Chapter 10: Falling into the Cave

After the downpour, the night sky was pristine and clear, with a half-moon shining as bright as spilled silver.

A bonfire crackled in the open clearing, its orange flames warm and inviting, enough to lift anyone’s spirits.

Aqiu sat on the second floor of the stilt bamboo building, leaning over the wooden railing to peer toward the fire. Her hands never stopped moving—one gripped a long wooden mortar as she pounded chilies and garlic, the other dipped into a bamboo platter to snag bites of spicy beef hide.

A pungent, spicy aroma wafted from the mortar. Aqiu tossed in some fragrant leaves and murmured happily in the local dialect, “Smells so good.”

A wiry, dark-skinned boy dressed in traditional ethnic short robes bounded up the stairs with a clatter. “Aqiu Sis, is it ready yet? They’ve already started over there!”

“It’s ready. What’s the rush?” Aqiu stood, dumping the pounded seasoning into a wooden bowl. She directed her younger brother Alang, “Hurry and bring over the carp. It’s ready to grill.”

“Oh!” Alang let out a laugh and shot toward the kitchen like the wind.

Aqiu quickly called after him. “Hey, don’t forget the sour meat and pickled fish.”

“Got it!” Alang waved a hand and bounded off, the long knife tied at his waist bouncing with each step.

“Such a fidgety kid.”

Muttering to herself, Aqiu headed downstairs. She ran straight into her neighbor Granny, who was just stepping out her door. “Granny, you drinking tonight?”

Granny adjusted her headscarf and smiled with squinted eyes. “Sure am. Feels like a celebration.”

“Give our home brew a try too!”

“Sounds good.”

Aqiu’s steps were light and quick. She reached the fire pit first and poked the embers until they blazed high. Humming a mountain folk tune under her breath, she waited for Alang to bring the fish, then deftly set it over the flames to roast.

Seeing him fidgeting by the fire, stealing glances at the dancers, Aqiu said, “If you wanna play, go dance. I’ll watch the fire.”

Alang scratched his nose, grinning sheepishly. “Nah, I’ll keep you company.”

Aqiu glanced off into the distance and nodded knowingly. “Oh, I get it. You’re scared of Uncle Old Stick, huh?”

“No way.”

She gave him a playful nudge. “It’s weird, though. Uncle Old Stick doesn’t usually come back to the village. Must be something going on. Listen, be on your best behavior tonight—no getting too wild. Atai’s been worn out these past couple days, all because of those new sheep.”

Alang shot a glance at the villagers circling the bonfire, dancing and singing. He plopped down glumly and stared at the fish. Red oil bubbled and hissed on the iron plate, filling the air with a tangy, sour fragrance.

“Got it.”

Beside the bonfire stood a tall wooden pole topped with a fresh long-horned ox head. To the right, a row of long wooden tables was already laden with all sorts of dishes, a bucket of black rice front and center.

The clan’s seating was arranged strictly by seniority, with the Grand Matriarch—Aqiu’s grandmother—holding pride of place at the head.

Not all the dishes had arrived yet, so most people kept their distance, circling the fire to dance and sing. No one dared sit alone with the Grand Matriarch.

Old Stick stood respectfully at her side, bending at the waist as he spoke. “Yes, the God Eye is on that girl.”

“Oh.” The Grand Matriarch murmured with half-closed eyes. “Yingnu botched that job.”

Old Stick pressed his lips together and nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ve got her tied up already. Later, Zhuangzi and the others can haul her back.”

The Grand Matriarch lifted her right eyelid, giving him a sharp glance. “No rush. You’re here now anyway—stay and have a drink. We’ve got plenty of fresh new sheep these past couple days, all nice and tender. The Cave Lord will be pleased.”

So tonight’s feast was to celebrate the new sheep entering the cave. Old Stick suddenly understood, thinking back to the few vehicles he’d spotted outside the village on his way in. A doubt crept in. “Offering up this many sheep at once… is that safe?”

A rasping cackle bubbled from the gaps in the Grand Matriarch’s toothless mouth. She waved a hand dismissively, poured half a cup of white liquor into a bamboo cup, and took a sip. “They’re all black sheep. Nothing to fear. A Yan herded them right in.”

Hearing A Yan’s name put Old Stick instantly at ease. Just then, Aqiu arrived with the iron plate of grilled fish and called out a bright greeting.

