Inside the canopy, over a dozen black wooden round tables were arranged in two rows, each set with four long benches and empty bowls and chopsticks. A central aisle led straight to the mourning hall.
The mourning altar was makeshift, partitioned by white drapes and yellow talismans. A long table at the center held the deceased's portrait, flanked by incense and candles. Behind the portrait, a large coffin was visible, with a few women and children in mourning clothes kneeling on either side, whispering among themselves.
Officer Huang stepped forward, accepted three sticks of incense from a man, and bowed solemnly three times before the portrait. He then knelt on a straw mat and kowtowed three times without touching the ground. The younger members of the group, unfamiliar with the customs, followed suit.
A makeshift band struck up a cacophony of gongs and drums, while a suona wailed piercingly outside. Firecrackers popped, and the mourners in the hall seemed to flip a switch—wailing, shrieking, and lamenting in dialect. Phrases like "You died so tragically!" and "How can I go on without you?" filled the air.
After paying respects, Officer Huang took a seat at a corner table. Soon, a stout middle-aged woman brought over five cups of tea. "Here, have some tea."
They accepted the cups politely but didn't drink.
Officer Huang sniffed the tea, pretending to consider sipping it. "The people behind the altar—are they the deceased's relatives?"
"Pah! Hua's family never had close ties. Hardly any relatives came even before this tragedy. Now? No one dares show up to pay respects. Those folks back there are just kind neighbors helping out. The whole village pitched in to arrange this funeral."
"That's very thoughtful."
"Ah, Hua was a decent, honest man. Didn't deserve this end. The villagers are heartbroken. This is our way of letting them pass with dignity, so they can reincarnate peacefully."
Officer Huang nodded. "What should we call you?"
"Just call me Sister Fan."
"Thanks, Sister Fan. You can go ahead with your work."
"Don't mention it. Food's about to be served—stay for the meal. If you have any questions, just ask. I was Hua's neighbor. I know a thing or two about his family."
Once Sister Fan left, the group huddled together.
"Did you see the portrait on the altar?" Fat Jun fidgeted nervously.
"Yeah," Prince Kai said dismissively. "What about it?"
"Something's off. There are only four people in it," Fat Jun whispered, trembling. "Wasn't it a family of five?"
Gao Yang had noticed too. The portrait showed four men in a group photo: a dark-skinned, kind-eyed man in his fifties stood at the center, a sturdy young man seated before him, and two teenagers flanking them. The black-and-white photo had been taken in a studio, with the Great Wall painted crudely on the backdrop.
Officer Huang spoke up. "Before coming here, I reviewed the case files. The head of the household was Gu Huihua, 54, a farmer. His wife—also a farmer—died of breast cancer years earlier. The eldest son, Gu Chunxiu, was 27. One younger brother had dropped out to farm, while the other was still in middle school."
"Who's the fifth victim?" Gao Yang asked.
"Gu Chunxiu's wife. She'd just married into the family—no time for a photo. The whole family was dismembered on their wedding night."
"Wedding night?!" Prince Kai perked up. "Now that's spicy!"
"What was the wife's name? Any family?"
"That's the weird part. Her identity was never verified." Officer Huang lit a cigarette.
Gao Yang fell silent.
"The bodies were chopped into over a hundred pieces, scattered across the village. The coroner took two days to reassemble them—four male corpses and one female. The woman's head was missing. Never found."
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A man struck a gong and bellowed, "Food's ready!"
Villagers streamed into the canopy, filling all ten tables within minutes. Women brought out steaming dishes—fish, meat, vegetables—until the tables groaned under the spread. The group exchanged uneasy glances. No one dared touch the food.
Gao Yang tried summoning the system to analyze the dishes, only to remember that observation was disabled here. He sighed inwardly—then jerked in alarm as Prince Kai cheerfully shoveled a piece of braised pork into his mouth.
"Prince Kai, you—"
"What?" Prince Kai was already grease-lipped. "Mmm, so good! You guys should eat too."
"I'm not hungry," Fat Jun lied, swallowing hard.
Though they couldn't be sure how much time had passed since entering the village, the group was undeniably starving, thirsty, and exhausted. But in a dangerous, unknown environment, eating random food was a terrible idea—common sense even an idiot would grasp.
Unfortunately, Prince Kai wasn't just any idiot. He was the idiot.
By the meal's end, Prince Kai had stuffed himself silly. Worse, he'd befriended a drunk villager. Though their conversation made zero sense, they hit it off, arms slung over each other's shoulders like brothers, downing two bottles of baijiu together.
After the feast, the group excused themselves.
Gao Yang and Fat Jun half-carried the tipsy Prince Kai back to the village entrance.
Officer Huang sighed. "From what we've seen, this village is stuck ten days after the massacre—when the funeral was held, per the case records."
"So we did time-travel?" Fat Jun wrung his hands. "Then... when did the villagers vanish?"
"The day after the burial. When my supervisor returned to investigate, the village was empty."
"That'd be tomorrow," Gao Yang said.
"Ugh! So we're stuck here another day?" Prince Kai slurred, then suddenly gagged. Staggering to the roadside, he dropped to his knees and vomited violently.
Qing Ling eyed him with disgust. "Drunk or poisoned?"
Officer Huang shook his head and walked over to pat Prince Kai's back. After two thumps, his face darkened. He waved the others over. "Come look."
A bad feeling settled in Gao Yang's gut. He approached first—and his scalp prickled.
Prince Kai's vomit wasn't half-digested food.
It was a squirming mass of earthworms and mud grubs.