He’ll Invited Me to Fall in Love (Infinite) - Chapter 9

The Sinners looked on in surprise.

The villager looked equally taken aback. “Wen Mo?”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I’ve truly never heard that name. What does he look like?”

As if possessed, Shen Yi gestured with his hands. “About this tall, very thin. Black hair, worn a bit long. He has a condition with his throat… he can’t speak.”

Shen Yi didn’t want to bluntly call Wen Mo a “mute”; it sounded too harsh, like poking at a person’s wounds.

The villager, however, had no such reservations. “Oh, a mute.”

Shen Yi clicked his tongue, his lip twitching. “Yeah.”

“There’s no one like that in this village. Yang Zhuangzi has no mute children,” the villager said. “Ready? Follow me. There’s work for you to do.”

The villager turned to leave, and the Sinners followed him in small groups.

Rain lashed against Shen Yi’s face. He wiped his eyes and slicked back his soaked hair, exposing his forehead in a makeshift slick-back style. He glanced back at the road behind him, his brow furrowed.

A ghostly voice suddenly drifted from beside him: “Where did you learn that name?”

Shen Yi jumped.

He turned to see the man in the suit. The man was smiling; his hands held over his forehead to shield his eyes from the rain.

“Shen Yi,” the man in the suit repeated with that same smile, “who exactly is this, Wen Mo?”

Shen Yi let out a dry laugh but didn’t dare say much. He turned and kept walking, only to realize that the gazes of everyone around him were becoming increasingly strange. Everyone was looking at him with a mix of deep meaning and heightened suspicion.

A few beats too late, Shen Yi realized he had misspoken.

He opened his mouth to explain, but then figured any excuse would only make things worse, so he shut it again. He ran through his potential explanation in his head: “Actually, I’ve been having dreams about a village like this for days, and in those dreams, I have a little boyfriend named Wen Mo, so I just asked on a whim.”

It sounded ridiculous. Even Shen Yi didn’t believe his own internal script.

The group followed the villager to a different house. Once inside, several people groaned. The rain was heavy, yet they hadn’t been allowed umbrellas, meaning they had spent the entire walk being drenched.

Everyone was soaked to the bone. People shook their heads like wet dogs. Yan Pan grabbed her long hair and wrung out a stream of water. Those wearing jackets took them off and squeezed them, leaving puddles on the floor.

The Sinners complained bitterly, unable to help grumbling about the conditions of this Hell.

“Seriously, why is it raining this hard?” “What is the point of this stage? They won’t even let us use umbrellas!”

Gong Cang, wringing out the hem of his shirt, couldn’t help but say to the man next to him, “I saw an umbrella sticking out of your bag! Why didn’t you use it?”

The man snapped at him. “What does a newbie know? Didn’t you hear the nursery rhyme in the broadcast? It said ‘Don’t open an umbrella!'”

Gong Cang choked. The nursery rhyme at the end of the broadcast had indeed said Do not open an umbrella. He curled his lip. “Is the broadcast really that important? You’re acting so obedient.”

“The broadcast is vital,” Yan Pan said. She was rubbing her wet hair, yet she showed no sign of impatience or annoyance. Her expression remained calm as she looked at him. “In this Hell, NPCs can lie, clues can lie, and ghosts can lie. But the broadcast never lies.”

“Every word from the broadcast is the truth. It might be a riddle, it might be confusing, but it is the only thing here that is absolute. You can trust it without hesitation.”

“Exactly,” the man with the umbrella added, shooting Gong Cang a glare. “Newbies should shut up and stop giving me a headache. What a nuisance.” He turned and stomped away.

Gong Cang stood there, looking lost.

“Are you all here?” a raspy, aged voice suddenly asked.

Shen Yi turned and saw a figure sitting deep within the room. Based on the voice, it seemed to be an old woman. The rain was still pouring outside, the sky was gloomy, and the only light in the room came from a dim, flickering pendant lamp that only illuminated the area near the door. Since the old woman was sitting in the shadows, no one had noticed her.

Everyone jumped at the sudden voice. The old woman sat on a bed, but she was little more than a silhouette; her features were invisible.

The Sinners fell silent.

The old woman coughed twice. “Two more died today,” she sighed. “It’s been three years, and no one has learned a thing.”

“Forget it… respect for the dead. It’s late, and the deaths were sudden, so the burial will have to be the day after tomorrow. This village hasn’t seen a death in a long while; many of the burial supplies are missing. You’ll have to help find them and make them…” her voice was like sandpaper. “Those who die violently carry resentment. If they aren’t buried properly, they’ll become vengeful spirits and seek revenge. So, when the time comes for the funeral, you must be careful.”

