end
As Su Nian walked out of Meixi Town's borders, the crimson flames within the copper box completely extinguished, leaving only a layer of warm ash. She glanced back, and the town, once shrouded in black fog, was now bathed in the morning light. The shabby wooden window frames, covered with centuries of dust, glowed softly in the sunlight, as if the centuries-old resentment had never existed.
Passing the abandoned Earth God Temple at the foot of the mountain, she paused. The temple gate had long since decayed, with half-foot-high weeds growing on the threshold. The statue of the Earth God inside had one arm missing. On the stone table before it was a half-burnt candle that the seven of them had lit when they rested the previous night. It had been brought by Old Gu Master Chen, who had said that Gu insects were afraid of candlelight but hadn't mentioned that his own natal Gu had long been entangled with the evil spirit of Meixi Town.
Su Nian pulled the last yellow talisman from her backpack and placed it on the stone table. She then sprinkled some of the red flame ash from the copper box onto the talisman paper. She didn't light the fire, but simply bowed deeply to the statue, turned, and continued walking. The wind blew past the temple gate, gently lifting a corner of the yellow talisman. The traces of cinnabar on the talisman paper, which coincided with the cracks on the statue's broken arm, felt like a silent farewell.
It was dusk when she returned to her clan. A few children were sitting under the old locust tree at the village entrance. Seeing her return, they stopped playing and looked at her timidly—they all knew Su Nian had gone to Meixi Town, a place that made the elders sigh at the mention of it. An elder, leaning on a cane, came up to her. Seeing her empty back, his cloudy eyes welled up, but he didn't ask anything, simply reaching out and patting her shoulder.
By the time Su Nian handed the evil core fragment to the elder, it had already cooled to a chill, like a piece of stone. "Senior Zhao Yu's resentment has dissipated," she said, her voice a little hoarse. "The locust tree stake has broken, and the fog has dissipated." The elder took the fragment, rubbing it repeatedly in his palm. After a long pause, he spoke, "After a hundred years, the fog in Meixi Town has finally found someone willing to light a fire."
At night, Su Nian sat in front of her window, looking through the compass left by Chen Yan. The traces of cinnabar on the half-broken dial had long since turned black, but she could still make out the small words engraved on the edge of the dial: "Those who save others must first save themselves." She remembered Chen Yan's last weak smile, and the tone of his voice when he said, "The fog has dissipated." She suddenly covered her face with her hands, and tears seeped out from between her fingers, falling on the compass, leaving a small stain.
The moonlight outside the window was bright, illuminating the stone pavement in the courtyard. Su Nian stood up and divided the ashes from the copper box into seven portions. She wrapped each portion in yellow paper and placed them on the wooden rack in front of the window. She lit an oil lamp, its soft glow illuminating the seven small paper packages, like seven faint but steadfast stars.
"Chen Yan, Su Mo, Chen Lao, and..." She whispered their names softly, her voice was very soft, but it could penetrate the night. "Look, the moonlight is very beautiful, let's go home."
Later, the children of the tribe would gather around Su Nian and ask her to tell them stories about Meixi Town. She would sit under the old locust tree, holding the half compass in her hand, and tell the story from the first encounter of the seven people during their nighttime exploration of the ghost town, to the glutinous rice in front of the cinnabar array, to the yang energy on the yellow talisman, and finally to the morning light that pierced the dark fog.
Children always ask: "Sister Su Nian, where did the evil core fragments go?"
Su Nianhui pointed to the old locust tree at the entrance of the village and said with a smile, "It lies in the soil, along with the souls willing to protect it, waiting for every dawn when the fog dissipates."
And every time at this time, the wind would blow through the branches of the old locust tree, making a rustling sound, as if responding, and as if telling a story - telling the injustice of a hundred years ago, telling the courage of seven people, and also telling that some light, even if only a little, can penetrate the deepest fog and illuminate the way home.
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