NOVEL NEXT 032 Call Again
Inside the He family’s residence.
A muffled thud echoed as a ceramic jar placed on the windowsill crashed to the ground, shattering into pieces.
“Who?!”
The cook, holding a tray, quickly spun around. She was about to scold the person who had knocked over the jar but saw no one. Instead, a pair of black-and-white wings flapped and flitted through the window, flying over the roof and landing on the plum tree planted along the garden wall.
“It’s just a magpie…” The cook shook her head helplessly. Since the jar hadn’t been knocked over by a person, there was no one to blame, and she could only count herself unlucky.
She set the wooden tray down and bent to pick up the scattered ceramic shards. There were many jars like this in the house, typically used to store pickled vegetables like bitter bamboo shoots, beans, and sauerkraut.
One of the dishes for the wedding banquet today was a traditional Hakka stir-fried sauerkraut with bitter bamboo shoots and preserved pork. After dozens of tables had been prepared, rows of empty jars filled the back kitchen. It wasn’t surprising that a jar had been knocked over by stray cats or birds.
Moreover, the cook wasn’t too upset. A magpie flying into the courtyard on the day of a wedding banquet was considered a good omen.
She swept up the shards into a dustpan and straightened up. Looking at the magpie perched on the plum tree branch, a smile appeared on her face beneath her yellow-paper-covered face. “The magpie’s singing on the plum branch. Miss He Ningjun is truly fortunate. I didn’t have such an omen when I got married.”
No wonder her married life was always full of quarrels followed by reconciliations.
The cook shook her head, turning to dump the shards on the stove edge, when a melodious birdcall and the sound of wings flapping came from behind. The magpie, it seemed, had flown away…
“I wonder where that lazy lad, Shunsheng, is… The kitchen’s getting frantic, and he’s nowhere to be found to help…” After tidying up the mess, the cook muttered and hurriedly continued serving the dishes.
Not long after she left, a stumbling figure rose slowly from the thick flower bushes. His body was covered in numerous wounds: cuts that bled, bruises from impact, a dislocated left shoulder, and a foot that was limping, possibly broken. His chin was split in half, held together only by skin and flesh.
It was none other than the incredibly unlucky Ning Zhe.
Wiping the blood off his face, Ning Zhe looked up at the magpie perched on the plum tree and suddenly smiled.
He slightly curled his lips, and a soft birdcall, surprisingly coming from his mouth despite several missing teeth, echoed through the air.
Modern city children rarely know how to whistle like birds, but Ning Zhe was no city child. Born and raised in the countryside, with a rural household registration, he had once gone with his grandfather to herd cattle.
The birdcall echoed softly. The next moment, the battered teenager vanished, replaced by another magpie flying onto the branch.
When the cook thought the birdcall and wing-flapping sounds were from the magpie, it really was him.
Ning Zhe flapped his black-and-white wings and soared into the sky, gazing southward. He saw a group of bloodstained white-clad servants, playing gongs and drums and blowing festive suona pipes as they marched down the deserted street.
At the center of the procession was the lotus platform that once housed the serpent god.
“Looks like I made it in time…” Ning Zhe breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t believe his bad luck could follow him in the air.
But then, a small and fast-moving black shadow darted from the plum tree’s branch and aggressively charged at him.
“Serpent God, fuck your mother.”
Ning Zhe raised his middle finger. If he had one.
If there were people with extraordinary innate talents in this world, Ning Zhe was one of them. Even transformed into a bird, he was far more fierce and combative than an ordinary magpie. After quickly adjusting to the bird’s vision and body, he didn’t hesitate to tilt his body and flap his wings, engaging in a fierce battle with the charging magpie.
After losing an eye to a peck, Ning Zhe managed to kill the frenzied magpie. Bleeding, he landed on the He family’s garden wall, tilting his head to observe the approaching procession.
He wasn’t worried about Feng Yushu’s safety. Before she truly understood the truth—that Ning Zhe had impersonated a ghost and used Lin Zhiyuan’s phone to call her—she wouldn’t die. The ghost wouldn’t kill her, as it would make the part of its identity stolen by Ning Zhe impossible to reclaim.
Feng Yushu would not die, unless she learned the truth.
Ning Zhe stood on the wall, silently watching the injured procession carrying the broken serpent god’s body as they neared the He family’s mansion. Each of them was somewhat wounded—some had ruptured abdomens, some limped, and the one leading the suona procession didn’t even have a head.
It seemed their journey had been filled with bad luck, even the serpent god didn’t escape it. Its decayed wooden body had shattered, its horns broken, but thankfully, its head remained intact, with a yellow paper still hanging on its tongue.
On the yellow paper, today’s good and bad omens could be faintly seen:
[Auspicious: Killing]
[Taboo: Travel, burial, funerals, sacrifices]
The sight of the magpie’s damaged eye didn’t allow Ning Zhe to clearly discern the extra characters on the yellow paper at this distance, but his heart was pounding loudly:
“It’s the most crucial moment now. Whether I can successfully disrupt this world depends on right now…”
Ning Zhe flapped his black-and-white wings and flew under the eaves of the mansion’s main entrance.
As the workers carried the heavy wooden lotus platform through the main gate, a magpie skillfully avoided their gaze, silently landing in the broken serpent god’s remains.
Ning Zhe folded his wings and quietly crawled into the serpent god’s gaping mouth, curling up in its throat, motionless, as the procession carried the broken serpent god into the main hall of the He family’s mansion.
“Serpent—God—Grandmother—has—arrived—!”
The loud calls and the shrill sound of the suona echoed above the banquet tables, and the rhythmic sound of gongs and string instruments followed. Bloodstained servants carried the serpent god’s remains into the grand hall.
Hidden in the serpent god’s throat, Ning Zhe didn’t know the specifics of what was happening outside, but from the workers’ calls, he deduced some potentially useful information:
“They call the serpent god ‘Grandmother’?”
“The serpent god is a female god?”
Before Ning Zhe could make sense of this information, the lotus platform was gently placed in the center of the hall. Shouts rang out from all around, and the guests, seemingly oblivious to the serpent god’s broken form, raised their cups toward the hall.
“One cup for the Emperor!”
“Two cups for the Earth Mother!”
“Three cups for our Serpent God Grandmother, may she live forever!”
After drinking the rice wine and hearing the blessings, Ning Zhe, curled up in the serpent god’s mouth, suddenly felt faint.
He didn’t know how many people had shared the toast, but the chaotic flood of information hit him like a truck filled with sand and gravel, ramming straight into his head.
“Fuck…”
From the flood of information, Ning Zhe managed to extract the first useful piece of information:
“Today is the wedding banquet of Miss He Ningjun, the third daughter of the He family. She’s marrying… [Zhao You].”
Ning Zhe now knew that [Zhao You] was the true name of the serpent god.
But wasn’t the serpent god supposed to be female?