“Tomorrow… first, come closer.”

The Sinners looked at each other and stepped forward. Even as they drew near, they couldn’t see the old woman’s face. It was bizarre, Shen Yi was at the very front; logically, he should have seen the outline of her features. But her head seemed to blend perfectly into the darkness.

However, the outline of her body and hands was clear. She raised a trembling hand and pointed at Shen Yi, then at Gong Cang, Yan Pan, and the man in the suit.

“The four of you,” she said. “Tomorrow, you will go and bring the sedan chair… it’s in the ruined temple on the west side of the village. Their wedding wasn’t finished, so their spirits are restless. You must let them complete the wedding.”

Gong Cang shivered. In his twenty-one years of life, he had rarely been in a situation like this. Even though he immediately realized what she meant, his brain blocked out the answer because he didn’t want to accept it.

He froze, his face white. “How can they get married if they’re dead?”

“You idiot, it’s a Ghost Wedding,” the man in the suit muttered.

“Bring the sedan, put the bodies inside, and only after the Ghost Wedding is held can they be buried,” the old woman said, waving them away. “Move aside.”

Gong Cang still wanted to ask something, but Yan Pan shoved him away. He didn’t get another word out before being pushed back into the group.

Shen Yi was also pushed along. “Sister, she said the ruined temple on the west side,” he whispered, glancing back. “Is that…?”

“Most likely,” Yan Pan whispered back, glancing at the old woman. “It’s likely the temple where ‘you’ were burned to death.”

“…It wasn’t me! I’m alive and well!”

“Oh.” Yan Pan’s expression remained as flat and cold as a stagnant pond. “My apologies.”

Shen Yi was speechless. “Could your expression look a bit more ‘apologetic’ then?”

“I have a poker face,” she replied.

The old woman continued her “Death Roll Call.” She assigned six people to find two coffins, four to make paper effigies, and the final four to go behind her house to prepare tombstones, joss paper, and “Hell Bank” notes.

After finishing the assignments, she let them go. She noted it was still raining and getting dark, so they should prepare tomorrow and go get some rest.

“I won’t say more,” she said. “Talking about these things at night is bad luck. It might even attract…”

She trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. After a moment of silence, she suddenly let out a sharp, piercing giggle that sent chills down everyone’s spine.

“Go back,” she finished. “Go back and get a good night’s sleep.”

The group shared silent looks. Outside, the rain was still coming down. The horizon was turning black. Yan Pan checked her phone: 4:40 PM.

“It usually gets dark between 6:00 and 6:30,” she said. “The old woman said we’ll handle things tomorrow. Don’t worry about the tasks yet—we need to find a place to hide.”

“Right, the Night Watchman is coming,” the yellow-haired youth added. With that, several people began walking out with long strides, eager to find hiding spots.

Gong Cang was stunned. “Wait, aren’t we all hiding together?”

The yellow-haired kid laughed. “Are you a moron? Hiding together? You want to make sure we all die faster? If the Watchman finds a group, nobody escapes; he could kill three of us instantly!”

Gong Cang’s face turned from white to a deep, embarrassed red. Seeing him struggle, Shen Yi stepped in to smooth things over. “Alright, we’re just new. Don’t pick on him.”

The youth clicked his tongue and left, muttering curses under his breath.

Shen Yi turned to the group. “By the way, the broadcast said the Night Watchman can only kill ‘Sinners’ who break the rules. How do we find out what the rules are?”

“You can’t,” the man in the suit said. “There are no clues given. It’s purely down to luck.”

Shen Yi’s face fell. “You’re kidding…”

“Reality is cruel.” The man in the suit started to walk away. “I’m heading out too.”

Gong Cang called out, “Wait, brother! I’ll come with you!”

“No.” The man in the suit smiled at him. “Sorry, but during a life-or-death situation at night, I don’t want to carry a newbie.”

“Huh?”

“You look like a coward. If the Watchman gets close and you scream and give away my position, I’m done for,” the man said. “Bye-bye.”

He walked away heartlessly. Shen Yi felt a surge of petty satisfaction. He let out a cold laugh at Gong Cang, who had distanced himself from Shen Yi earlier. “The ‘Big Shot’ doesn’t want you anymore.”

Gong Cang: “…”

“I’m leaving too,” Yan Pan said. “Sorry, I don’t plan on taking a newbie either.”

Shen Yi didn’t mind. He waved goodbye to her. Gong Cang tried to grab her as a lifeline, his eyes welling up. “Sister, please take me with you. I don’t know where to go, and I don’t know what happens at night. I’ll die!”

“That’s exactly why I can’t take you. Too many variables.”

