The Invincible Female Ghost Is A Bit Of A Hopeless Romantic
Chapter 318: Stay!
Bab ini belum diterjemahkan ke Bahasa Indonesia
Naskah di bawah ini ditampilkan sementara dari versi English asli.
Xu Erxiao did not immediately reach for the clay doll.
He simply stood where he was, staring fixedly at that half-piece of osmanthus candy.
The underground granary was bitterly cold, yet the candy looked as though it had just been warmed in someone’s palm. A faint, damp sheen slowly appeared on its surface.
That glimmer seeped inward through the hollow in the clay doll’s chest, revealing a thin strip of paper rolled into a tight curl.
“I’ll get it.”
Xu Erxiao’s voice was very soft.
Lu Yuan nodded, but stepped in front of the clay doll first, holding his blade across it.
“I’ll pry it open. You take the paper.”
Xu Erxiao did not argue.
Lu Yuan used the tip of his blade to flick aside the osmanthus candy.
The candy fell to one side with the faintest brittle crack and broke neatly in two. The strip of paper in the clay doll’s chest sprang out. Its curled edges were charred black, but it had not burned through.
Wang Cheng’an took the paper and unfolded it by the light of Song Qinghe’s lamp.
There were only a few sparse lines on it, written in fine script, as if the writer had feared someone might discover it:
“If you see the candy, know that your son still lives. If you see the clay body, know that his name has not been erased. Do not trust the one beneath the river carrying the fish seal. Erxiao, do not look back.”
At the very bottom was a crooked fingerprint.
Xu Erxiao recognized it at a glance.
“That’s my ma’s.”
Wang Cheng’an did not ask how he recognized it.
Some things did not need to have been seen in person. Perhaps it was the fingerprint on that land deed, perhaps the charred paper left behind in the old house, or perhaps it was simply a stubborn belief in one’s own mother.
Xu Erxiao took the paper and pressed it to his chest.
“She was here back then.”
“At the very least, she left this paper behind,” Lu Yuan said.
“She didn’t tell me to go looking for her.”
“She told you not to look back.”
Xu Erxiao raised his face.
“I’m going forward.”
He peeled the paper talisman bearing “Liu Sanniang” from the clay doll’s forehead, then carefully wrapped up the half-piece of osmanthus candy and put it in his clothes.
Once the paper talisman was gone, the clay doll suddenly cracked.
A fine fissure began at its forehead and ran downward, past its brows, eyes, nose, and lips, finally stopping at the edge of the hollow in its chest. Then the clay shell fell away piece by piece. Inside was neither bone nor flesh, but a tightly braided bundle of black hair.
Hidden in the middle of the hair was a small wooden tablet.
It was carved with the words:
“Liu Sanniang, temporarily placed in the Southern Register.”
Song Qinghe sucked in a sharp breath.
“The Southern Register.”
Lin Zhaoxuan immediately took out the transfer ledger they had found earlier at the rent collection office and flipped to the last few pages.
Those pages had originally been completely blank, but now the dampness from the underground river had brought hidden writing to the surface.
“North Road, Old Dragon’s Back, collect old names. Middle Road, Liu Family Gully, preserve child households. South Road, Yongji Grain Depot, transfer to the Southern Register.”
Wang Cheng’an read through the pages one by one, his expression growing grimmer.
“The Southern Register isn’t just one ledger.”
“What is it, then?” Zhou Heng asked.
“It’s a branch of the master register,” Wang Cheng’an said. “These places first split people’s names apart and hold them back, then send them to Yongji Grain Depot. The depot is only a transfer point. In the end, they’re sent even farther south.”
“Where is farther south?” Xu Erxiao asked.
Wang Cheng’an shook his head.
“It doesn’t say.”
Lu Yuan looked toward the iron gate.
Beyond it, the underground river roared without pause. The person from before had disappeared, but the wooden carts in the granary were still trembling slightly, as though countless things being held down were trying to get out.
“We deal with this place first.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the foremost clay doll suddenly raised its head.
A paper talisman bearing the name “Ma Fusheng” was stuck to its forehead, and a polished copper coin was wedged in the hollow of its chest. It braced both hands against the wooden cart and slowly sat up.
Immediately after, the second and third clay dolls began to move as well.
They had no pupils, yet black water glistened in their eye sockets. The hollows in their chests opened and closed, producing voices that did not belong to them. They were the names they had heard earlier in the narrow passage, the names that had been held back.
