For thirty years, he has roamed the Northeast, his divine might overwhelming all immortals under hea

As the female shopkeeper cleared away the dishes, she wiped the greasy table with a rag in circles, her eyes never leaving the spot where the cadre had just sat.

"Old Chen, from the technical department of the bearing factory, wasn't always like this. Years ago, he was a very energetic person, always smiling at everyone. When it came to technical problems in the factory, he had the most ideas."

She paused, looked up at me, and lowered her voice even further.

"But in the last six months, he's like a completely different person. Look at his complexion, it's sallow and his eye sockets are so sunken you could put a date in them. When he comes in, he sits in this corner, eating a bowl of plain noodles for half an hour straight, as if his soul is lost in the noodle soup."

I stared at the half-bowl of braised pork broth remaining in the bowl; the fat had solidified into white flocculent matter, glistening greasyly in the dim light.

The female shopkeeper slung the rag over her shoulder and moved closer; a mixture of scallion, ginger, and cooking oil wafted towards her.

"Last month, around this time too, he finished his noodles but didn't leave. He stared at the flickering light by the door for a long time, then suddenly said to me, 'Boss, if someone knocks on the door at night, don't rush to open it. Ask who it is first.' Isn't that strange?"

My heart skipped a beat, and the last piece of steamed bun I was holding with my chopsticks froze in mid-air.

"And then?"

I couldn't resist in the end.

"That was the end of it. Since then, every time he comes back, just like today, he insists on saying 'Lock the door properly at night' before he leaves. I thought he was delirious from his illness and talking nonsense."

I swallowed the steamed bun whole, but the dry dough got stuck in my throat. I quickly gulped down a mouthful of lukewarm water to help it go down.

When I went to pay the bill, I pulled out that deeply creased "big unity" bill.

When she was giving change, she took out a tin biscuit box from under the counter, and opened it to find it full of small bills and cents.

Her fingers were short and stubby as she counted money, with greasy stains hidden under her fingernails. She counted very slowly, over and over again.

After giving me my change, her gaze lingered on my face for a few seconds before finally settling on my relatively clean hands.

"Young man, you're not a local, are you? Eating such a hearty meal so late at night, are you planning to travel at night?"

I mumbled an "uh-huh," grabbed the change and stuffed it into my pocket, lifted the curtain, and disappeared into the night.

The moment the curtain fell, I heard her muttering to herself behind me.

"Another one..."

"Brother Dalang, which way should we go? Let's find an inn."

Winter is approaching, and the wind is really cold, stinging my face.

Huang Dalang remained silent for longer than usual, so long that I thought he hadn't heard me.

Just as I was about to ask again, his voice rang out, carrying an unusual hesitation.

"That old Chen just now... the yang energy on his right shoulder wasn't just weak, it was also leaning to the left. When a normal person is seriously ill, their yang energy is dim and low, it doesn't lean. If it leans, it means something is pulling him."

My heart sank.

"Let's find a place to stay first."

Huang Dalang regained his usual decisiveness.

"Go to the outskirts of town. The area around the train station is too chaotic; all sorts of shady characters are watching. Find a place where there are many inns, preferably near the livestock market or an old freight station. In those places, the innkeepers see hundreds of faces a day; they don't have time to remember what you look like."

I did as instructed and turned towards the west of the city.

The road under our feet changed from asphalt to potholed cement, and then to compacted dirt road.

The buildings on both sides became shorter and sparser, and occasionally you could see bare tree branches sticking out from inside the walls, trembling in the wind.

The smell in the air began to change.

First came the faint smell of coal smoke, followed by the aroma of damp, fermenting hay, mixed with the distinctive stench of livestock manure.

Occasionally, a gust of wind would bring an even stronger smell.

A mixture of rust, engine oil, and a certain chemical.

After walking for about ten minutes, just when I thought I was about to go too far, a row of low, single-story houses appeared on the side of the road ahead.

The house is made of red bricks and must be quite old, as the bricks are dark in color. The roof is covered with tar paper and weighed down with stones in some places.

