"Last night, the villagers who stayed behind closed doors all through the evening finally came out to consult the almanac. Does this mean the Snake God's affliction has subsided?" Feng Yushu asked curiously, listening to the clatter of footsteps beneath the roof.
"Maybe," Ning Zhe replied without further comment.
Possibly because today was marked by a taboo against sacrificial rites, the villagers who came to the ancestral hall did not offer incense to the Snake God, nor did they, as usual, place fruits, vegetables, and meals on the lotus platform.
Strangely, though they did not worship the Snake God, the dense crowd did not disperse after consulting the almanac. They simply stood in place, motionless.
"What's happening?" Feng Yushu whispered, carefully taking out her phone to check the lock screen. The time was 5:51 AM, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. The surroundings remained dim and overcast.
Ning Zhe's gaze swept across the narrow streets and alleys around the hall. Every path in and out was already packed with people, their grey silhouettes blending under the gloomy sky.
On both sides of the street, behind each open doorway, figures covered with yellow talisman paper shuffled forward, their movements eerily synchronized like well-tuned automatons.
The names inscribed on the talismans—He Shunsheng, He Youlin, He…—differed from one another, yet at the same instant they all placed the same foot onto the damp stone pavement.
This spectacular yet uncanny scene made Feng Yushu's heart race. Her hands clenched the red cloth draped over her lap, and her face turned deathly pale. Turning to Ning Zhe, she saw him as calm as ever. His expression was unnervingly serene, his hollow eyes like a motionless pool, as if he were a bored observer watching a colony of busy ants.
Seeing his indifference, Feng Yushu's panic gradually subsided. "N-Ning Zhe, what are they trying to do?" she asked softly.
He shrugged. "I guess it's some kind of ceremony—maybe a sacrifice, a wedding, or a funeral."
"A sacrifice?" Feng Yushu froze. "But isn't today taboo for sacrificial rites?"
"Like I said, it's just a guess."
In a low voice he continued, "In a village like this, there aren't many reasons for the entire population to gather. Either it's a festival, a collective worship of the deity, or a red-and-white event—weddings and funerals."
They were gathered at the ancestral hall, so a communal ritual seemed likely. Yet if it were a ritual, it was odd that they would break the taboo today.
Just then, two children, hand in hand, emerged from the corner of the street and hurried into the crowd. Ning Zhe's sharp gaze followed them: a boy and a girl, each with a yellow talisman on their face bearing different names. The boy's read He Jingyan; the girl's read He Yiyi. Their arrival seemed to trigger something. As soon as they disappeared into the throng, the villagers inside and outside the hall knelt in unison.
Rows upon rows of figures bowed to the ground like rice stalks bent in a typhoon, their foreheads striking the hall floor and the wet street mud with force. The yellow papers bearing their names were soaked and smeared.
Lowering their heads toward the hall, their half-covered faces now partially revealed by their kneeling posture, one could see mouths silently opening and closing. A hushed murmur rose among them:
"Gracious mountains and distant earth, unmoved until breached."
"Old coffin, new body, unburied and untransferred."
"Pure as jade, full moon yet waning."
The sticky, rain-like whispers carried an indescribable religious resonance, barely more than private soliloquies, sometimes so vague they were almost unintelligible.
Ning Zhe strove to focus and discern the ritual chants. Gradually, the fragmented phrases sharpened in his mind:
"Softly swaying, silently vanishing…"
"Pure as water, bright as the sun…"
"…Clear and radiant, painted blue like porcelain, blazing like heavenly light…"
"…Vast and boundless, misty clouds like roaming dragons…"
Ning Zhe's brow relaxed as his initial bewilderment and vigilance gave way to calm. These obscure yet vivid lines seemed to echo directly in his thoughts rather than through his ears. The strange cadence evoked a sensation beyond description—expansive, profound, sublime, and minute all at once.
It was as if the villagers' recitation transcended mere words, invoking a higher presence that responded to their prayers. Time thickened with each solemn chant until it reached 6:30 AM.
Ninety minutes after they first knelt, the chanting villagers finally stirred. The dozens of people kneeling at the hall entrance rose and cleared a space before the door. Two sturdy young men carried a wooden table through the opening—a table identical to the ritual table that Ning Zhe had once used to conceal Lin Zhiyuan's corpse. Wrapped in the red cloth now draped around Feng Yushu, the table was unmistakable.
Feng Yushu's mind raced: if the table was here, the villagers must have discovered Lin Zhiyuan's body. "We're in trouble…" she began, her voice trembling.
"Stay calm and watch," Ning Zhe cautioned, placing a finger against her lips. Beneath the roof, a few villagers approached and placed three sheets of white paper—two long and one short—on the table.
An elderly, bald man with gray hair stepped forward, prompting his assistants to ready brushes and ink. With a steady hand, he inscribed in crimson:
Upper Couplet: "On the Basin of the Great Snake, treasures testify to ancestors."
Lower Couplet: "Before the Lotus Hall, descendants unite in offering incense."
Horizontal Inscription: "A Time-Honored Tradition."
Chapters in advance there: patreon.com/Thaniel_a_goodchild