Chapter 173 Puppet Show

Sanmen Town made its name on three traditional performing arts: old operas, puppetry, and Shadow Puppetry. Among these, puppetry was the most famous.

Inside the old theater, an elderly man in a black cloth shirt sat tightly gripping a glossy walnut cane. From the very first day the film crew arrived, he had sat in the corner of the theater, staring at everyone. The townsfolk called him Chen Laogun. Upon arriving today, he grabbed the stage manager to harp on the old theater’s rules yet again.

"No lighting red candles after dark, no girls touching the puppets, and at midnight..."

Before he could finish, the stage manager impatiently interrupted him. "No going on stage at midnight, the troupe must turn off the lights, everyone must leave, and not a single room can have anyone inside! Sir, I can recite all this in my sleep. But we’re shooting a night scene today, and you’re telling us we can’t get on stage at midnight..."

The old man struck his cane against the floor. "Midnight is when you perform for ghosts! Once the singing is done, your soul stays on the stage!"

Seeing this, the assistant director hurriedly stepped in to smooth things over. "Sir, we’re following the rules. Hasn’t everything been perfectly fine these past three days?"

The old man snorted. "A few years ago, a girl didn’t follow the rules and sneaked onto the stage to play late at night. She was later found hanging above the stage with a puppet string around her neck! Her arms and legs were broken. She was strung up by a ghost to perform a play!"

The stage manager and the assistant director exchanged a glance. They had heard about this incident on their first day in town. However, Sanmen Town had been very peaceful over the years. The crew had even pulled some strings to ask the Abnormal Investigation Bureau staff responsible for the area. They were told that Sanmen Town had been quiet recently, with no supernatural incidents. As long as they followed the rules passed down in the town, they would be fine.

In this world, the earliest appearances of supernatural events could be traced back to the modern wartime period. On a macro level, such events didn’t occur frequently across the country. Most ordinary people might never encounter one in their entire lives, so they had long grown accustomed to it and held onto a sense of wishful thinking. While ghosts could claim lives, so could the harsh reality of living; to survive, one had to make money first. After some discussion, the crew had decided to settle here because the rent was cheap and the old theater was well-preserved. They wanted to borrow its authentic atmosphere to shoot the most important scenes of the entire film.

"Cut!" Below the stage, the director slammed the script onto the monitor and roared at the male and female leads acting on stage. "Look at what you’re doing! What kind of performance is this? Your singing lacks flavor, and your movements are stiff! The stringed puppets in town are more lively than the two of you! And you call yourselves opera students!"

The male and female leads hung their heads in shame. The rest of the crew didn’t dare to make a sound either. This was already the fifteenth take. Director Li Chenglin sat in front of the monitor, his brows furrowing tighter and tighter. The leads’ performance and singing were always just a bit off. To make matters worse, due to a lack of funds, the costumes, makeup, and props infuriated him even more. Everything was shoddily made and oozed a sense of cheapness. The entire frame consistently lacked that essential ’soul’.

TAP TAP TAP!

Chen Laogun rapped his cane against the ground with a gloomy face. "It’s past ten o’clock. You should pack up."

Li Chenglin glanced at Chen Laogun. Their original plan was to finish shooting today so they could head straight to the next location tonight. But now, the most crucial climax scene had turned into a total disaster. If they delayed until tomorrow, the daily expenses for such a large crew would be another massive outflow of cash. Sanmen Town wasn’t a big place, but the cost of living was quite high.

Li Chenglin shot the assistant director a meaningful look. The assistant director understood instantly. He and the stage manager grabbed Chen Laogun, one on each side, and ushered him out.

"Sir, I have some good cigarettes and liquor. Let’s go have a drink. Don’t worry, we guarantee to wrap up before midnight. We absolutely won’t mess around. Just one last take!"

Once Chen Laogun was gone, the director called over Chen Lei, who was in charge of costumes, makeup, and props. "This troupe has a backstage warehouse, right? There should be some old things in there. Only those costumes passed down through generations possess the true ’soul’ of the opera. Go bring all those out and quickly redress the stage. Have the actors change clothes. We’ll put everything back exactly as it was when we’re done."

Seeing Chen Lei hesitate, Li Chenglin suppressed his rising temper. "Get it set up in an hour. This scene will only take about five minutes to shoot. If things go smoothly, we’ll definitely be done before midnight. Even if we don’t finish, I won’t force us to keep shooting." Only then did Chen Lei agree, calling a few people to help.

The door to the backstage warehouse was an old-fashioned wooden one, secured by an Old Tong lock that was thoroughly rusted. Chen Lei picked it open with a wire after a few pokes. The moment the door was pushed open, a stale, wooden scent mixed with the smell of mothballs rushed at their faces.

The warehouse was pitch black. As the beam of a flashlight swept across the room, it revealed rows upon rows of wooden shelves filled with puppets. The large ones were half the height of a human, while the small ones were merely the size of a palm. Some wore costumes, and others were bare. When the flashlight illuminated their wooden faces, their hollow, pitch-black eye sockets stared directly toward the door, the corners of their mouths slightly upturned. It was as if they had been waiting for them.

"Fuck!" someone behind cursed in a low voice. "This is way too creepy!"

