The invincible female ghost is a bit love-struck.

Chapter 317 Nanshan, Beiyin River, Yongji Grain Depot.

The man with the black umbrella lowered his head.

"You do know what she said?"

"Because you only know how to use the dead to speak." Lu Yuan sheathed his sword. "Those who truly know her wouldn't use her name to lock up their own son."

The man with the black umbrella slightly turned the umbrella handle in his hand.

The black "willow" characters on the ground suddenly tightened, like hemp ropes soaked in water, wrapping around Xu Erxiao's ankles.

Xu Erxiao swung his sword down, but the blade, instead of severing the black characters, was dragged forward half a step by a force.

"Brother Lu!"

Wang Chengan suddenly lifted the abacus.

There were no beads in the abacus frame, only a few crisscrossing fine lines. When those lines were reflected in the snow, they revealed a dense array of footprints beneath the black characters.

The footprints did not extend from the feet of the man with the black umbrella.

Instead, we walked all the way from Liujiagou Village to here.

“He wasn’t alone,” Wang Chengan said. “These words were written by someone from the village.”

Lin Zhaoxuan had already nailed three sheets of yellow paper to the earthen wall.

The yellow paper caught fire without wind, but the flames did not rise upwards; instead, they spread out along the ground.

Where the firelight reached, a thin red line appeared under the snow, as if someone had drawn a huge array in the village with cinnabar.

The red line crosses the frozen river, circles the old houses in Xiawan, and finally converges under the old locust tree at the east end of the village.

"The place of support is in Liujiagou," Lin Zhaoxuan said.

Zhou Heng frowned: "That's not right. The lines here were added later; there are at least three types of cinnabar."

"The first layer is the clan boundary," Song Qinghe said, looking at the red line. "The second layer is the marriage households, and the third layer is the support system."

"What are you offering?" asked the man with the missing bowl.

The man with the black umbrella suddenly raised his face.

Beneath the umbrella was a pale face, without eyebrows, but with eyes as black as two dry wells.

"To support a child who has no name."

Xu Erxiao was stunned.

The person with the black umbrella stretched out one hand, holding a red rope between their five fingers.

"The child has no father, no clan, no name."

"Children like this are most likely to be taken away by the mountain god."

"As long as his name is recorded in the clan register, the mountain god will remember him."

"Remember him?" Xu Erxiao gritted his teeth. "You're using my name to feed the things in the mountains?"

The man with the black umbrella said, "It wasn't us."

"It was Liujiagou who pleaded for your survival."

"If your mother hadn't taken you away, you would already be a servant of the mountain god."

"She took you away, which is why the mountain god remembered you."

As soon as he finished speaking, a low thud came from the hollow of the old locust tree.

It sounded like someone was knocking on the door from inside.

a bit.

Two times.

Three times.

Suddenly, all the black characters at Xu Erxiao's feet stood up and transformed into disheveled figures. These figures had no faces, but each wore a wooden plaque on its chest.

The wooden sign didn't bear a name, but rather the same character: "Er Xiao".

The color drained from Xu Erxiao's face.

Lu Yuan blocked him with his sword.

"Wang Cheng'an, find the provisions account."

"We're already looking."

Wang Cheng'an spread the supplementary register on the snow and his fingers flew across the pages. The incomplete names on the pages turned over by themselves, finally stopping on a completely blank sheet of paper.

Water slowly seeped into the blank paper.

First, there is a vertical line.

Then there's another horizontal line.

It looks like someone is writing on paper.

Wang Chengan stared at the handwriting, his voice tense: "It's not Erxiao."

"What is it?"

"It's 'Tong Shou'."

Lin Zhaoxuan's expression changed.

"The child's name is Gongshou."

The four characters emerged from the depths of the pages, the ink deepening with each layer. Immediately following, a line of smaller characters appeared at the bottom of the page: "In Liujia Gou Xiawan, all children without fathers' names shall be sent to the Child Guard." "Upon reaching the age of seven, they shall be sent to Old Dragon's Back." "If any escapee, their mother's name shall be used to pay the price."

Xu Erxiao looked at the person with the black umbrella.

"My mother died because of me?"

The man with the black umbrella did not answer.

He simply pulled the red string back.

The red line under the old locust tree suddenly lit up, and a series of doors opened in the village. One, two, then a dozen villagers came out of their houses, each with a white cloth draped over their shoulders and a blank expression on their face.

Each of them was holding a bowl in their hands.

