Chapter 4: The Village Funeral
Zhang Xiao was dead.
Li Zhi squatted beside the corpse, pressing her fingers to the carotid artery on his neck. But it was obvious he had been dead for a long time—his body was stiff and cold, offering no pulse, only a chilling sensation.
Others in the group were stunned into silence. Their faces looked even paler than the corpse itself. Suddenly, Lian Qinglin pointed at the bed inside the room and shouted, “Look at the bed!”
Everyone raised their heads.
On the redwood bed in the center of the room lay the village chief, naked, exactly like Zhang Xiao. He was lying in the same posture—hands folded neatly over his abdomen, even the slight upward curve of his lips matched Zhang’s precisely.
Li Zhi remembered—he had looked serene just yesterday. Now, however, his expression carried an eerie satisfaction, as if delighted to have company on his journey to the afterlife.
This was the first death since entering the 副本 (副本 literally means "instance" or "replica," used here as a game-like scenario). No moment before had so clearly impressed upon them what this 副本 truly meant—the danger, the terror… the horror reality show they were trapped in.
The female host Pei Xu sat on the floor sobbing uncontrollably, arms wrapped around her head.
Gao Shijun, who had shared a room with Zhang Xiao last night, sat paralyzed on the ground, eyes vacant, muttering repeatedly, “We’re going to die… we’re all going to die…”
“How could this happen? How did the village chief’s funeral clothes end up on Zhang Xiao? What happened? Why did he suddenly die?” Zhu Zhibo, the acclaimed actor, was clearly beginning to lose control. At this rate, the entire team would collapse before completing the mission.
The live chat stream was silent in parts, chaotic in others. From the moment the [ghosts] arrived, this world was no longer what it once was.
Suddenly, Li Zhi stood up and walked toward the redwood bed. Chilly all over, Chi Yi cried out in alarm, “Li Zhi!”
Everyone turned anxiously. Li Zhi had already reached the edge of the bed, examining the village chief’s corpse. His body was clean, odorless—clearly wiped down by someone after death.
She extended her hand, pinching the corners of his smiling mouth between her thumb and index finger.
Inside his mouth were three copper coins.
Xu Shu approached, and Li Zhi turned her head slightly. “It must’ve been something wrong with the funeral clothes.”
Yesterday, Xu Shu—who removed the clothes—was fine. Li Zhi, who cleaned the body, was fine. Lian Qinglin, who placed the coins in the mouth, was also safe. Only Zhang Xiao, who changed the clothes, had died. That meant every other step had been correct—only the funeral attire had gone wrong.
Then everyone recalled Old Ji’s warning from the previous day: Make sure the village chief is satisfied.
There were many steps in the burial ritual. If even one step failed to satisfy him, people would die silently, just like Zhang Xiao.
Old Ji suddenly appeared at the hall entrance, holding a rusty axe in one hand, his expression grim: “Why aren’t the funeral clothes on yet? We need to go pick a coffin soon—if we delay the timing, there’ll be trouble.”
After Old Ji left with the axe, wailing swelled from low to high. One after another, members of the group broke down: “We still have to choose a coffin?! We don’t even know how to pick funeral clothes!”
Xu Shu hadn’t worked with newbies in a long time—his own world had long since become a playground for ghosts. Looking at this bunch of crying rookies, he felt nothing but irritation: “What good is crying? Keep crying and you’ll all die here!”
Someone screamed back, “Doesn’t crying get us killed either? We don’t even know how to choose among all these funeral clothes! One mistake costs a life—we won’t survive eight deaths!”
The live chat was infected by the players’ panic:
【These people are so annoying! Crying nonstop, dragging us down】
【A real person just died! Is all you care about whether they cry or not?!】
【I just voted for Brother Zhang and now he’s dead—I’m still in shock. Is he really gone?】
【He died too slowly—three people are already dead in the next副本】
【Worthless criers, boring me to tears. I’m switching rooms.】
【Since the live stream started, it feels like the darkness in humanity has been amplified. You’re celebrating while an innocent person dies? I don’t understand.】
【Didn’t you all keep shouting for the apocalypse to come faster? Hahahaha! This is it! Rejoice!】
【That girl Li Zhi seems decent. Let’s see more of her. I’ll save my vote for her.】
……
Amidst the chaos, Li Zhi—who had been silently standing by the bed—suddenly turned and walked toward a shadowed corner. Her movement drew everyone’s attention; even the crying quieted down. She stopped where the light didn’t reach, her face lighting up with a sincere smile: “May I ask your name, sir?”
In the darkness stood a tall young geomancer dressed in green robes, his voice cold: “Li Jianxi.”
“Mr. Li,” Li Zhi asked earnestly, “may I ask what customs apply when dressing the deceased? We wouldn’t want to waste your time.”
A hanging lamp seemed to create a wall of light between them. She stood at the edge of illumination, half in shadow, half in brightness. Her eyes, touched by the glow, looked deeply emotional, filled with expectation as she gazed into the darkness.
The young geomancer seemed to hesitate for a moment, then replied slowly: “Single layers, not double. Five or seven pieces are best. Choose silk over satin, and avoid fur. The clothes shouldn’t have buttons, only sashes. Black and white colors are taboo.”
