“Mute!”
“We caught the mute! Everyone, come quick!”
“The mute is out of the house again, hahaha!”
“What did your mom send you out for this time? You can’t even let out a fart!”
“Say something! Why don’t you say a single word? Oh, wait, I forgot, you’re a mute!”
The sounds of mockery rang out piercingly.
It was during the glow of a setting sun. A group of village children were giggling and shoving him, cornering the seven-or-eight-year-old boy in a deserted, remote part of the village. They trapped him behind a wall next to a house, the high structure blocking out the dying sunlight. In the shadows, he curled into a corner, shielding his head with his arms.
The children pelted him with stones and mud, kicking and punching him, and even spat on him a few times.
“Even your dad said it! Why aren’t you dead yet!”
“What are you doing out here helping your mom? Buying soy sauce! You’ve got money on you, don’t you!”
A child with a sharp chin and thin face shrieked, “Quick, grab his money! Let’s go buy glass marbles!”
Those words were like a ladle of hot oil splashed into a fire. The group of children immediately erupted into shrill screams of excitement, swarming him. They laughed sharply, tearing and pulling at him without restraint, their hands groping all over him.
Just as he was frightened out of his wits, a clear voice rang out from outside the circle: “What are you doing!?”
Several children pounced on him were pulled away. They shrieked again, falling back onto their rears.
Wen Mo, panting, snapped back from his terror. Fixing his gaze, he saw a tall, thin boy pulling the children off him one by one, shoving them away before turning around to stand protectively in front of him.
“What is wrong with you kids!” the boy shouted angrily. “So many of you bullying one person! And stealing money!? How did your parents raise you!”
Wen Mo froze. His clothes were torn and askew, and his face was covered in mud. His whole body ached. Trembling, he crawled up from the ground and sat upright.
“Who cares how our parents raised us!” a chubby kid blustered. “Who are you? Mind your own business!”
“Watch your mouth!”
“I’ll say whatever I want! That stinking mute’s parents don’t even care about him, why are you meddling? Are you his new dad!”
“What did you say? Why, you little—”
The person in front of him rolled up his sleeves and took a half-step forward in anger.
“Boss!” The sharp-chinned child nearby interrupted them. He waved a few bills at the chubby kid—they were actually several small paper notes of one and two jiao. “I got it!”
Wen Mo panicked and scrambled to check his pocket. It was indeed empty. His face turned paper-white.
The children shrieked with laughter again. The boy in front of Wen Mo lunged forward to grab the money back, but the children picked up clumps of mud and hurled them at him. Caught off guard, the boy was pelted with mud all over his face and body.
With shrill laughter, the children scattered and ran off in a flash.
“Stop right there!”
The boy shouted in rage. He wiped the mud from his face haphazardly, turned to Wen Mo, and yelled “Wait here!” before dashing after them.
Wen Mo wanted to tell him not to go, but he couldn’t catch him. The person was in such a rush that he didn’t look back, missing Wen Mo’s anxious gestures.
He was gone. He went to chase that pack of children.
Wen Mo limped out from the shadows behind the wall, looking blankly at the receding figure running at full speed. He looked at the boy, then down at the soy sauce bottle in his hand, suddenly not knowing where he should go.
He decided to stay put and wait.
When only a sliver of the sunset remained, the person returned. He ran back, panting, and from a distance, he projected his voice, calling out: “Hey—”
Wen Mo turned his head and saw him returning covered in mud. Only then did Wen Mo see his face clearly. He looked like a boy slightly older than himself, with round eyes and upturned sword-like brows. Though it was getting dark, his eyes were very bright.
He ran over, grabbed Wen Mo’s wrist, lifted his hand, and stuffed a handful of crumpled bills into his palm. The notes were badly wrinkled and stained with mud, but they were all of Wen Mo’s money.
Wen Mo looked up. The boy scratched his head and laughed: “It took some time, but I managed to snatch it back. Don’t worry! I taught those kids a lesson; I gave them all a beating!”
Wen Mo stared at him blankly. He gazed at him for a long time. The boy smiled back for a moment, blinked twice, and suddenly said, “Oh!” He pointed to himself: “You haven’t seen me before, have you? I just moved here with my mom yesterday! I live at the east end of the village you know that big slope on the east side? The house right next to it, do you know it? The Jiang family!”