The bowl was filled with black water.

Looking at the bowls, Quewanliu suddenly gripped the celadon bowl in his hand tightly.

"Provide meals."

"Who are you feeding?" Song Qinghe asked.

"For those who haven't been remembered yet."

"Every year on the winter solstice, Liujiagou offers a meal to its children. The villagers say that no rice should be left in the bowl, otherwise the mountain god will come looking for the children."

She looked at the group of villagers, and fear appeared in her eyes for the first time.

"But what they're holding isn't food."

In the dark water, tiny faces emerged.

There were boys and girls, both around seven years old.

They huddled at the bottom of the bowl, mouths agape, but no sound came out.

One of the faces suddenly turned towards Xu Erxiao.

She was a little girl with a red ribbon in her hair.

Her lips opened and closed.

Xu Erxiao heard her voice.

"elder brother."

He suddenly took a step forward.

Lu Yuan grabbed his shoulder.

Don't go over there.

"She calls me brother."

"She wasn't calling you."

"Then who did she call?"

Lu Yuan looked at the bowl of black water.

"She's calling on everyone whose name is written as 'Child Guardian'."

Lin Zhaoxuan bit his fingertip and drew a talisman on the back of the knife.

"These are not living souls, but shadows of names."

"The evil god didn't devour the children's souls," Zhou Heng said. "It devoured their possibility of being recognized by others."

"Once a name is recorded in the Child Guardian, the child is left with only a name for sacrifice."

Song Qinghe suddenly looked up.

"Black Umbrella Man, who exactly are you?"

The person with the black umbrella slowly rotated the umbrella.

A worn-out cuff fell from under the umbrella, embroidered with a fish with its eyes closed.

"I am guarding the register."

"Where the book is in the human world, the gods have a root."

"If you destroy this ledger, the names of all the children in Liujiagou will be forgotten."

"It's better to scatter them than to have them used to feed the gods," Lin Zhaoxuan said.

"You don't understand," said the man with the black umbrella. "A soul without a name can't even find its way to reincarnation."

"So you just chained them all up in one place?" Lu Yuandao asked, "To make them guard the things in the mountains forever?"

The man with the black umbrella pointed at Xu Erxiao.

"He's been remembered."

"If you take his name away, the mountain god will follow his blood."

"At that time, not a single person from Liujiagou will survive."

Several villagers at the village entrance knelt down at the same time.

They raised the black bowls above their heads and said in unison, "Return to the register."

"Return to the register".

"Return to the register".

The sounds grew louder and louder, as if they were coming from underground.

Looking at the kneeling people, Xu Erxiao suddenly asked, "Did my mother kneel down back then?"

The man with the black umbrella remained silent for a moment.

She didn't kneel.

"She smashed the offering table."

"Then I ran away with you."

Xu Erxiao closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, he took the piece of wood out of the evidence book and placed it in his palm.

The two characters "二小" on the wooden piece are crooked and the carving marks have been worn shiny.

"My mother said, 'Two children is fine.'"

"No one can give me another one."

He turned to look at Wang Chengan.

"Write my name in."

Wang Chengan was stunned.

Which volume?

"Main book."

"What do you want to write?"

Xu Erxiao thought for a long time, then gripped his knife and carefully carved on the back of the wooden piece: "Son of Liu San Niang, Xu Erxiao. "He chose his own name and will not return to Tong Shou."

With the final cut, a thin crack appeared in the wood.

The man with the black umbrella suddenly moved forward.

"You can't write this!"

Lu Yuan stepped in front of him.

The knife clashed with the umbrella handle, sending snowflakes flying. For the first time, anger appeared on the face of the man under the black umbrella, and a withered hand emerged from his sleeve, its five fingers long and thin, each fingernail engraved with a name.

"You'll kill everyone!"

Lu Yuan looked at the name on his fingernails.

One of them has been worn down by half.

"You have a name too."

The man with the black umbrella paused for a moment.

Lu Yuan raised his knife and pried open his sleeve.

A worn red string was wrapped around her wrist, revealing half of a cinnabar mark beneath it. The mark was blurred, with only the character "沈" remaining.

Shen Yanshan?

No, it's not.

The edge of that seal had an extra notch compared to the old seal left by Shen Yanshan.

After seeing it clearly, Wang Chengan's face turned pale.

"Wang Shouyi".

The man with the black umbrella suddenly retreated.

