Chapter 321: The Mystery of Baiyan Village

Watching opera during the New Year is a long-standing tradition in the areas surrounding Hua City, likely originating from priestly ceremonies dedicated to deities like the River God and the Kitchen God, who are closely tied to daily life.

As the saying goes, “Once Laba Festival1 is over, the New Year begins.” In the past, Hua City and its surrounding areas would host numerous Temple Fairs as Laba Festival approached.

At these fairs, there would always be an Opera Troupe performing.

Back then, as light snow fell from the sky, colorful ribbons danced in the wind along the long street, red lanterns swayed gently, and the distant sound of firecrackers echoed.

The Temple Fair was bustling with people, smoke wafted from food stalls by the roadside, accompanied by street vendors’ calls. As the gongs and drums sounded, the painted-faced actors took the stage, and a melodious opera tune filled the air.

It was truly a lively scene!

Yet, no matter the tradition, it’s easy for them to fade away with time, especially in today’s fast-paced urban development and ever-changing entertainment landscape.

Moreover, many traditional crafts were passed down through a single lineage, often from father to son, not daughter. Opera singing wasn’t a lucrative skill, and many young people were unwilling to learn it, leading to its gradual decline.

Over time, fewer people watched opera, fewer performed it, and Temple Fairs became rare throughout the year.

Even if they did occur, they were often saturated with commercialism.

Of course, these Temple Fairs were Gu Qianqian’s favorite. Every year, she would set up stalls selling various items, like nesting dolls, and always made a hefty profit.

However, while many traditional customs were gradually disappearing in the city, similar traditions still clung to life in the villages scattered around the city’s outskirts.

Every year, as winter approached, these villages would become lively, with neighboring villages coming together to set up stages and invite performers, with music and dance continuing all the way to New Year’s Eve.

Naturally, these events, akin to gala performances, were not only about the festivities but also involved a subtle competition.

Simply put, the village with the most spectacular performance and grandest setup would earn prestige.

Concerned about the village’s reputation, everyone contributed what they could, whether money or effort. Typically, the first and last village performances were the most impressive.

Baiyan Village, located at the border between Hua City and Yue City, was the first among the surrounding villages to set up a stage this year.

The village had invited an Opera Troupe after a long absence, and the stage was bustling with activity, ready for a grand performance.

However, on the night of the performance, the entire village, along with over three hundred people from neighboring villages who came to join the festivities, vanished overnight as if they had evaporated into thin air, leaving no trace of life or death.

Du Sixian set out from Mudan Street early in the morning, and it wasn’t until just past noon that she arrived at a town about ten kilometers away from Baiyan Village.

As she reached the town, it seemed that a market had just wrapped up. The streets were bustling with people, making it almost impossible to move through the crowd.

Faced with this situation, Du Sixian simply parked her car by the roadside and found a small noodle shop to have lunch and rest for a while.

Many of the people who came to the market were from relatively remote villages nearby. Few had the chance to see a luxury car, so her stylish G63 parked by the side of the road almost became a spectacle. By the time she finished her meal, a crowd had gathered around her car, pointing and talking.

When Du Sixian came out of the restaurant, she saw a group of people around her car, pointing and touching it, but she wasn’t upset. Instead, she approached them with a smile, hoping to ask someone about the situation in Baiyan Village.

However, before she could even speak, the crowd dispersed like thieves as they saw the car owner return.

Only a freckled boy around twelve or thirteen years old with a limp was stopped by Du Sixian because of his difficulty walking.

“Hey, kid, don’t run! I won’t hurt you, I just want to ask you something,” she said.

The boy looked at Du Sixian warily and remained silent.

Seeing this, Du Sixian pouted, reached into her car, grabbed a handful of snacks, and handed them to the boy, lifting her eyebrows, “Can I ask you a question now?”

The boy looked at the beautifully packaged snacks in his hand, then back at Du Sixian, licked his dry lips, and nodded.

“Do you live around here?” Du Sixian asked with a smile.

The boy nodded.

“Is Baiyan Village far from here?”

When Du Sixian mentioned Baiyan Village, the boy paused, a hint of hesitation clearly visible on his face, but after looking at the snacks in his hand, he nodded again.

“Just two miles.”

The area around Hua City is mountainous, with rugged terrain and winding, complex roads. Even the maps from The Midnight Watchers Society struggle to detail every path.

If one is not careful and takes a wrong turn, it could delay them by an hour or two, or even longer, to reach their destination.

Du Sixian had been worried about reaching Baiyan Village without a guide, and it might have taken a lot of time.

Now, meeting this boy, who lived not far from Baiyan Village, she felt a surge of relief.

“Great, I want to go to Baiyan Village now. Can you guide me there?”

Hearing that Du Sixian wanted to go to Baiyan Village, the boy’s expression changed instantly, and he instinctively stepped back, shaking his head.

