Chapter 42.3: The Skin Beneath

Li Zhuiyuan gripped the slanted wall and inched forward. With each step he took, another lantern flickered to life. Due to the tilt of the tower, the lights inside hung askew.

The surrounding walls were bare, no murals or decorations—almost sterile. It seemed the tomb’s owner had no intention of enjoying art or company in the afterlife.

Or perhaps the tomb had been built while its owner was still alive. Had someone else commissioned it posthumously, there would have been inscriptions or images detailing their life.

Thankfully, the tower had tilted—giving him a narrow path to walk. If he’d entered from above while it stood straight, it would have felt no different than jumping into a well.

The deeper he went, the colder the lantern light became, shifting from warm yellow to a ghostly green.

At last, Li Zhuiyuan reached the bottom.

He saw a massive stone coffin, fixed to the tower’s base—now appearing as if it clung to the wall.

Surrounding it were various pieces of furniture, similarly anchored. They hadn’t shifted in the fall, and each glimmered with gold, silver, jade, and gemstones.

All valuable, no wonder those two Water Monkeys had come up so agitated last night. And now it made sense why they returned empty-handed—none of it could be moved.

Still, no sign of Ding Dalin.

Li Zhuiyuan’s gaze drifted back to the stone coffin.

Could he still be inside?

Chains crisscrossed the coffin’s lid, and the surrounding floor bore talismans—typical of temple-tombs, designed to suppress malevolent spirits.

Clink… clink… clink…

The chains began to tremble. Something inside wanted out.

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t move. He didn’t know if opening a coffin while walking the shade would trigger consequences in the real world, but he wasn’t about to take that risk.

It wasn’t for his safety—this was Siyuan Village. Who knew what might be unleashed if he let that thing out?

He had only come this far because his life had been threatened, but not even death would make him open that coffin.

Not that it mattered for long.

With a brittle snap, the chains fell away.

A low grinding followed as the coffin lid slid open, all by itself.

Li Zhuiyuan held his breath and focused, waiting for someone to sit up from within.

But nothing happened.

A strange, stifling silence took hold.

Then came the wind. It started faintly, making the lantern flames dance. Then it grew, howling through the tower.

The howling softened, refined itself—until it became a voice. Hoarse, like an old phonograph rusted with time.

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

Li Zhuiyuan answered, “I’m very curious.”

“Then why not come closer?”

“I’m scared.”

“You? Scared?”

“Yes. Fear is instinct—like pain.”

“Let’s stop skinning words. Say it with your true face.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take off that skin. I don’t want to talk to a child.”

“No. I am who I am, right now.”

“Heh. Some wear their skin on the outside. Others wear it inside.”

Li Zhuiyuan understood the mockery, but he didn’t mind. Everything he’d done was to protect this skin—for himself, and for Ah Li.

“If I don’t peel off my skin, at least let me speak how I want.”

“I’m just a kid. Fine, I’ll try.”

“Do you know where this is?”

“A… temple-tomb.”

“Correct. And do you know who sealed me here?”

“You did.”

The wind stilled for a breath.

Then it resumed, shaping itself into words again:

“You guessed?”

“I don’t know who you are or what time you lived in. If you’re asking, it must be someone in my range of answers. That leaves you.”

“You remind me of someone. He was just like you—unsettlingly clever as a boy.”

“Can you tell me his name?” Li Zhuiyuan ventured. “That way, I can plant a tree and look him up someday.”

“You won’t find him by name.”

“Oh.”

“He was a beast.”

“He betrayed you?”

“I trusted him too much. We were close in age, and I looked up to him. Just like those two around you look up to you.”

Li Zhuiyuan assumed he meant Runsheng and Tan Wenbin—there weren’t many others it could be.

“Being betrayed by someone you trusted… that’s rough.”

“He didn’t just betray me. He betrayed all of us—his followers.”

“What a scumbag.”

“He was like you. A master of pretending.”

Li Zhuiyuan kept his voice calm. The worst thing to do with someone mentally unstable was to remind them of it.

This eerie conversation felt like the night he’d spoken to Li Lan on the phone.

“Pretending is your kind’s instinct. Like you were born to it.”

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

Li Zhuiyuan changed the topic deliberately. He didn’t want that icy emotion stirring in him again.

“Fill in the fish pond. Plant peach trees.”

“We will. I promise.”

“I should have left long ago.”

“Where to?”

“You know where. And yet you ask. Just like him. Hypocrisy runs in your blood.”

“Please don’t lump me in with him. I came here because I was scared.”

“And?”

“But some things—I’d rather die than give up.”

“He said that too, once…”

The wind paused.

Then returned.

“Very well.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I was going to call you here to be buried with me.”

“Thanks… for the ‘was’.”

When the voice fell silent but the wind persisted, Li Zhuiyuan decided to push further:

“How did he trick you?”

“He taught me a way to control the Dead Sinkers.”

Li Zhuiyuan stiffened. All the books he’d read had countless techniques for resisting Dead Sinkers—but none for controlling them.

“I was thrilled. I revered him. So I learned.”

“And… did you master it?”

The wind still howled. From within the coffin, movement.

A man sat up inside.

Suspended by the coffin’s strange orientation, the man now faced Li Zhuiyuan directly.

He had long hair, a cold face, and an ethereal air.

But his eyes were shut. And the voice continued through the wind, not from his lips.

“I did. I can control them.”

“Then where was the lie?”

“The lie?”

The man turned his head. Wind lifted his sideburns—revealing another face beneath: eyes, nose, mouth.

He turned further. His long hair whipped aside, exposing a woman’s face on the back of his head.

An eerie sight. Such a graceful man, yet so many faces.

No—Li Zhuiyuan reminded himself—this was walking the shade. What he saw might not be real. The faces might symbolize the man’s inner self.

The wind grew fiercer. His robe lifted. Every inch of visible skin—arms, chest—was crawling with faces.

Li Zhuiyuan stepped back instinctively, itching just from looking. He glanced down at his own arms, half-dreading strange faces sprouting there too.

“He didn’t tell me. While I could control them—they could also control me.”

Li Zhuiyuan turned away. When the wind died down, he looked again.

The man had returned to his original position. Hair and robe now rested.

“He said he’d cleanse the world of malevolent spirits and restore peace.

I believed him. I followed him. But the more Dead Sinkers I destroyed, the more I became like them.

By the time I realized it, there was no going back.

So I built this tower. I sealed myself inside.

I hoped time would wear them down—and wear me down with them.

What you just saw—those faces—they were supposed to have open eyes. Crying, howling, screaming…”

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