After leaving the house, Qian Cangyi headed toward Shi Jingfu's home. Along the way, he greeted several villagers but did not ask about the Death Rite again.
"Even though I didn't get anything useful from Shi Xi, the fear she showed couldn't have been fake. She's truly afraid of the Death Rite. But as Hawk-Eye said, if they're afraid, why not stop holding it? Their behavior is like drug dealers being forced to deal—refusal means death. But this village has no outsiders. Could it really be… ghosts?"
As he reasoned, Qian Cangyi thought of the two villagers who had died. The expressions on their faces were impossible to forget.
"If there are ghosts, would Taoist priests or Buddhist monks be of any use?"
By the time that thought crossed his mind, he had already arrived at Shi Jingfu's doorstep. He pulled himself back to the present. Because Shi Hai Min and Shi Jingfu were very close, he entered the house directly and saw Shi Jingfu hard at work inside.
"Hey, Hai Min, you're here! Sit, sit," Shi Jingfu said, stopping what he was doing and bringing out two stools.
"I'll make some tea."
Shi Jingfu looked genuinely happy to see him, which made Qian Cangyi feel awkward. Without Shi Hai Min's memories, he had no idea what they'd experienced together as children and didn't dare speak carelessly.
"No need to trouble yourself, I—" Qian Cangyi tried to refuse, but Shi Jingfu's enthusiasm made it hard to persist.
Facing this solid, straightforward man, Qian Cangyi suddenly felt the urge to confess that he was merely playing a role—but the thought was quickly rejected.
"Tell him and be treated like a madman? Or a traitor? Even if, by some miracle, Shi Jingfu believed me, what would I gain? Would it help me uncover the truth about the village, or the truth behind the Death Rite? Nothing at all."
He gave a self-mocking smile at the absurd thought.
Shi Jingfu noticed it. "What're you smiling about? You seem pretty happy."
"Oh—nothing," Qian Cangyi said, startled, quickly regaining his composure.
They chatted for a long time after that, mostly about childhood memories. Qian Cangyi could only smile and go along with it, careful neither to say too much nor too little. Eventually, Shi Jingfu sensed something and began asking about the outside world. On these topics, Qian Cangyi had no need to be modest—he spoke freely. Gradually, their relationship grew closer, and at least for Qian Cangyi, the awkwardness faded.
When the moment felt right, Qian Cangyi brought up the Death Rite.
"Jingfu, there's something I want to ask you," he said seriously.
"Go ahead," Shi Jingfu laughed, easing the tension.
"How much do you know about the Death Rite?"
"Death Rite…" Shi Jingfu shook his head. "I don't know much. The last time I participated, I was six or seven. I only remember that something terrible happened. I was terrified—you were too. I can't recall much else. The adults never told me anything."
"Something terrible?" Qian Cangyi seized on the point. "What exactly happened?"
"For the villagers, many things could count as 'terrible,'" he thought. "But for me, that explanation isn't enough."
"I'm not really sure," Shi Jingfu said slowly. "To be precise, maybe a lot of terrible things happened?"
He looked up at the sky. Blue skies and white clouds usually lifted one's spirits, but it seemed he was using the sky to search his memories—trying to recall what had happened twenty years ago.
Qian Cangyi watched him quietly, searching his ordinary face for any hint of something unusual.
After about ten seconds, Shi Jingfu lowered his gaze and turned back. "It seems a lot of people died. Everyone stayed locked inside their homes, afraid to go out. The sky was black—there was no sun. The entire village was shrouded in a cold, eerie wind. I don't remember what happened afterward. Sorry, that's all I can recall. It's been too long. And the adults all seemed to have agreed never to speak of it. That's all I know."
Hearing this, the gloom in Qian Cangyi's heart deepened.
"Thank you. I'll head back now. Let's talk again sometime."
After he left, the heaviness on Shi Jingfu's face did not fade, as if those memories had stirred painful events he had long tried to avoid.
On the way back to Shi Xi's house, Qian Cangyi reconsidered what might have happened during the Death Rite twenty years ago.
"From Shi Jingfu's description, it feels like an apocalypse—at least for this village. But the key question is: does this happen every time the Death Rite is held, or does it happen if the Death Rite isn't held? If it's the former, why not leave Yuxi Village, like Shi Hai Min did? Wait… Shi Hai Min didn't want to come back because he feared the Death Rite—he even left his mother behind—but he still returned. That's interesting. It's as if the Death Rite is irresistible to everyone in Yuxi Village. No matter how far they flee, every twenty years they are drawn back. But if it's the latter, why hold the Death Rite at all? And if holding it has no consequences, why even consider not holding it? If holding it does have consequences—what exactly are they?"
There were too many questions and no clear answers, which only strengthened his resolve to investigate the ritual site that afternoon.
After lunch, Hawk-Eye came to find him, and the two headed toward the Death Rite's location.
After walking for about an hour, they passed through dense forest and reached the halfway point up the mountain. There lay the ritual site—a clearing of about two hundred square meters. At its center stood a stone stele roughly two people tall, carved with indecipherable symbols and characters. Weathered by time, it carried an ancient, solemn presence.
Surrounding the stele were many yellowed bronze coins, engraved with the same markings as the stone. Their meaning was unknown. In the surrounding forest, thin red strings were tied between trees, their purpose equally unclear.