Soul-Locking Past
What they saw before them was a body gripped by countless hands. This wasn't just humiliation; the bullying extended to the very spirit.
He watched helplessly as she was torn apart and subjected to inhuman torture.
Goosebumps were just the surface; beneath lay a trembling soul. Lai Wenyi leaned against the doorframe, her emotional breakdown causing nausea and chills. She shivered all over, bent over with her head bowed, dry heaving intermittently.
With her body tense, Wen Dai slowly raised her head. The ceiling here was a mirror; lying flat on the bed, "she" was forced to watch herself being destroyed.
Breathing was suppressed. Wen Dai stared at the mirror for a long time. A fleeting glance caught her eye. She cleared her throat, her voice hoarse, and asked, "What do you want us to do?"
She asked herself and answered, "You probably just want your pain to be seen, buried in this basement for so many years, suffering alone in this torment... At first, I wondered if you wanted us to stay with you because you were too lonely; but now, I don't think so, you won't. You know how painful it is to be bound, some people might want others to experience their pain, but you won't, you just want your pain to be seen and heard, that's all."
"despair."
The sound of liquid falling was a drop of blood hitting the floor.
In an instant, the entire mirror covering the ceiling was covered in blood droplets, turning the bedroom into a blood-curdling cave.
Lai Wenyi, who was gagging while leaning against the door frame, slowly stood up. She turned her head and looked at Wen Dai, and then Wen Dai grabbed her arm.
She pulled her along, and without hesitation, they walked into the Blood Curtain Cave.
They went back a hundred years.
The plain-colored cheongsam outlined the woman's slender figure. She sat in front of the dressing table, applying makeup and drawing her eyebrows. Her temperament was quiet and elegant, just like her name.
Looking around the room, from the carved wooden bed to the jade dressing table, everything was exquisitely luxurious, clearly indicating that Xiuya came from a wealthy family. Suddenly, the tightly closed door was flung open by a maid who rushed in. She ran to Xiuya, who was sitting quietly in front of the dressing table, her voice anxious: "Miss, the old lady says she wants to marry you off to the Wang family. That Wang Kun—such an ugly man, and utterly shameless! Not only does he have over a dozen concubines, but he's also more than ten years older than you! It's said that the daughter his concubine bore him is only two years younger than you!"
Xiuya calmly put down the eyebrow pencil, her two fingers tapping the table, her long, nail-painted nails tracing the surface. Her beautiful eyes were lowered, her lifeless gaze lingering in the mirror, seemingly looking nowhere in particular.
She slightly curved her lips and said in a soft tone, "I'm just a useless adopted daughter. To them, I'm just an empty shell. The Wang family is of help to them, and they just happen to be showing me enthusiasm. Why wouldn't they give me away as a favor?"
"What about Young Master Li? Young Master Li and Miss are in love. Although the Li family is not as powerful as the Wang family, they were once a prominent family. Why do they insist on sending you to the Wang family? This is clearly to ruin you!" The indignant maid was so angry that tears welled up in her eyes, and she stomped her feet for a long time.
Her thin neck was still crooked, and Xiuya tilted her head, staring blankly into the distance. She was still forcing a smile, a miserable smile lingering at the corners of her mouth. "How can the next generation escape the troubles of the previous generation? My mother was the last woman the old master had before he died, and his dying wish was for them to raise me, an orphan, to adulthood. But I have no relation to them; I'm just a burden my mother brought along. If my mother were still alive, I might still have a chance to be with Yuan-ge; but my mother is dead, and the resentment they've been holding in their hearts can finally be released."
The scene then shifts to her writing a letter to sever ties with Li Yuan. She asks her maid to deliver the letter to someone else, as she is unable to leave the house.
Watching Xiuya wipe away her tears by the window, Wen Daimei's heart remained unshaken. Lai Wenyi, standing beside her, felt the same way, her complex expression revealing more resentment at her inability to help.
That night on their wedding night must have been a nightmare for Xiuya.
The candle wax from the candlestick on the table spilled onto Xiuya, along with the man Wen Dai and Lai Wenyi had seen in the living room earlier, the one the maid had mentioned as "Wang Kun".
