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

The snow is falling even harder than before.

It wasn't the kind of fine snowflakes, but large, thick snowflakes, so dense it looked like someone was tearing cotton from the sky, falling one after another, making it impossible to open one's eyes.

The oak tree in the yard was half-buried in snow, its dark wood exposed with a layer of white covering it, looking like someone dressed in mourning.

I stood at the top of Fangshan Mountain and looked up.

The snow on the rooftops had accumulated to a thick layer, and icicles hung down from the eaves, each one like a transparent cone, the longest of which was almost two feet long.

If this snow isn't cleared, it could really collapse the roof.

The wooden ladder leaned against the wall of Fangshan, and the bench was covered with snow.

I swept the snow away with my hands, revealing the wet wood.

I stepped on it and tried it out; it was slippery, extremely slippery. I glanced back into the room, and Xiulian was looking out the window, her face pressed against the glass, her breath fogging up the glass.

I waved to her, meaning it was nothing.

Then I climbed up the ladder.

Each step on the ladder produced a creaking sound. The sound was muffled in the snow, as if something had covered its mouth.

I climbed slowly, holding onto the ladder stool with one hand and the edge of the ladder with the other, inching my way up step by step.

When I was halfway up, I was about a house's height off the ground.

The wind was stronger than the ground, whipping the hem of my coat straight against my face.

The snowflakes hit my face, feeling cool and refreshing. Some of them seeped into my neck, melted into water, and trickled down my spine.

I stopped and wiped my face with my sleeve.

At that moment, I inexplicably glanced towards the courtyard gate.

In the vast expanse of white snow, it looked as if a person was standing there.

I blinked.

The snow was so heavy, it was like a curtain had been hung up, making everything blurry.

But the figure was right there, indistinct and vague, through the curtain.

I climbed two more steps up the ladder, holding onto the edge, and stared intently.

Outside the courtyard gate, on the village road leading east, about twenty or thirty feet away from our courtyard gate, there was a person standing.

The man was dressed in black.

It wasn't the black of new clothes, but the black of an old cotton-padded coat soaked with snow, a grayish black.

He stood motionless in the snow, like a stake stuck in the ground.

What are you doing standing outside in this heavy snow?

I felt uneasy, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.

Just as I was about to take a closer look, the man suddenly raised his arm and waved at me.

a bit.

Two times.

Not too fast, not too slow.

The movement was frighteningly slow.

Raise your arm, pause in the air, then lower it; raise it, pause, then lower it.

It moved as if it were being pulled by a string, bobbing up and down, like a pendulum.

I was stunned.

Who is this person? Why are they standing there waving in this heavy snow?

I wanted to see his face clearly, but the snow was too heavy, and from a distance, his face was just a blur.

But something felt off; you could sense it even from twenty or thirty feet away.

A normal person standing outside in heavy snow would be stamping their feet and rubbing their hands from the cold, but he just stood there like a wooden statue.

I stood on the ladder, the wind whipping snowflakes against my face, making it numb with cold.

I wanted to go downstairs, to go back inside, to ask Xiulian if she had seen that person, but my legs felt like they were nailed to the ladder, and I couldn't move.

The man waved again.

This time I saw it clearly.

The way he waved was exactly the same as the way my dad cracked the whip when he herded cattle.

Raise your arm up, flick your wrist, and then bring it down.

I know that move all too well; I've seen it since I was a child. My dad used to crack the whip like that when he was driving the cart, and with a crisp snap, the ox knew it was time to go.

But that man didn't have a whip.

He just waved his hand, empty-handed, one wave after another.

The unease I felt turned into fear, which surged up my spine and down to the back of my head.

I wanted to shout, to ask him who he was, but my throat felt like it was blocked by cotton; I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

The man waved again.

This time I noticed the person's posture.

The way he was standing was also wrong.

When a normal person is waiting for a bus or someone, they always lean slightly to one side, either their left or right leg.

But the man stood straight, as straight as a stick, with his legs together, toes pointing forward, and he didn't move at all.

I've lived for 18 years and I've never seen anyone stand like that.

Except for the dead.

My dad told me that when a person dies, they lie on a door panel in this position.

Straight and upright, legs together, toes pointing upwards.

He called it "lying down like a corpse".

My mind went blank, a complete void.

Just then, there was a "whoosh" sound underfoot.

I knew in my heart that this was bad, but it was too late.

The step stool under my feet was so slippery it was like it had been greased.

I don't know if the snow soaked the wood or if the ladder was old and worn out, but I suddenly lost my footing and fell to the side.