The Grand Matriarch’s stern expression melted away at the sight of her. She smiled warmly and turned to Old Stick. “Eat up tonight. Give Aqiu’s cooking a try.”

Old Stick grinned. “Will do. It’s been a while, and Aqiu’s only gotten prettier.”

“No way! Uncle Old Stick, you and your empty flattery.”

Aqiu beamed, her cheeks glowing like ripe apples in the bonfire’s warm light.

With every laugh, something in the blood-flecked double pupils at the bottoms of her eyes seemed to wriggle.

The Grand Matriarch gazed at her and said softly, “Aqiu’s a good girl. All the girls in our village are good girls.”

“Bad girls… they deserve to die.”

“…Just like Yuzi.”

Old Stick forced a grin and turned his head to stare at the bonfire. A bead of cold sweat trickled silently down his back.

Drip—

A cool droplet of water landed on Gu Xianwang’s forehead, sliding slowly along her brow and down her neck.

“Hm?” Gu Xianwang wiped the water from her neck and wearily opened her eyes.

The surface beneath her felt hard, like some unfamiliar stone bed. She pushed herself up and patted her forehead. Her vision gradually cleared. It was pitch black, without a trace of light. As she sat up, her hand brushed against a long, icy rod. Only after her eyesight adjusted did she make it out: an old-fashioned metal flashlight.

The space around her was cramped, like a rock cave—damp, chilly, and utterly still.

“Ye Chan?” She stretched out her arm and shook the unconscious Ye Chan lying beside her.

“Mmm, it’s not dawn yet. Let me sleep a little longer. I’m so tired.” Ye Chan mumbled, swatted her hand away, and rolled over.

Gu Xianwang felt helpless. She drew up her knees and stood, but the uneven rock walls pressed in close, and the low-hanging stones overhead forced her to stoop. She sidestepped a jagged outcrop on the left. Yao Cuo and the tour guide lay sprawled on the other side. Gu Xianwang shuffled over and roused them both.

“Hiss.” Yao Cuo woke with a grimace, clutching his shoulder blade. It throbbed fiercely. “Xianwang? Why’s it so dark?”

“What in the world happened? Weren’t we in the house?”

Gu Xianwang rubbed her temples, her mind a chaotic blur. In a hoarse voice, she said, “Check your bags first. See if anything’s missing.”

“Bags?”

There was a rustle of fumbling in the dark as they located their packs and rummaged inside. Yao Cuo said blankly, “Can’t see a thing, but it feels like everything’s there. Still full.”

“Mine’s here too,” the tour guide said, hoisting his bag and giving it a shake. It rustled. “Miss Gu, where are you at?”

Right—they couldn’t see.

Gu Xianwang took a steadying breath, then fished her phone from her pocket. It still had battery, though the screen was cracked in several places. She flicked on the flashlight. A beam of white light splashed across the rock walls, instantly illuminating the cave.

Light brought a measure of comfort. Yao Cuo braced himself against the wall and helped the tour guide to his feet. “I remember now. That Old Stick fellow was acting strange. Did he drug us?”

“What about Xiao Ye?”

Gu Xianwang pressed her lips together and led them around the narrow passage into the section of the cave where she and Ye Chan were.

The noise roused Ye Chan. She threw up a hand to shield her eyes from the light and blinked in confusion. “Where are we? When did we end up in a cave?”

“That mountain folk knocked us out.” Gu Xianwang slung her pack around to her chest, unzipped it, and checked the contents. Nothing was missing. “But someone else dragged us out and dumped us in here.”

“Huh? Old Stick’s a bad guy?” Ye Chan blinked, even more baffled. “Who’s this someone else? Where are they?”

“Xianwang, did you see something?” Yao Cuo asked, frowning.

Satisfied with the supplies, Gu Xianwang swung the pack back over her shoulders and bent to pick up another object beside the flashlight: a waist knife, just like the ones they’d seen back in Basha Village.

She said, “I thought it was a dream. But right before I woke up, I vaguely saw a girl. She was dragging me by the feet out of a bamboo grove, then tossed me into a cave.”

The tour guide looked astonished. “A girl? Probably in cahoots with the old man.”

Gu Xianwang shook her head. “I don’t think so. I heard her talking.”

Ye Chan swallowed hard. “What’d she say?”

