Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Meng Yingying resisted the urge to punch him on the bridge of the nose, forcing herself to calm down. Calm down, that's right, Meng Yingying thought. Her gaze slowly turned over, then casually swept over the four blank stares before quickly looking away. This glance made her stop in her tracks. Shang Mang's face was turned in the opposite direction from hers, and a faint blush appeared on his ears, as if it was about to spread.
Meng Yingying turned around without changing her expression, met the eyes of the four people, and then took a step forward and said, "Last night, a ghost suddenly came into my room and bit my calf." Her tone changed abruptly, but Zhou Xiuqi's expression changed. He knew about the curse on Meng Yingying.
"Has the wound been treated?" Although his expression didn't change, Meng Yingying could sense his serious gaze, which resembled that of an older brother. She said awkwardly, "Not yet."
Zhou Xiuqi pondered for a moment and then asked, "Which leg?"
Meng Yingying was taken aback, then stretched out her bitten leg, which seemed to tear at the wound again, and her face showed some bitterness.
Zhou Xiuqi nodded his chin slightly onto the stool: "Sit down."
Looking at him like this, Meng Yingying felt a strange unease, yet also a sense of peace, as if they had always been this way. She wanted to force herself to stay upright, but the situation wasn't optimistic, and she couldn't afford to do anything that would hold them back, so she swallowed her pride and sat down. Shang Mang's gaze followed her intently, but Meng Yingying never looked up to meet his eyes.
Zhou Xiuqi moved very gently, lifting up the pants on the lower leg to reveal a bloody, mangled wound emanating a chilling black aura. He frowned: "With calamity upon you, how could they get close to you?"
As he spoke, he took out a medicine bottle and sprinkled it on her wound. Meng Yingying was in excruciating pain. She slightly raised her chin, bit her lip, and replied, "I'm not calm."
With those four words, Zhou Xiuqi looked up at her, his gaze making Meng Yingying feel as if she were back in school, being stared at by a teacher, sending chills down her spine. Fortunately, he only looked at her for a moment before standing up. Meng Yingying followed his gaze, and Zhou Xiuqi's brows furrowed even more: "It's dangerous here. You can't go out."
Meng Yingying looked at him blankly.
Zhou Xiuqi frowned, his gaze turning cold and unapproachable, and his words were even more cutting: "You can't even protect yourself."
“We’ve entered a place teeming with ghosts. If you don’t kill them, they will kill you.” Meng Yingying met his gaze. Zhou Xiuqi’s eyes were calm, but he was suppressing a lot of emotions: “You should understand that ghosts are no longer human.”
"You've seen Li Zhaodi become a ghost. She's controlled and becomes devoid of any humanity." His words, spoken one by one, made it impossible for Meng Yingying to hide. At the same time, she clearly perceived and felt that ghosts were also human beings, even though she could never truly integrate into this world.
She didn't know why she had such thoughts, but they just came to her. The moment she saw Li Zhaodi turn into a ghost, she found it even harder to separate the human from the ghost.
She had never told Zhou Xiuqi any of this, but he just knew it. She looked up at him, wanting an answer, but Zhou Xiuqi deliberately avoided her gaze, clearly indicating that he wouldn't say anything.
"If you don't kill others, others will kill you." Shang Mang had said this to her before. Meng Yingying lowered her head; transmigrating into a book wasn't as easy as she had imagined.
“Ah Qiao just mentioned that there’s a monk on the mountain,” Xiao Zheyu suddenly said. “Could it be Tan Yuhua?”
"Huh?" A jingling sound rang out as A-Qiao appeared before them wearing a strange mask covered in bells. She then removed the mask and asked, "Are you looking for me?" Her eyebrows rose, and the curve of her lips widened.
Meng Yingying scrutinized her face.
"Ah Qiao, where is that monk?" Xiao Zheyu asked.
...
The dilapidated temple on the mountaintop is old and decaying, showing no signs of life. Rats squeak and fight on the beams. The Buddha smiles quietly, looking down. A monk sits on a prayer mat, striking a wooden fish in his hand. It is pitch black, with only the sound of the wooden fish being struck.
The sound of wheels rolling past behind him was audible, but the monk did not turn around. When the light from the newcomer's hand shone into the entire dilapidated temple, the rats were startled by the sudden light and scurried away.
"This light is a bit too bright." The monk slowly opened his eyes, a bitter laugh escaping his throat.
Bang--
The candle fell to the ground, unexpectedly kicking up dust. The man coughed, covering his legs with his hands: "Tan Yuhua, after all these years, what exactly have you been trying to do?"
As darkness returned to Tan Yuhua's eyes, a feeling of immense comfort washed over him. He asked in a strange voice, "What does this humble monk wish to do?"
"Isn't this humble monk trying to help you?"
"Let everyone remember your achievements, let everyone remember your happiness." He smiled compassionately.
The voice behind him was decaying and old: "I don't care what you want to do, but don't take advantage of me."
Tan Yuhua got up from the futon and slowly walked to his side. He bent down and smelled a strong stench. Tan Yuhua stretched out his hand, and the man seemed to realize what he was going to do and reached out to block him, but his legs were not nimble and he could not block anything.
Tan Yuhua ripped off the cloth covering his legs, exposing them to the air. A foul stench filled the air, and the man screamed in pain, shouting, "No! No! Don't look!" His terrified expression entered Tan Yuhua's eyes, but she didn't move at all. She simply looked down at him, her bitter smile growing stronger, her eyes filled with sorrow: "Pitiful."
Quietly, the mice that had been hiding emerged from their holes again, squeaking softly—
Tan Yuhua brushed the hair on his head and patted his calves repeatedly, making splashing sounds like water being slapped on a piece of rotten flesh. The man looked confused and was clearly possessed. Tan Yuhua's eyes were full of concern because he wanted to save him.
"Why won't you believe me? I'm trying to help you. Look at everyone in this village, don't they only remember your fame and glory? Look at everyone in this village, don't they all have happy smiles on their faces?"
Below him, his狰狞扭扭的眼神 (zhengning niu ni sui, meaning ferocious and twisted eyes) stared intently at her: "You lied to me! You lied to me all of you!!" He roared with heart-wrenching pain, his long-suppressed resentment erupting.
Tan Yuhua pressed down hard on his legs, saying helplessly, "You're wrong."
"It is the world, it is the world that has deceived you, it is this world that has deceived you." He gently guides you, speaking slowly and deliberately.
"They say they wish you well, but secretly they wish you dead. They are warm on the surface, but no one really wants to be warm to outsiders. They are just pretending to be aloof and detached for money."
Tan Yuhua grabbed his neck: "You don't want your father, your brother, anymore?"
As the suffocation spread, Tan Yuhua watched helplessly as his breath weakened before releasing his hand: "This humble monk can help you find release, and even the entire village can find release."
"Are you willing?" he asked.
"No...no...it's all my fault...it has nothing to do with Father...or my brother..." he stammered, finally losing all will to resist, pleading in a low voice, "Help me, help me block them..."
Tan Yuhua concealed his hands under his monk's robe, lowered his eyes, and upon hearing this, turned around and knelt down in front of the prayer mat: "Remember this shame, it is what the world owes you." He did not pick up the piece of cloth for him; it reeked of stench.
The empty, dilapidated temple was only filled with the squeaking of rats in the shadows, which drowned out the man's voice: "Don't look..."
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