Like a fat, sick boar that rode onto such a delicate flower.
Things that should have been kept in the torture chamber were used as toys by Wang Kun on Xiuya. The tiger bench of that era was meant for prisoners to sit on, but Xiuya sat on it; the finger-crushing torture that was not meant for her was subjected to her... She experienced all the torture instruments that were originally separate from her.
Wang Kun didn't stuff a rag in her mouth to muffle her voice; instead, he let her scream and cry out in pain.
It was a horrific sight. Unable to bear it any longer, Lai Wenyi looked away and covered her ears with her hands. Wen Dai's eyes were fixed on Xiuya, who was being tortured, as if under a spell. Xiuya's fingers trembled slightly, and when she raised her arm to brush away the stray hairs that were brushing against her face, a small section of her arm was covered in goosebumps that never seemed to go away.
The days after being locked in the basement were even darker, a living hell, a hell only for Xiuya. Wen Dai and Lai Wenyi had no way to get out of the room where Xiuya was being "tortured." They tried to go out through the open door, but an invisible barrier wouldn't give them a chance. So, they could only watch as men kept coming in from outside the door.
Many men share a common trait: ugliness.
"Get out! Don't touch me! Die...you all die!—" Still not losing her desire to protect herself, Xiuya bit down hard on the shoulder of the man who was pressing down on her. After the man's cry of pain, there was a heavy slap.
The aged man slapped Xiuya, who had long since lost her strength from the torture, to the ground. He grabbed Xiuya by the neck, and a series of muffled thuds came from his fists and Xiuya's head. What happened next was the same as always.
From the initial struggles, resistance, and shouts to the later silence.
But the silent suffering was not enough to satisfy these perverts. Wang Kun, whom they hadn't seen in a long time, walked into the room with a group of men, a cigar dangling from his lips. He looked down at the woman lying on the bed, who looked like a cripple, and laughed contemptuously, "Then let's try it all together. Are you afraid this bitch will think she's dead? A few of you aren't enough. Call a few more, and I'll show you what 'coming back from the dead' means."
The silence was gone. The intensified abuse caused Xiuya, who was already numb, to scream in pain. She was too weak to even cry out.
Lai Wenyi had her back to Xiuya. She buried herself in the wall, trying to embed herself into it. Her hands were pressed against the wall, her forehead against the cold bricks, and tears streamed down her face.
Wen Dai, whose posture was opposite hers, witnessed everything with her eyes open. Her body, which had lost its support, leaned against the wall, and she was still shaking after an unknown amount of time.
He wanted to reach out and save her, but that was all nonsense—save what? Xiuya longed for death above all else; keeping her alive was torture. Besides, what was the point of reaching out? Everything had already happened; the pain was etched deep into Xiuya's soul.
I suddenly felt that my existence had become ridiculous.
Wen Dai thought in a daze—what was she doing? What was the use of overturning the verdict? Her parents were already dead, her home was already destroyed, and her life had long since deviated from the conventional path.
The group of men walked out sparsely, each with a greasy face, as if palm oil had been applied to their skin. Their smiling mouths squeezed up the fat on their faces, creating a bunch of wrinkles.
Wen Daichu'er sat up, her gaze fixed on Xiuya on the bed. She walked to the bedside and stared at Xiuya's tear-filled eyes. As she watched the tears roll down Xiuya's cheeks, she reached out and stopped her hand near Xiuya's eyes, whispering, "All you want is relief. In fact, many people like you only want relief."
Suddenly, Xiuya turned her eyes to meet Wen Dai's. In an instant, her previously lifeless, tear-filled eyes became deep and dark.
She saw her shake her head.
Wen Dai was stunned for a moment. Had she misjudged? But before she could ponder what Xiuya really wanted, the surrounding environment changed again.
This scene is roughly the one before Xiuya's death.
As expected, Xiuya contracted syphilis and became a complete expendable pawn. Wang Kun, still dressed in an expensive handmade suit, stood in front of Xiuya's bed, his disgust evident. He held a cigar in his hand and pointed it at Xiuya. "Look at yourself now, tsk tsk tsk... Do you know what people outside are saying about you?" His expression changed, and interest surfaced on his fat, pig-like face.
