Chapter 8: The Bloody Banquet (Part III)

Volume One: Village of Still Waters

Just as Song Tian was nearly paralyzed with fear, a knock suddenly echoed from the door. It was Ge Ling's voice: “What are you screaming about? Someone’s dead!”

To Song Tian, that voice sounded like a choir of angels. He quickly turned his head and shouted, “Ah—A’Ling… open the door—there’s—there’s—”

He turned back toward the toilet pit… but it was now completely empty.

“I want to understand what the talk of ghosts is really all about.”

Li Yin decided to fully embrace the role of a journalist. Qin Shoutian even produced his actual press credentials, making Ah Xiu trust them even more.

Li Yin laid out a sheet of paper on the Eight Immortals table in Ah Xiu’s living room, pen in hand. “Miss Ah Xiu… the following questions are critical. Please answer honestly.”

He was certain nothing was as simple as it appeared. That strange apartment would never assign them a task that posed no threat to their lives—especially not for a fourth bloody-letter directive. The last one, the haunted school, had involved indiscriminate killing. This time, things felt far more targeted—vengeance-driven.

That alone made it suspicious. If the ghost truly only sought revenge on a select few, there would be no reason for it to harm them. That would mean this task was easier than the third bloody-letter assignment.

Impossible.

Li Yin knew they were missing something—something critical. That apartment never left any survivors by accident. After living there for a year, he knew this truth well.

Ah Xiu sat across from him, smiling gently. “Mr. Reporter, be sure to write down everything I say and publish it.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Very well… I’ll tell you.” Ah Xiu began recounting what had happened after Bing’er’s death.

Li Bing’s suicide had shocked the village. Though people had once looked down on her, a death was still a serious matter. There was a long period of unrest. For Ah Xiu, who had deeply loved Bing’er, the grief was unbearable.

After that, she drifted through life like a walking corpse. She couldn’t focus on work, barely ate for months, and wasted away until she was little more than skin and bones.

Those were dark, agonizing days. Only two people came to see her, bringing food and a few words of comfort: Liang Renbin and Zhang Suyue.

In the past, other than Bing’er, Ah Xiu had been closest to Suyue. Although Suyue was the village chief’s granddaughter, she was kind, humble, and diligent like any other farm girl. But she lacked a backbone. When the scandal around Bing’er broke, she followed the crowd and distanced herself—even though she felt sympathy, she didn’t speak up.

That friendship was long dead. Now, Ah Xiu looked at her with only hatred.

A year later, on June 6th—Bing’er’s death anniversary—Suyue visited again. Though the visit was awkward, she urged Ah Xiu to take care of herself.

That night, unable to sleep, Ah Xiu lay awake. Tomorrow was Bing’er’s memorial day.

After her parents’ deaths, Bing’er had become her only family. From childhood, Bing’er had always protected her, like a real sister.

She could never accept Bing’er’s death.

Then, that night… she heard a strange noise coming from the kitchen’s water vat.

Though terrified, Ah Xiu forced herself to go and peek inside.

As Ah Xiu described this part, Ye Kexin shivered and glanced nervously toward the kitchen.

“Don’t be afraid, Miss Ye,” Ah Xiu smiled. “Bing’er wouldn’t harm you.”

Then she continued.

Inside the vat… she found the corpse of the village chief’s son-in-law—Suyue’s father.

At first, Ah Xiu panicked. But then… she noticed something.

Wrapped around the waist of the corpse… was a pair of pale, slender arms. And when she noticed them—they vanished behind the body.

She pulled the body from the vat (Ye Kexin now looked at Ah Xiu with clear fear), but no matter how hard she searched, she never found those arms again.

Still, she understood.

It was Bing’er.

Bing’er had killed that man—the same man who’d once warned Suyue not to associate with Bing’er. Because of him, even Suyue had turned cold toward her.

“Do you know what I did afterward?” Ah Xiu laughed bitterly. “I cut out his tongue! Because all these people talked too much. Then I dumped his corpse right at the village chief’s doorstep!”

Qin Shoutian adjusted his glasses and asked calmly, “Miss Ah Xiu… and you’re telling us this?”

“You’re reporters, right? Report the truth.” Her smile widened, as if she were chatting about the weather. “As for me, after Bing’er’s death, I’ve stopped caring whether I live or die.”

“The village chief’s son-in-law had his tongue cut out… but that case…”

“They never reported it,” she said. “They probably suspected something. A few may have suspected me, but what does it matter? I’ve been at odds with everyone in this village for years. Only Liang Renbin still lingers around me. But honestly? I hope his corpse shows up in my vat one day.”

“All the missing villagers… they end up in your vat? What do you do with the bodies?”

“I cut out their tongues. After that, the bodies vanish. Then… a new corpse will appear.”

Li Yin recorded everything, forcing himself to stay calm. “Thank you, Miss Ah Xiu. This is… invaluable.”