A windproof kerosene lamp hung at the entrance of one of the rooms, its glass cover yellowed from the soot, and the flame flickered uneasily inside.

Two wooden plaques were tied to the lamp with wire.

One of them is a proper "Workers, Peasants and Soldiers Hostel," with white background and red lettering, the paint peeling off.

The other piece of wood was just something I found, with the words "Inn, shared room 50 cents, single room 1.5 yuan, bring your own hot water" written crookedly in chalk.

This is it.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, the hinges made a dry, harsh sound.

"Squeak!"

A wave of heat, mixed with a complex aroma, rushed towards me and instantly enveloped me.

It was the sour smell of sweat emanating from a dozen tired bodies, the pungent smell of burning cheap tobacco, the musty smell of damp bedding, the faint stench of the urinal in the corner, and the steam rising from the iron kettle boiling water on the stove in the main room.

All these flavors, when steamed by the heat in the room, mix together, naturally creating a rather overwhelming taste.

The main room inside the door was not large, with a faded wooden cabinet placed against the wall.

On the wall behind the counter, a piece of paper titled "Passenger Information" was curled up at the corners, and the terms written on it with a brush were already blurred.

Several faded certificates were pasted next to it, the largest of which read "Advanced Unit in Hygiene" and was dated five years ago.

I stared at the certificate for a long time.

Despite such an environment, it still received an award for being an advanced unit in sanitation.

Behind the counter, a gaunt old man was curled up in a rattan chair, covered with a greasy military overcoat.

He wore his old reading glasses, one leg of which was broken and tied with cotton thread, and read a tattered copy of "Romance of the Three Kingdoms" by the light of a kerosene lamp with a blackened glass cover on the counter.

The pages were yellowed and curled at the edges; the cover was long gone.

Hearing the door open, the old man didn't even lift his eyelids; his withered lips moved slightly.

"A hotel?"

"Yes, it's a dormitory-style room."

I took out five cents and placed it on the chipped counter.

The old man slowly raised his eyes, his cloudy yet sharp eyes behind his reading glasses sweeping over my face and hands like an eagle.

A few seconds later, he reached out his withered hand, shoved the money into the drawer under the counter, and then pulled out a greasy, shiny wooden plaque from the corner of the drawer and threw it in front of me with a "thud".

The wooden plaque is about two inches square, with rounded edges. The front is painted with the number "seven" in red paint, but the paint has faded and peeled off.

"It's the seventh shop on the right-hand side inside. The toilet is in the corner of the outer courtyard. It's best to bring a stick if you go at night, as there are rats. The hot water boiler is behind the main room; you fetch it yourself, and the kettle is next to the boiler. The main gate closes at ten o'clock at night, so if it gets late, you'll have to squat outside."

After saying that, he ignored me and buried himself back into the book "Romance of the Three Kingdoms," his lips moving silently, probably reciting passages in his mind.

I picked up the wooden plaque; it felt warm and smooth to the touch, as if it had been caressed by countless hands.

Lift the thick cloth curtain leading to the inner room.

The curtain was heavy, made of several layers of coarse cloth sewn together, with frayed edges.

The scene behind the curtain still made me pause for a moment, even though I was mentally prepared.

The room was enormous; it was a combined tenement building, at least twenty meters long.

On both sides are two long earthen beds, with the edges of the beds made of blue bricks that have been worn smooth.

The kang (heated brick bed) was covered with a yellowish-black mat, which was torn in some places, revealing the yellow straw underneath.

On the kang mat, there were beds placed one after another, each bed no more than two feet wide, just enough for one person to lie down on their side.

Some berths were occupied by people lying under quilts of mixed colors and patches, the tops of which were shiny with grease.

Two low-wattage light bulbs hung from the roof, casting a dim, yellowish light as if shrouded in mist.

The air was stagnant and murky, and you could see tiny dust particles slowly tumbling in the beam of light.

The smell was stronger than in the main room: the smell of sweat, foot odor, the sour smell of breath, and the earthy and straw smell rising from the heated kang bed.

I tiptoed, trying not to make a sound, and walked along the narrow passageway beside the kang (a heated brick bed).