“Return to the register... Return to the register...” “Leave the names... People may go...”
Zhou Heng swept his sword across, severing the first clay doll’s neck.
Its head rolled to the ground, but its mouth kept moving.
“Mother’s name to pay the debt...” “Child’s name to fill the gap...”
“Don’t cut off their heads!” Wang Cheng’an shouted. “They’re ledger shells. The paper talismans are on their foreheads, and the evidence is in their chests!”
Lu Yuan immediately changed his strike to a palm and pressed down on the clay doll’s shoulder, forcing it back onto the cart. Song Qinghe raised her lamp toward the paper talisman on its forehead. As soon as the light shone on it, the name written there began to glow faintly.
“Remove the talisman!”
Xu Erxiao charged forward first and yanked the paper bearing “Ma Fusheng” from the clay doll.
The clay doll immediately froze.
Wang Cheng’an caught the paper talisman and unfolded it. There was another line on the back:
“Ma Fusheng, mother: Lady Ma. Died of illness at age five. Not sent to the mountain. Mistakenly entered the southern route.”
“Mistakenly entered?” Xu Erxiao snapped. “The kid’s already dead, and they still want to send him?”
“They’re not sending the person,” Lu Yuan said, looking at the clay doll. “They’re sending the family’s remembrance of him.”
The copper coin in the clay doll’s chest suddenly rolled out.
After it hit the ground, the black water in its eye sockets gradually dried up. The clay doll’s face slowly lowered, and at last it crumbled into a pile of wet mud.
Wang Cheng’an tucked the paper talisman into the ledger.
“Ma Fusheng. Old records checked. Not entered as an offering. Transfer error.”
As he wrote the final stroke, the black vapor on the paper talisman dissipated.
Everyone understood.
These clay dolls looked like evil things, but in truth they were empty shells molded from people’s names, keepsakes, and longing. As long as a name remained pasted to a forehead and evidence remained stuffed into a chest, they would keep guarding an account that did not exist on behalf of the Southern Register.
“Take them apart one by one,” Lu Yuan said. “Zhaoxuan, seal the gate. Zhou Heng, hold that side.”
Lin Zhaoxuan nodded and darted toward the iron gate.
He flung out an ink line, which wrapped around the gate. But a tremendous force suddenly slammed into it from the underground river. The iron gate bulged inward, and the ink line stretched taut.
“Something’s outside the gate.”
“How long can you hold it?”
“An incense stick.”
“That’ll do.”
There were more than twenty wooden carts in the granary, each carrying around ten clay dolls.
One incense stick was nowhere near enough.
But no one suggested stopping.
Xu Erxiao pulled off the paper talismans, Zhou Heng took the evidence, Song Qinghe shone her lamp to examine the backs of the papers, Lu Yuan held down the clay shells as they woke, and Wang Cheng’an hurriedly copied everything down beside them. Lin Zhaoxuan guarded the gate while occasionally flinging out ink nails to seal the black water on the ground whenever it still stirred after a talisman had been removed.
“Liu Siaosi, died of illness, not sent to the mountain.” “Zhao Xiaoshuan, moved north with his mother, household registration established.” “Wang Shitou, acknowledged by his father’s household, old name should be struck out.” “Chen family’s daughter, birth date pending verification, one silver bracelet among her belongings...” “Nameless little girl, Little Stone Village, plum-blossom silver lock...”
At the last entry, Lu Yuan’s movements paused.
That clay doll was at the very back. It was much smaller than the others and wore an old padded jacket whose color could no longer be made out. Its forehead bore no name, only the three characters “Little Stone Village.”
Another silver lock was stuffed into the hollow in its chest.
It was identical to the one from the wooden box earlier.
Only this one was engraved with half a plum blossom, and the other was engraved with the other half.
Put together, the two locks formed a complete blossom.
Song Qinghe took out the silver lock they had put away earlier and gently brought it close.
Before the two locks touched, they rang at the same time.
Ting.
It was as faint as wind blowing against a copper sheet.
The paper talisman on the clay doll’s forehead flipped up by itself. A sentence appeared on its back:
“Paired locks for two sisters. The elder daughter is missing; the younger daughter’s whereabouts are under investigation.”
Wang Cheng’an’s pen stopped on the paper.
“Little Stone Village...”
Xu Erxiao looked over too.
He thought of the old record he had first seen beside the righteous well in Ma Family Gully.
