Gu Xianwang glanced at the rearview mirror beside the driver’s seat, tilting her line of sight slightly. The reflection captured the two women seated side by side on the left in the very back row of the bus.
They had just argued moments earlier.
She wasn’t the type to be overly curious about strangers, especially not on this trip to Guizhou, where she was searching for clues that might save her life.
But their bizarre behavior was impossible to ignore.
Typical tourists stuck to the routine: sleep on the bus, snap photos off the bus.
These two were different. One scanned the surroundings, seemingly evaluating, while the other took photos, capturing high-definition images of the ancient sites from every angle before uploading them to a computer back on the bus.
They never lingered over the views. They never took selfies.
Whenever Gu Xianwang examined the carved inscriptions she was seeking, their gazes always met hers—similar in focus.
They seemed to be hunting for a particular spot.
Just like her.
Once she realized that, Gu Xianwang watched them even more closely. She had secretly photographed the tour guide’s contact list, matching names and numbers to every member of the group.
One was Sara. The other was Long Li.
Both knew martial arts.
Confined to Pear Garden since childhood and drilling fist forms and footwork day after day, she could spot the difference between an expert and a novice a mile away. Her master had taught her: don’t judge by appearances—judge by stance.
Stance meant a person’s bone structure and bearing, whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down. Everyone had their own, but those trained in martial arts carried their muscles taut like drawn bowstrings, coiled with power.
Of the pair, Long Li had the deepest cultivation. In the August heat, she wore long-sleeved cargo pants and black boots, her forehead dry of sweat, her steps silent. Her eyes were hawk-sharp, her perception uncanny—at the slightest sound, she zeroed in on the source.
So Gu Xianwang didn’t doubt for a second that while she observed them, Long Li was observing her right back.
Just as she was now, their eyes meeting “by chance” once more in the distant rearview mirror.
Gu Xianwang looked away. “Thanks for just now.”
Ye Chan scratched her nose, unsure whether the thanks was for waking her or for backing her up against Sara earlier. “No worries at all. This morning back in the village, you passed me a bottle of water—I haven’t even thanked you yet.”
“You don’t need to sweat it. These past three days, I’ve got the picture—these folklore buffs are all oddballs. Our group’s a piece of work, huh? That lady’s got a short fuse; she snaps at everyone. Don’t let it get to you. We’re here to have fun, right? Keep it light.”
Ye Chan had noticed ages ago that those two icy beauties clashed with Fairy Sister’s vibe. Sara was way too bossy. They were all tourists—why could she hog the photos and stop others from taking any? It was just a tree. Snatching someone’s phone to inspect it? Total bully move.
But Fairy Sister was badass. She even knew kung fu. She traded blows with Sara for a couple rounds without giving an inch, keeping that phone case out of reach.
Ye Chan called it stepping up, but really, she was just a cheerleader. By then, the group had trailed the tour guide into the village, leaving only the four of them by the Ancestral Tree. Sara and Gu Xianwang clashed, while Long Li and she watched from the sidelines—one in silence, the other piping up.
Truth be told, Ye Chan figured it was headed for disaster. Sara and Long Li both looked like bad news, straight out of some black-ops flick.
In the end, after the scuffle, Long Li just eyed Fairy Sister for a couple beats, said nothing, and hauled Sara off.
“Mm.” Gu Xianwang murmured faintly. She still looked worn out.
Ye Chan’s phone chimed nonstop with notifications. She thumbed through replies while grumbling, “We got up stupid early this morning. No kidding this route’s brand-new—the tour guide’s a total free spirit, tossing in stops whenever. Wiped out.”
Gu Xianwang didn’t respond. She turned toward the window, fished out her phone, and quietly opened the app’s private messages.
She double-tapped the top one. A photo popped up instantly, no buffering needed.
The lighting was dim and mottled, like a shot taken from inside a cavern looking out. Dense forest hemmed it in. The focus was a barely visible rocky depression shrouded in thick canopy. Nothing remarkable at first glance.
But zoom in through the leaf gaps, and there they were: stone pillars thrusting upright amid the green, wrapped in vines that blended seamlessly into the shadows. Only cranking the zoom to max on those dark brown columns revealed pairs of pitch-black eyes, all fixed intently on the photographer.
The message had just one line: The thing you’re looking for is here.