The muddy ground underfoot was uneven and full of potholes. As you passed the bunks, you could see all sorts of sleeping positions.

Some people had their mouths open, revealing yellow and black teeth; some had their heads completely covered by the blankets; some were curled up like shrimp; and there was a middle-aged man whose brows were tightly furrowed even in his sleep, with one hand pressed firmly against the inside of his chest pocket.

The seventh bed was placed at the very back of the kang (heated brick bed), right next to the corner of the wall. It was in a secluded spot, and the kang was warm; you could feel a constant warmth when you touched it, it was even a little hot.

I sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and took off my shoes.

I placed them under the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), with the toes of the shoes pointing outwards.

This is what the older generation taught us; if we need to run at night, we can just stretch out our feet and put it on.

The brown paper envelope containing three thousand yuan was taken out of my pocket before I even entered the store. I stuffed it into the inner pocket of my shirt and fastened it securely with a safety pin.

Without taking off my clothes, I lay down on my side and pulled the old blanket, which smelled of a stranger, over my chest.

The quilt was heavy, the cotton was probably hardened, and it wasn't very warm, but it was better than nothing.

My eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light.

I looked around at this temporary shelter.

The walls were plastered with yellow mud, and were covered with cracks and mottled water stains.

There were spider webs in the corner, trembling in the faint airflow. On the wall near me, someone had drawn some crooked patterns and words with charcoal pencils, mostly vulgar graffiti and phrases like "So-and-so was here".

Can't sleep.

As soon as I closed my eyes, images of the scarlet carpet in Boss Zhao's hotel room appeared in the darkness, the all-seeing eyes of the Shadowless Old Man, the mysterious expression on the female innkeeper's face as she talked about Old Chen, and the flickering embers on Old Chen's shoulder.

Time passed slowly amidst snoring and teeth grinding.

The ceiling light bulb flickered occasionally, causing the light and shadows in the room to sway, and the outlines of the sleeping bodies seemed to move as well.

I don't know how much time passed.

Maybe an hour, maybe only a dozen minutes.

The thick curtain at the door was suddenly ripped open, and as the wind rushed in, two dark figures squeezed in one after the other.

The man leading the way was a burly fellow, wrapped in a dirty sheepskin coat, who started cursing as soon as he entered.

"This damn weather! It had to be perfect, not bad at all, but of all times it had to stop just as it was getting dark! Not only did it cost me a day's wages, but I also have to sleep in this lousy shared bed!"

His voice was so loud that it made the air buzz. Several people on the kang (a heated brick bed) were woken up and turned over in dissatisfaction, grumbling.

Following behind was a younger man, wearing blue overalls and an old cotton hat, his face slightly red from the cold.

He quickly grabbed the burly man's arm.

"Brother Wang, Brother Wang, keep your voice down! Everyone's asleep!"

As he spoke, he gave us an apologetic smile.

Although in the dim light, no one could probably see that smile clearly.

The two of them quietly lay down on the two empty bunks not far from me.

The burly man was still muttering complaints about the car, while the young man echoed him and rustled as he took off his shoes.

Suddenly, the young man's voice changed, becoming mysteriously low.

"Brother Wang, to be honest, we're lucky we got to stay at this inn tonight. You haven't heard, but that cement factory outside the west end of the county town has been having some weird trouble lately!"

"A cement factory? That big chimney belching black smoke?"

The burly man became interested and stopped complaining.

"What the hell? Did the machine eat people?"

"It's even more sinister than cannibalism!"

The young man lowered his voice even further, but in the quiet room, it was still as clear as a whisper.

"It happened just two months ago! You know Director Liu from the cement factory, right? The one who's as fat as a steamed bun, always out of breath when he walks."

"Of course I know. He even went on stage to receive an award during the county-wide enterprise evaluation last year, and he was smiling so much his eyes disappeared."

"Yes, him!"

The young man paused, as if trying to create an atmosphere.

"He's having an affair with his sister-in-law, who is his wife's younger sister! It's been going on for a while now, and there's been gossip about it in the factory, but no one dares to expose it."

