It wasn’t just Jiang Yan—everyone felt the tremor.
Someone immediately searched the keywords online.
“It looks like there was an earthquake in Jin Chuan,” that person said. “The magnitude wasn’t high, but that’s the epicenter. The shockwaves reached us here.”
Half a minute later, someone else found other information.
A short-haired girl corrected, “It wasn’t an earthquake. A mountain in Jin Chuan collapsed.”
Shen Xiaoxiao, who had been about to make a run for it, turned her head, her face full of disbelief. “What?”
“A mountain… collapsed?”
The short-haired girl was shocked as well. She turned her phone screen toward everyone, showing real-time photos from social media. “Several people posted pictures of the mountain from different angles. The peak collapsed. I heard Jin Chuan’s rescue team has already set out.”
The photos showed an ordinary barren mountain, but now it looked as if something had sliced it in half. Countless sand and rocks tumbled down, raising a cloud of dust so thick it was hard to see anything clearly.
Yu Renwan picked up her phone to search, but after what happened with Xi Jueyun, her trust in online images had plummeted. “Are these fake? Like, photoshopped or something…”
Shen Huanhuan nodded thoughtfully. “It’s possible.”
“But Jin Chuan is very close to Jiangcheng—they’re right next to each other. If a mountain at the border really collapsed, it makes sense we’d feel it here.”
A mountain collapsing was such a rare event that the Supernatural Administration Bureau staff were soon deep in discussion in the lobby, talking animatedly.
Some psychics were more cautious. One muttered an incantation, tossed three copper coins to the ground, then crouched to read the divination. “Hmm… Seems like something big happened, but it’s not related to an earthquake.”
“It’s very safe, very safe!”
With that, she put away the coins and joined a group nearby to continue the discussion.
Jiang Yan didn’t understand this human habit of gathering to chat. Many people clearly didn’t know each other, but as soon as someone started a topic, everyone could join in, and when they got excited, they’d even gesture wildly.
Not like her. Right now, she just wanted to lie flat on her bed and stare at the ceiling.
But she couldn’t rest yet. At noon, the official media would release the story of Lingren Village, listing all the martyrs’ names. She had also promised Xi Jueyun to help her fulfill her last wish by scattering her ashes into the sea.
She wanted to resolve everything as quickly as possible, so she could rest without any distractions.
With that in mind, Jiang Yan turned to tell Shen Huanhuan about it. Shen Huanhuan immediately pulled out her phone to look it up.
Two minutes later, she suggested, “Let’s go get Xi Jueyun’s ashes now.”
“Lingren Village is pretty far. There’s no direct flight from Jiangcheng, only high-speed rail. It’ll take about five hours.”
So the group left the Supernatural Administration Bureau.
As they walked, Shen Huanhuan filled everyone in. “I just got a message from Sister Yuqing. She said the Bureau has already contacted the family and asked them to truthfully say where Xi Jueyun’s ashes are.”
“The exact location is on my phone.”
Pingping asked, “Where are the ashes? Don’t tell me that student still has them?”
Shen Huanhuan replied, “They’re still in Lingren Village. He put Xi Jueyun’s and the invader’s ashes in a plastic box and buried it behind his old house in the back hills.”
“He said he hoped she could return to her roots, her soul back to her homeland.”
Shen Xiaoxiao curled her lip in disdain. “That’s just ridiculous.”
“He obviously realized something was wrong and tried to cover it up with pretty words. He clearly thought it was a lovers’ suicide pact, burned them together to satisfy his own fantasies and savior complex. Then, when he belatedly got scared there might really be a ghost, he hurried to bury them nearby.”
“By the way, is he doing okay now?”
Shen Huanhuan nodded. “Not at all.”
“I heard he had a fever last night, was talking nonsense, tried to tough it out and go to school today, but got his foot smashed by a flowerpot. His foot’s so swollen it’s unrecognizable. On the way to the hospital, he scraped an expensive car, and when the Bureau called, his father was still negotiating the hefty compensation with the owner.”
“……”
Yu Renwan hesitated. “That’s even more unlucky than I used to be…”
Shen Huanhuan remembered Yu Renwan’s past and sighed sympathetically. “Luckily, you can control your constitution now.”
“I used to think maybe there was something wrong with your fate. When I realized it wasn’t, I doubted my own theoretical knowledge for a long time. But now, it’s clear—when someone’s fate collapses, they really do get unlucky.”
The journey went smoothly. Around noon, they got off the high-speed train and took a taxi to Lingren Village.
As soon as they got out of the car, they saw the village’s dilapidated houses lining the road, some with wild grass growing in front, clearly abandoned long ago.
They entered the village and walked slowly forward.
There weren’t many people around—just a few elderly folks in their seventies or eighties, left behind. They sat on the steps in front of their homes, basking in the sun. Some blinked their cloudy eyes at the group; others listlessly fanned themselves.
No one disturbed the elders—they just walked silently along the road.
After a few minutes, Shen Huanhuan suddenly whispered, “I feel really strange right now.”
“It’s like I can vaguely see the old layout of Lingren Village, but everything is different.”
Shen Xiaoxiao nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it feels like a lifetime ago.”
“It’s like we were just living here yesterday—the opera house was beautiful, everyone was so full of life, each with their own charm.”
Yu Renwan said, “I wonder if the opera house is still there. It’s probably long gone.”
Pingping looked toward where Flower Street used to be, but there was nothing there now, just a few lonely trees.
“Flower Street is gone.”