"My father?" Wang Chengan exclaimed.

The umbrella was lifted by a corner by the wind.

The face was finally revealed.

He is neither an old man nor a middle-aged man.

That was a face that had been dead for many years.

Wang Shouyi's face.

There was only a long black needle stuck between his eyebrows, with countless red threads attached to the end of the needle, the other end of which went into the hole in the old locust tree.

Wang Chengan stood there, his fingers trembling uncontrollably.

"You're not dead?"

"I'm dead," the face said.

"Died on the back of the old dragon."

"But the mountain god won't let me leave."

Wang Shouyi slowly raised his hand and pointed to the wooden piece in Xu Erxiao's hand.

"Back then, I made a contract on behalf of your mother because I wanted you to live."

"Later, when the clan wanted to send you to the mountains, I tore up your childhood book for them."

"But I couldn't take you far."

"She hid you under the car and stayed behind to block the pursuers."

Xu Erxiao stared at him blankly.

"What happened to my mother later?"

A look of near-pain appeared on Wang Shouyi's face.

"She didn't die on the way."

"She was taken back to Liujiagou."

"The last time she appeared was under the old locust tree."

"She wrote her name into the donor register."

"In your place, you'll be removed from the register."

The piece of wood in Xu Erxiao's hand fell into the snow.

"Where is she now?"

Wang Shouyi did not answer.

From deep within the tree hollow, a woman's singing voice suddenly drifted out.

The low, hoarse voice was the same "Crossing the River Ballad" that the old man had sung while tapping his willow basket.

The singing came from the old locust tree, spreading inch by inch along the red line, and the black water in the village began to boil. The little faces at the bottom of the bowls all looked up at the tree hole.

A crack appeared in the bark of the old locust tree.

There was no heartwood inside the crevice.

There is only one stone staircase leading downwards.

At the end of the stone steps, the faint sound of bronze bells could be heard.

Lin Zhaoxuan took out a compass.

The compass needle spun wildly, finally pointing to the tree hole.

"The place where the evil god makes offerings is not on the old dragon's back."

"It's underground in Liujiagou."

Zhou Heng drew his short sword and stood beside Lu Yuan.

"Wang Shouyi was also a gatekeeper."

"He led us here, not to stop us."

Song Qinghe looked at those red lines.

"It's so that we can cut it off for him."

Wang Shouyi raised the black umbrella.

The umbrella surface was covered with a dense array of old names.

Some have faded, some are only half left, and some are covered in black ink and can no longer be identified.

"Go down."

"Find the real donation register."

"If you find it, you can restore Liu San Niang's complete name."

"But once the book is opened, all those remembered by the mountain god will awaken."

"The first thing they did after they woke up was to look for their mother."

Xu Erxiao bent down and picked up the wood chip.

He stuffed the wooden piece back into his pocket and looked up at Lu Yuan.

"Brother Lu, I'm going too."

Lu Yuan nodded.

"You walk in the middle."

"I'm not afraid."

"It's not a question of whether you're afraid or not."

Lu Yuan looked down into the darkness below the tree hole.

"The road ahead might lead you to hear your mother's last words."

"Just because you heard it doesn't mean it's true."

Xu Erxiao gripped the wooden piece tightly.

"Then listen to it all, and then you can tell for yourself whether it's true or false."

Wang Cheng'an closed the supplementary register and wrote the name "Liu San Niang" on the first page.

The moment the ink fell, the singing in the tree hollow stopped.

Immediately afterwards, a very faint sound came from underground.

"Second Little One".

Xu Erxiao was startled.

The voice was gentle, weary, and carried the oldest warmth from his memory.

"Mother is here."

He lifted his foot to go down.

Lu Yuan suddenly grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait first."

"What's wrong?"

Lu Yuan stared into the depths of the tree hole.

Then a second call came from there.

This time, the voice became shrill and cold.

"Second Little One, come down."

Wang Shouyi suddenly looked up.

"It wasn't her."

From beneath the tree hollow, the bronze bell suddenly rang loudly.

Blood-red lights simultaneously illuminated the six stone steps, and amidst the lights, a wooden statue without facial features slowly opened its mouth.

He had a newly peeled page of account paper in his mouth.

The paper contained only one line: "Next, Lu Yuan."

Wang Chengan read the line aloud, whispering the last two words.

The bell inside the tree hole suddenly stopped ringing.

