activa-t Chapter 22 Red Light District
Chapter 22 Red Light District
Zhou Xing and He Jiu walked through the shadows of the red-light district.
Unlike the bustling white-light district, this place is blatantly sinister.
White paper lanterns hung on both sides of the road, with faded ghost opera masks painted on the lampshades.
The cloying sweetness in the air intensified, mixed with incense ash, cheap rouge, and a hint of rotten sourness.
The shops all had their doors half-closed, with thick curtains obscuring the view inside.
Only a small wooden sign hung at the entrance, with a few lines of writing hastily made, like a casual account book:
"The Jing family will be struck by bloodshed within seven days."
"Those who block your path to wealth will die a violent death in the street within three days."
"Stealing three years of the youngest son's life force."
The words are simple, but they are all about buying and selling human lives, disasters, and misfortunes.
The reward wasn't money, but rather some strange names or nothing at all.
Occasionally, people would come and go, their footsteps light, their faces hidden in the shadows, not glancing at each other.
In the middle of the road, an old man squatted there, dressed in a Qing Dynasty funeral robe, with a brazier in front of him, slowly burning stacks of paper money.
The ashes swirled upwards, landing on people's shoulders, icy cold.
"This is called a 'red tent',"
He Jiu lowered his voice and pointed to the wooden sign, saying:
"Once you accept the order, you have to do it. If you do it well, the black market will recognize you as 'one of their own,' and the green light zone will open for you. If you mess it up... the consequences will be even worse."
Zhou Xing glanced at those lines of text, his face expressionless.
"No."
Seeing his expression, He Jiu shut his mouth and led the way, deliberately choosing to go into those corners.
After winding and turning several times, we stopped in front of an old brick wall covered with withered vines.
There was an inconspicuous wooden door on the wall, the door panel was old and the paint was peeling off.
He Jiu looked around to make sure no one was there, then took the tortoise shell from Zhou Xing and stepped forward to knock three times.
Tap, tap, tap.
The voice was muffled.
The door was not open, but the wooden board on the door slid open a crack, revealing only a cloudy eye.
He Jiu quickly handed over the tortoise shell.
There was a few seconds of silence inside.
A withered hand, its fingernails filled with black grime, reached out and took the tortoise shell.
After a while, the hand handed the tortoise shell back, and a dry, hoarse voice came through:
"This armor is ruined."
"What?"
He Jiu was taken aback.
"This road is blocked." The voice inside was completely calm.
Another strip of white paper was stuffed into the crack in the wooden board.
The hand pointed, and four words were bluntly uttered:
"Get in, take the job."
After saying that, the wooden board snapped shut with a "click" and then fell silent.
He Jiu, holding the tortoise shell and the white paper, was a little dumbfounded and turned to look at Zhou Xing.
Zhou Xing took the note and unfolded it.
There was only one line of small print above, the ink a dark red like blood:
"Within three days, take the eyes of 'Master Wang' on Gulou East Street. Reward: One green light token."
Zhou Xing rubbed his fingers together, and the paper strip crumbled into pieces, falling to the ground with a soft rustling sound.
"Is it ruined?"
He looked at the tortoise shell in He Jiu's hand.
He Jiu's face turned pale. He examined the tortoise shell closely in the lantern light and muttered a curse under his breath:
"The 'Earthly Yin Line' is a bit faint... I've been in jail for so long, it's 'starved' and its spirituality has dissipated a bit."
But it will still be useful after two years; that old man doesn't know its value.
"Are there any other ways?" Zhou Xing asked.
He Jiu put the tortoise shell back in his pocket, his face grim.
"Yes. It depends on the circumstances, on the red-light district itself 'opening up,' there's no set time or day. And then there's..."
He paused, his voice even lower, "Go see a 'shady play.' After the play, occasionally a door opens backstage, leading to the green light zone."
But sir, that place... is eerie. Many people went in and never came out again.
Those who came out looked like they'd lost their souls; you couldn't ask them anything.
"The art of seduction and necromancy is recorded in some of these writings; it's a spiritual approach. I possess a keen hearing, and my spirit has been tempered by unwavering resolve, so I should be more resilient than the average person."
"The charity's scope is so large, I can't afford to wait."
Zhou Xing glanced at the tightly closed wooden door, then at the pile of scraps of paper on the ground.
"Lead the way, let's watch the show."
He made his decision and added, "You don't need to come with me. Wait for me at the door."
He Jiu paused for a moment, the grease on his face lessened slightly, and he smacked his lips:
"Sir... when you rescued my mother this afternoon, it was with genuine sincerity; you didn't intend to use her as a rope to hold me back."
I, He Jiu, may be a scoundrel, but I have a sense of justice. You have important business to attend to. I'll see this through to the end and accompany you; after this, we'll be even.
Zhou Xing looked at him for two seconds, then nodded without saying anything more.
……
The venue for the shamanic performance was hidden beneath a partially collapsed cellar.
The entrance was narrow, with a thick, dirty curtain hanging there.
As you lift the curtain and step inside, a musty, earthy smell and the aroma of incense hit you.
The place is small, like the bottom of an upside-down bowl.
Broken benches and rubble were scattered on three sides. A few people sat sparsely, all with their necks hunched and silent.
Behind the stage hung an old curtain of indistinguishable color, on which were painted distorted human figures, seemingly both crying and laughing.
The light came from a few small oil lamps in the corner, making people's faces look bluish.
The battle has already been set up on the stage.
Two musicians sat on either side of him.
