​​Chapter 198: Filial Piety

​The director turned to Li Jianxi with a tearful expression. "Mr. Li..."

Supernatural incidents kept piling up—surely they couldn’t keep filming now? Would Mr. Li really risk his life for this movie?

To his surprise, Li Jianxi remained unfazed. "Probably just wild dogs dragging bones from a burrow. Clean it up and keep shooting."

Director: "???"

Holy hell, Mr. Li! Are you actually insane?!

Li Jianxi gave him a cool glance. "If I’m not afraid, why should you be?"

The director paused.

Well… Mr. Li’s life was more valuable than his. If he wasn’t scared, why should he be? So what if there were bones? No one had died!

Gritting his teeth, the director waved his hand. "Clean it up! Keep filming!"

While the crew resumed shooting, Li Zhi slipped down the mountain. She headed to the spot where she and Li Feng had buried Miaomiao the night before—only to find the grave dug up, the body gone. Only bloodstains remained, blending into the damp soil.

Miaomiao had been eaten. Tonight, the old couple’s power would grow stronger.

By the time Li Zhi returned, the grave-moving scene was halfway done. Paper money fluttered across the hills as a black coffin sat isolated in the wilderness. Ning Xue, as the protagonist, placed prop bones inside.

A sudden gust swept through the mountains, kicking up dust and grass, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.

Amid the chaos, Uncle Zhang and Auntie Liu stumbled toward the coffin. Their gnarled hands trembled as they touched the wood, their faces twisted with eerie longing.

"Xiao Xue..." A strange, aged voice whispered in Ning Xue’s ear. "Call your father back to move our graves."

That chilling gaze locked onto her again.

Ning Xue screamed and hurled the prop bones at them.

Auntie Liu yelped as the fake skull hit her head, tumbling into the coffin. The wind died instantly.

The director stormed over, walkie-talkie in hand. "What the hell are you two doing?! This isn’t your scene! Stop causing trouble!"

Crew members rushed to help Auntie Liu out. Pale-faced, Ning Xue stared at the swelling bruise on the old woman’s forehead. "What did you mean by that?!"

"By what?" Auntie Liu rubbed her head, bewildered. Seeing Ning Xue’s expression, she forced an uneasy smile. "Sorry, Xiao Xue. The wind knocked me over—I didn’t mean to interrupt."

Ning Xue grabbed her wrist. "You told me to call my dad back to move your graves! What does that mean?!"

"I—" Auntie Liu looked helplessly at the crew. "I don’t even know your parents! I didn’t say anything!"

"Alright, alright, Xiao Xue, they’re just clumsy old folks." The crew ushered the two away. "Let’s focus on filming."

Ning Xue scanned the hills, her gaze lingering on the row of jar tombs hidden beneath dead grass. A shiver ran down her spine.

The grave-moving scene, a pivotal moment, dragged on until afternoon. Lunch was delivered by the village chief and elders.

Thanks to Li Zhi’s questioning yesterday, the elders couldn’t help but scrutinize Ning Xue.

Li Zhi lingered behind them, bowl in hand, as the shoe-mending granny muttered, "She looks like Luo Jiafu—and her grandmother too. Doesn’t she resemble Lizhen in her youth?"

"If Lizhen and Old Luo were alive, they’d be thrilled to see their granddaughter filming here."

"That Luo Jiafu, really..."

"Enough! Criticizing Luo Jiafu is like criticizing ourselves."

"How is it the same? Back then, we—"

The village chief coughed sharply, cutting them off. They turned to see Li Zhi smiling behind them.

"Food to your liking?" the chief asked warmly.

Li Zhi nodded. "It’s great. Thank you." She glanced at Ning Xue, lounging under a canopy. "Aren’t you going to greet her? You’re practically family."

The elders exchanged looks. "We’re no one important," the chief said. "Her grandparents are gone, and we haven’t seen her parents in decades. No need to bother the girl."

Li Zhi sighed. "Ning Xue seems filial. She’s finally back—shouldn’t she pay respects at her grandparents’ graves? We wrap tomorrow. Once she leaves, she might never return."