The villagers kneeling on the snow still held their bowls, but no longer shouted "Return to the ancestral temple." They all turned their faces, their gazes passing over Xu Erxiao and landing on Lu Yuan.

Xu Erxiao took a step forward.

Lu Yuan pressed down on his shoulder and pulled him back to his side.

"Hold on tight."

He didn't look at the account paper; instead, he looked at the person under the black umbrella.

"You claim to be Wang Shouyi."

The man held the umbrella handle, the red thread on his wrist still leading to the tree hole.

"Cheng An recognizes me."

"He recognizes this face."

Lu Yuan took the supplementary register from Wang Cheng'an and turned to the page with the land deed.

"You just said that Liu San Niang wrote her own name into the donation book in exchange for Er Xiao being removed from it. But Er Xiao's name is still there, and you're even watching the wooden pieces in the old house."

The man with the black umbrella remained silent.

"You haven't made it clear what she traded for it, or whether the trade actually went through. And now you're urging us to go downstairs."

Lu Yuan closed the booklet.

"Put the umbrella down first."

Wang Chengan slowly raised his head.

He was thin, and the cuffs of his cotton-padded jacket were wide, so his hand holding the pen was exposed and turned slightly blue from the cold.

"My dad has a habit when it comes to keeping accounts."

The man with the black umbrella looked at him.

"After calculating, the last transaction needs to be adjusted back," Wang Cheng'an said. "Do you know why?"

"I'm afraid of making a mistake in the calculation."

"no."

Wang Chengan held the empty abacus frame to his chest.

"I asked that question when I was a child. He said that only when the last bead makes a sound will the people waiting for their wages at the door know that the accounts have been settled and they can come in."

The wind passed between the two of them.

The man with the black umbrella twitched his lips, and his familiar face swayed gently like a reflection in water.

Wang Chengan did not back down.

"Have you met him in person, or have you only ever received his name?"

After a long while, a sigh came from under the umbrella.

"I received his confession."

"What confession?"

"He vouched for Liu San Niang, secretly altered the children's register, and released her out of the village without permission."

"Take it out."

"Down below."

"It's down there again."

Lu Yuan looked up at the tree hole.

The paper was slowly being pulled out of the wooden statue's mouth. There were words on the back of the paper, but they were too far away to see clearly.

Song Qinghe raised the lamp high.

A bluish light swept across the edge of the umbrella, revealing a narrow paper border on the face of the person under the black umbrella. It turned out that the face was also pasted on, with extremely finely drawn eyebrows and eyes, even including the corner lines of the eyes that Wang Cheng'an remembered.

Wang Chengan stared at it for a long time before speaking.

"Don't use his face anymore."

The person with the black umbrella lowered their head and slowly lowered the umbrella.

When it was lifted up again, there was only a yellowed piece of paper under the umbrella, with four small characters written on it.

To relay a confession.

Lin Zhaoxuan took two steps closer and saw the mark on the corner of the paper.

"The method of relaying messages was also used in the old archives in the interior of the country. When relaying messages, one could only say what was recorded in the archives."

Zhou Heng looked at the tree hollow: "What those words just now—"

"We need to find the original," Lu Yuan said.

Wang Chengan reopened the booklet and added a stroke next to the few lines he had just written down.

"This is a retelling by the paper servant and has not been verified."

When he got to the section about his father, he paused, then steadied his pen.

This time the ink didn't bleed.

Song Qinghe walked to the nearest villager and turned the lampshade halfway around. The light shone into the bottom of the bowl, and the little face inside gradually unfolded, revealing pieces of thin paper cut into human shapes.

The man holding the bowl shivered, and his eyes finally moved.

"How did we end up in Xiawan?"

His arm was stiff, but he couldn't put the bowl down.

Quewanliu pressed the celadon bowl against the rim of his bowl, and the black water slowly flowed over it. The man's shoulder relaxed, and he almost sat down in the snow.

"Don't drink it, and don't spill it," she said. "One at a time."

Ah Deng stood beside her, clearing away the empty bowls for the person who had just woken up.

After the man caught his breath, Lu Yuan asked, "Who let you out?"

"The bell rings when the food is delivered," the man said blankly. "That's how it's been since my grandfather's generation. But it usually rings on the winter solstice, it shouldn't ring today—"

"Where should the food be delivered?"

"Lower Bay Rent Collection Office"

The six people exchanged glances.

"Not an ancestral hall?"

