Chapter 4: Water
Volume One: Village of Still Waters
Before departure, Li Yin clearly remembered Xia Yuan giving him a piece of advice.
"The fourth blood-red instruction begins now. Danger often hides in the unseen. To survive, you must observe, stay cautious, and look for patterns. Don’t ignore even the smallest irregularity. It's been a long time since anyone survived more than three of these instructions—I hope you will."
But there was one thing Xia Yuan emphasized above all:
"Never believe what anyone says. Not even yourself. Your eyes can deceive you. You might think you're walking on solid ground when in fact, you're teetering on the edge of a cliff."
Li Yin took those words to heart. He didn’t dare relax for a single moment.
So the village chief's sudden invitation felt like a glaring abnormality.
“I’m Zhang, the village chief,” said the old man, leaning on a young woman for support as he led the four of them to his home.
“Chief Zhang,” Ye Kexin was the first to voice the question, “Why are you willing to let us stay?”
“Haha,” the old chief chuckled with a cryptic smile. “I’m not like those old-fashioned relics. Youshui Village can’t stay locked away in these mountains forever. No need to be nervous—stay as long as you like.”
The young woman helping him added hesitantly, “Grandpa… are you sure? Tomorrow… is Bing’er’s memorial day, and at a time like this—”
Bing’er’s memorial day?
Li Yin’s heart skipped a beat.
Tomorrow was the day their blood-written instruction had directed them to officially begin living in Youshui Village. Bing’er… was she the same “Li Bing” that had been mentioned earlier?
And it just happened to be her memorial?
Coincidence? Not a chance.
The chief’s home was surprisingly upscale—more like a small villa than a village house. Three stories high, built from reinforced concrete, it stood out from the surrounding simple cement dwellings.
This was no time for politeness, so the group followed the chief into his home.
The chief, cautious himself, brought them to his room. Once seated, he asked the young woman to leave and close the door behind her. Then he looked to them. “May I ask your names?”
Given they were strangers, it was only natural he’d want to know.
“I’m Li Yin,” he answered. “This is Qin Shoutian, Luo Hengyan, and Ye Kexin…”
Just then, the door flew open. A buzz-cut young man stepped in, sweeping a cold gaze over them.
“Grandpa… so it’s true? The villagers said you brought strangers into our village—”
“Awu! Mind your manners!” Chief Zhang snapped. “Do I need your permission to invite someone to stay?”
“I don’t care who you invite, Grandpa,” the young man—Awu—shot back. “But I don’t like these shady outsiders crawling into our village.”
Luo Hengyan, quick-tempered, immediately stood up. “Who are you calling shady?!”
Li Yin quickly stood to de-escalate. “Are you serious? This isn’t the time for petty arguments!” He forced a smile. “Sir, we’re just here to experience rural life—no ill intentions. We’ll only stay for a month.”
“A month?!” Awu flared. “You want to stay that long? Get out! And let me tell you, all that talk about ghosts is nonsense. Li Bing killed herself—the case is closed! Don’t go spreading rumors about ghosts and spirits!”
Suicide?
That surprised Li Yin.
But it only deepened his unease. Ghost stories often began with suicides—just another classic setup.
Awu’s angry glare only convinced Li Yin further—there was definitely something going on. This wasn’t just rumor.
“Enough, Awu!” Chief Zhang slammed his cane on the floor. “Go back to your room! Mr. Li and the others are my guests. How dare you treat guests like this!”
“Hmph!” Awu snorted. “You’re seriously letting them stay for a month? Do you even know who they are?”
The chief raised his cane and struck Awu squarely on the shoulder.
“Go to your room!”
Awu staggered back, stunned, and the chief broke into a coughing fit.
Li Yin was baffled.
Was he really hitting his own grandson over a group of strangers? What was the chief planning?
The unnaturalness of the situation only deepened.
Awu glared at them one last time. “Let’s see how long you stay smug!” he muttered, then stormed out—only to crash into a middle-aged woman at the door.
“Awu! What are you doing?!” she cried, rubbing her head. “Storming around like that!”
“Ask Grandpa yourself!” he snapped, running off. The woman chased after him.
“Apologies for that,” Chief Zhang said quickly, closing the door. “Don’t mind anything you heard. Stay as long as you need.”
But Li Yin felt it more and more—the chief invited them here for a reason.
What was it?
The chief’s household consisted of four people: himself, his daughter Zhang Yinglan (the middle-aged woman), his grandson Zhang Hongwu, and his granddaughter Zhang Suyue (the young girl from earlier). His son-in-law had died three years ago.
Given Awu’s attitude, Li Yin suggested they eat separately that evening. It didn’t seem wise to dine together. They had brought plenty of supplies anyway, just in case.
Surprisingly, the chief didn’t object—he simply agreed.
Night fell.
Water roared over a waterfall as Axiu waded forward, tears streaming down her face.
“Bing’er-jie…”
At the same time, not far from the chief’s home, lived a middle-aged man who had confronted Li Yin earlier that day—Yan Haotian. He was known for being straightforward and respected in the village. A lifelong bachelor, he lived alone.
“What is the chief thinking…”
It was nearly midnight, yet Yan Haotian couldn’t sleep.
Despite the approaching summer, he felt freezing. He’d already added another blanket, but still shivered uncontrollably.
Suddenly, he realized the bed felt… wet. At first, he didn’t think much of it. But soon, the whole blanket felt soaked—like it had been dunked in water.
He threw off the covers and sat up. The bed was completely wet.
And as his feet touched the floor, he felt water there too!
“W-what the hell?”
Panic set in.
The room was pitch black—no electricity—so he fumbled in the dark, relying on muscle memory to avoid bumping into furniture.
At the drawer, he found everything damp. He opened it, pulled out an oil lamp and some matches, and lit it. The flickering flame offered a brief comfort.
It was now past midnight.
June 7th had begun.
Yan Haotian stepped out of his room and found water pooling all over the floor.
“Did it rain?” he muttered.
But outside, the moon shone bright—no rain at all.
Then he noticed—the water was dripping from the ceiling.
Holding up the lamp, he looked up—and nearly dropped it in shock.
Footprints.
Clear, wet footprints covered the white ceiling—with all five toes distinctly visible.
How could someone walk upside down on the ceiling?
He froze, staring, heart pounding. The footprints led straight into the kitchen.
Though terrified, he forced himself to follow. Maybe there was some explanation. Maybe.
The kitchen was small—no place to hide.
Except… the large cupboard.
The prints ended above it, then slid down the wall behind.
“No way,” he whispered.
Raising the lamp, he crept toward the cupboard. Each step was agony.
At last, he reached the door. He gripped the handle tightly.
“…This has nothing to do with me… Li Bing, you killed yourself… I didn’t hurt you… Please… don’t come for me…”
And then—he yanked the door open.
Inside, under the lamplight—rows of neatly stacked bowls and spoons.
Everything looked perfectly normal.
“Whew…”
He nearly collapsed in relief. Just his imagination. He had spooked himself.
But… what about the footprints? A prank? But no one in the village bore him a grudge. And that much water? Just from wet footprints?
He decided to scoop the water out—he couldn’t sleep in this flood.
He closed the cupboard to go get a basin—
Just as the door was about to shut, a bloodless hand shot out—holding it open!
Before he could react, another hand seized his throat.
The cupboard burst open, dragging Yan Haotian inside in one swift motion!
SLAM.
The door slammed shut. Silence followed. The water on the ground slowly seeped away—absorbed into the earth.
A breeze blew through the kitchen. The cupboard door creaked open once more.
Inside—nothing but bowls and spoons, neatly arranged.