The granny’s face twitched. Her cloudy eyes flicked toward the jar tombs, but she stayed silent.

Ning Xue, hypersensitive to stares, noticed their lingering gazes.

After the elders left, Li Zhi huddled with Li Feng to plan for the night—until Ning Xue stormed over.

"What were you saying about me?" she demanded.

Li Zhi raised a brow, but Ning Xue cut her off. "Don’t lie! I know you were talking about me!"

The Luo family’s secrets couldn’t be pried from the elders, but Ning Xue herself might hold answers. Her temper had made direct questioning risky—until now.

Li Zhi smiled. "Actually, I was going to ask you something."

Ning Xue frowned. "Ask me what?"

"The elders said you look familiar. Is your father’s surname Luo?"

Ning Xue froze.

She wasn’t stupid. The village’s eerie events had unsettled her. Auntie Liu’s cryptic remark about her father moving graves, now Li Zhi’s question—it clicked.

"You’re saying my dad’s from this village?"

Li Zhi shrugged. "Not sure. The chief mentioned the house we’re using belongs to the Luo family. Their son, Luo Jiafu, left decades ago and never returned."

Ning Xue turned ghostly pale.

She remembered the hunched figures and funeral portraits in the old house—the ghostly stares during filming.

If that was her father’s home, then those portraits… were her grandparents?

Auntie Liu’s words echoed in her mind. Ning Xue spun toward the jar tombs, trembling. "Did they say how my grandparents died?"

Were they sealed inside, left to starve—by her own father?

Li Zhi smiled. "The chief said they died of illness."

Ning Xue exhaled—then tensed again. Without another word, she hurried off.

Players nearby rushed over. "Well? Any leads?"

Li Zhi adjusted her props. "Ning Xue’s grandparents were likely victims of the jar tombs—killed by her father."

Yuan Qing gasped. "But the chief said the custom ended with his generation. Her grandparents were his age—how could they have been sealed?"

Xing Qingyue smacked her forehead. "Remember? The chief never finished his sentence. He said, ‘The custom ended with my generation… but—’ There was a ‘but’! What came after?"

What was that exception? Did it involve the Luo couple?

"The ghosts possessing Uncle Zhang and Auntie Liu must be Ning Xue’s grandparents," Jiang Can said, joining them. "They keep saying they’re hungry—just like those starved in the tombs."

Xing Qingyue blinked. "Jiang Can? Shouldn’t you be with Ning Xue? She’ll throw a fit."

Jiang Can smiled. "She’s on a call—told me to stay back." She sat down. "That first night in the old house, the figures Ning Xue saw were her grandparents. The ghosts awakened because of her—their bloodline."

For decades, no descendants had returned to Songqin Village. Only the elderly remained, guarding the tombs where they’d sealed their own parents. Now, in their twilight years, they had no one to care for them.

Until Ning Xue arrived—and woke the vengeful spirits.

The film’s protagonist had become her own story.

"If Ning Xue summoned them, does she have to send them back?"

"Can she? She’s just a normal person. And I doubt her grandparents will spare her."

As the group debated, Yan Yingrui spoke up. "No need to overthink it. We wrap tomorrow—just survive tonight." He looked at Li Zhi. "You’ve got a plan, right?"

Li Zhi propped her chin on her hand. "One idea. But it’s complicated."

She stood. "Let’s head down. We need to prepare."

With the mountain scenes done, the crew packed up. The remaining shots were in the village.

Halfway down, Li Feng spotted Ning Xue on a lower step, phone in hand. He signaled the group to halt.

They crouched, creeping closer. Ning Xue’s voice carried clearly in the quiet hills.

"Mom’s hometown doesn’t count! I’m asking about yours! The Luo family’s!"

"Stop dodging! Is it Songqin Village? How do I know? I’m filming here!"

"Why should I leave? I’m here to work! I’m not running away! Or are you scared?"

"How did Grandma and Grandpa really die? Don’t you dare lie! Did you throw them into those tombs to starve?!"