I reached out and grabbed the edge of the ladder, but found nothing.

My fingernail scraped across the wood with a sharp, piercing sound.

But I couldn't care less about the pain, because my body was already leaning back.

The world spun around.

I saw the sky spinning, a gray sky, a snow-covered sky.

I saw the rooftop spinning; it was a white rooftop covered with a thick layer of snow.

I noticed the yard was spinning, the oak tree half-buried in the snow was spinning, and the silly snowman wearing a tattered straw hat was spinning.

I heard myself shout, but I couldn't hear what I was saying.

All I could hear was the wind, the snow, and a muffled thud.

The sound was muffled, like someone hitting you with a blanket covering your mouth.

pain.

Excruciating pain.

The pain started in my right leg, traveled up my bones, and spread throughout my body, down to my waist, my back, and the back of my head. It hurt so much that my vision went black and I almost fainted.

I lay in the snow, snowflakes landing on my face, feeling cool and refreshing.

I opened my eyes and looked at the sky, which was still spinning. It was gray and white, and large snowflakes were falling down. They landed on my face and didn't melt, accumulating into a thin layer.

I want to move, but I can't.

I tried to move my right leg, and as soon as I did, the pain felt like a knife was stabbing into my bones.

I gritted my teeth and didn't scream, but cold sweat broke out all over my body and streamed down my forehead, mixing with the snow.

"Thirteenth Brother!"

Xiulian's voice came from inside the house, shrill and choked with sobs.

"Thirteen!"

My mother started shouting too.

I heard the door slam open.

The door slammed against the wall with a dull thud.

Then came the sound of footsteps, crunching through the snow, running this way.

Xiulian was the first to run up to me.

She was running so fast that she slipped and fell to her knees in the snow with a thud. Her knees hit the ground, but she didn't care about the pain and crawled toward me.

Her face was deathly pale, as white as snow, and tears streamed down her face, falling onto my face, warm and wet.

"Thirteenth Brother! Thirteenth Brother, how are you? How did you fall? Say something, Thirteenth Brother!"

I wanted to say I was fine, but when I opened my mouth, the pain made me gasp for breath, and the words got stuck in my throat.

My mother came running over, panting heavily, her face flushed. She squatted down, trying to help me up, but as soon as her hand touched my arm, she pulled it back, unsure of where to hold on, and stamped her feet in frustration.

"What are we going to do! What are we going to do!"

My dad was the last one to arrive.

He didn't run fast, but his strides were long, crunching through the snow.

He squatted down and pressed my leg with his hand.

With just a light press, I hissed in pain and clenched my teeth.

My father's face darkened, as somber as the sky.

He looked up at the roof, then at me, then at the snow crater I had made on the ground, and remained silent for a long time.

Xiulian gripped my hand tightly, her nails almost digging into my flesh.

"Uncle, how's Thirteenth Brother?"

My dad spoke, just three words.

"His leg is broken."

He spoke softly, but listening to him, it felt like someone had hit me in the heart with a hammer, a dull thud.

My leg is broken.

I was only 18 years old, and Xiulian, my new wife, wasn't even married into the family yet. I had just bought a sewing machine, a bicycle, and a radio, and I was just starting to feel like I had a bright future when my leg broke.

My mother was stomping her feet next to me, and snowflakes were splashing from her feet.

"What are we going to do! What are we going to do! With this much snow, how are we going to get him to the hospital? The county hospital is over 30 miles away! How will the oxcart get there in this snow?"

My dad didn't say anything, he just stood up and walked out.

After taking two steps, he turned back and said something to my mother.

"Bring out the blankets, bring two more. Xiulian, go and take down that door panel from inside the house and put it on the cart so Thirteen won't be jostled around."

After he finished speaking, he strode outside, his feet leaving a series of deep pits in the snow.

Xiulian knelt in the snow and used her sleeve to wipe the snow off my face, but she couldn't stop her own tears. As she wiped, tears fell again and hit my face.

"Thirteenth Brother, just bear with it, just bear with it..."

I lay there, drenched in cold sweat from the pain, my coat soaked through and ice-cold. But what I was thinking about wasn't my leg, but the person from before.

The person standing in the snow, waving at me.

I turned my head and looked towards the courtyard gate.

The village road was empty; there was nothing there.

Only snow, large flakes of snow, filled the world completely.

The oak tree that stood at the gate of the courtyard was half-buried in the snow, dark and covered with a layer of white.

I stared at that spot for a long time.