"Whoa!"

The burly man spat.

"That old lecher! Would his wife even approve?"

"Agree? Of course I'd agree!"

The young man's voice carried an excitement of recounting a secret.

"His wife has a notoriously fiery temper. I heard that when she found out, she smashed the thermos on the spot, saying she would make a scene at the factory and the Women's Federation, ruin his reputation, and even report him to the police for raping his sister-in-law. They've completely broken off relations."

The curtain swayed slightly, letting in a sliver of light from the corridor, which illuminated the exaggerated expressions on the young man's face.

"And then?"

The burly man urged him on, and the sound of him turning over in bed could be heard.

"later?"

The young man took a deep breath, a hint of coldness creeping into his voice.

"The weird thing happened! Just a few days later, maybe three or four days, his wife suddenly died!"

The room seemed quieter; even the snoring was quieter.

"How did you die?"

"They say he was taking a shortcut home after get off work one evening when he accidentally fell into the waste pit behind the factory and drowned."

The young man spoke slowly and deliberately.

"Brother Wang, you probably don't know about that pool. It's not big, and it's not deep either. Usually, when it rains, the water only goes up to a person's upper thigh at most. But that day, his wife actually drowned in it. She wasn't discovered until the next morning, and when they pulled her out..."

He paused, his voice trembling.

"His face was so soaked it was deformed, swollen like a pig's head. The old workers in the factory said that it was a terrible sight."

The burly man gasped and hissed.

"What a coincidence? You just finished fooling around and then fell into the pool?"

"A coincidence? The most coincidental part is yet to come!"

The young man was speaking almost in a whisper, but I could hear him clearly.

"It's all over the factory! Some people say that around eight or nine o'clock that night, they saw Director Liu and his sister-in-law rushing over from the path near the waste pit, and Director Liu's clothes were still wet in the front. Others say they heard a woman crying and screaming from the pit that night, but it quickly went silent. But no one dares to say any of this officially."

"Is nobody in charge? Where are the police?"

"Manage? Who's in charge?"

The young man gave a cold laugh.

"The police came, inspected the scene, and said it was an accidental fall. The edge of the pool was slippery, it was dark, there were no streetlights, so it's reasonable that he fell in. The family, which was actually Director Liu himself, didn't object, and he was cremated quickly. But ever since then, strange things have been happening near that waste pool of the cement factory."

"The workers on night shift always hear a woman crying, sobbing and whimpering, sometimes on the east side, sometimes on the west. Some people also say they see a figure standing by the pool in the middle of the night, soaking wet, with hair plastered to their face, just standing there, but when they get closer, there's nothing there. Last month, a daring young worker didn't believe in ghosts and went to urinate by the pool in the middle of the night. As a result, he developed a high fever the next day, talking nonsense, saying things like 'It wasn't me who hurt you' and 'Don't pull me.' After he recovered, he refused to work the night shift again, and after a few days, he used his connections to get transferred."

"Now everyone in the factory says that it's the vengeful spirit of Director Liu's wife, still lingering in that pool, her resentment soaring to the heavens. She's looking for a substitute, and also waiting for an opportunity to take revenge."

The conversation came to an abrupt end.

The room was deathly silent.

The faint snoring and teeth grinding sounds that were previously present have all disappeared.

Only the occasional crackling sound of coal in the stove could be heard.

But I could sense that several pairs of eyes were open in the darkness on the surrounding bunks, holding their breath and listening intently.

"Big Wave Bro!"

"I heard you."

He was silent for a few seconds, and when he spoke again, his voice was gloomy and as if he had known all along.

"Just when you've caught a whiff of something 'fishy,' you run into someone 'with wet shoes.' Cement plant, waste pit, drowned, resentful woman—Thirteen, do you think there are really that many 'coincidences' in this world?"

"You mean this might also be..."

"Shouldn't we at least use our eyes to examine it and our noses to smell it?"

"But now that we've heard about this, we can't just ignore it!"

"That bastard who's been lurking in the shadows, who knows what he's up to now."

"Then let's do it tomorrow..."