Chapter 68 Part 1
A teacher, wiping the blood from his face with his remaining hand, said disapprovingly, ‘How could they be exorcising us? We’re not evil spirits!’
‘We’re educated intellectuals with modern thinking, don’t spread superstitions and mislead the children!’
They all nodded in agreement, continuing to watch the movie. It was a pity it was just some rural folk performance, they would have preferred an educational documentary about industrial manufacturing.
On screen, the Nuo River Bridge’s ropes swayed precariously, the water churning below, each step of the dancers like walking on a tightrope.
“They crossed! They actually crossed!” The tourists exclaimed.
Perhaps last night’s accident truly was a warning from the Nuo gods.
Over eighty young men suddenly shouted in unison, the stronger ones forming a human pyramid, their clasped hands a ladder, the more slender ones climbing onto their shoulders.
Layer upon layer, each level wielding swords and axes, their synchronized movements a display of power.
A four-tiered human tower by the Nuo River, the top three crouching, then lifting a large, carved wooden disc.
Wu Heng, stepping lightly on their shoulders, ascended to the top, the bells and silver ornaments on his costume jingling.
With a shout, he ripped open his outer garment, revealing his slender yet powerful torso, the colorful tattoos adding to the mystical aura.
Standing atop the human tower, seven or eight meters high, the carved wooden disc, a meter in diameter, his stage, his vibrant dance radiating life force like the sun above.
The tourists were mesmerized, even more captivating than the videos online.
[Now I understand why that guy wanted to be the lead dancer, so charismatic.]
[He just climbed up like that? My legs would go weak just looking, and he’s even dancing on it.]
[This is so exciting, I feel energized, how can he be so light and agile?]
One person’s righteous qi was a single drop, the collective qi of these young men, amplified by the dance, a vast ocean.
Under the scorching sun, their righteousness, a powerful force, dispelling evil.
Shi Xuan, his gaze fixed on the screen, watched as sweat trickled down Wu Heng’s forehead, his throat bobbing.
‘Ah—!’ a student’s soul in the sports field screamed, jumping up from his chair, ‘I want to go home!’
‘Something’s wrong! I want to leave! I want to go home! There are ghosts here!’ More and more students’ souls, their eyes regaining focus, stirred restlessly.
The swirling black fog rippled, seemingly pushed back towards the mountain.
The blood-stained teachers snapped out of their daze, shouting instinctively, ‘Air raid! To the bomb shelter!’
‘Evacuate the students! Protect the textbooks and equipment!’
Clutching their hearts, they instinctively wanted to follow the retreating fog towards the well behind the school, believing it was safe, as long as they hid there.
The clear, powerful voices of the young men from the movie, like roosters crowing, like thunder, struck the spirits, paralyzing them, memories of their deaths flashing through their minds.
They had evacuated the students, gone to retrieve the teaching materials, then a loud explosion, and then nothing…
The teacher in the blood-stained Zhongshan suit murmured, ‘Wait… are they… exorcising us?‘
‘We’re… dead…’ another teacher, half of her body missing, asked, bewildered.
Yes, how could there be any survivors?
“Aaaaa, Xi Xi! They’re coming! The black fog is coming, I’m scared,” Da Bai cried.
The little white snake and Xi Xi, having arrived after Shi Xuan, were waiting by the well, each coiled around a tree.
As the black fog, like a pack of defeated dogs, retreated towards the well, Da Bai was terrified.
It should have told Wu Heng about the fog earlier.
Xi Xi immediately raised her body, her eyes sharp, her usually sweet voice urgent, “Big Brother Da Bai, no time for nonsense, hurry!”
Da Bai, holding the leaf Wu Heng gave it in its mouth, quickly chanted the spell, temporarily sealing the well.
Instantly, the black mist enveloped the entire area, plunging the two snakes into darkness, even though it was daytime.
Da Bai couldn’t help but comment, “So humid.”
Xi Xi snuggled closer to Da Bai, who, although a bit foolish, was still the (Intern) Well Dragon King, its body radiating spiritual energy.
She explained, “Teacher Yang said fog is just water vapor condensing.”
Then she added, “Big Brother Da Bai, is the black fog formed from the Yin qi coming through the well, mixing with the water vapor?”
Da Bai was silent, it wasn’t a good student, it didn’t know.