“Xu Liushi, native place: Liu Family Gully. Maiden name pending investigation.”
He also thought of the copper plaque engraved with the character “Liu.”
“Is this little girl connected to my ma?”
Lu Yuan did not jump to conclusions.
“The lock was transferred from Little Stone Village, and Liu Sanniang later lived in Little Stone Village, but we can’t identify her based on that alone.”
He placed the two silver locks together.
At the center of the complete plum-blossom pattern, a tiny character, “Gu,” faintly emerged.
Song Qinghe looked up at Lu Yuan.
Lu Yuan’s fingers suddenly tightened.
“Gu.”
Gu Changgeng.
The man who had left stone fragments and torn pages in the mine tunnel.
He was also the person in Lu Yuan’s memories who had taken him away from a fire, a snowy road, or some even more distant past.
For a moment, the underground granary seemed to fall silent.
Even the clay dolls on the wooden carts stopped struggling.
Lu Yuan stared at the silver lock, now whole, and only spoke after a long while.
“Write it down.”
Wang Cheng’an looked at him.
“How should I write it?”
“Evidence: paired locks belonging to a girl from Little Stone Village. Plum-blossom pattern, with the character Gu inside.”
“What about the name?”
“Pending investigation.”
Wang Cheng’an nodded.
His hand was steady as he wrote.
He did not add a single guess because of Lu Yuan’s expression, nor did he presume to confirm anyone’s relationship on their behalf.
That was what they had learned along the way.
Evidence could point the way, but it could not take someone’s place.
A name could be recovered, but no one else could decide for its owner.
Another deafening crash came from beyond the iron gate.
Lin Zhaoxuan grunted and staggered half a step backward.
“Lu Yuan!”
The gate had split open.
Mist from the underground river seeped through the crack, with countless tiny scraps of paper floating in it. Every scrap bore a name. Once the soaked scraps stuck to the ground, each turned into a black hand.
The hands crawled over the stone floor and into the granary, reaching for the carts, the clay dolls, and, most of all, the people’s ankles.
“It wants to drag away everything we haven’t taken apart,” Song Qinghe said.
Lu Yuan cut through several black hands with his blade, but the blade was wrapped in wet paper.
“Cheng’an, how many are left?”
Wang Cheng’an looked at the paper talismans scattered across the floor and the untouched carts. He gritted his teeth. “At least one hundred and thirty-seven.”
“One hundred and thirty-seven...” Xu Erxiao panted. “What do we do?”
“We can’t take them all,” Zhou Heng said. “There are too many carts, and the gate won’t hold.”
Xu Erxiao looked at the clay dolls.
“Then I’ll smash the carts.”
“Smashing the carts will scatter the names,” Wang Cheng’an said immediately.
Song Qinghe suddenly raised her lamp.
“We don’t necessarily have to take them all apart.”
Everyone looked at her.
She pointed to the four corners of the granary.
“These carts are all inside a single formation. It isn’t supported by the clay dolls. It’s supported by the words ‘awaiting transfer.’”
She went to a wooden cart that had not yet been dismantled and pulled off a paper talisman. Just as expected, the back read:
“Awaiting transfer to the Southern Register.”
“As long as the transfer remains in effect, they’ll keep being treated as cargo.”
“How do we make it stop being in effect?” Xu Erxiao asked.
Song Qinghe looked at Wang Cheng’an.
“Change the ledger.”
Wang Cheng’an froze for a moment.
“There are so many...”
“You don’t have to write out every person’s details,” Lu Yuan said. “Start with a general correction.”
Wang Cheng’an stood amid the scattered pages and looked down at the duplicate register in his hands.
Originally, this book had only been a supplementary volume.
It recorded fragmented names, evidence, and pending investigations.
But after all the entries he had made along the way, it had long since become more than just a duplicate register.
He took a deep breath, turned to a blank page, and dipped his pen in the ink.
There was very little ink left in the inkstone.
So he bit his index finger and let his blood drip into it.
“Wang Cheng’an!” Xu Erxiao cried out anxiously.
“I’m fine,” Wang Cheng’an said, shaking his head. “I’m only borrowing a little.”