She said softly, “Yan Zaizai really wanted to go to school, but Jin Yuebai never managed to find her a teacher.”
Some feelings didn’t need to be spoken aloud.
They walked quietly for a long time, finally arriving at the location they’d been given.
There, a woman nearing forty stood with her child. Even without introductions, they knew who the two were.
When she saw Jiang Yan and the others, the woman’s eyes lit up. She hurried over.
“We didn’t dare touch it. We were waiting for you. Let me help you dig it up!”
Jiang Yan refused her offer.
Shen Xiaoxiao took out a shovel, dashed over, and started digging. The woman smiled awkwardly, pulled her child close, and began bowing repeatedly, apologizing over and over, her words never straying from “I’m sorry” and “please save us.”
From her words, the group learned that the boy’s father had already been taken away by the police, and the boy himself had been in a daze for hours.
Jiang Yan looked at the silent boy.
After a moment, she said bluntly, “But he doesn’t feel sorry at all.”
The boy’s eyes were shadowed, turbid qi swirling around him. With his fate collapsed, his soul had no protection, and all sorts of strange things wanted to come take a look.
These things screamed in his ears, pressing down on him until he was in agony, his back unconsciously hunched, his face flushed with a sickly red, his eyes bloodshot.
But even under such torment, all he felt was regret—not remorse.
Five minutes later, Shen Xiaoxiao dug up the box of ashes. She hugged it tightly and turned to ask, “Shall we go?”
“Let’s go.”
Jiang Yan didn’t look at the two again and turned away carelessly.
The woman panicked. She rushed forward, trying to grab them, but just then the boy suddenly began to vomit, collapsing to his knees and trembling uncontrollably. Two streams of nosebleed ran past his mouth and dripped onto the ground. The woman looked back and forth, stomped her foot, and hurried to take care of her son.
Once in the taxi, Shen Xiaoxiao sent a message to the group: “I could feel it—there were so many spiritual presences around him.”
Shen Huanhuan considered, then replied: “His body is like a house with no doors. Any wandering ghost can come in for a look, stay for a while, and even cohabit.”
“The days ahead won’t be easy for him.”
Pingping: “He deserves it. It’s nothing compared to Xi Jueyun’s soul being scattered.”
*
At 2 p.m., the official media made a statement.
Because stopping the spread of the Yingling Flower was such a great contribution—if no one had stopped it, if the pollen had gotten out through Old Master Fang, countless people would have suffered unspeakably—so in this list, names like Liu Shaochun, Fang Xuyu, and Dai Que’er were also included.
It was a list of more than thirty names.
In the story told by the official media, a hundred years ago, Lingren Village had a group of heroes. They gave their lives to stop the spread of drugs and to resist foreign invaders. They sacrificed themselves for righteousness, served the country, sought survival for their loved ones, and peace for future generations.
In the second-to-last paragraph, they mentioned Xi Jueyun and that photograph.
“Martyr Xi Jueyun, in a moment of crisis, killed herself and the enemy, ensuring that all invaders who entered Lingren Village perished, accomplishing a feat of victory against overwhelming odds.”
The final paragraph was a somewhat abrupt audio link.
Jiang Yan clicked on it.
Inside was a girl’s voice, but it had been altered with a voice changer—mechanical and strange, completely unrecognizable.
“My grandmother was called Jin Yuebai,” the girl said.
“She had three very good sisters. Back then, they sold cloth and herbs along the coast, ran a teahouse—basically did anything to make a living. Later, they saved up, gained a reputation, and partnered with local entrepreneurs to open a pharmaceutical factory.”
“I don’t know much, but Grandpa always said Grandma was an extraordinary woman, and all four sisters were.”
“When I was born, Grandma was already very old. Her memory wasn’t good, and she always talked about the opera house and Flower Street, over and over. Grandpa would comb her white hair while she talked. The person Grandma mentioned most was a girl named Yan Zaizai. All her life, Grandma regretted not letting her study properly.”
“When I was little, I got jealous and asked Grandma whether she liked me or Yan Zaizai more.”
“Grandma said she loved us both, but if she had to choose, she’d pick Zaizai. Zaizai was the smartest, the cutest, the brightest little girl.”
“Later, Grandma passed away, and Grandpa died the next month. While sorting Grandma’s things, we found a notebook full of names. When the authorities finally reached out to me, I gave them this notebook. Turns out, all those people Grandma talked about were martyrs.”
“No wonder she remembered them her whole life.”
“Their names shouldn’t be listed with the invaders. Never forgetting national humiliation has always been our people’s consciousness. The invaders are not worthy.”
The girl’s short confession nearly brought Shen Xiaoxiao to tears.
Within five minutes of the official news release, it had been shared over a thousand times. Half an hour later, the shares broke ten thousand. The comment section was full of emotion, with many martyrs’ descendants reposting their own stories, condemning unscrupulous media for fabricating false information and speaking up for the fallen heroes.
Shen Huanhuan read the comments for a long time, then let out a long breath.
Standing by the sea, she turned and asked, “Do you know why that girl used a voice changer?”
Jiang Yan asked in return, “Why?”
Shen Huanhuan answered seriously, “Because she’s a narcotics officer.”
“She and Zaizai are both Jin Yuebai’s pride.”
Jiang Yan smiled, her lips curving gently.
The time had come.
With everyone watching, Jiang Yan walked barefoot into the sea, opened the box in her hands, and bent down to place it in the water. In the next second, the gray-white ashes rose, swept up by the waves, then scattered by the current, drifting with the surf in all directions.
Every speck was free.