That's where the man was standing. It's about twenty or thirty feet away, not far behind that oak tree.

But now there's nothing.

My father harnessed the oxcart and drove it to me. The old ox stood in the snow, covered in snow, head down, panting heavily, white breath puffing out of its nostrils.

My mother carried two quilts and laid them on the car, while Xiulian and my father lifted out a door panel and placed it on top of the quilts. My father squatted down and looked at me.

"Thirteen, bear with it."

He, my mother, and Xiulian together carried and lifted me into the car.

pain.

The pain was so intense that I gritted my teeth.

Every time they touched me, my leg felt like it was being sawed, the pain making my vision go black. I gritted my teeth until my cheeks ached, but I still couldn't help but groan.

Xiulian's tears fell onto my face, warm to the touch.

I lay on the door panel, and Xiulian covered me with blankets, layer upon layer, until I could hardly breathe. But I was still cold, cold from the inside out, so cold that I shivered uncontrollably.

My father sat on the carriage shaft and cracked the whip.

"drive!"

The oxcart started moving, creaking and groaning, leaving two deep furrows in the snow.

Xiulian sat beside me, holding my hand tightly. Her hand was icy cold, but that chill actually helped me stay awake.

My mother sat on the back of the car, her hands gripping the side of the car, muttering to herself.

"May the Bodhisattva protect us, may the Bodhisattva protect us, please don't let anything terrible happen... please protect my son's leg... please the Bodhisattva protect us..."

My father drove the ox without saying a word.

The snow was still falling, flakes of it, landing on the blankets, on Xiulian's hair, on my face, accumulating in a layer. Every now and then, Xiulian would brush the snow away with her hands, her hands as cold as the snow itself.

I lay in the car, looking at the sky.

The sky was grayish-white, and nothing could be seen. Only snowflakes fell, one after another.

The oxcart moved slowly, swaying back and forth. With each sway, my legs ached. I gritted my teeth and endured the pain, but it was like water seeping from the very marrow of my bones, unstoppable.

I just lay there, half asleep, my mind racing like a movie.

One moment it's Xiulian picking out sewing machines at the supply and marketing cooperative, her eyes shining as she touches the head of the Flying Man brand sewing machine. The next moment it's my father carrying the sewing machine onto the car, handling it gently like he's carrying a baby.

A moment later, Xiulian said, "I want to bring my father's memorial tablet over," her head lowered and her face flushed.

A moment later, it was the same person again, standing in the snow, waving at me.

One stroke, two strokes, unhurriedly.

Raise your arm up, flick your wrist, and then bring it down.

It's exactly the same as how my dad whips the cattle.

But I couldn't see his face clearly.

No matter how hard you look, you can't see clearly; it's as if the snow has covered the face.

I suddenly remembered that the place where that person was standing seemed to be not far from the Zhu family's ancestral graves.

If you walk a little over a kilometer past Zhujiakan, you'll reach the Zhu family cemetery, where Zhu Shouyi is buried.

My heart skipped a beat, but I didn't dare to think any further.

Xiulian saw that my eyes were open and looked down to ask me.

"Thirteenth Brother, does it hurt a lot?"

I shook my head.

"good."

Xiulian didn't say anything, she just stared at me, her eyes red and swollen like peaches.

I suddenly remembered that letter.

That bright red letter, signed Zhu Shouyi.

It's still tucked into my arms, pressed against my chest.

I reached out to touch it to see if it was still there, but as soon as I moved, my leg hurt so much that I gasped for breath.

"Thirteenth Brother, don't move!"

Xiulian quickly held me down.

"What are you looking for? I'll get it for you."

I shook my head.

"It's alright."

But I have something on my mind.

It was written in that letter.

"Li Shisan, do you think this is the end of it?"

thing.

What's wrong?

What's going on between me and Zhu Shouyi?

To put it bluntly, I have absolutely no connection to him. If I had to say, maybe it's because I'm a shaman, or maybe it's because of Xiulian. At the very least, I buried him myself.

Why did you leave that letter at our doorstep? There wasn't even a footprint in the snow.

And that person from earlier.

The way that person was waving looked so much like my dad! But my dad is driving the carriage up ahead.

My mind is a mess, like it's glued shut.

The oxcart was still moving, creaking and swaying.

The snow was still falling, flake by flake, landing on my face, icy cold.

As I lay there, I suddenly felt as if something was following me in the snow.

Right behind the trees by the roadside, in that vast expanse of white snow, there was a pair of eyes watching us.