The left side of my body began to tremble, and the world before my eyes warped at once.
I thought I was going to pass out, but to my surprise, a ghastly white light brought me around.
I saw the marble tiles in the hospital corridor again. People were coming and going all around me. My point of view shifted, and I saw a medical tray in a nurse’s hands.
We went up the stairs and entered a private room.
A woman stood by the window. I couldn’t see her face clearly, but when she turned around, I saw that she was pregnant.
“You’d better not get up. You need to lie down and rest.” I heard the nurse’s voice. It seemed I was sinking into her memories.
The woman didn’t listen. She continued to stand there, holding out her hand to the nurse. “Where’s what I asked for?”
I could feel the nurse growing tense, her heart pounding. “What do you need those things for? If you want to keep the baby, you should get more rest. Maybe…”
“Cut the nonsense. You took my money, so do your job!” the woman said coldly.
The nurse froze. After a long moment, she pulled back the white cloth covering the tray. To my surprise, underneath was a thick stack of pediatric medical records.
I caught sight of my little sister—right on the first page!
The nurse hesitantly handed over the records, but didn’t let go right away.
“Phùng San, this is a hospital. You…”
Before she could finish, the records were snatched away. My vision shook.
The next second, the nurse rushed, panting, into an office.
“How could she possibly give birth? The baby in her womb has no heartbeat!”
I couldn’t make out anyone in the office; all I could see was a white coat.
“Why do you care so much?”
A man’s voice, brusque and blunt.
“Get out. Stop shouting!”
“What are you people planning to do? Have you gone mad? Seven children have died in pediatrics—seven!” The nurse was on the verge of breaking down. Her whole understanding of the world had shattered.
The man laughed. “Putting on an act about morality now? When you took the money, didn’t you take it gladly?”
The world in the nurse’s eyes turned black and white. Through her eyes, I saw parents wailing and the tiny bodies of newborns wrapped up.
I heard her inner voice repeating over and over, “What have I done?”
Perhaps when she took the money, she thought it was just a scam. She never expected it to lead to such terrible consequences.
Through the nurse’s eyes, I drifted through several days. Time sometimes sped up, sometimes slowed down. Then one day, as the nurse washed her face with cold water in the restroom and raised her head, she saw a woman over fifty standing behind her in the mirror, silently watching.
The nurse spun around in shock, her voice trembling. “I know you. You’re Phùng San’s mother!”
The pregnant woman’s mother? I was stunned, too.
The next second, the woman rushed forward, grabbed the nurse’s face, and looked straight into her eyes as she spoke quickly. “Remember this: I buried Phùng San in Nguyệt Sơn Cemetery, row nineteen, number seven. Find those seven cradles and take them to the cemetery! Remember, Nguyệt Sơn Cemetery, row nineteen, number seven. I’ve arranged everything! Once you get them there, burn the seven bedside cards first…”
The woman’s slightly aged face loomed before my eyes. Her eyes shone like two needles, and her words stabbed into my mind.
I realized she wasn’t speaking to the nurse. She was using the nurse’s memories to speak to me!
Darkness surged in from all sides, and my vision flickered.
I knew I was about to leave the nurse’s memories.
The woman’s voice faded. “They deliberately hid the seven cradles. This hospital is tainted. I’ve searched and searched, but can’t find them. I did everything I could to divine this. They want to borrow my daughter’s power, so they’ll surely choose the day the Ghost Gate opens wide. You have to be careful!”
Darkness swallowed everything.
As I left, I heard her final words: “…I’m sorry. I didn’t raise her properly.”
I returned to reality. The nurse was standing in front of me. I didn’t know when she had died, but it seemed she had shut herself in here. Liễu Ngũ had taken everything away, but not her.
Perhaps she hadn’t been willing to leave. Perhaps she’d been waiting for me.
“I don’t forgive you…” I looked at her.
“But this time, perhaps you saved more children.”
The nurse wept. A single tear of blood silently rolled down her cheek, then turned to smoke and vanished.
I hoped that once she had atoned for her sins, she would find her way to where she belonged.
By the time I walked out of the old building at No. 3 Maternal and Child Health Hospital, the moon was full.
The Ghost Festival had arrived.
Liễu Ngũ had arranged to meet me that evening.
Before I left, Bành Hữu called. He knew Vương Thành and Đại Thuận were both sick, and he was panicking himself. “Long, I knew this trip was strange, but I didn’t expect it to be this damn creepy. Why don’t you stay behind? If we breach the contract, so be it. I’ll figure something out!”
“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” I hung up.
I could guess what Liễu Ngũ wanted me to transport today: the seven cradles. If I didn’t go, I doubted anyone would ever find them.
By the time I reached No. 3 Maternal and Child Health Hospital, Liễu Ngũ was already waiting. This time, they didn’t use wooden crates; he had his men carry the seven cradles straight out. Their frames were wrapped in tarpaulin. They had clearly been kept carefully hidden for the past twenty-six years.
“You people really do weave your way through everything, with schemes running deep and wide,” I said coldly.
