Chapter 35: The Village of Martyred Women
Though the surroundings were ablaze with firelight and the villagers filled the seats to watch the performance, the players couldn’t help but feel a sudden chill run down their spines at those words. The atmosphere grew eerily cold, and they instinctively retreated, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the empty benches in the front row.
Three strikes of the gong and drum signaled the official start of the night’s play. The villagers fell silent, their attention fixed intently on the stage.
Following an overture of traditional instruments, the curtain parted to reveal a mournful aria. A performer dressed in traditional opera attire, playing the role of a Qingyi (a virtuous female character), stepped onto the stage with delicate, quick steps. Her high-pitched singing voice stretched long and sorrowful. Though the players could hardly understand the lyrics, the sound was hauntingly beautiful—melancholic and tearful—resonating through the mountain village under the cover of night, sending chills down their spines.
The villagers, however, were completely entranced. The elderly woman who had earlier forbidden anyone from sitting in the front row now swayed her head with closed eyes, her wrinkled face showing satisfaction. “This piece, Sacrifice by the River, is well chosen,” she murmured.
The players knew next to nothing about traditional opera. After hours of being stuck in this instance without triggering any plot, they had no patience for the performance or what the Qingyi was singing about. As the scenes unfolded one after another on stage, their anxiety only grew.
“What’s going on? We haven’t even triggered the main quest yet. Isn’t tonight going to be even more dangerous?”
“Do we have to wait until she finishes singing? Are we supposed to be part of the opera troupe? Maybe the key NPC is backstage?”
“Is the clue hidden in this play? But we can’t even understand what she’s saying!”
Li Zhi spoke up, “It’s the story of Liu Bei and Sun Shangxiang.”
Wen Qianxue nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I caught that too—something about the Peach Garden Oath and Zhuge Liang.”
As the players whispered among themselves, the mournful singing suddenly stopped. The Qingyi’s voice rose sharply in a sorrowful recitation: “Now that the Imperial Uncle has died, there is no point for me to remain in Eastern Wu. I shall pay my respects to my mother’s nurturing grace and end my life by throwing myself into the river!”
The villagers below immediately burst into applause.
Although the players hadn’t understood the opera singing, these plain words were clear enough. Those familiar with the Romance of the Three Kingdoms quickly realized what was happening. “This is the story of Sun Shangxiang committing suicide by drowning after Liu Bei’s death!”
Above the stage, the Wen Tang Xing (a type of flag used in traditional opera) swayed as the performers moved with urgency. Though it was just a small stage, the rapid drumbeats lent an air of solemn grandeur to the scene. The Qingyi turned gracefully, and suddenly, a white silk cord appeared in her hands.
Above the stage hung a roof beam meant to shelter the performers from wind and rain. The Qingyi stepped delicately, her voice mournful and drawn out: “Shangxiang bids farewell to her nurturing grace, leaving behind her mother to end her life.”
She climbed onto a prop chair, tossed the white cord upward, and the lightweight fabric floated over the beam before falling back down.
Chi Yi frowned in confusion. “What’s going on here? She was supposed to drown herself, right? Why does it look like she’s preparing to hang herself?”
Another player added, “Did I read the wrong version of the Three Kingdoms? Didn’t Sun Shangxiang drown herself? Is she hanging herself now?”
The villagers below seemed equally startled by this turn of events. They sat up straighter, leaning forward to watch the Qingyi’s movements intently.
On stage, the white cord was tied into a noose. The performer in costume grasped it with both hands and looped it around her neck. With a final line—“It is better to die and join my husband”—she suddenly kicked away the chair beneath her. Her body dangled in midair, the costume billowing around her, while her colorful shoes swayed in the breeze.
“What the hell?!” The pink-haired player crouching on the ground shot to his feet. “She’s really doing it?!”
A collective gasp erupted from the audience. The elderly woman in the second row gripped her cane tightly and stood up abruptly, her hunched figure trembling as she stared unblinkingly at the woman hanging on stage.
Backstage, the opera troupe had no idea what was happening until players rushed up shouting in alarm. They pulled back the curtain and immediately descended into chaos, shouting, “Quickly, get her down!”
Several people rushed forward and grabbed the woman’s legs, pulling her down from the noose. Hanging is a slow way to die—typically taking at least five minutes from the time the rope tightens around the neck until death occurs. But from the moment she hanged herself to when they pulled her down, no more than two minutes had passed—and she was already dead.
“Fang Lin!! Fang Lin!” A middle-aged man burst from backstage, nearly collapsing at the sight before him. “What happened? How could this be?!”
The performers, still wearing their makeup, stared in horror, unable to speak. They had performed this play countless times. Fang Lin was the troupe’s star performer, and Sacrifice by the River was her signature piece. She had performed it no fewer than eighty times. No one understood why she had suddenly taken her own life in the middle of the act.
The players stood by, bewildered and uneasy. They still had no idea what the main quest of this instance was, and now there was a death to contend with. Their minds were in complete disarray.
The middle-aged man collapsed over the body, wailing uncontrollably. A few more people stepped onto the stage. At their head was an elderly man with an air of quiet authority, leaning on a cane and being supported by a young attendant.
“Uncle Kuang, Uncle Kuang, the village chief is here!”
