Chapter 55: Flying Head

Jin Chen looked confused. “Wait, didn’t you say your General Yan could protect you from floods forever?”

“Hmph,” the Deputy Village Chief crossed his arms and looked at Jin Chen with impatience. “What is with you young people being so superstitious? Go worship the God of Wealth as your foster father and see if he actually makes you rich. General Yan this, General Yan that… seeking immortals and divination isn’t as good as being your own master. Don’t you get it?”

“I…” Jin Chen’s fist tightened instantly, his face darkening like a gorilla on the verge of an outburst.

Lu Qi quickly held him back. The live stream was still on; although they didn’t know if there was a signal, they also didn’t know if the man in front of them was a ghost. If he wasn’t, the headlines tomorrow about “Macaque No. 2 Assaulting Locals” would be a nightmare.

“Chief,” Qin Shuyao asked hurriedly, “is there a Grandma Zhang Temple here?”

The Deputy Village Chief glanced at her. Feeling she had good taste and a pleasant way of speaking, he replied, “There is, but the flood drowned it. We built a new one elsewhere; it hasn’t been in that spot for a long time.”

According to the Deputy Chief, he hadn’t heard anything about a film crew coming to the village. The guests felt a lingering dread. The “Bai Shuizhang” who had picked them up… it was likely a ghost who had led them into a ghost village from the very beginning.

Hearing their ordeal over the past few days, the Deputy Chief marveled at the story and offered to put them up for the night. Once the sun rose tomorrow, they could leave on their own. The guests thanked him profusely.

The Deputy Chief’s house was quite large, with several spare rooms in the courtyard, allowing the dozen or so people to stay. The director mentioned that there were still a dozen staff members back in the “graveyard” area who hadn’t made it out.

“Who would dare go look at this hour?” the Deputy Chief advised. “Life and death are fated; wealth and honor are in the hands of Heaven. Those meant to live won’t die, and those meant to die won’t live. Look for them tomorrow.”

The director was uneasy, but he couldn’t force the man to help, so he agreed.

The Deputy Chief lived there with his wife; their child was away studying in the city. Seeing the guests soaked to the bone, the wife brought out towels and clean blankets. The Deputy Chief went to stew a pot of vegetables.

The guests didn’t know how many hours they had been running. Finally having a hot meal made their eyes well up with tears, but they were so exhausted that they could barely swallow.

Only Tan Xueci ate heartily, slurping his food.

He Xunye reached out to tuck away a stray hair from Xueci’s face, occasionally holding a water cup to the boy’s lips for a sip. The director sat nearby, comforting the guests. “I’m sorry, everyone. You’ve worked hard.”

“It’s okay.” The guests didn’t blame him; the film crew’s own people were trapped too. What could be done?

Tan Xueci followed suit, mumbling through a mouthful of food, “Not hard at all.”

He Xunye let out a soft chuckle. The live stream was still active, and the bullet comments went silent for a moment.

[Baby, you… forget it, only you know the bittersweetness of this journey.] [Xiao Xue is the perfect guest for New Year dinner. Pretty and eats a lot; my grandma would love a kid like this.] [Dammit, He-who-must-not-be-named is staring at my wife like a male ghost again. You think my wife is cute too, don’t you? Bang Bang Punches.jpg] [I’m shipping it. Here’s 200 bucks.jpg]

Zhang Chengfa recovered his composure and told He Xunye about their encounter with Bai Shuizhang. With lingering fear, he said, “Mr. He, Bai Shuizhang didn’t seem… human, did he?”

The others hadn’t even seen Bai Shuizhang; only those few had been tricked into the car by the ghost. He Xunye stroked Xueci’s flushed cheek and smiled as he turned his head. “I never said he was human.”

Zhang Chengfa: “…” You didn’t say he was a ghost either!

“Aside from locust trees,” the evil spirit’s narrow eyes glinted with a faint, cold mirth—he didn’t care about their lives and wouldn’t mind a few deaths for entertainment—”Cypress trees (Bai) are also Yin. They are usually planted in cemeteries and graveyards. Water (Shui), the Yan River. Zhang (Zhang), isn’t this Zhang Family Village? He is a ghost of the Zhang family; is there a problem?”