A gaunt old man was holding a huqin (a two-stringed bowed instrument) whose python skin was torn.
The other was a blind middle-aged man, clutching a flat drum with a darkened dough in his arms.
In the center of the stage stands an "actor".
He was wearing a faded, old blue opera robe, and his face was painted with a mask.
Zhou Xing and He Jiu found a brick in the corner and sat down.
Just as they settled in, the entrance curtain moved, and Qingxu and Yunqing walked in.
When Qingxu saw Zhou Xing, his face darkened, he snorted coldly, and walked straight to the front row to sit down, his back ramrod straight.
Yun Qing lagged half a step behind, glanced at Zhou Xing, smiled slightly, nodded, and followed.
Not long after, the sound of cursing came from the entrance again.
Three musketeers also crept in, all covered in dust and dirt, clearly disoriented from wandering around the red-light district.
Upon seeing Zhou Xing, the second brother glared at him, about to lash out, but was stopped by the eldest brother.
The three of them gritted their teeth and sat down in the corner of the last row, their eyes like knives, glaring at Zhou Xing's back, their teeth grinding together.
Zhou Xing chuckled inwardly; it really was a persistent ghost.
I waited a while longer.
On stage, the broken erhu creaked, and the blind man struck the drum with a thud.
At that sound, the actor stiffly raised his neck, but without opening his mouth, a passage of opera verse was squeezed out of his voice, faint and hissing:
"Hearing the mournful cries... my heart felt like it was being pounded..."
It is "Exploring Yin Mountain".
The story of Bao Gong descending to the underworld to listen to the grievances of wronged souls.
But the singing was completely off. It had no tune, every word was flat and drawn out, sounding like a recitation or a cry.
The erhu made a creaking, strange sound, occasionally emitting a piercing high note.
The flat drum struck dully, one beat after another, not following the rhythm, but striking the hollows in people's hearts.
Before the song was even halfway through, some people in the audience started to act strangely.
A man covered his ears, his body trembling.
An old woman stared intently at the stage, tears streaming down her face, but her mouth was stretched into a smile.
Another young man started scratching his arm with his fingernails, leaving bloody marks.
This play doesn't tell a story; it evokes fear and delves into the bitterness within.
Zhou Xing felt a chill creep into his brain along with that strange voice.
Even though the pores are sealed, the sound still seeps in.
Before my eyes, fragmented images flashed by, the darkness before the original body breathed its last, the deep-seated secrets of the past life.
The things he had been involved with, once again brought to the forefront by the play's script.
He steadied his breathing, calmed his mind, and as his blood circulated, a warm feeling rose up, resisting the chill.
The resistance was not easy; his pores gradually became unable to close properly, and soon he was sweating on his forehead and his temples were throbbing.
The allure of this play was even more cunning and lingering than he had anticipated.
Zhou Xing closed his eyes.
It's not about hiding, it's about listening.
Listen to your own heartbeat, one beat after another, heavy like a drumbeat.
Listen to the flow of qi and blood in the meridians, gurgling like a river.
The opera-like wailing in his ears made him amplify the sounds of his heartbeat and blood circulation in his mind, over and over again, to fight against it.
He focused his mind and circulated his qi and blood.
The rhythm of breathing, the subtle tremors beneath the skin, the rushing of blood in the veins—each was originally moving in its own direction.
Stimulated by the external pressure, they subtly twisted into a single rope.
Wherever the mind goes, the anger rises there, and the skin, flesh, and bones respond with a tightening and loosening.
After obtaining the [Human Puppet Appearance], the slight barriers that had always existed gradually dissolved, and changes quietly occurred within Zhou Xing's body.
Just then, the actor on stage had barely finished uttering the line, "Poor me... wronged and unjustly accused..."
"Gurgle... gurgle gurgle..."
A muffled, watery sound came from behind the thick wooden wall that was sealed off to the side and behind the group!
The sound grew more urgent and louder.
Immediately afterwards, a loud "bang" rang out!
The wooden wall suddenly exploded!
The foul-smelling black water, mixed with rotten mud and wood chips, was splashed in!
A colossal creature squeezed through a hole in the wall, half of its body squeezing in.
Its entire body was covered in dark green, slippery water plants, and black water dripped down its body.
The skin and flesh were white and swollen from being soaked, covered with thick, dark purple veins. There was no face, only a few dark, gaping holes that opened and closed.
Several thick, white tentacles extended from its bloated body; they were wet and covered with rings of serrated suction cups.
It was opening and closing with a "slurping" sound, making a sticky sucking sound.
Its black holes spun around and aimed at the crowd.
On stage, the erhu snapped with a "bang." The drums stopped. The actor stood there, frozen.
There was a moment of silence.
"ah--!!"
Someone yelled first, and the crowd erupted in chaos, crying, shouting, and pushing.
The monster lashed out with a "whoosh," sweeping over the head of a scrambling man.
The man froze, his eyes bulging out. He clutched his neck with both hands, his face quickly contorting like a dried fish that had been sun-dried for days. In the blink of an eye, he collapsed to the ground, becoming a dried-up corpse.
Two other tentacles, one carrying a foul wind, swept towards Qingxu, who had already stood up and was holding a talisman between his fingers.
The other, carrying the damp, cold, and putrid stench of death, rushed straight towards the direction where the most vibrant energy and the most conspicuous presence was...
Zhou Xing!
The erosion of the evil forces has not yet been completely eradicated, and a real, deadly threat is already looming ahead!