Yan Pan waved and disappeared into the rain. Gong Cang was terrified, looking around desperately for someone else to help, but the other Sinners avoided his gaze and scattered in all directions.

In a matter of moments, the area in front of the house was empty. No one was left but Shen Yi and Gong Cang.

“Wow,” Shen Yi smiled behind him. “The subtleties of human nature, eh, Little Gong?”

“…How can you still laugh?!”

“Why wouldn’t I? I knew none of them would want to take me. Let’s go unless you’re planning on staying here?”

Gong Cang’s lip twitched as he turned around. He looked gray and resentful, while Shen Yi was wearing a grin. He couldn’t understand what there was to be happy about.

“I don’t know how you can still be smiling,” Gong Cang muttered. “Fine, let’s go together. Two is better than one… I’ll feel better with someone beside me.”

Shen Yi shrugged, turned around, and walked into the rain with his hands in his pockets, heading north.

Gong Cang followed. “Where are we going?”

“There’s an unfinished building at the north end of the village. Three stories. It’s not big, but there’s enough space between floors to make running away easier,” Shen Yi said.

Gong Cang froze. “How do you know that?”

Shen Yi chuckled. “I’d like to know that myself. For that matter, I also know the family we just visited is named Wang. That old woman who gave us the tasks? Her house.”

“Her family is the only one in the village that handles funerals. When anyone dies, they go to her for money and arrangements. During holidays, everyone goes to her to buy joss paper. Not just this village—people from two or three nearby villages come to her. Otherwise, they have to go all the way to the county seat, which is too far.”

“She has a plot of land to the west, but she doesn’t use it for vegetables. She turned it into a cemetery. The whole place is lined with tombstones for people from both inside and outside the village.”

Gong Cang listened, dumbfounded. “How do you know all this in such detail?”

“I wish I knew,” Shen Yi sighed. “The moment I stepped into her house, I just knew. It’s like I’ve been here before and it all just came back to me.”

“…Shen Yi.”

“Yeah?”

Gong Cang suddenly stopped. Shen Yi turned back to see him staring with a look of pure terror.

“You aren’t actually a ghost, are you?”

“…”

Nutjob.

“If I were a ghost, I’d have eaten you by now,” Shen Yi said. “How could I be a ghost? Seriously. If you don’t believe me, find something and stab me. See if I bleed.”

Shen Yi actually held out an arm. His gaze was weary and annoyed, but sincere. He didn’t look like he was lying.

Gong Cang still couldn’t put his mind at ease. “No thanks, I don’t have a knife. Just walk in front of me. Stay back, okay? Keep your distance. No ‘close contact.'”

“…Nutjob.”

This time, Shen Yi couldn’t help but curse out loud. He turned and continued walking. “Fine, judge the distance yourself. I’m just going forward. You can stay as far away as you like.”

He walked for a while, and soon the sound of hesitant footsteps followed behind him. Gong Cang had caught up.

“Shen Yi,” Gong Cang asked again, “who is that Wen Mo you asked about?”

“No one,” Shen Yi said. “Don’t worry, I’m really not a ghost.”

“It’s not that. It’s just… I feel like that name sounds familiar too.”

Shen Yi froze and looked back. “For real?”

“Yeah. And for some reason, this village doesn’t feel that strange to me either.” Gong Cang looked around at the houses. “It feels familiar, but not that familiar. Like I’ve been here once or twice before?”

Gong Cang knit his brows, looking genuinely troubled. He didn’t seem to be lying. Shen Yi remained silent for a moment, then turned back to the road, refusing to look at him or speak again.

The rain continued to fall, the drops drumming against them. The downpour seemed to intensify, blurring their vision; the impact of the water was actually starting to hurt. Shen Yi frowned and held a hand over his brow to shield his eyes.

The village was growing dark. In the gloomy, gray mist, the silence was absolute, no one was on the streets. The rain felt freezing, and every corner of the village felt sinister.

They happened to be passing a certain house. Just as Shen Yi walked past the front gate, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Gong Cang stopped behind him. “What is it?”

Shen Yi said nothing. He remained silent for a long moment, then stepped back a few paces like a car in reverse. He turned his head to look at the gate of this house.

Startled, Gong Cang jumped back and threw up his hands in a fighting stance. “What are you doing?!”

Shen Yi ignored him.

As the rain lashed down, Shen Yi slowly lowered his hands. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and water streamed down his cheeks. The sky was a dark, bruised gray.

Before him stood a pair of rusted green iron gates. The two “Door Gods” painted on the gates were battered by years of wind and rain, their colors now a blackened, yellowed mess.

The rain poured down.