“Jiang Shengguo is my uncle. My mom brought me and my younger siblings to live with him. My name is Jiang Yi!”
Night began to fall in earnest. There were no lights in the village, and Jiang Yi’s smiling face was obscured by the darkness. His face was covered in mud there was no telling how long those children had harassed him or how long he had fought them but he still smiled radiantly.
He was truly someone who loved to smile and loved to talk.
More images flashed by.
Jiang Yi pulling him along, holding a flashlight, walking him home.
During the sunset glow, Jiang Yi returning from the county town, knocking on his door, and secretly stuffing a bag of oranges into his hands.
Another mid-winter sunset, Jiang Yi coming across Wen Mo washing clothes by the river, his fingers red from the cold. Jiang Yi rushed home, brought back a basin and a thermos of hot water, poured it out for him, and finished the rest of the laundry with him.
[A-Mo,] he heard Jiang Yi say helplessly, [You should pity yourself a bit. Just because your mom wants to make things hard for you doesn’t mean you have to just take it. Sneak some hot water! It’s just a little water; she won’t know. Just sneakily refill it with cold water later.]
[If she won’t let you use it, just use it in secret. If you’re afraid to use your own, come find me; I’ll get some from my house for you.]
After saying that, he would smile at him.
[A-Mo!] [A-Mo—] [A-Mo is the best!] [A-Mo is the one who cares about me most!]
Jiang Yi’s voice was as clear as river water, sounding bright and crisp when he laughed. [A-Mo—]
[—A-Mo.]
Fire roared to life, turning the ruined temple into a sea of flames. Jiang Yi’s voice was hoarse. He had never heard him sound so raspy.
【Save me… A-Mo.】 【Save me…】
Wen Mo fell to the ground. He scrambled up and ran toward the sea of fire. A burning crossbeam crashed down with a thud, separating him from the other man. Through the barrier of the beam, he saw Jiang Yi standing unsteadily, the hem of his clothes already caught in the fire. His eyes were still so bright, so wet. He seemed to be crying, but the surrounding heat instantly evaporated the tears before they could fall.
Jiang Yi was struck by the falling roof beam and went down. He was crushed beneath it, with only one hand wearing a red string around the wrist visible on the outside.
Then, inch by inch, the fire consumed his flesh.
Vision went black instantly. A heart-wrenching, strange scream rang in his ears a torn, muffled cry like a beast, the sound of a throat unable to produce clear speech.
It wasn’t until his throat tasted of blood that Wen Mo realized he was the one screaming.
The rain poured down.
Wen Mo stood before the Hunting Ground, the rain of Hell torrential. His enemy’s corpse was still fresh in the massive black pit, his head smashed into powder. Wen Mo stared at the remains, dazed for a long time.
After a while, he raised his hand. Having lifted it to the highest point, he pressed it down firmly.
【Night Watchman Mo, the hunt is over.】
Wen Mo leaped down from the Hunting Ground and walked toward the Naihe Bridge. The broadcast of Hell echoed methodically over the Hell of Tongue-Ripping.
“Ghost groom, ghost groom, heart full of resentment, find no peace; beneath the Buddha statue there is no true man, do not listen to the words of those who pray to gods. Ghost groom, ghost groom, when the rain falls, do not hold an umbrella; when rain hits the heart, the truth is told, and those on the Yellow Springs Road wait for no one…”
“Ghost groom, ghost groom…”
The eerie voice sang the twisted nursery rhyme. Wen Mo kept his hands in his pockets, walking alone into the white mist before the bridge.
The rain continued, but light began to glow on the horizon as the boundless night gave way to the gray dawn.
The sun was coming up; Wen Mo had to go back. Night Watchmen only appeared at night; when day broke, they and the Hunting Ground would vanish from Hell. Naturally, the Naihe Bridge would do the same.
Wen Mo stopped in the white mist. The wind rose gently around him, and he closed his eyes. An inviting breeze brushed against his face Wen Mo never understood why, when Night Watchmen vanished with the Hunting Ground at dawn, the breeze felt as pleasant as a spring wind. They were, after all, Night Watchmen.
The aura of the Hunting Ground receded.
… …… ………Wait.
Something was wrong. Why did he still have consciousness?
Wen Mo opened his eyes. He saw the horizon brightening. The gray sky was still drizzling, but it was day. The rainy night was no longer pitch black; the horizon was turning gray, though there was still no sunlight.