“She said… this time, she’s going to destroy this village.”

Yao Cuo was utterly bewildered. Destroy what village? What kind of nonsense was this?

“Let’s just find a way out first, Xianwang. This time, listen to your senior brother. Things are too messed up here. Once we’re out, we call the cops. This is way beyond what we can handle.” He glanced at the others and lowered his voice. “We’re not doctors. We’re not… masters. We’re just ordinary people.”

Gu Xianwang kept her head down and said nothing. She understood what Yao Cuo meant. To him, the tour guide and Ye Chan were little more than strangers. They’d been poisoned with gu, and if he could, he’d help—but one bizarre incident after another had pushed them far beyond the bounds of normal life. He didn’t want her taking risks like this.

Yao Cuo was different from her. Opera was his livelihood, and Master was simply the man who’d opened the doors of Pear Garden to him. All those eerie old tales were just legends to chuckle at and dismiss.

He’d backed her plan not because he truly believed some ancient remedy could cure her mother’s strange illness, but out of affection between senior and junior fellow disciples.

The mood turned awkward. The tour guide scratched his neck and let out a dry chuckle. “Yup, let’s find the exit first. We can sort out the rest once we’re out.”

“Yeah, yeah! Once we’re free, old stick or young stick, we’ll snap ’em all in half! Hmph, messing with us—like tying a chicken feather to a telegraph pole. What a show-off!”

…

The four of them munched on some compressed biscuits and drank water, taking a brief rest. It was now 5:15 a.m.—a full night since they’d passed out. Judging the distance back to their parked car was impossible from the time alone. Worse still, the cave’s bizarre magnetic field had knocked out the compasses on their phones.

Fortunately, they could hear the sound of running water echoing through the cave. Where there was live water, following its upstream flow was bound to lead to an exit.

Ye Chan stayed optimistic. They were on vacation, after all—she saw it as a chance to broaden her horizons.

Gu Xianwang tested the old flashlight. It worked; the battery looked freshly changed, no rust, though the beam was dim from its ancient design.

Better than nothing. Their two phones were on their last legs, and the power banks had only juiced them up to 60% before dying.

This time, Gu Xianwang took point, handing the flashlight to Yao Cuo at the rear to maximize their light.

The cave was slick and treacherous, twisting narrowly like a coiled intestine, with frequent climbs. One moment it felt like they were heading upward; the next, burrowing deeper underground.

They squeezed sideways through a tight fissure and emerged into a sudden open space. The platform here could easily fit four or five people standing comfortably. To the right lay a stretch of sandy pebbles dotted with puddles of varying sizes. The water was crystal clear. Gu Xianwang’s eyes lit up as she spotted a hole in one large puddle, bubbling outward like a natural spring.

Yao Cuo swung the flashlight over. Ye Chan cried out, “Hey, check it out—little shrimp in the water!”

Yao Cuo leaned in close with the light. Sure enough, a few white shrimp were crawling slowly under the rocks. “Yeah, Xianwang, come look. There’s fish too.”

Ye Chan waved her hand in the air to tease them, laughing. “And they’re not even scared of us.”

The tour guide crouched down. “Folks around here call these blindfish. Can’t see a thing.”

Gu Xianwang walked over, eyeing Ye Chan curiously. “Ye Chan, can you see clearly now?”

Ye Chan blinked in surprise. “Huh? Yeah, come to think of it, I could after I woke up. Hadn’t even noticed till you said something.”

Gu Xianwang nodded. “Okay, we’ve hit a fork in the path.”

The other three stood and followed her to the junction. Gu Xianwang pointed to the narrow passage on the left. “I checked it out—this one runs flat. The other drops down, no telling how far. That stream we saw flows along the downward path. Problem is, we don’t know our elevation. Following the water downhill, I’m worried we might—”

“Old saying’s got it right: folks head uphill, water runs downhill. I say we go up. Worst case, we pop out on a mountaintop—no harm done.”

The tour guide shook his head. “Nah, these caves are tricky. Plenty of paths just dead-end. But this water’s teeming with fish and shrimp, so it’s live water. Down below, you’re likely to find air and maybe food. Tons of karst caves in Guizhou link up like that.”

Gu Xianwang pondered silently for a moment, staring at the narrow hole just wide enough for one person. At last, she said, “Alright. We’ll head down.”