Translator: CinderTL
Even if the Feng family were willing to wait, they couldn't afford to. Pan Du had already fallen victim. If they didn't resolve this matter quickly, who knew who would be next?
Moreover, Jiang Cheng didn't fully trust Luo He's theory. Even if they could resolve this supernatural event, there was no guarantee they could revive Pan Du.
And even if they did manage to revive him, who could guarantee that the Pan Du who woke up would truly be the same person he once was?
Or that some sinister entity wouldn't be using Pan Du's body as a vessel for rebirth?
Lost in thought, Jiang Cheng suddenly recalled the recording Luo He had released earlier. It contained the voice of Na Ruhu, who had long since disappeared.
Na Ruhu's voice was filled with unbearable anguish. He cried out in agony, begging something to return his skin to him.
Without a doubt, that "something" was the Ghost.
The Ghost that had wiped out Na Ruhu and his companions, nearly wiping out the entire Feng family in the process.
The tragedy was that the Feng family had been the ones to release this Ghost in the first place.
Yet even now, they still couldn't fathom the depth of the Ghost's hatred for the Feng family. As far as they could tell, the Feng family had merely sent it away.
Clearly, there were many hidden secrets buried within this affair.
Looking back, from their vantage point, they could just make out a corner of the Feng Manor. The pale gray high wall stood there, as if separating two different eras.
Since ancient times, stories unfolding within the deep courtyards of grand estates have always been tinged with a melancholic and tragic hue. The Song Dynasty Instance had been like this, and here, he felt the same way again.
The oppressive atmosphere in Feng Manor, thick with the presence of a Ghost, was nearly suffocating. So, without a word, everyone chose to wander aimlessly along the street instead of returning.
Having only recently arrived in this world, they hadn't fully adjusted. The starkly different atmosphere from modern society created a profound sense of alienation.
It was as if they were trapped in an unreal dream.
Though the war had been won, the eyes of passersby held more confusion than joy. The wounds and shadows left by the brutal conflict would take time to heal.
Further down the road, the area was less bustling. Scattered stalls lined the sides, mostly manned by elderly men with white hair and children in rough clothing, their faces streaked with dirt.
Bullet marks scarred the walls, and charred wood and bricks lay scattered about. In the distance, a scene of shattered walls and crumbling ruins stretched out.
The flames of war had once consumed this land too. The sight before them was a raw, bloody testament to history, more impactful than any documentary or supposedly true account.
In front of a building that had been bombed and reduced to a mere shell, a square of cloth, a few feet across, lay spread on the ground. The cloth was filthy, as if scavenged from somewhere, its original color barely discernible.
On the cloth were displayed small handicrafts and woven dolls. Several East Asian women sat around it, one cradling a child in her arms.
Perhaps due to hunger, the child cried incessantly, and the woman could only offer soft words of comfort. She herself was starving, so where could she find milk to feed her child?
Fatty, witnessing this scene firsthand, stopped in his tracks, then slowly shook his head.
"Do you feel sorry for them?" Jiang Cheng glanced at the women before turning to Fatty, his tone as calm as ever.
To Jiang Cheng's slight surprise, Fatty, usually so kind-hearted, shook his head firmly. "No," he said.
After a moment of silence, he continued, "I used to feel sorry for them too. But who felt sorry for us? They still have a chance here, a chance to live. What about our brothers and sisters, our fellow countrymen they murdered? Who felt sorry for them?"
"People must learn to pay the price for their actions. There's no such thing as a simple smile to erase past grievances. The fact that they're still alive is the greatest mercy they've been shown."
Hearing this, Jiang Cheng took a deep breath and sighed, "What a pity."
"Pity?" Fatty turned his large head, his expression a mixture of confusion and suspicion. He had no idea what Jiang Cheng was up to.
He couldn't have guessed that Jiang Cheng had originally planned to lecture him, but Fatty's response left him with nothing to criticize, forcing him to abandon the idea.
As they were leaving, a mournful song drifted from behind them, carried by the wind with an ethereal quality. Even though the lyrics were in a different language, the singer's sorrow was unmistakable. But what stopped them in their tracks, widening their eyes in shock, was something else entirely.
They recognized the song.
No, it was the melody.
It was exactly the same as the music in the background of the recording, the music that had accompanied Na Ruhu's agonizing wails.
After just a few steamed buns, they easily learned the song's name from the women: "Cherry Blossom Fall."
They also shared a local legend about the song: If you've done something you regret or hurt someone, you should weave a straw effigy during cherry blossom season and place it beneath a cherry tree.
After a rain, when the cherry blossoms have fallen, if the straw doll also disappears, it means the deity has accepted your request.
The deity will give you a chance to atone for your past mistakes or regrets—but only within a dream, a dream shrouded in mystery.
If your heart is sincere enough, when you wake, everything will become reality.
The person you once loved deeply will change their mind and start anew with you. The wrongs you committed will be rectified. Even your deceased loved ones might reappear before you, smiling and greeting you as if nothing had changed.
But the woman also warned that this deity was not as benevolent as he seemed. He often approached human requests with a playful, detached attitude.
If your performance in the dream failed to satisfy him, or worse, angered him, he would trap you in the dream forever. You would be forced to atone for your actions alongside him.
Even more terrifying, he might even wear your clothes, dress exactly like you, and live your life in your place, deceiving your family and friends.
After finishing her explanation, the woman seemed to realize that these concepts might be difficult for the foreign visitors to grasp.
Meanwhile, she was even more worried that these people would accuse her of spreading rumors and turn hostile. So she added dryly, lowering her head, that these were just legends and shouldn't be taken seriously.
"Perhaps... perhaps they're just a kind of wishful thinking."
True regret, she explained, was something that couldn't be changed or remedied. And gods, she added, could only exist in myths and legends.
But Jiang Cheng and his companions clearly weren't listening to this as a fairy tale. They knew that, in some ways at least, ghosts could be considered a type of god.
(End of the Chapter)
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