Having finished his own portion, Tan Xueci secretly reached into He Xunye’s bowl, picking out the braised pork while deciding the pickled cabbage and glass noodles were also delicious. He ate a lot when food was bad, but when it was good, he ate until he was stuffed, only stopping when his stomach felt like it might burst.

He Xunye ignored Zhang Chengfa, pressing his hand over his bowl to coax Xueci. “Baby, let’s eat more tomorrow, okay?”

Tan Xueci wasn’t used to being managed. Moreover, he felt a strong sense of guilt if he didn’t finish his food; at home, he never left leftovers. Every time, Tan Yanning would take the initiative to pile food onto his plate. Even if he couldn’t eat, he had to keep going until his stomach cramped and he broke out in a cold sweat. If he stopped, his mother would scold him for being “pretentious” and “acting out” while being fed.

Xueci gripped his chopsticks, unwilling to let go. As the other guests talked, He Xunye suddenly looked up and lowered his voice. “Baby, you’re pregnant.”

The chopsticks in Xueci’s hand froze. His eyes went wide, his small face turning deathly pale. “What?!”

His mind was in a whirl. It had only been once! It was all He Xunye’s fault for forcing him. He felt disgusted and terrified, but He Xunye didn’t care. Baby this, baby that, but he doesn’t care if Baby is scared to death.

God, men are such wretched things.

Suddenly, the food didn’t taste so good. Tan Xueci set down his chopsticks, eyes brimming with tears, and secretly ran over to tug on Yu He’s Taoist sleeve.

“M-Master,” Xueci whispered, “could you check… if I’m pregnant?”

Jin Chen, sitting right next to Yu He, spat out his water and stared at Xueci in horror. Yu He nearly choked to death himself. He hurriedly looked at Xueci; no matter how he looked, there was no sign of a ghost fetus. He took Xueci’s pulse and said hesitantly, “You just ate too much.”

The pulse was a bit sluggish—likely indigestion.

Xueci’s face fell, and he marched back. His dark eyes fixed on He Xunye with resentment, furious that the man had lied to him. The evil spirit, however, leaned down like a tender father and listened to his stomach.

Terrified of being seen, Xueci covered his stomach and pushed the man’s head away. The ghost’s peach-blossom eyes crinkled with a smile, his voice tender yet chilling. “Baby, be good, okay? If you aren’t, I’ll make you have one. Your belly will be all round and bulging; it’ll be so cute.”

Xueci could tell He Xunye was just scaring him at first, but as he spoke, his tone slowed. The ghost’s damp, red eyes stared at his stomach as if he were genuinely considering it. Xueci shuddered, imagining himself with a round belly, unable to even eat. He was terrified; tears began to fall.

He won’t let me play on my phone, he won’t let me eat… finding a ‘father’ is just like this.

“Blow,” He Xunye said, holding a tissue to his nose. Xueci didn’t think twice and obediently blew his nose.

Yu He watched, dumbfounded. He couldn’t help but snark, “Are you raising a child?”

He Xunye frowned and glanced at him. Yu He shrunk back, not daring to speak again, pretending he saw nothing.

Xueci was still crying, but since the camera wasn’t on them, He Xunye pulled him into his arms and patted his back.

Yu He’s expression was complicated. He was the same age as He Xunye and had known him since childhood. Growing up in a Taoist temple not far from Qilian Temple, he had visited with his master many times. They weren’t exactly “best friends,” but if He Xunye had a friend, it was likely him. They had even taken on “jobs” together.

A few months ago, he had taken a case from a bar owner who claimed there was a Rokurokubi (Flying Head) in their underground garage. According to ancient texts like In Search of the Supernatural, these monsters’ necks stretch at night until the head detaches from the body to cause harm before returning.

Yu He couldn’t find it after staking out for days, so he asked He Xunye for help. They waited in a car in the garage. Suddenly, there was a rustle. A youth in a black baseball cap walked out. He kept his head down, but his skin was pale and his legs long; he was clearly a beauty.