"The ancestral hall is up there," the man pointed to the tree roots. "There used to be a grain storage area down there. It was sealed off later because they said it was where the mountain deity was enshrined, and unauthorized people weren't allowed in."

Lu Yuan looked again at the stone steps leading underground and finally realized what was wrong.

There are two straight old grooves along the edge of the steps.

That's from the grain carts pushing back and forth, grinding it out.

"Second Young Master, bring out the land deed."

Xu Erxiao hurriedly took out the oil paper package from his pocket.

Lu Yuan didn't open it, but only told him to turn it over to the back. Near the fold on the back of the paper, there was a faint square mark that was almost invisible.

Collecting rent in Xiawan.

Zhou Heng bent down and swept away the snow on the steps; there were similar marks on the stones as well.

"They turned the place where they collected rent into a place for providing for the poor."

"Let's go in and take a look."

Lu Yuan left Quewanliu and A'deng on the ground to look after the villagers who were still unconscious. The old man carrying the willow basket sat by the old wall, silent for a long time, before suddenly raising his head.

If you see a low door down there, don't rush to push it open.

Why?

"Let's look at the requirements first."

The old man reached into the willow basket, felt around for a long time, and then took out a small, polished wooden wedge.

"My dad gave it to me. He said that someone used this to leave the door open all night."

Xu Erxiao took it.

One end of the wooden wedge was carved with a shallow mark, resembling half an abacus bead.

Wang Chengan saw it, but did not immediately recognize it.

"Take it with you," he said. "We'll compete when we get there."

The six people descended the steps one by one.

Lin Zhaoxuan left ink lines along the way, and Zhou Heng counted the steps, stopping when he reached the nineteenth step.

"From the outside, it only looks like level six."

"The light only illuminates level six," Song Qinghe said.

She lowered the lamp, revealing more than ten steps below. The stone wall was damp, with a small hole for placing a bowl every so often, the entrance to which was covered with a thick layer of incense ash.

Xu Erxiao stared at the holes.

Some of them are very low, and you have to squat down to reach them.

Sure enough, there was a low door at the end.

The door wasn't locked, and a sliver of warm yellow light peeked through the crack. The sound of an abacus turning inside came from within, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, until Wang Cheng'an stopped in his tracks.

Lu Yuan squatted down to look at the threshold.

There was a triangular notch at the bottom edge of the wood, and the edge was polished smooth. Xu Erxiao placed the wooden wedge in, and it fit perfectly.

"This is it."

The sound of the abacus inside the door stopped.

Someone asked, "Which household are you here to pay?"

Lu Yuan did not answer. He first tightened the wooden wedges, then pushed open the door.

The house was bigger than I had imagined.

A dozen or so grain bins stood against the wall, their doors bearing the names of the villages: Liujiagou, Majiagou, Wangjiatun, and several more further in, now completely submerged. In the center of the room sat a long table, behind which sat a wooden statue.

It was the same statue we saw in the tree hollow.

It had paper in its mouth, an abacus in front of it, and next to the abacus was a teacup that a living person had used.

Steam was still rising from the rim of the bowl.

Zhou Heng reached out and probed.

"Just left."

There are two passageways behind the wall, one leading upwards and the other deeper into the mountainside. The upward passageway is marked with wet footprints, the soles of shoes showing horizontal lines, indicating large strides.

Lin Zhaoxuan did not pursue, but first tied the entrance with an ink thread.

Lu Yuan walked to the long table and pulled the paper out of the wooden statue's mouth.

The front reads "Next, Lu Yuan".

On the other side was a newly filled-out voucher.

"Six outsiders came to inspect the records, collect the belongings of the old households, and take over the outstanding debts."

The names of six people are listed below.

Xu Erxiao immediately reached for the wooden piece in his pocket.

"Just because you took what my mother left behind, does that mean you have to confess on their behalf?"

"That's what it says on the paper."

Lu Yuan laid the voucher flat.

"But there are no handprints here."

Song Qinghe held up the lantern to illuminate the signature, revealing six blank circles. The black water that had clung to the rim of the bowls when the villagers had just raised them was exactly that size.

Zhou Heng said in a deep voice, "It's telling us to take the bowl."

Xu Erxiao recalled the cry of "Brother" from the ditch, and a chill ran down his spine.

If I had reached out my hand then, I would have considered myself to have accepted the donation.

Wang Chengan, however, stared at the top of the voucher.

"Brother Lu, this paper has a number."

