Manual for Survival in a Strange World

The sharp sound of the suona (a traditional horn) pierced through the air like a dagger, breaking the previously calm atmosphere in the alley. Feng Yushu hid in the gap between two buildings, cautiously peeking out.

On the empty street, two rows of young servants dressed in white staggered through, drawing attention. The two leaders at the front were playing the suona, while the two at the rear wore white flowers on their clothes, scattering small red paper flowers on both sides of the road as they walked.

In the center of the procession, four servants carried the four corners of a statue’s pedestal. On the lotus-shaped base stood a soaring figure—the Serpent God.

Lord He’s servants had brought the Serpent God out of the ancestral hall.

This strange scene almost made Feng Yushu cry out, but remembering Ning Zhe’s earlier warning when they had parted, she forced herself to calm down. She covered her ears with her hands, buried her face in her chest, and curled into a motionless ball.

“Do not listen, do not believe, do not accept anything anyone says or does…”

“Do not listen, do not believe, do not accept anything anyone says or does…”

“Do not listen, do not believe, do not accept anything anyone says or does…”

Feng Yushu muttered the words in her mind, not daring to move.

The harsh sound of the suona grew closer as the procession made its way from the direction of the ancestral hall. As it neared the spot where Feng Yushu was hiding, the proximity and the loneliness made her even more fearful.

But then, for some reason, the suona stopped.

“Eh… eh?” Feng Yushu lifted her head. Her tear-streaked eyes quietly peeked out toward the street. She noticed that the procession, carrying the Serpent God statue, had inexplicably stopped.

On the uneven stone pavement, a fresh pool of blood stained the ground. It seemed that one of the servants at the front, playing the suona, had tripped and fallen, his head bleeding profusely.

“So… that’s what happened…” Feng Yushu thought, her confusion clearing up. “They’ve also broken taboos. The worship of the Serpent God is a form of worship, and now they don’t even know where they’re carrying the statue, so their luck is bad. As they walk, they fall…”

Before her thoughts could continue, Feng Yushu forcefully shook her head, pushing away the unnecessary thoughts. She forced herself not to think about what was happening on the street and lowered her head again, playing the role of an ostrich who refused to listen, care, or intervene.

After a while, the suona sound resumed.

The servant who had fallen, bleeding from his head, seemed to pay no attention to the blood still dripping from his forehead. He and his companion began to play the suona again, continuing the procession, parading the Serpent God.

The suona’s sound gradually faded, and everything seemed to return to calm, a familiar sense of fear giving Feng Yushu a sense of reassurance.

But suddenly, a loud crash shattered this fragile peace.

Boom—a sound, something had shattered, startling Feng Yushu so much that her body jolted, causing her to fall to the ground. She barely managed to push herself up and looked up. She saw that the procession carrying the Serpent God had inexplicably stopped again.

Had they fallen into misfortune again? Feng Yushu thought instinctively.

This time, before she could dismiss the thought, it was immediately disproven. The misfortune wasn’t just for the servants.

On the street, fresh blood splattered everywhere as a massive statue had fallen, crushing the four servants who were carrying the pedestal. The heavy weight had ruptured their abdomens, and their intestines spilled out onto the ground in a sticky, gooey mess.

Looking to the side, the fallen Serpent God statue was also cracked.

Staring at the shattered Serpent God sculpture, an uncontrollable shock surged within Feng Yushu’s heart.

“The Serpent God is also having bad luck…”

Had the Serpent God also broken a taboo?

At this thought, Feng Yushu quickly bit her own delicate wrist, the sharp pain clearing away her excessive thoughts. She hurriedly curled up again, desperately following Ning Zhe’s instructions to not care, not think, and not interfere.

Perhaps due to luck, Feng Yushu, in her role as an ostrich burying its head in the sand, happened to time it perfectly. Sitting on the ground with her arms wrapped around her knees, she did not see the servants who had been crushed by the pedestal’s statue get up as if nothing had happened. The procession picked up the shattered Serpent God statue and placed it back on the lotus base, resuming their off-key suona music.

Carrying the broken Serpent God, they continued toward the He family mansion.

Along their way, red flowers and blood stained the path, and the procession stumbled forward, often falling. Their skin was worn thin from the sharp edges of the stone slabs, and at times, one servant was struck by a plaque falling from a nearby building.

The heavy plaque sliced through his neck, severing it completely. His round head rolled away, dragging blood vessels and lymphatic tissue, coming to a stop in the corner of the street. However, his body still swayed, and he continued to blow the suona, though no sound came from it.

When the deathly suona music finally faded, Feng Yushu cautiously raised her head, her trembling shoulders betraying her fear. Her face, shaped like a smooth egg, was streaked with dried tears.

“Is it over?” she thought warily.

Once she confirmed the eerie procession had truly moved far away, Feng Yushu dared to relax slightly, leaning against the wall. Her mind was blank as she waited for Ning Zhe to bring an end to all of this.

She looked up at the sky, a clear, bright blue.

But suddenly, a man’s figure blocked the sky above her.

“Madam, why aren’t you answering the phone?” a voice asked.

Feng Yushu screamed and collapsed to the ground. Her weak body couldn’t summon any strength, and she recognized the figure that had silently appeared beside her.

“Zhang Yangxu…” An indescribable fear crawled up Feng Yushu’s face, her heart sinking into a thick, sticky swamp of resentment and struggle, unable to break free.

Zhang Yangxu stepped forward, his expression sincere.

“Madam, I know you doubt me, so I don’t expect you to believe me right away. What I want to say is, Ning Zhe may have warned you about some things, but his words aren’t entirely correct.”

“No, no, no… I won’t listen to you. I won’t listen to you, I will never believe you…” Feng Yushu’s lips trembled as she shook her head, struggling to crawl away. Behind her, Zhang Yangxu was getting closer with each step.

He seemed patient, not in a hurry at all, as if afraid of scaring her. With a gentle expression, he continued speaking earnestly.

“I don’t need you to believe me, Madam. I only want you to listen to what I have to say. You don’t need to believe, just listen. Is that alright?”

“No… no… don’t come closer…” Feng Yushu was on the verge of breaking down, her eyes vacant, her shoulders trembling. “I will never believe you. I will never believe you…”

“You don’t need to believe, Madam. Just listen to what I have to say.” Zhang Yangxu’s voice softened. “This morning, when you and Ning Zhe were in the ancestral hall, you—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a loud crash interrupted him. Several roof tiles had fallen, hitting Zhang Yangxu squarely on the head.

Even more coincidentally, the tiles landed with their sharp corners facing down, like a spinning playing card being shoved into foam. The sharp tiles pierced into the unprotected back of Zhang Yangxu’s head, impaling his brainstem.

He died.

Zhang Yangxu, struck by the tiles, collapsed in front of the crumbling Feng Yushu. Yet, there was no body left behind. The vague human shape transformed into wisps of smoke, and Feng Yushu instantly recognized who it was.

“A ghost…” Feng Yushu’s shoulders still shook, but most of her fear had dissipated. “It was Ning Zhe. He must have done this. Ning Zhe used some method to make even the ghost unlucky…”

Although Ning Zhe was not physically present, he was still somehow interfering with the actions of the ghost in an inexplicable way. He was still protecting her. This long-lost sense of security gradually calmed Feng Yushu’s heart, like a drowning person grasping at a life-saving straw.

The rules punish all who break them equally, whether they are human, ghost, or god.