This woman… was clearly unwell.

Her obsessive attachment to Bing’er had driven her to unspeakable acts.

Qin Shoutian exchanged a glance with Li Yin—his eyes asked the question: Can we trust anything she’s said?

Li Yin responded silently: Mostly. Yes.

Before, he might have diagnosed her with extreme delusions. But now… the supernatural seemed all too real.

The vat. The corpses. The severed tongues. Ah Xiu. Bing’er.

Something crucial was being overlooked.

Bing’er’s vengeful spirit lingered long after death, and every year during the month following her death anniversary, new killings occurred—and the bodies were delivered to Ah Xiu’s home.

Chilling.

Had moving into Ah Xiu’s home really been the right decision?

“How many more do you think will die?” Li Yin asked in a low voice.

“Let’s see… Tieqin, Renbin, Ge Ling, Hongwu, and Suyue. Those five are as good as dead,” she said plainly.

Li Yin posed another question. One that had been on his mind.

“Can you… communicate with Bing’er’s spirit?”

Ah Xiu shook her head. “I wish I could. I’d love nothing more than to talk with her again.”

“You’re not afraid?”

“Afraid? Why would I be?” She still smiled—that smile was even more terrifying than any ghost.

Ye Kexin couldn’t hold back anymore. “Miss Ah Xiu… you… you shouldn’t be doing this…”

Li Yin tried to signal her to stop—but it was too late. Ah Xiu turned and glared. “What? You think they don’t deserve to die? They’re the ones who killed Bing’er! Aren’t they? Aren’t they?!”

“You… your words…”

Ye Kexin fell silent.

That night, Tieqin’s disappearance threw the village into panic once again. Fear gripped everyone. Doors were locked, and people traveled only in groups.

What would happen over the next month?

Night.

Li Yin and Qin Shoutian sat in the living room, listening to the faint snores coming from inside, and began planning their next move.

“Something’s wrong,” Qin muttered. This wasn’t his first bloody-letter task, and he didn’t buy that it was just a simple revenge haunting.

Li Yin shone his flashlight over the paper and said, “The water vat seems to be the main medium Bing’er uses to communicate with Ah Xiu. The bodies are always delivered there—but they vanish afterward. Only the village chief’s son-in-law was different. Clearly, Bing’er and Ah Xiu share a deep bond. So, if we’re good to Ah Xiu, there’s no reason she would harm us. That’s how it looks on the surface…”

“You think otherwise?”

“It’s too simple. The villagers suspect Ah Xiu of murder—but they seem more willing to believe in a ghost. Based on how hostile they were to us and how they kept denying the ghost rumors… it feels like they know more than they admit.”

“You’re saying…”

“There might be someone alive who’s seen Bing’er after her death. That could explain the persistence of the ghost rumors. Honestly, blaming Ah Xiu would make more sense. But the village chief has been oddly insistent that we not trust her. Why? Why does it matter so much to him what we believe?”

“Yeah…” Qin was equally puzzled. “He’s been way too accommodating…”

“Xia Yuan warned me that starting with the fourth task, things would get truly bizarre. But this revenge haunting? It’s almost too straightforward. Compared to the last three assignments, this isn’t especially abnormal.”

“True…” Qin remembered past events that still defied explanation.

“So let’s review,” Li Yin said, pointing at key notes. “Bing’er kills those who mistreated her. She uses water. Every body is found in water. I noticed something important.”

“What is it?”

“Water.”

“Water?”

“All her appearances involve water. I first saw her face in Ah Xiu’s water buckets. She drowned herself. And she delivers corpses through a water vat. It’s all centered around water.”

“You’re right…”

“Maybe… maybe she can only act through water? Or at least, water is a key medium. It’s not that simple, but it’s definitely important.”

“Got it…”

At that same moment, another person lay sleepless: Suyue.

Restless, she eventually got out of bed and walked outside to the fishpond.

There was no moon tonight. The village was shrouded in darkness.

Sitting beside the pond, memories of Bing’er—lively, cheerful, always smiling—flooded her mind. Tears streamed down her face.

“Bing’er… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Suddenly, she felt a chill.

Looking into the dark pond, she vaguely saw… a shape.

What was that?

Then—footsteps behind her.

She turned. In the darkness, a figure slowly approached.

“Who—who’s there?!” she called, trembling.

No answer.

As it neared, the shadow’s body twisted unnaturally, as if it had no bones.

Suyue jumped up, trying to flee—but it was too late.

The figure appeared before her in an instant.

It was too dark to see the face.

A splash behind her—something had emerged from the pond.

Then the figure’s hand reached out and wrapped around her neck—ice cold and drenched in water.

“Bing… Bing’er…” she choked, feeling her soul being ripped from her body.

She really had returned.

And as her life faded, a single beam of moonlight broke through the clouds—illuminating a face.

Bing’er’s pale, frozen face.