“Hey, where’d you take this?”
The voice was right in her ear. Gu Xianwang locked her screen in a flash and turned to Ye Chan, who was craning her neck over with wide-eyed curiosity.
Before anyone could speak, a loud bang erupted from the back of the bus. The rear end suddenly fishtailed toward the center of the road. Gu Xianwang gripped the handrail steady and looked up just in time to see the driver cranking the steering wheel back. The front of the bus veered sharply toward the mountainside, hurtling out of control. The inertia flung every passenger forward.
Ye Chan had been slouched loosely in her seat to begin with. The jolt nearly hurled her right out sideways. Before she could let out a scream, the piercing screech of brakes dragged from beneath the vehicle. Then everything blurred before her eyes, and an arm clamped across her neck like an iron grate, pressing her firmly back into the seat.
The entire bus shuddered again. Passengers tumbled like roly-poly toys for a few rolls before it finally ground to a halt, half on the dirt road and hugging the edge of the cliffside.
In just that single minute, it felt like they’d brushed right past Ghost Gate Pass.
“Sis… Sister, you’ve got some serious strength.”
Gu Xianwang’s cherry lips pursed slightly. She instinctively turned to glance toward the back of the bus. There sat Long Li, one hand braced against the seat in front of her, perfectly steady. Beneath her sword-straight brows, her eyes showed no hint of disturbance as she looked right back at Gu Xianwang.
Their gazes clashed unexpectedly. In that colorless instant, it was as if sparks flew between them—the meaning unmistakable.
Chaos reigned inside the bus. Their group consisted of eight tourists. Besides themselves, there was a pair of young people and a middle-aged couple, each pair traveling together. The youngsters had fared all right, though their backpacks had been tossed out. The middle-aged woman had been less fortunate. Her forehead had smacked straight into the handle on the seat ahead, and she kept groaning “ouch, ouch” without end.
Gu Xianwang turned back around, quietly slipping her arm free from Ye Chan’s grasp.
The tour guide jumped to his feet at once to calm the crowd. “No need to panic, folks! Everyone just sit tight!”
This winding mountain road lay more than thirty kilometers from the national highway—out in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, the remoteness meant no other vehicles were in sight ahead or behind. The guide confirmed that no one had serious injuries and told everyone to stay put. He exchanged a few quiet words with the driver, and the two of them stepped out to inspect the problem.
Gu Xianwang sat near the door, so she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out as well.
The guide was crouched by the rear wheel, peering at it. When he spotted her approaching, he waved her off frantically. “Hey now, don’t come out here! It’s not safe on the road—get back inside!”
“The rear tire got punctured?”
Rather than retreat, Gu Xianwang pressed the question. The bus’s back wheel was visibly half-deflated—an unusual sight.
The driver was a buzz-cut man in his early forties, the quiet type who looked more like a sailor at first glance. He seemed to share her suspicions. At that moment, he was walking back from the bend farther up the road, several nails cradled in his palm.
The guide took one look and exploded into curses—roughly along the lines of some heartless bastard strewing nails across a mountain road. That was attempted murder for profit.
The driver said nothing. He pulled some tissues from his pocket, wrapped the nails several times over, and tucked them away. Then he lit a cigarette.
Gu Xianwang hadn’t examined the nails closely, but a single glance told her they were old ones—thick and long, rusted to a dark brown patina. They had some age on them and didn’t resemble ordinary household nails.
Their group had already veered off the standard route to add a stop at Basha Village, leaving their schedule tight. They still had more than an hour of night driving ahead to reach the planned town for the evening. This delay was sure to throw everything off.
By then, the other three men from the bus had climbed out too. They passed cigarettes around, filling the air with drifting white smoke.
Someone spoke up. “What about the rest of the itinerary? Can your agency send another bus right now?”
“Yeah, this accident could have been a disaster. What if something had happened to my wife? Could you even compensate for that? Are you people professionals or what?”
The guide was a slick thirty-something from the mountains named Hei Wa. Their group called him Little Hei. He spoke smoothly, never missing a beat.
“Aw, big bro, no need to get worked up. No one wants an accident like this. Besides, I’m on the bus too—think I wouldn’t be scared?”
“We’ll definitely send another vehicle, no question. Guest safety comes first, always. The itinerary won’t be delayed, though it’ll be a bit later than planned now. Let me call the company—I’ll get this sorted for everyone.”
