck on the back of the head by a falling tile, and just as he tried to set out again, a sudden downpour forced him back indoors. By midnight he barely survived until the new day. Squatting at the shrine's door after the stroke of twelve, he turned the page to reveal today's edict.
He read today's almanac again:
[Auspicious: ]
[Inauspicious: travel, burials, mourning processions, rituals]
"Burials, mourning, and rituals are clear enough, but what exactly does 'travel' mean? Does it mean venturing far beyond the village, or does simply stepping outside a building count?" He glanced at the blank space after "Auspicious." "Why are there no auspicious activities listed today?" he wondered. Nothing was auspicious today?
Just then, he heard soft footsteps outside—another villager coming to check the almanac. Ning Zhe moved from the lotus pedestal before the statue toward a side door, planning to slip away. He preferred minimal contact with these villagers, who were anything but ordinary. Yet the flickering candlelight made him hesitate. Uncertain about the precise meaning of "travel," and unwilling to risk further misfortune, he stayed hidden.
"Midnight has passed, and today's edicts have been refreshed," he thought. "If leaving one's home to move about even within the village counts as 'travel,' then the villagers who have just come to the shrine have already violated today's prohibition." The Snake God was said to be merciful; first-time ignorance would only bring trivial misfortune, not death. So by observing whether the newcomer suffered any mishaps, Ning Zhe might deduce what "travel" truly forbade.
He pressed himself behind a black pillar draped with a dark red silk curtain, candlelight flickering underneath. Through a narrow gap, he watched a pair of white sneakers splash through puddles and approach the shrine's main entrance. His eyes widened in shock as the figure entered.
A robust young man in his twenties, clad in a simple tank top and loose athletic shorts, strode forward. His muscular arms and running shoes marked him as a fitness enthusiast, yet his ordinary attire sent chills down Ning Zhe's spine. "Since I was drawn into Hejia Village, every villager I've seen has worn outdated hemp clothing, used ox-drawn plows, spoken with a strong Hakka accent, and lacked even a single electric lamp," Ning Zhe recalled. "If not for these eerie customs, I might have thought I'd slipped back into ancient times." And yet here was another modern-dressed stranger.
"Who is he? Another outsider like me? Is there anyone else alive here besides me?" he wondered, hiding his pounding heart. The man walked straight to the Snake God statue, pausing before the almanac.
"He's here for the almanac too," Ning Zhe realized. The newcomer likely stumbled into this bizarre village by accident and might also have violated some taboo. His midnight visit to the shrine was probably to check the edict, just as Ning Zhe had. The young man looked up at the almanac, puzzled. Ning Zhe knew his thoughts: "He assumes he's the first to arrive tonight, so the almanac still shows yesterday's edicts, which won't match the taboos he's already violated."
In fact, Ning Zhe had already turned the page. The stranger reached out to flip the almanac, hesitating only a moment before grasping a page. "This almanac uses the lunar calendar, not the Gregorian calendar. A modern person used to the solar calendar might not realize whether the lunar date corresponds to today," Ning Zhe surmised. A quick glance at a phone calendar would clear things up—but in panic, the man had not thought of it. Under the invisible yet lethal rules, few maintained rationality.
Ning Zhe held his breath as the man's finger lifted the page that revealed today's edicts. He attempted to nail the new page back in place, but almost instantly, a dull thud echoed through the shrine—flesh hitting the earth. The man collapsed lifelessly before he could hang the page.
"It seems it's forbidden," Ning Zhe murmured. Though he had yet to inspect the body, a premonition told him the man was dead.
A cool breeze drifted through the open doors, lifting the loose almanac page like a withered leaf in flight. Beneath its fluttering, the words "Tomorrow's edicts" could be faintly seen.
Ning Zhe drew a steadying breath and averted his gaze, yet he did not plan to leave. The man's sudden death was not mere misfortune but the result of breaking a hidden fatal taboo, separate from the daily edicts.
"Like an unspoken rule beneath the written rules?" he pondered, slipping from his hiding spot. He dragged the corpse behind the red-draped offering table, concealing it where a fresh scent would not betray it. Then he replaced the cloth and returned behind the curtain.
"There must be other survivors besides him and me. They'll come to the shrine to check the almanac too." Ning Zhe was undaunted by the horror he had just witnessed. He knew what he must do: observe whether each newcomer suffered misfortune, and in that way discern the true meaning of today's prohibition on "travel." For in this remote and inscrutable village, the almanac was the key to staying alive.
Reference Glossary
Grain in Ear (芒种) – One of the 24 solar terms in the traditional East Asian lunisolar calendar, marking the time for harvesting grains and sowing seeds.
Snake God (蛇神) – Local deity worshipped in Hejia Village, represented by a camphor-root wood statue and believed to dictate villagers' fortunes via the almanac.
Almanac (黄历) – Traditional Chinese calendar guide listing daily auspicious and inauspicious activities, based on heavenly omens and folk beliefs.
Hakka accent (客家口音) – Distinct dialect of the Hakka ethnic group, known for its unique phonetic features and widespread presence in southern China.
Lunar calendar (农历) – Traditional Chinese calendar based on lunar cycles, used alongside the solar (Gregorian) calendar for festivals and almanac dates.