In the upper left corner, tiny ink characters read: South Road, Winter Offering, Number 19 (丙字十九).

"There are also places to collect debts on the south road."

Lu Yuan nodded and put the voucher into the oil paper.

At that moment, a soft humming came from the outermost grain bin.

Xu Erxiao's hand suddenly stopped.

It's still "Crossing the River Ballad".

But this time, after only two lines, someone whispered, "Don't sing. Someone's waiting outside."

Another voice answered, "The child doesn't sleep soundly."

Wang Chengan looked up.

He recognized the voice that said "Don't sing."

Song Qinghe placed the lamp in front of the cabinet without opening the cabinet door.

"The sound comes from the paper."

A small tag was nailed to the cabinet door.

Liujiagou Xiawan, Baojie Third.

Lu Yuan peeled off the small label, and the cabinet door opened by itself. There was no one inside, only a stack of old papers and a flattened tin kettle.

The top one reads: "Liu San Niang left the village with her son and stayed overnight at the rent collection office. Wang Shouyi is the guarantor."

Xu Erxiao hurriedly asked, "What's next?"

Wang Chengan flipped through the pages one by one.

No compensation was made in the mother's name.

There was no voluntary donation.

There was only one application that was repeatedly returned. Liu Sanniang pressed her fingerprint and asked that her young son be removed from the register of children; Wang Shouyi signed his name, agreeing to pay for the travel expenses, to investigate the father's household, and to keep a separate account for the grain harvested from that one and a half acres of hillside land.

On the last sheet of paper, Wang Shouyi's handwriting was noticeably heavier.

"Rental grain remains rented grain, and child households remain child households; no conversion is allowed."

There was a black mark of four fingers pressed down next to it.

The seal was marked with two characters.

not allowed.

Xu Erxiao bent over and stared at those two words for a long time.

"My mother didn't agree to them."

"Not in these few," Lu Yuan said.

Wang Chengan continued flipping through the pages and suddenly found a narrow piece of paper.

There were no official platitudes, just a few very short sentences: "Go to the riverbank through the back gate. The car is behind the reeds." "Leave the wooden wedge at the gate; leave before dawn." "Leave the wooden sign for the two children; they want to verify the old items, which could take half a day."

Xu Erxiao reached out and touched the piece of wood in his arms.

It wasn't lost after all.

That night, someone left it here, fighting for an extra half day for a child.

As Wang Chengan looked at the last stroke, his eyes slowly reddened.

The stroke ended with a slight fold back.

He recognized him.

Lu Yuan didn't rush them, but simply put the rest of the papers back in their original order.

There was also a thin booklet at the bottom of the cabinet.

The cover says "Good Fortune".

Lin Zhaoxuan turned to the first page, and his expression immediately darkened.

The tribute collected from various villages must be sent to the same place every month.

Nanshan, Beiyin River, Yongji Grain Depot.

The section for the person handing over the work was stamped with a fish-shaped mark with its eyes closed.

Song Qinghe looked at the still-warm teacup beside the wooden statue.

"The person who just left was the one who took over the bill."

Before the words were finished, the sound of wheels rolling over the stone surface came from deep inside the mountain.

Slow and steady.

It's like a fully loaded grain cart being pushed away little by little.

Lu Yuan handed the transfer book to Wang Cheng'an and lit the lamp.

"Zhou Heng, watch the road, and leave a trail for Zhao Xuan. Erxiao, put your mother's things away."

Xu Erxiao wiped his face and nodded solemnly.

The six people walked into the deeper part of the corridor.

The wooden statue behind them suddenly spoke again.

"Lu Yuan."

This time, the voice no longer sounded like Liu San Niang's, nor like Wang Shouyi's.

It was calm, even a little familiar.

"You're only concerned with finding names for others; don't you want to look at your own page?"

Lu Yuan paused slightly.

The wordless stone tablet in my arms warmed slightly through my clothes.

Beneath the long table, a narrow drawer slid open by itself.

Half of a piece of burnt paper was visible inside.

The tear in the paper was exactly the same as the charred tattered page in Lu Yuan's memory.

Xu Erxiao turned around.

"Brother Lu?"

The sound of wheels gradually faded into the distance.

Lu Yuan glanced at the drawer, reached under the threshold and pulled out a wooden wedge, placed it on the burnt paper, and pushed the drawer back in.

"Remember this place."

He turned around, and the lights illuminated two deep ruts ahead.

"Follow the people delivering the money first."