He seemed scared. Was it because something strange had been happening in Baiyan Village recently? Du Sixian thought to herself and continued, “Don’t be scared, you don’t have to take me into Baiyan Village, just lead me nearby and point me the way.”

“How about this? All the snacks in the car will be yours once we get there?”

The boy kept shaking his head and finally threw the snacks on the ground, limping away.

“Hey! Don’t go! What else do you want? I can buy it for you!” Du Sixian called out to the boy’s retreating figure.

However, all she got in return was the boy’s shout, “Fool, that place is haunted, I’m not going!”

Du Sixian, “…”

Watching the boy’s figure disappear into the crowd, a shadow quietly rose in her heart.

The boy’s unusual reaction didn’t weigh heavily on Du Sixian’s mind.

The strange disappearances of Baiyan Village’s residents had been happening for four or five days, and the news had likely spread around the area.

It wasn’t surprising that some people didn’t want to go near there.

In fact, The Midnight Watchers Society had received reports three days ago and dispatched a special task force to investigate. However, they found no traces of psychic energy fluctuations or signs of hauntings.

The villagers seemed to have vanished into thin air, like a wisp of smoke.

It was bizarre, yet left no clues to follow.

Du Sixian’s visit this time was merely for a final confirmation.

A little past one in the afternoon, after a brief rest and reporting to Lu Yibei and An Qing, she set off on her journey alone.

Leaving the town, she followed the route indicated by the GPS, heading towards the village deep in the mountains.

The first half of the journey was fairly normal, with minibuses and tractors occasionally seen traveling through the countryside.

The only annoyance was the villagers herding cattle, sheep, chickens, and ducks along the road. These animals strolled leisurely, like taking a post-dinner walk, forcing her to stop and give way.

As she got closer to Baiyan Village, the number of vehicles and pedestrians on the road dwindled until they disappeared entirely.

Driving on the mountain-surrounded road, all she could see were forests, with twisted, dense branches covered in withered leaves blocking the view from every angle.

Cracks began to appear on the concrete road built along the forest. Perhaps due to recent snowmelt, some silt had washed onto the road, making a soft “swoosh” under the tires.

…

The five miles weren’t far, but it took Du Sixian over two hours to cover the distance.

By the time she reached the entrance of Baiyan Village, it was already past three in the afternoon.

In the mountains, darkness fell particularly early. By just past three, Baiyan Village was already gloomy. As the temperature dropped, mist began to drift over the village nestled at the mountain’s foot, casting shadows everywhere.

The whole world seemed to be turning elusive and unpredictable.

Parking at the village entrance, Du Sixian donned a stab-proof vest made from alchemical materials under her coat, carefully checked her gun’s magazine and spare clips, pocketed a few standard talismans, took two bottles of pure silver, and, of course, her beloved camera before stepping out of the car and heading into the village.

In this dim twilight, the village seemed shrouded in a massive, silent shadow.

Walking through the village, Du Sixian heard nothing but her own footsteps, as if she had stumbled into a long-abandoned ghost town.

The windows of the houses were pitch black, emitting no light. It felt as if something might be lurking in that darkness, watching with strange eyes.

From the outside, Baiyan Village appeared much like any other rural settlement in the area, with its brick-walled courtyards, small buildings, and a few stone-constructed houses. The only notable exception was a small western-style building deep within the village, which stood out starkly against its surroundings.

The building’s pointed gray roof resembled a peculiar oversized hat, pressing heavily down, while its facade was like a pale, expressionless face. The windows were dark and hollow, giving an impression of unfathomable depth. It stood there lifelessly, devoid of any sign of human presence.

As Du Sixian stepped into the village, standing in a narrow alley, the moss-covered walls on either side seemed to close in on her, making it hard to breathe. It felt as if countless unseen eyes were watching her from the shadows, sending a chill down her spine.

However…

Having endured Meng’s nightmares, which had escalated three times, her courage had transformed significantly. Now, she even chased hauntings within her dreams, using them to practice spell formations, much to the embarrassment of Meng, whose ability to create terrifying scenarios was limited.

There was nothing to fear. The special task force had already investigated and found no signs of hauntings here. Besides, hadn’t Senior Lu mentioned it?

Most hauntings are all bark and no bite; as long as you’re not afraid and charge forward boldly, you’ll be fine! Du Sixian mused to herself, continuing to venture deeper into the village.

Passing by a house, she noticed the door was ajar. After a gentle knock, she mustered her courage and stepped inside.

Inside, she was greeted by a dining table, laden with dishes. The food within had long since decayed into a black, mushy substance, with white larvae writhing within, emitting a foul stench.

Seeing this, Du Sixian quickly covered her nose and mouth, retreating from the house, a sense of doubt creeping into her mind.

Although the winter in Hua City had been mild, the temperature wasn’t particularly high. How had the food rotted to such an extent in just four or five days?

Moreover, it seemed as though the meal had been interrupted, with no time to clean up before rushing off to watch a performance, leaving the door unlocked, suggesting a quick return.