He bent down and leaned close to Xiuya, who was lying motionless on the bed. He lowered his voice and said, word by word, "They all say that you are a self-degrading whore, a cheap public bus."
Wang Kun straightened up again, took a deep drag on his cigar, and raised his voice: "I don't think you're cheap at all. After all, if you want to enter the basement of my Wang family, you still have to pay a considerable sum to get the entry ticket."
“Oh—right.” He lowered his haughty, raised eyes again, glancing at the lifeless woman. He gave a filthy smile and said leisurely, “Your little lover, Li Yuan.”
The woman, who had been playing the role of a lifeless block of wood, finally reacted. Xiuya turned her eyes to him, and this reaction clearly pleased Wang Kun. He grinned, revealing two gold-plated teeth, his thick, purplish lips parted in a wide smile. "Today is a very auspicious day; the eldest son of the Li family and the young lady of the Zhang family are getting married. Ah!" He pulled out an invitation with gold lettering from his clothes and waved it around.
"He even invited me, saying I should bring my wife. Hey, my wife—can you even go?" A malicious smile appeared on Wang Kun's face. He licked his gold teeth with his tongue, his gaze sweeping over Xiuya, who was unable to move due to multiple fractures on the bed. "I told him no, my wife is too promiscuous, which caused her to fracture her pelvis. Now she can't even get out of bed, she's a complete paralyzed cripple."
The invitation was thrown away by Wang Kun like trash. Even the air around her refused to side with Xiuya. She could only stare helplessly as the invitation drifted closer to her and then moved away, finally settling somewhere else.
Wang Kun finally revealed the true purpose of his visit: "I told you before, didn't I? The Wang family doesn't tolerate idlers." He straightened his suit, took two steps back, and raised his voice: "Come in."
The four servants who were waiting outside rushed in. They wrapped Xiuya up in the blankets on the bed, making her look like a cocoon. One of them used a rope to strangle Xiuya's neck and tightened it, while another used a pillow to cover her mouth and nose. The remaining two servants held her down to prevent her from struggling.
The scene of the murder. But compared to Soo-ah's previous experiences, death seemed relatively forgiving to her.
But the process of suffocation was absolutely painful; her body thrashed violently, and her painful cries were muffled under the pillow.
She died.
The scene rapidly shifted, from the body being transported away to being burned to ashes along with various talismans; the ashes mixed with talisman ash were placed in an urn covered with talismans. Wen Dai and Lai Wenyi watched as Wang Kun held the urn, remaining motionless as the surrounding environment changed with his movements.
Wang Kun, holding the urn, walked to the entrance to the basement. He opened the door and led an elderly, bony woman down the stairs. After descending the stairs, they finally saw the basement's true appearance—the decor was as luxurious as when the basement was lit up, but there weren't as many rooms as they had seen. The long corridor was quiet and secluded.
The room where Xiuya was trapped was actually located at the deepest part of the corridor. Wang Kun led the old man to the end of the corridor before stopping. "Master, this is where she died."
The old man, known as the master, slowly turned his head. He looked around, then examined the room closely before stroking his beard and saying, "Her resentment is extremely strong. This place isn't deep enough. If you want to lock the coffin, ward off the ghost, and gather wealth, you need to dig another six meters deep under this room. It can't be too close, nor too far; if it's too close, the homeowner's life will be in danger."
Then the environment twisted again, and workers appeared in the room, chiseling and breaking through the floor. In the very center of the room, where the bed used to be, a square pit was dug. The wooden planks were lifted up, and the entrance was revealed.
The environment suddenly darkened, a cold, somber blackness. Wang Kun and the old man's footsteps echoed hurriedly on the floor as they descended deeper into the darkened room. There, they placed Xiuya's urn on an altar—though it was more of a place of worship than altar, where only shackles were placed. Red thread was wrapped around the black urn, and runes drawn with black dog blood were painted on its surface.
The old man chanted an unknown incantation rapidly in a hoarse voice, shaking an old, bronze bell in his hand as he paced back and forth in front of the altar.
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