Li Zhi smiled warmly, her eyes soft and intense—eyes that always looked深情 (emotionally deep) even when looking at a dog: “Thank you so much, Mr. Li. With your guidance, we feel much safer.” She sighed sorrowfully, “We’re lucky to have you here. Otherwise, we wouldn’t know what to do.”
Everyone: …?
Are you seriously trying to charm an NPC like this?
No one knew if the NPC felt the heavy flirtation, but his tone did seem slightly less icy: “…You’re welcome.”
Li Zhi returned to the wooden rack, carefully selecting five silk garments according to the instructions, checking each for buttons. Then she hugged the funeral clothes and walked back toward the redwood bed.
“Li Zhi!” Chi Yi called nervously. “What if he lied to us? If you get it wrong, you’ll die!”
Lian Qinglin immediately turned to Xu Shu: “Do key NPCs in the副本 ever lie?”
Xu Shu frowned. “I’ve met both truthful ones and liars who almost got us all killed.” He looked at Li Zhi. “Are you sure you want to try?”
Li Zhi held the clothes forward slightly. “Not sure. Want to take over?”
Xu Shu: ………
With Zhang Xiao’s bloody example right before them, the funeral clothes now felt like a death sentence—anyone who touched them risked death. Even experienced players like Xu Shu hesitated. Let alone the newbies in the group.
Li Zhi probably hadn’t expected anyone to actually volunteer. She smiled faintly, then sat on the bed and began dressing the corpse.
Lian Qinglin suddenly gritted his teeth and stepped forward. “I’ll help you!”
Chi Yi trembled as she followed, close to tears, but her eyes burned with determination. Eyes shut tight, heart steeled, she reached for the funeral clothes beside the bed.
Li Zhi blocked her gently. “Don’t touch it.” She pushed both aside. “One mistake is enough. No need to risk two more lives.”
Chi Yi burst into tears. “You’ll die! You’ll die tonight!”
Li Zhi arched a brow. “Not necessarily.”
Her calmness caught Xu Shu’s attention. “Do you know something?”
Two layers of clothing later, the naked corpse finally looked less horrifying.
Li Zhi slid the stiff arms into the sleeves. “Actually, we can tell if the NPC lied by reverse-engineering his advice. Funeral customs have existed for thousands of years. Some taboos have logical roots. In ancient times, they valued homophones—‘satin’ sounds like ‘cutting off descendants,’ which explains why it’s avoided. Same logic applies to buttons versus sashes. As for animal fur, perhaps people feared being reborn as livestock if they wore such materials.”
Lian Qinglin followed her reasoning. “But we usually say ‘good things come in pairs.’ Why should funeral clothes be single layers instead of pairs?”
Li Zhi pulled on the third layer. “Good things come in pairs for the living. Not necessarily for the dead. Yin and Yang oppose each other. If the living believe even numbers are auspicious, the dead might prefer odd numbers.”
Xu Shu asked, “What about the black-and-white taboo and the number preference for five or seven?”
Li Zhi quickly dressed the final coat. “Not sure. But I remember during filming a horror movie, the props team dressed the actor playing the corpse in five blue-violet silk robes without buttons. All the earlier rules matched, and those two details were consistent too. So I think the geomancer wasn’t lying.”
Chi Yi couldn’t help but ask anxiously, “Then why wouldn’t you let me or Lian Qinglin help?”
Li Zhi tied the last sash. “Just in case. These are only my deductions.” She拍了拍手 (clapped her hands) and stood up. “Alright, let’s repeat yesterday’s process.”
Now that they understood the consequences of failure, no one dared to be careless. They knelt properly by the bed and burned the “lowering the corpse” paper again, moving Zhang Xiao’s body aside before placing the village chief onto the wooden plank.
The live chat finally calmed down:
【Li Zhi is amazing!】
【Smart, brave, beautiful sister—yes please!】
【As an intellectual romantic, I’m疯狂拉票 (voting wildly) for Li Zhi!】
【Of course, high IQ contestants are the real highlight of this show. I have zero interest in watching pretty useless crybabies.】
……
After the brief panic, Xu Shu quickly regained his composure. Newbies were easy—he didn’t need clues or puzzles, otherwise he wouldn’t have taken this task. He realized that the NPC likely hadn’t lied.
Because the geomancer’s role was to oversee the funeral rites. His very presence implied that following his instructions would allow them to complete the副本.
Realizing this, Xu Shu relaxed—but when he turned to look at where Li Jianxi had stood, the spot was empty.
His heart sank. He rushed over: “Where’s the geomancer? Who saw where he went?!”
Everyone had been focused on the current task and hadn’t noticed when the geomancer left. They exchanged blank looks. Xu Shu grew angry: “Split up and find him! Without him, we don’t know the taboos for choosing a coffin!”
Panic surged through the group—they were about to rush outside when Li Zhi stopped them: “No need to look. He won’t appear anymore.”
The sun had risen, but its bright rays brought no comfort. “Traditionally, children prepare the coffin before their parents pass away. That’s not part of the geomancer’s duties.”
Outside, the scraping sound of an axe dragged across the ground echoed. Old Ji reappeared at the doorway, dark and grim, as if ready to swing the axe at any moment: “Time to go to the coffin shop.”
Their faces paled as they huddled together. Li Zhi lowered her voice:
“This level… we’ll have to clear it ourselves.”