So, had the villagers disappeared while watching the performance? Du Sixian wondered.

As she pondered, she looked towards the village’s depths, her gaze settling on the incongruous small western-style building, and then she began to walk towards it.

According to the information provided by the special task force members, the stage was set up in the open space in front of the small western-style building.

When Du Sixian arrived at the open space before the building, she was surprised to discover that it backed onto a small river, over twenty meters wide. The river flowed silently around the building, disappearing into the depths of the mountains.

Perhaps to save space and provide more room for the audience, the makeshift stage, constructed from steel pipes and wood, extended out over the river, partially suspended above the water.

At this moment, the few strands of red fabric and red lanterns decorating the stage swayed in the wind. In the dim light of the overcast sky, they exuded no festive cheer, instead emanating an eerie and unsettling vibe.

Below the stage, numerous long benches were arranged, empty and unoccupied, yet scattered with clothing, giving the impression that the seats were filled with spectators, staring blankly ahead.

“The fleeting life, in a moment of panic and despair… Oh, how it pains the heart… Leaving me a lonely shadow…”

A sudden operatic voice slipped into Du Sixian’s ears, making her pause in surprise. She focused intently, trying to listen closely, but all she could hear was the wind.

Was it an illusion? But I clearly heard it! Du Sixian thought to herself.

The operatic voice seemed to have etched itself into her mind, leaving behind distinct words, only to vanish in an instant.

Not being familiar with opera, Du Sixian pulled out her phone and searched online for the lyrics she had just heard. Upon discovering the source, her expression changed slightly.

The opera piece was from “The Palace of Eternal Life: Weeping for the Portrait.”

A mourning opera…

Looking up again, the fluttering red silk and lanterns seemed to have faded under the dimming sky, their colors turning dull. In a daze, all she saw was a canvas of gray and white.

On the stage, there appeared to be several figures, each clad in voluminous opera costumes, standing with their backs to her, motionless.

Her heart skipped a beat. She steadied herself and looked again at the stage, but everything she had seen seemed to have been an illusion, as everything returned to normal.

The wind gently stirred the belongings left behind by the vanished villagers, creating a soft rustling sound. Within the range of her psychic sense, there was no trace of any psychic energy fluctuation.

Du Sixian thought, “…”

It seems something terrifying indeed happened here; otherwise, the special task force wouldn’t have investigated and then sent me to confirm.

But why is there no trace of psychic energy fluctuation left behind? Du Sixian wondered.

…

After a brief pause in the open space in front of the small western-style building, Du Sixian spent some time investigating inside.

The interior of the building, like other parts of the village, showed no residual psychic energy fluctuations. Judging by the certificates and banners hanging in the study, this seemed to be the home of the Baiyan Village chief.

What was strange was that it seemed uninhabited for a long time. Thick layers of dust covered the floors, furniture, and walls, with cobwebs hanging in the corners of the ceiling.

Even more puzzling were the dense, chaotic footprints in the dust, indistinguishable as human or otherwise.

…

Du Sixian spent over an hour investigating Baiyan Village. After retrieving a lily from her car to test for psychic energy fluctuations and finding nothing unusual, it was already getting dark.

Concerned about the potential dangers of staying in this haunted place after dark, she decided to leave and find a hotel in town, planning to return the next morning to finish her work.

Although Lu Yibei had advised her to charge through hauntings, it was safer to avoid direct confrontation with them.

Before leaving, she passed by the stage again. The chaotic footprints in the small western-style building flashed through her mind. Inspired, she ran back to her car to fetch a tripod and a power bank.

Returning to the open space, she set up the camera in front of the stage, securing the tripod with a spell formation, and left satisfied.

“Maybe I’ll catch some important clues,” she mused, glancing back at the tripod.

Late at night, Baiyan Village.

In the open space in front of the small western-style building, a lone tripod stood in the cold, damp mountain wind. The camera on it continued to run, capturing the empty stage in night recording mode.

“The fleeting life, in a moment of panic and despair… Oh, how it pains the heart… Leaving me a lonely shadow…”

An operatic voice emerged from nowhere, causing the camera screen to flicker with static, as if the signal was poor.

Suddenly, a group of people in opera costumes appeared in the frame, as if out of thin air.

The open space remained empty.

Then, in the footage, paper money began to drift down from nowhere, like falling snowflakes.

A long line of people, their opera costumes rendered in black and white by the night mode, slowly made their way to the river, their cries piercing the night, heart-wrenching and tear-streaked, the makeup on their faces twisted into ghastly shapes by tears mixed with paint.

They continued their mournful wailing, moving forward slowly, as if escorting something to another world.

Then…

“Bang-!”

In the empty open space, the tripod was suddenly knocked over, as if pushed by an unseen force. It was dragged several meters before crashing heavily into a distant wall, scattering fragments everywhere…

Footnote:

1. The Laba Festival(腊八节): A traditional Chinese festival on the 8th day of the 12th lunar month, marking the prelude to the New Year.