Gu Xianwang traced the bus’s brake marks back a few steps. She eyed the curve in the road where a tripod stood. A faint sense of unease stirred in her. Those nails had been so conspicuous—why hadn’t the driver spotted them? Even if they’d been tossed precisely into a blind spot and somehow veered past the front wheel’s path, wouldn’t such long nails have been knocked flat by the bus body?
Coincidence?
The puncture had hit the right rear tire, right at a cliffside bend. If the driver hadn’t handled it with such skill, the whole bus might have plunged over the edge.
Gu Xianwang crossed her arms and paced alone along the cliff face. Strands of anxiety coiled around her. Mountains were mountains, trees were trees, lush greenery everywhere—but none of it was the scenery she sought.
The sunset over the distant mountain pass had faded away. With no lights in the deep mountains, the night sky resembled an overturned inkwell, blackness spreading across it bit by bit. The final ray of sunlight flickered feebly like a candle flame, stretching her shadow into a thin cord, as if the thick darkness were dragging her even deeper into the mountains.
…
Gu Xianwang returned to the bus compartment. Meanwhile, Ye Chan had struck up a conversation with the middle-aged auntie. Spotting her, Ye Chan quickly waved her over to sit.
“Sister Gu, cucumber?” Ye Chan broke off half the one she’d nibbled on and offered it. “This side’s clean.”
The auntie rummaged through her plastic bag, leaning right in. “I’ve got more here—no worries. Hey, girl, what’s the deal outside? Figure it out yet?” She shoved another cucumber her way.
Flanked on both sides by crisp green-yellow cukes, Gu Xianwang frowned and waved them off. “Thanks, but no. The rear tire’s punctured. They’re still discussing what to do.”
Ye Chan’s lips pursed. “Ah? Not fixed yet? I’m starving. Barely ate anything at lunch.”
“Ay, exactly. What’s up with this travel agency? Oh, right—girl, your accent isn’t from up north, is it? Southern? You’re a real looker. Bet plenty of guys chase after you. Got a boyfriend? What line of work you in?”
Gu Xianwang shot her a suspicious glance. They’d been total strangers just days ago—why the sudden chumminess?
She replied casually, “Yeah, from the south. Got one.”
“Ah?” Ye Chan’s almond eyes, clear as crystal, instantly crumpled in devastation. “Wahhh, already taken! My sister, you’re a celestial lotus straight out of a fairy pool—how’d you end up down here in the dust?”
Only this silly girl would buy it.
With her responding, the auntie planted herself by the seat, grinning. “Yo, Xiao Ye—you’d better get a move on too. Shop around while you’re young. B University? Top school! Such a catch. What was it you said your family does again?”
By then, the men outside had finished a round of smokes and seemed to have hashed it out. They boarded one by one. The auntie caught a glare from her old man and sat back down, all reluctant.
The tour guide flashed a sheepish smile. “Sorry, folks—the tire’s busted. Mountain roads are rough, and it’s dark out. For everyone’s safety, I say we find a nearby village and crash there tonight.”
It wasn’t up for debate; it was decided.
Gu Xianwang had checked her phone map before getting back on. “There’s no village around here, is there?”
The tour guide puffed out his chest. “There is. Driver knows it—a little village. Don’t worry, beauty. We’ve got us big strong guys here; it’ll be safe.”
She opened her mouth to press further, but a sharp, singsong voice cut in from the back row: “Then let’s get going. Talk about bad luck—not early, not late, but breaks on us before we’re even out of the mountains. Pretty unique jinx. Wonder if someone pissed off the local land spirit earlier and this is payback.”
Gu Xianwang didn’t bite. Sara’s voice was unmistakable—that sarcastic edge was one of a kind.
Ye Chan figured it was aimed at her. “Tsk tsk. Grown woman still so superstitious. Erhu music in Dongyue Temple? Pfft—total baloney.”
Tensions were flaring when the tour guide jumped in to smooth things over, placating both sides. Only then did the bus lurch slowly forward.
With the tire half-flat, the big vehicle crawled along like a laden tortoise, inching up the mountain road.
They rounded a few bends, and even the faint glow of the road lights winked out. The dirt path turned muddy and treacherous, jolting everyone badly. The headlights carved a pale arc ahead like foxfire in a lantern, swaying as it bore the passengers deep into the mountain’s gut.