Wen Mo hadn’t seen the daylight for a very long time. He silently locked eyes with the horizon for a moment and then turned around.
The Hunting Ground was gone.
Reasonably, the white mist and the Naihe Bridge had also vanished. Everything that only appeared at night was gone, leaving only him a Night Watchman who clearly should have disappeared standing abruptly in place.
Something was very wrong. Extremely wrong. One hundred percent wrong.
Night Watchmen were supposed to vanish along with the Hunting Ground and the Naihe Bridge. The three of them simply could not come out during the day unless the “sinners” found a Guide, in which case the Naihe Bridge would open during the day.
After vanishing, they would fade invisibly into Hell. During this time, the Night Watchman would fall into a dreamless sleep without any consciousness. He would feel his awareness dissipate, a sensation of gradually losing consciousness. When he woke up at night, he would feel his consciousness returning from nothingness.
But now, it was clear he hadn’t lost consciousness. Nor had he faded invisibly.
Looking at the empty clearing and the void behind him, Wen Mo actually felt a sense of bewilderment, as if he had been heartlessly abandoned in “Hell” by his “teammates.” He felt a frantic sense of being forsaken.
Wen Mo carried an inexplicable, guilty feeling of being someone who shouldn’t be seen in the daylight. He didn’t dare remain in the open and silently walked to the riverbank, where he crouched down.
Hell was, after all, part of the Underworld, where Yin and Yang intersected; the river water reflected his image. The rain soaked his hair, and droplets ran down his cheeks. His brow was furrowed, his gaze complex; he didn’t look well.
Wen Mo’s mind was in a mess. He cupped a handful of river water and washed the upper half of his face. He let out a silent, long sigh.
He looked at his right hand. After a moment of thought, he let the ghostly energy on it dissipate. A wisp of black mist drifted away, revealing a mass of fresh blood. This was the hand he had cut with his blade during the night to keep himself calm.
Fearing that Shen Yi would see and ask questions, Wen Mo had used some ghostly energy to create a small illusion, concealing it all along the way. He lowered his hand and pressed the injured spot twice; the wound had already healed. Night Watchmen were terrifying ghost-gods with top-tier healing abilities; he could fix himself very quickly.
Wen Mo washed away the traces of blood. With the blood cleaned off, day had fully broken.
Wen Mo tried to organize his thoughts, but the more he did, the deeper his brow furrowed. Forget it… no matter what, he should go check on Brother Yi first.
He thought that perhaps it was better this way staying here during the day and watching over him from the shadows would prevent Brother Yi from accidentally wandering into danger.
Wen Mo stood up, turned around, and suddenly transformed into a wisp of ethereal black mist, scattering with the wind and drifting into the village.
Though the sun had just risen, the “sinners” hiding throughout the village had already come out, preparing for a new day of the game they had been given tasks by the old woman yesterday, and today promised to be a heavy workload.
Everyone had gathered in front of the old woman’s house. Before they left yesterday, a village woman from the house had chased after them, telling them to return early the next morning. She said it was regarding the burial of the newlywed couple they were supposed to help with, and that the old lady would give detailed instructions the next day.
The black mist gathered on the roof opposite the old lady’s house, forming a human shape. Wen Mo concealed his form and scanned the area.
Fourteen people.
This was normal. He wasn’t the only Night Watchman who killed at night; the Ghost Groom who wandered the night killed people as well.
Wen Mo scanned everyone and suddenly realized something was wrong. Brother Yi wasn’t there.
What happened to him? Had he not come out yet?
Wen Mo’s brow furrowed tightly. He turned back into black mist and drifted toward the house where he had taken Shen Yi during the night.
Just as he landed on the roof, Shen Yi happened to open the door and walk out.
Why did he come out so late?
Wen Mo let out a sigh of relief, then suddenly saw Shen Yi raise a hand to wipe his eyes. His eyes were red.
…Had he been crying?
Wiping his eyes, Shen Yi walked out the door and headed toward the old lady’s house.
Wen Mo followed behind him. Concealing his form, he moved along the roofs and eaves like a cat.
In the place Shen Yi couldn’t see, Wen Mo’s brow was slightly furrowed. The moment he saw those red eyes, Wen Mo’s peace of mind vanished.