Translator: Cinder Translations
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"How... how could this be?"
The eerie events that had happened to Shi Liaozhi were now repeating themselves with Qin Jian.
The few people who had gone before him had not returned.
The only thing that came back was that suspicious-looking boat.
The boat emerged quietly from the mist, with no one on board.
Including the guy who called himself Hao Shuai.
He had also disappeared.
Qin Jian's pupils trembled uncontrollably as the paper effigy's stiff arms began to bend, its bluish-black fingers slowly extending from beneath its sleeves, adorned with a few pieces of rotten red fingernails.
The nails were now flipped outward, and the swollen, club-like fingers dripped with a turbid, yellowish fluid. In Qin Jian's terrified peripheral vision, the fluid stretched into sticky, thread-like strands in mid-air.
A foul stench invaded his nostrils, making Qin Jian feel as though he could no longer breathe.
The weight on his back continued to increase, and a tingling sensation spread across his neck. Something wet and textured slowly slid along his neck.
It was moist, rough, and carried an indescribable stickiness.
He almost immediately realized what it was.
It was a tongue!
The ghost on his back... was licking him.
Pale with fear, Qin Jian felt as though he was about to die. Only now, after living all these years, did he truly understand what despair felt like.
"Why?" Qin Jian struggled to turn his stiffened neck, the fear in his eyes gradually being overtaken by deep resentment. "The way out? Where is the promised way out?!"
He had considered multiple times shaking off the ghost on his back and jumping into the lake.
But in the end, he resisted the urge.
Because he knew that was not the best choice.
His only real way out lay in those few lines!
The paper effigy on his back grew heavier, a tangible pressure. Not long ago, the weight of the effigy had already surpassed that of an average woman, and the sensation continued to intensify.
He had heard from elders that those who died by hanging were lighter, while those who drowned were heavier.
Every muscle in his body strained, and his joints began to emit unsettling creaks, as if they were about to snap at any moment.
At this critical juncture, Qin Jian, gritting his teeth in desperation, surprisingly began to calm down.
"The third watch drum sounds, the boat sails on the lake, the funeral shroud walks at night, fortune lies in the silver frost."
His eyes were bloodshot.
"The third watch drum sounds" likely referred to the start of this game, and "the boat sails on the lake" corresponded to the game's rules. What he needed to ponder were the last two lines—
"The funeral shroud walks at night, fortune lies in the silver frost."
"The funeral shroud" probably referred to himself, as he was the only one wearing a black funeral robe.
"Walks at night" was also easy to understand—sailing at night was indeed walking at night.
But what about "fortune lies in the silver frost"?
Just as Qin Jian was gritting his teeth against the increasingly overwhelming pressure, he suddenly noticed that the surrounding mist had thinned significantly. Then, about ten meters away on the lake's surface, a silver full moon reflected in the water.
His lips trembling, Qin Jian's eyes instantly lit up. "Fortune lies in the silver frost... no, not 'fortune,' it's 'path'!" Tears of excitement streamed down his face. "It's 'the path lies in the silver frost'!"
This silver moon was the way out!
Summoning the last of his strength, he fixed his gaze on the moon's reflection in the water. Moments later, the boat indeed began to move toward the moon's reflection, just as he had hoped.
As the boat passed over the moon, Qin Jian clearly felt the pressure on his back vanish.
The ghost... was gone.
"I did it!" Qin Jian collapsed to his knees on the small boat, his expression hysterical as snot and tears streamed down his face. "I... I'm not going to die!"
"I survived..."
As the mist gradually dissipated, the remaining people on the shore could now see what was happening on the lake. But unlike Qin Jian's joy at having narrowly escaped death, the remaining two—the Fatty and Chen Qiang—looked unusually grim.
The Fatty's throat moved unnaturally as he shifted his gaze from the moon's reflection beneath Qin Jian to look up at the sky.
The night sky was pitch black, like a pool of stagnant water.
There was no moon, not even a single star.
Qin Jian was dead.
He had died right in front of You Qi. Recalling the process of Qin Jian's death, You Qi, a burly man, was trembling like a leaf.
In fact, he was still shaking. Soaked to the bone, he was wrapped in a blanket, clutching a cup of warm tea with both hands, as if trying to draw warmth from it.
"Take your time, tell us slowly. What exactly happened to Qin Jian?" Shi Liaozhi was the one who spoke. His yellow hair was damp, and the hem of his pants was still dripping.
An Xuan and Xia Meng sat on either side of You Qi, their gazes unabashedly scanning him, as if trying to extract every bit of information he had.
Jiang Cheng sat across from You Qi, appearing calm and composed, a stark contrast to Shi Liaozhi, who was frantic with worry.
Chen Qiang sat alone on the bed, keeping a certain distance from everyone else.
The Fatty wanted to squeeze next to the doctor, but after some thought, he ended up sitting close to Zuo Jing, trying to warm himself by her side.
Perhaps feeling safer in the presence of others, You Qi gradually calmed down. He licked his lips and asked tentatively, "You... you all encountered that thing too, right?"
This was hardly a guess, as everyone except the Fatty and Chen Qiang, who had been behind Qin Jian, was drenched.
Shi Liaozhi shuddered and said, "Don't even mention it. It was so damn eerie. Those brides were all ghosts!" He swallowed hard, his eyes filled with fear. "Who knows what happened in this mansion? So many brides died here."
"Probably not," An Xuan replied after some thought. His voice was calm, giving the impression that what he said was fact. "It's just that no matter which paper bride we chose in the end, they would all turn into ghosts on the way back."
"There's probably only one ghost," he added, glancing at Shi Liaozhi.
An Xuan's speculation seemed reliable, judging from everyone's reactions.
If there were so many ghosts in this instance, it would be truly terrifying.
"Are you... are you all still going to listen to me?" You Qi, wrapped up like a dumpling, asked.
"Go on."
Through You Qi's recollection, they roughly understood the process of Qin Jian's death. The bizarre and horrifying nature of it was beyond ordinary imagination.
"When I came back, I ran into Qin Jian. He looked really strange at the time," You Qi said, shrinking into himself as if recalling something. "He was walking alone by the lake, so close to the water that his shoes seemed to be already in it."
"I instinctively wanted to warn him to stay away from the water, but before I could say anything, I... I noticed..."
(End of the Chapter)
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