He raised his pen and wrote:
“From this day forward, the old rules for transfers along the Southern Route are corrected as follows. Any name lacking the person’s own confirmation, a relative’s confirmation, or conclusive proof of identity may not be reassigned under the labels offering, rent, guarantee, child, or household. Anyone sent onto the Southern Route because of mixed, coerced, or mistaken entries in old ledgers shall be temporarily returned to their place of origin, pending confirmation by the person concerned. Any use of a mother’s name in place of a child’s, a child’s name in place of a father’s account, or a living person’s name in place of a dead person’s account shall be rejected outright. All names stored here shall first be returned to their owners, not to the evil register.”
The final stroke landed.
The entire granary shook violently.
The pen in Wang Cheng’an’s hand cracked.
One after another, the papers on the ground bearing the words “Awaiting transfer to the Southern Register” flipped over. Their backs, which had been blank, slowly filled with different words.
“Awaiting a family member’s claim.” “Awaiting verification of place of origin.” “Awaiting the person’s own decision.” “Awaiting addition by a descendant.”
The clay dolls on the undismantled carts fell silent one after another.
The paper talismans on their foreheads no longer turned black. Instead, they gradually yellowed and dried, like paper left in the sun. The evidence in the hollows of their chests stopped oozing black water.
The paper hands in the underground river’s mist made a shrill scraping sound.
The iron gate burst open with a crash.
The impact sent Lin Zhaoxuan staggering backward, and Zhou Heng caught him. There was no monster outside as they had expected, only a pitch-black wooden cart.
The cart floated on the underground river.
There were no horses in front of it, only two thick iron chains trailing through the water. Rows of fish plaques with closed eyes hung along the sides of the carriage, each engraved with the name of a place.
Old Dragon’s Back.
Ma Family Gully.
Liu Family Gully.
Wang Family Village.
Little Stone Village.
Yongji Grain Depot.
A man wearing a straw raincoat sat on the cart.
His bamboo hat was pulled low, but his hands were strangely white. He was holding a thick, black leather ledger.
He did not enter the granary. He simply opened the ledger slowly on the river.
“Who changed the ledger?”
His voice was not loud, yet every lamp in the granary went out at once.
Only the green lamp in Song Qinghe’s hand remained lit.
Lu Yuan walked to the gate.
“My brother did.”
The man in the straw raincoat paused in the middle of turning a page.
“Then you will be the one to make it right.”
The ledger opened by itself, though there was no wind, and turned to a certain page.
Written on it were the words:
“Lu Yuan, original name pending verification.” “Gu family daughter, elder daughter missing, carries a plum-blossom lock.” “Second son of the Gu family, mother unknown, taken away by Gu Changgeng.” “If the two recognize each other, they can make up for three hundred missing entries in the old Southern Register.”
Xu Erxiao swore furiously.
Wang Cheng’an’s face turned livid.
But Lu Yuan only stared at the words “Gu family daughter.”
Elder daughter missing.
Plum-blossom lock.
The nameless girl’s clay doll from Little Stone Village.
And Gu Changgeng.
Many scattered threads had finally been twisted together, but they still led to no answer.
The man in the straw raincoat said, “You want to know your original name, why Gu Changgeng took you away, and whom that lock was supposed to be given to. You can find out all of it.”
“Change back every entry you just corrected.”
“Then hand over Xu Erxiao’s wooden tablet, Liu Sanniang’s land deed, and Wang Shouyi’s guarantee bond.”
“Then the Southern Register will open its gate for you.”
Lu Yuan asked, “And if we don’t?”
The man in the straw raincoat raised his head.
There was no face beneath his hat.
Only a page of paper, rotted by water.
It was densely covered with the same name.
Lu Yuan.
“If you refuse, the Southern Register will start collecting with you.”
The underground river suddenly surged upward.
Black water spilled over the threshold. All the clay dolls that had fallen silent in the granary suddenly opened their eyes. They no longer said “Return to the register.” They looked toward Lu Yuan, like a group of children who did not know where to go.
Lu Yuan saw that one of the clay dolls was holding half a sheet of paper.
The paper read:
“Gu Changgeng claimed one son on another’s behalf.” “Name undecided.” “Must not be entered in the register.”
It felt as though something had struck Lu Yuan hard in the chest.
The man in the straw raincoat saw the paper too.
He raised his hand, and the river water turned into a black whip that lashed toward the clay doll.
“Stay!”
Lu Yuan was faster.
His blade flashed, cutting the black whip in two.
Zhou Heng darted forward and hooked the half sheet of paper up with his sword. Song Qinghe shone her lamp on it, and most of the black ink immediately faded. Xu Erxiao swept his shovel sideways, smashing every black hand that lunged for the paper.