The mountain night was thick as spilled ink, nothing like the city. The overhanging branches seemed like ghosts unfolding bones and sprouting limbs in an instant, clusters of spectral claws reaching out to beckon souls.
Gu Xianwang hooked her phone to a power bank and silently tracked their position on the map.
Worn out from fidgeting, Ye Chan scrolled through photos for a bit before nodding off against the window.
The phone signal bars dwindled away, one by one.
Two hours later, the dark silhouettes of village rooftiles finally emerged across a stone bridge.
This “nearby” village the tour guide had mentioned nestled in a mountain hollow, ringed by peaks on all sides. A stream three people wide cut through the eastern end. The bus couldn’t go farther; it was rainy season, and the water rushed with a heavy roar. Peering down in the darkness, it looked bottomless.
The only way in was a makeshift stone bridge of rough slabs—barely wide enough for a motorcycle or scooter.
Ye Chan stirred awake and eyed the pitch-black village. It was nothing like she’d pictured. “Eh, does anyone even live here? Not a single light?”
The auntie packed up her backpack and plastic bags, unfazed. “No worries—mountain folk probably turn in early.”
The tour guide took charge. “Leave the luggage on the bus for now. Driver and I’ll go sort out accommodations.”
Gu Xianwang unbuckled her seatbelt. “I’ll come with you.”
“Huh?” Ye Chan glanced back at the two guys wearing headphones and playing dead. “No need, right? Just let the guys handle it.”
“It’s fine,” Gu Xianwang said flatly.
By all rights, someone should have stepped up by now, but for some inexplicable reason, everyone in the van remained seated, watching with cold detachment, as if waiting for something.
Gu Xianwang followed the tour guide off the bus. The door stayed open, and then Long Li ducked down the steps, glancing at her. “Together.”
Was this her way of saying she was going to keep an eye on her?
Gu Xianwang said nothing. She simply nodded to Long Li and strode ahead.
~~~
The four of them crossed the stone bridge. Gu Xianwang deliberately brought up the rear. She noticed the tour guide walking alongside the driver, asking questions as they went. From his expression, he didn’t seem all that familiar with the place.
The village before them consisted of houses arranged in tiers up the hillside. Unlike the wooden structures common among ethnic minorities, these were square buildings made of mud bricks and tiled roofs. The one right in front of them had half its wall collapsed, its roof looking as if it had been smashed by a fallen tree. It gaped open, with a wooden pole jutting from the top, a tattered banner hanging limply from it, faded by wind and sun.
The white headlights from the van behind them only reached the end of the bridge—like a pair of eyes from modern civilization, staring blankly at the bleached bones of this long-dead husk nestled deep in the mountain hollow.
It was very quiet.
No people.
No lights.
They walked another five or six minutes into the village, leaving the sound of the engine far behind. Silence closed in swiftly, pressing on their ears like tinnitus and sending a chill through them. All around were dilapidated brick houses that looked long abandoned, their broken doors and windows like dark, gaping mouths. Even Gu Xianwang felt a shiver creeping up her spine.
The tour guide slowed more and more, his footsteps dragging through the yellow mud with a faint swish-swish. Finally, he stopped altogether. “Ladies, do either of you have any battery left on your phones? Mind shining a light for us?”
Gu Xianwang’s vision was actually sharper in the dark, but for now, she wanted to keep up the pretense of being an ordinary person in front of Long Li. “Use mine.”
In the instant she pulled out her phone, she happened to glance off to the side and caught sight of something. “Looks like there’s someone in the window of that house up ahead.”
“See? Told you there’d be people.”
The tour guide let out a relieved sound and peered in the direction Gu Xianwang was pointing. About a dozen paces away, a shuttered house had its wooden window half-open. On closer inspection, there did seem to be a dark shadow standing by the window, peering out at them.
He hurried ahead, calling out in the local dialect to announce who they were. All locals here—should be easy to communicate.
Gu Xianwang turned on her phone’s flashlight and followed at a leisurely pace, illuminating the path. She swept her gaze back over those window openings from the opposite direction. Suddenly, something felt off. She focused intently on that dim window, and the dark shadow gradually sharpened in her vision—from its head, to its shoulders, to its arms. Her steps faltered. “Wait—”