Liễu Ngũ smiled and lightly stroked the gleaming tarpaulin. “Good things have to be kept safe. Sooner or later, they’ll come in handy.”
Once the cargo was loaded, Liễu Ngũ personally came along to oversee the transport.
“Just focus on driving, Long. I’ve made arrangements along the way. If anything comes up, I’ll handle it.”
I didn’t object and let Liễu Ngũ get in. We slowly drove away from No. 3 Maternal and Child Health Hospital.
The old inpatient building stood alone amid the demolition site, gradually swallowed by the dusk.
By the time we left the city, night had fallen. As the sun set, a red line appeared along the horizon.
“We’re almost there,” I heard Liễu Ngũ murmur.
Darkness swept over us. My headlights were almost swallowed up!
I knew today was the day the Ghost Gate opened wide, but I hadn’t expected something like this to happen.
It was all caused by whatever was in the truck bed.
Liễu Ngũ pulled a strange piece of wood from inside his shirt, lit it like a candle, and set it in front of the windshield. The area around us brightened, and my headlights reached farther. But it wasn’t over.
Paper money shaped like ancient coins came flying from nowhere, pelting the windshield one after another.
In the rearview mirror, I saw a tall, slender figure chasing the truck. He wore his hair in a long queue, like someone from the Qing dynasty, but I couldn’t make out his face.
I instinctively sped up, but the truck shook violently. I could clearly feel someone walking on top of the cab. Then a long, thin queue of hair dangled down over the windshield.
I gripped the soul-striking whip tightly, but several willow branches came flying out of nowhere and smacked against the windshield. Whatever had been on the roof vanished at once. Liễu Ngũ’s piece of wood flared with a spark.
Liễu Ngũ chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, Long. The road to Thụy Hòa is lined with willows. With me here, nothing can stop us.”
So that was why his surname was Liễu. It wasn’t just for show.
The road was quiet after that. Maybe because I’d been so silent, Liễu Ngũ couldn’t hold back and spoke first. “I looked into it. I never expected what happened twenty-six years ago to be connected to your family, Long. No wonder you got involved in our business by coincidence.”
I glanced at Liễu Ngũ. “Bành Hữu called me in. It really was a coincidence.”
“Don’t get the wrong idea, Long. What happened twenty-six years ago had nothing to do with us. It was someone from Thiên Y Môn. She was determined to bring a child into the world who should have been stillborn. I heard it was because of the man she loved.”
Liễu Ngũ shook his head with disdain.
“To be honest, those of you who call yourselves orthodox practitioners of the mystical arts aren’t much better than us behind closed doors.”
“So you hid the seven cradles afterward and left No. 3 Maternal and Child Health Hospital untouched?” I kept my eyes on the road ahead.
“Soul-taking is a forbidden art that defies the natural order. That woman didn’t just perform it—she succeeded. We weren’t the only ones eyeing it; plenty of people wanted it. The talismans and power she left behind were valuable. We were just a little quicker to act.” Liễu Ngũ looked at me solemnly.
“I understand how you feel, Long. Once we take care of this, we’ll give you all the information we have on Thiên Y Môn. If you want revenge, we of the Second Hall won’t refuse to help.”
I glanced at Liễu Ngũ in the rearview mirror. “Then tell me, why does your Elder Council care so much about me?”
I’d only recently learned that the Elder Council of Khuy Thiên Đài had strictly forbidden its people from laying a hand on me. They seemed to care a great deal whether I lived or died. But apart from the soul-striking whip, I had nothing to do with Khuy Thiên Đài. If they wanted the whip, they could just take it. I might be hard to kill, but even I couldn’t take on four hands—let alone an entire organization.
Liễu Ngũ smiled apologetically. “I really can’t say. The Elder Council doesn’t interfere much in the halls’ affairs these days, but its authority still holds. Take Tả Hạo, for instance. At most, he dares to snarl. He wouldn’t dare actually do anything.”
“What about this time?” I raised an eyebrow.
“How many children’s lives are you planning to trade this time for an heir for Mr. Trần?”
Liễu Ngũ’s smile stiffened. He didn’t answer directly, but lowered his voice. “Do you know how much good the Trầns have done, Long? How many people they provide jobs for every year? On the other hand, if Mr. Trần hadn’t funded the children in Thụy Hòa, some of them might not have survived this long. Most were born sick and live in pain, draining their families’ resources. Even if many parents don’t say it aloud, deep down they hope it will all be over soon. We’re not like the Phùngs were back then. We choose very carefully. Those children are difficult to treat, and their families are close to falling apart. We give the Trầns the child they’ve always wanted, let those children pass away without pain, and their parents receive a substantial consolation payment—enough to start a normal life over. Isn’t that a good thing?”
I turned to look at Liễu Ngũ. His expression was utterly sincere, as if he weren’t pretending at all.
“Do you actually believe your own argument?”
By then, we were already far from the city and nearing the resort area where Thụy Hòa was located.
The willows on both sides of the road were thrashing wildly, but my headlights kept flickering.
“Why wouldn’t I believe it? Is there anything unreasonable about what I said?”
Liễu Ngũ tilted his head and looked at me.