Wang Cheng’an caught the paper.
He did not read it aloud at once.
Instead, he looked at Lu Yuan first.
“Brother Lu.”
Lu Yuan nodded.
“Read it.”
Wang Cheng’an unfolded the wet half sheet.
Only a few lines on it remained legible:
“Gu Changgeng claimed one boy on another’s behalf and traveled north from Little Stone Village. His mother’s name was not recorded; his father’s household is unknown. This child was entered in the preliminary child-guardian register but had not yet been sent under guard. Gu Changgeng used one past merit to secure his removal from the register. Another little girl was in the same cart... her whereabouts are unknown.”
The final sentence had been soaked away until only half a line remained.
One little girl.
In the same cart.
Her whereabouts are unknown.
Lu Yuan looked at the half plum-blossom lock in his palm, then at the black leather ledger on the cart.
So Gu Changgeng had not taken him away by chance.
And he had not left Little Stone Village alone.
There had been a girl in that cart with him.
A girl who should have traveled alongside him, but had been separated from him afterward.
The man in the straw raincoat slowly closed the ledger.
“Now you have even more reason to come with me.”
Lu Yuan raised his blade.
“Quite the opposite.”
He handed the half sheet of wet paper to Wang Cheng’an.
“I know where to look now.”
“Yongji Grain Depot,” Zhou Heng said.
“Not just the depot.” Lu Yuan looked in the direction the underground river flowed. “Farther south with the current, to the Southern Register’s central archive.”
The man in the straw raincoat sneered.
“You won’t make it across the river.”
Lu Yuan glanced back at the more than one hundred wooden carts in the granary.
Then he looked at the clay dolls on the carts, whose forehead talismans now read “Awaiting Claim.”
“Who said we were going across the river?”
He walked to the first wooden cart and chopped through the wooden wedge beneath it.
The wheel loosened, and the whole cart slid down the slope toward the underground river.
The man in the straw raincoat’s voice finally changed.
“You dare!”
Lu Yuan stepped onto the cart’s shaft.
“These carts were meant to be sent to Yongji Grain Depot in the first place.”
“Then we’ll send them back.”
Xu Erxiao understood at once. He grabbed his shovel and smashed the brake block on the second cart. Zhou Heng, Lin Zhaoxuan, and Song Qinghe all joined in, while Wang Cheng’an clutched the duplicate register and evidence tightly and leaped onto the foremost cart.
The wooden carts slid down the slope one after another.
The underground river churned under their weight, forcing the black-lacquered cart and the straw-raincoated man’s ledger cart to one side.
A faint glimmer shone from the hollow chests of the clay dolls on the carts, like more than a hundred little lamps lighting up in the darkness.
The man in the straw raincoat swung his ledger.
Countless black hands reached up from the water, trying to drag the wooden carts back.
Lin Zhaoxuan drove the last ink line into the stone wall and shouted, “Let names return to their owners, and roads return to their travelers!”
Song Qinghe shone her lamp toward the procession of carts.
“The daily account is rejected. A new road opens!”
Xu Erxiao stood at the head of the cart and raised his wooden tablet.
“I’m going to find my ma!”
Wang Cheng’an pressed one hand to the duplicate register and gripped the side of the cart with the other.
“Pending investigation doesn’t mean held back!”
Lu Yuan leaped onto the cart’s shaft last.
The underground river rushed toward him, cold wind whipping up the hem of his clothes.
Countless names swam through the black water like a school of fish. Some tried to lunge at them, while others, after seeing the writing in the duplicate register, slowly changed direction and followed the carts forward.
The river pushed the man in the straw raincoat’s ledger cart behind them.
The wind blew his bamboo hat away.
Beneath it, the rotted page at last revealed the first line of writing:
“Southern Register scribe, Shen Yi...”
The last character had been washed away and could not be made out.
Lu Yuan looked back and saw only the man clutching the black leather ledger to his chest as he sank into the thickening river mist.
Ahead, at the end of the waterway, a stretch of dim yellow light gradually appeared.
The lights lined the riverbank, illuminating a huge wooden wharf.
Four faded characters hung above the gate:
Yongji Grain Depot.
Dozens of grain carts were parked outside the gate.
But the sacks loaded onto them were all shifting faintly.
A sheet of white paper was pasted to the outside of every sack.
Every sheet was covered with names awaiting delivery to the Southern Register.