“Could it be him?” Yu He had wondered.

The youth was followed by several kitten ghosts. He Xunye assumed the boy was unaware, but the youth crouched in a corner and lit incense for the kittens to “eat.” Small animals often leave behind nothing but a faint wisp of Yin energy. They don’t know they’re dead and usually dissipate after a few days. The kittens “ate” the incense smoke and immediately rolled over to show their bellies.

The boy was so focused on petting them that he didn’t notice a pale, bloated human head appearing behind him. Just as Yu He was about to intervene, He Xunye stopped him. The youth jumped in fright and bolted.

He was fast, like a lithe mountain goat, and leaped onto the hood of a car. The Flying Head had been lured under the car; as it tried to crawl out, the youth leaped down from the roof. It wasn’t a high jump, but the boy’s pale jawline was set so tight he looked like he was jumping from a skyscraper. He delivered a brutal kick to the head, sending it slamming into a pillar, black blood splattering everywhere.

The Flying Head wasn’t easily killed and lunged again. The youth finally looked up. He had seemed timid and dull-witted at first, but now his face was cold and expressionless, revealing stunning features and frost-white skin. His eyes were red with fear, yet he delivered a resounding slap to the head before turning to run.

Yu He’s jaw dropped. He had never seen someone slap a ghost. It was so loud his own face felt a phantom pain.

Beside him, He Xunye sat with his long legs crossed, leaning against the car window. The black prayer beads on his wrist made him look cold and ascetic. He had thin, red lips—a look that usually suggested a lack of affection.

He Xunye was born with a “Pure Yang” horoscope, but the Yin energy in his body grew heavier every year. It was as if his flesh was Yang but his soul was Yin. A human body couldn’t handle such a split; every inch of him was being torn apart and healed every second. He lived at Qilian Temple, eating vegetarian and chanting sutras. The abbot said he would only live to thirty.

Yu He was a different kind of Taoist; his sect allowed marriage. But his parents had been killed by evil spirits when he was seven. He had seen a “Painted Skin” ghost kill his mother and take her skin to come home with them. Since then, he had vowed never to marry until every evil spirit was slain. He was ascetic by choice, but he thought He Xunye was simply “incapable.” He had once recommended a men’s health clinic to He Xunye, and in return, He Xunye had wordlessly shredded a stack of Yu He’s hard-earned talismans.

He Xunye was gloomy, cold, and detached. Except for his lack of compassion, he was more of a monk than anyone at Qilian Temple. Since Yu He first met him at age eight, he had always been like this—a heart like stagnant water.

Yu He had worried the boy would be killed by the Flying Head, not understanding what He Xunye was doing. But then, black flames erupted from the ground. Before the boy could react, the dark red tongues of fire swallowed the ghost head.

The youth turned, saw the ghost was gone, and let out a sigh of relief. He was clearly terrified, but his hatred outweighed his fear. His eyes were red and wet, but he wiped his hands with a look of pure disgust. “So gross,” he muttered.

Yu He recognized that hatred. It was the first time he’d met someone who loathed ghosts as much as he did. He rubbed his chin, feeling strangely “rewarded” by the boy’s insult. He turned to see He Xunye watching the boy walk away.

Yu He suddenly felt mischievous. “What? You’ve got a crush?”

Compared to He Xunye, that youth was like a flame—a fierce, stubborn fire that wouldn’t be extinguished by illness or hauntings. He could pet kitten ghosts and slap evil spirits with the same hands. It made one feel that worshipping him was better than worshipping the Buddha.

Yu He hadn’t known He Xunye was dying back then. He had playfully pulled a divination stick for him. The poem on it read: “Flowers beneath the steps are cold and elegant; the Buddha’s fire before the hall is dim and vast.”

Yu He didn’t understand it, but he noticed one thing: the stick indicated a match in marriage.

“Impossible,” He Xunye had said coldly, withdrawing his gaze. “He’s just a child.”

📚 Also on NHV Novels

Night Has Fallen, Mafia—Send Your Text Messages

BLDramaModern

Read Now →
Not interested