Hearing this, the middle-aged man stopped crying and stood up, his face etched with grief. “Village Chief, I’m truly sorry. You allowed us to perform in your village, and now something like this has happened…”
The village chief sighed, glancing at the body on the ground before quickly looking away. “Troupe leader, do you know what caused this? A death in our village is bad luck. I need to give everyone an explanation.”
Uncle Kuang shook his head, eyes red with sorrow. “I don’t know… She was fine before going on stage. How could this have happened…?”
Fang Lin was the troupe’s star performer. They traveled from village to village, earning their livelihood through performances. Everything depended on her remarkable voice. Now that she was gone, the future of the troupe was uncertain. Uncle Kuang was more heartbroken than anyone.
The village chief sighed again. “Troupe leader, please accept my condolences. What’s done is done—dwelling on it won’t help. Do you know where her family is? You should take her body back to be buried as soon as possible.”
Uncle Kuang shook his head. “Fang Lin was an orphan I picked up. She’s been with the troupe since she was little…” He trailed off, a sudden realization freezing his expression before he began pounding his chest in anguish. “Ah!! I should’ve never let her perform Sacrifice by the River tonight. Her husband just passed away not long ago. She must have been overcome by the sorrow in the play and followed in Sun Shangxiang’s footsteps, choosing to die for love!”
Under the flickering light, the expressions of the village chief and the nearby villagers shifted subtly—not with fear or shock, but with a strange, almost secretive delight.
Sure enough, the village chief asked, “You’re saying her husband just died recently?”
Uncle Kuang replied solemnly, “Yes, he passed away after being ill for years. Fang Lin spent all the money she earned these past few years on his treatment. I thought… I never imagined she’d be so devoted that she’d follow him in death!”
He had assumed that with her husband gone, she would finally be free. The money she earned could be saved up for their old age, maybe even buy a small house in the little county town she once mentioned. What a wonderful future that would’ve been—yet here she was, choosing death instead!
Uncle Kuang thought Fang Lin had been utterly foolish. What was so great about that sickly man that she would throw her life away for him?!
The village chief, however, stroked his beard and suddenly laughed. “Troupe leader, this is actually a good thing.”
Uncle Kuang’s grieving expression froze. He stared at the village chief in disbelief, as did the players—utterly dumbfounded.
A woman had just hanged herself, and he called it a good thing?
Chi Yi felt that if not for his position as village chief, Uncle Kuang would’ve lunged at him and started fighting.
The village chief clapped his hands in praise. “When a husband dies, it is only right for a wife to sacrifice herself in mourning. This woman was virtuous and resolute—truly a martyr. For your troupe to produce such a person is an honor!”
Players: “…?”
Wait, what?
The villagers who had gathered around to watch the commotion nodded in agreement upon hearing the village chief’s words. “So she lost her husband recently—that explains it. She chose to die in mourning; she has the spirit of our Martyred Women Village.”
“But wasn’t she an orphan? Why don’t we bury her here in our village? With such noble virtue, even if she’s not from our village, her spirit tablet deserves a place in the Martyred Women Shrine.”
The villagers spoke one after another, praising Fang Lin’s character. The players were utterly shocked by their casual, unquestioning approval.
Chi Yi gritted her teeth. “I feel sick just listening to them.”
Everyone was fuming with anger. Li Zhi pulled the two players whose fists were clenched so tightly they were trembling back and approached the village chief with a polite smile. “Village Chief, may I ask about the origin of your village’s name—Martyred Women Village?”
The village chief glanced at her, pride flashing across his face. He tapped the ground with his cane, signaling for the crowd to quiet down before speaking slowly and deliberately. “Of course. The name ‘Martyred Women Village’ was bestowed upon us by the imperial court in ancient times. Our village has a long history of producing virtuous women who chose death over dishonor. Back then, the court even granted a chastity plaque to a woman named Zhen Niang and funded the construction of our Martyred Women Shrine. It was a glorious time indeed. Though the world has changed and there is no longer an emperor, our village continues to uphold this tradition of honor.”
He looked down at the now-cold body on the ground and nodded approvingly. “Though this woman is not from our village, she must have been inspired by our blessed land to choose such a noble death. With such steadfast virtue, she deserves a grand burial and a place in our Martyred Women Shrine!”
With that, he turned to Uncle Kuang. “Troupe leader, since she was an orphan, let her be buried here. We will hold her funeral.”
Uncle Kuang seemed caught off guard by how things had turned out, but with the woman already dead, there was no point in dwelling on the details. Having someone offer to handle the funeral would save both money and effort. He quickly nodded in agreement. “Then I thank you, Village Chief!”
The village chief nodded in satisfaction and gestured for his attendants to take the body away. Turning back to Uncle Kuang, he added, “In that case, why don’t you and your troupe stay in the village for a few days? Coincidentally, we have a traditional festival in five days. I’ll cover the costs for you to perform, so everyone can celebrate together.”
The villagers cheered. “Thank you, Village Chief!”
Uncle Kuang, who had been worried about how the troupe would survive without their star performer, was suddenly presented with an unexpected opportunity. Energized, he replied, “Of course, of course!! Village Chief, if you could provide a list of songs you’d like us to perform, we’ll start rehearsing right away.”
Above the stage, the white silk cord Fang Lin had used to hang herself still hung from the beam.
Uncle Kuang sighed and signaled for his assistants to clean up the stage. The villagers, cheerful and excited, carried Fang Lin’s body away. In that moment, the once peaceful and idyllic village revealed its twisted, sinister smile.