Various Items used on stage were piled in the corner of the room, along with several large red chests. When opened, they revealed neatly folded old costumes inside.

"These are the ones. Carry them out. Everyone, be careful—don’t touch those puppets."

At eleven o’clock that night, everything was set up. The female lead had changed into a water-red costume. It was a bit too large, draping loosely over her frame. The gold threads on her cloud-collar were dull, but under the stage lights, her entire demeanor transformed. A subtle maturity that didn’t belong to her age suddenly appeared in her expression. The male lead had also changed into a sapphire-blue long gown, holding a folding fan with yellowed ribs. As he snapped the fan open, a speck of dark red stain lay right in the center of the meticulously painted peony on its surface, looking like a splash of something from a long time ago.

"Yes, yes, yes, this is exactly the feeling! This natural sense of age!" Li Chenglin stared at the monitor, his excitement building. "All departments, get ready! Let’s aim for a one-take. You two better sing properly for me this time!"

The script supervisor clapped the clapperboard.

The female lead stood on stage, bathed in the descending lights, radiating a captivating glow. The moment she began to sing, her voice was melodious and clear—an improvement of more than just one level from before. The male lead’s stage steps had also steadied. He caught her cues flawlessly, and the two matched each other perfectly.

Li Chenglin nodded, growing more satisfied the longer he watched, though he inexplicably felt that something was off. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Their performance was impeccable—in fact, it was too good. It was so good that it didn’t even seem like them. They were only juniors studying opera, and they had botched so many takes earlier. Li Chenglin understood them well enough to know their limits. At this moment, their postures and movements looked as though they had been immersed in the profession for over a decade.

The singing, too. Those few lines of spoken dialogue were deeply touching and mournful, every word weeping blood. Even the veteran sound recordist on set broke out in goosebumps. Li Chenglin didn’t yell cut. He looked into the female lead’s eyes through the monitor. The despair and sorrow in them were so real—so real that they sent chills down his spine.

"Director..." Chen Lei called out softly beside him.

"Quiet!"

"Director, something doesn’t seem right." Chen Lei’s voice trembled. "Look at their hands..."

Only then did Li Chenglin shift his gaze away from the monitor and look up at the stage.

The male lead, who couldn’t even do a proper split earlier, suddenly leapt into the air as if his legs were being yanked by invisible hands, landing in a flawless split to block the female lead’s spear with his folding fan. The female lead’s mouth was still singing, but her facial expression had shifted from being in-character to sheer, unadulterated terror. Tears streamed down her face endlessly, yet the corners of her mouth remained fixed in an eerie, unnatural curve.

"Cut!" Li Chenglin jumped to his feet. "Cut! Stop!"

The two people on stage didn’t stop.

SNAP!

The lights around the stage suddenly all went out, leaving only the spotlight on the stage. The singing pitched up sharply, turning shrill and piercing. The male and female leads’ bodies were violently hoisted by an invisible Strength, leaving them suspended in mid-air. Their limbs twisted into the standard postures of marionettes. Their elbows jutted outward, their knees bent backward, and their spines emitted a sickening crunching sound.

The female lead was still conscious. Her eyes bulged as she stared at the audience below. "Save me..."

The male lead’s head was violently yanked backward, his neck stretched to the absolute limit, causing his Adam’s apple to protrude grotesquely. Immediately after, his limbs were hoisted up, forcing him into a series of contorted, grotesque movements.

The lights on the stage also abruptly died, plunging the entire theater into absolute darkness. Everyone heard the sound of bones being forcefully snapped. CRACK, CRACK, CRACK. It sounded like corn on the cob being broken, crisp and continuous. Then, a wash of red light illuminated the stage.

The female lead was strung up in the dead center of the stage. Countless transparent puppet strings were wrapped tightly around her neck, cutting deep into her flesh. Blood dripped down, trailing along the strings one drop at a time. Her limbs were twisted at impossible angles, her eyes wide open, and her mouth agape. The terror she had felt in her final moments was still frozen on her face.

The male lead lay collapsed at the edge of the stage, his body folded into a grotesque sphere. He looked exactly like a collapsible puppet drawn tight by its strings. His blood pooled across the floor, seeping down through the cracks in the wooden floorboards.

"Ahhhhh—"

Someone screamed. The scene instantly descended into utter chaos as everyone scrambled toward the door. The theater doors had closed at some unknown point. They pushed desperately and rammed their bodies against the wood, but the doors wouldn’t budge an inch.

The walls and ceiling of the entire theater had become covered with a dense, sprawling web of transparent strings, much like a colossal spider’s web. Beneath these strings hung dozens, perhaps hundreds, of puppets. Their joints clattered and clicked as they slowly turned their heads, one by one, fixing their hollow eye sockets on the panic-stricken crowd below. Some of the puppets wore water-red dresses, while others wore sapphire-blue long gowns. The corners of their mouths were split into crooked, twisted crevices, looking as though they were smiling.

CLACK!

CLACK, CLACK!

The blood-drenched male and female leads were hoisted up once again. Their bodies stood suspended in mid-air, their postures stiff and their joints bent backward, looking just like two newly repaired old puppets. They opened their mouths, and a hauntingly mournful opera melody began to echo through the cavernous theater.