But it finally understood why Wu Heng sent him here, he was the Well Dragon King, a water snake, his element was water.
Its usual solution for this situation—
Absorb the water.
And Wu Heng had taught him a water-manipulation technique for watering the flowerbed.
It would rather eat chicken and get fat than absorb water and bloat.
“The fog is clearing!” The anxious parents at the school gate saw the change and cheered, overjoyed.
The black fog was receding towards the back mountain, revealing the school, the path to the entrance visible.
[Amazing! So it’s because of the online Nuo opera? I always thought these were just cultural performances.]
[Can we go in now? The parents are going crazy.]
[The fog is retreating towards the back mountain, Doctor Wu was right! Is someone there to contain it? Don’t let it spread!]
“No entry!” The Taoist priests stopped the desperate parents.
“The situation inside is still unclear, no humans allowed,” the priest, seeing their angry faces, pulled Wu Heng over. “Let’s ask Doctor Wu.”
Mentioning Wu Heng calmed them down slightly.
These old Taoist priests weren’t as capable as this young shaman doctor.
But one parent sent a drone in, hoping the signal was better now.
As the fog receded slightly, they watched the live feed. The drone reached the sports field, and what they saw made their hearts sink.
As expected…
The students had carried their chairs outside.
But besides the chairs, they couldn’t see anything else.
‘What is that? A small plane? Do we have those now too?’ a ghostly teacher with half a face and round-rimmed glasses asked, looking curiously at the drone.
The remote Nuo opera exorcism ritual had awakened them. They realized they were dead.
This school wasn’t their Jiaming High School, destroyed years ago, but the newly built one, decades later.
They weren’t sure about the procedures after death, but they knew they should leave, they were affecting the living.
But seeing the “little plane,” many stopped, their eyes filled with longing, they were teachers, educated youths.
‘Where is this from?’ they cautiously asked.
The student souls, initially confused, lured to the school, now understood, desperate to return to their bodies, but how?
One of them replied, ‘That should be a DJI drone, made in China.’
The words “made in China” made their eyes gleam, ‘Really?! Ours?!’
‘Tell us, what’s it like now?’
Their minds, after being separated from their bodies, weren’t as sharp, they knew but couldn’t articulate their thoughts.
Shi Xuan spoke up. “Please be seated and watch the screen.”
The ghostly teachers in their Zhongshan suits and cheongsams sat in a separate area, away from the students.
The parents outside, watching the live feed: “…”
The chairs moved! By themselves!
Shi Xuan stood under a tree, hidden from the drone, his phone connected to the ghost internet, projecting videos onto the screen.
First, videos of China’s top ten cities.
Towering skyscrapers, vibrant LED lights, intricate transportation networks, modern and dynamic.
‘Is that… our city?’
The educated ghosts stared at the screen, craning their necks, not daring to blink, absorbing every detail.
Second, a video of a foreign government returning hundreds of stolen artifacts to China.
A female teacher in a cheongsam was surprised, ‘They’re actually returning them to us?’
Then the third, and fourth videos.
Crowded train stations during the Spring Festival travel rush, families reuniting, firecrackers welcoming the new year.
Videos of pretty young women trying various foods in different cities.
A young man on a scooter interrupting a group of dancing aunties, being scolded sternly.
Millennial parents demonstrating their unique parenting style, as long as the kids survived, everything was fine.
…
‘So this is the future?’ The teachers stared at the black-and-white screen, tears mixed with blood trickling down their faces.
Shi Xuan remembered Wu Heng saying that ghosts couldn’t cry, only a single tear, representing their strongest emotion.
These were the videos Wu Heng had shared last night, he had saved them.
These intellectuals, once lost and confused, their path shrouded in darkness, could now see a glimpse of the future they hadn’t dared imagine.
And the biggest dilemmas their descendants faced now seemed to be –
Sweet or savory zongzi? Salty or sweet tofu pudding? What to eat during the winter solstice?
Dumplings or tangyuan?
A tearful teacher, taking off his broken glasses, joined the discussion, using his dialect, ‘Of course it’s mutton soup for the winter solstice!’
These once lost and confused young intellectuals found clarity in the afterlife.
The student souls, witnessing their teachers’ reaction, were moved.
Studying!
Some of them hated studying, yet it was something these teachers yearned for, a means of progress and a better future.
‘Teacher Shi, can we see more?’ one of the ghostly teachers asked.
