Chapter 70: Omen of Great Misfortune
At the entrance of the street styled in the Republican era, a gate made of bluestone stood, its white-and-black detailing barely visible in the night. Only the cold stone slabs emitted a faint, icy glow, reflecting an eerie red light under the illumination of the red lanterns on either side.
A gust of mist-laden wind swept in from the distant main street, adding to the chill of the night.
Six shop sraff stationed at the street entrance were the only living beings present. They had been standing there for some time, and the taxi had arrived surprisingly quickly—ten minutes ahead of schedule.
It was now 11:55 p.m. on October 31. Only five minutes remained before the mission would begin.
Ji Li stood in the cold wind, his long hair fluttering, lips slightly parted, exhaling what might have been smoke or the icy mist of his breath.
"What do the red lanterns signify?"
He asked himself quietly, observing the street's layout carefully before the mission began.
Among the rows of small buildings, the most striking feature was the eerie red lanterns hanging under every eave.
"It's obvious. There must be a celebration on this street!"
Yu Guo raised his phone high and started a livestream, interpreting the scene for viewers while answering Ji Li's question.
Indeed, red lanterns usually indicate a festive occasion. But here, the red lanterns were accompanied by brand-new couplets on each door.
The hard texture suggested they had just been affixed, rubbing against the old wooden doors. When the wind blew, they rustled loudly.
On the surface, everything could be explained as preparations for a grand celebration. Yet, closer inspection revealed something utterly absurd.
The red lanterns bore black characters for 'funeral'.
And the fresh red couplets were not wishing prosperity, but written as mourning couplets:
'Virtuous deeds praised and remembered, evaluated month by month, benevolence forever extolled by all.'
'Now resting in Dou Mountain, elegance long remembered, a model for future generations.'
Yu Guo and the third persona nearly realized this simultaneously.
In the dim moonlight under red-on-black lettering, such details would have been impossible to notice without Yu Guo's livestream and the third persona's near-obsessive attention.
"Red for joy, white for mourning, intertwined… contradictory yet fused…"
Tongguan stepped forward a few paces, squinting at the nearest door and its mourning couplets.
"This must be the funeral of someone locally prominent, so much so that every household posts mourning couplets, but…"
"But this street is a tourist spot. Where are the ordinary residents, and what prominence could there be?"
Chang Nian voiced the unspoken turning point Tongguan had sensed.
"There are too many anomalies. Regardless, the mission time is approaching."
Fang Shenyan, who had remained silent, flicked his cigarette to the ground, stomped on it, and stepped into the gate.
By the time he looked back, he had fully entered the Republican-era street.
The other five shop sraff followed, just as the clock struck midnight.
Tonight was November 1—the true awakening of the ghosts.
Suddenly, around a distant corner of the long street, a strong wind rose, obscuring vision.
The gale carried thick fog and falling leaves, transforming the corner into something almost unreal.
Gradually, Ji Li noticed that it wasn't just leaves—there were also joss paper and paper ingots.
"The southern end of the street has funeral offerings being scattered!"
Yu Guo jumped in excitement as if startled, nearly frightening Tao Xiaoyi nearby.
"Quiet!"
Ji Li caught a faint sound by his ear, a wailing tune reminiscent of crying.
Impatient to discern it, he signaled Yu Guo to silence his livestream.
"It's a mourning melody!"
His senses seemed unusually sharp; the others detected nothing, but he could faintly pick up traces.
"A funeral procession will soon appear at the southern end!"
No sooner had Ji Li spoken than the mournful music played by suona horns intensified, now loud enough for everyone to hear, even deafening at times.
At the southern corner, a torrent of yellow paper covered the ground like a heavy snowfall, thickly blanketing the street.
From the shadows emerged a pair of short, rounded figures.
Ji Li squinted, trying to discern them from his spot, but the view was still unclear.
'They're the Golden Boy and Jade Girl for the funeral. Looks like they're made of paper. Not sure if their eyes have been dotted.' said the third persona.*
His observational ability clearly surpassed Ji Li's; he could see everything with remarkable clarity.
"Is dotting the eyes that important?" Ji Li asked.
'Hard to say. I've heard in some ancient tales that dotting a paper figure's eyes can bring it to life as a demon. In our situation, who knows if that would really happen.'
As they discussed this mentally, the golden boy and jade girl fully materialized, followed by two men in white robes.
Not only that, a variety of paper figures—horses, tall buildings, gold ingots, even jade and stone items—appeared, all crafted from paper.
Yet the display was imposing enough.
The coffin eventually appeared as well, but judging from the strain on the pallbearers, it seemed empty.
Ji Li had seen similar midnight funeral scenarios before and had some understanding of them.
At that moment, Tongguan, staring at the funeral procession, seemed to realize something and slammed his palm sharply.
"A funeral is happening… should there also be a celebration?!"
His words startled everyone.
Yu Guo trembled with excitement as if struck by some affliction, causing Tao Xiaoyi to lean closer to Fang Shenyan.
Even the usually indifferent Fang Shenyan, at that moment, looked at her with a faint, enigmatic smile.
Sure enough, almost immediately after Tongguan spoke, from another direction, the sound of a second suona playing a completely contrasting tune arose.
This melody was lively, festive, and high-ghosted, the opposite of the funeral music.
Yet as the two pieces merged, the once opposing sounds gradually formed a unified rhythm.
Ji Li turned to look toward the northern end behind him.
The street he had arrived on had completely vanished; the tall buildings were gone, replaced by another street in the same Republican style.
Approaching from that direction was a wedding procession, red flowers everywhere, drums and music in full swing.
At the forefront, people in red robes bounced forward, each holding an instrument.
The palanquin bearers' faces were flushed, as if painted with rouge.
A flower-decked bridal sedan chair wobbled forward.
Unlike the coffin, its weight clearly indicated…
Someone was inside.
Ji Li's throat suddenly went dry. The sight hit him so powerfully that his scalp tingled.
The shop sraff stood at the center of the long street, south and north, as the two eerie processions drew closer.
South: yellow paper everywhere. North: red flowers covering the ground. One a funeral, one a wedding. Black coffin, flower sedan, offerings, gifts…
Ji Li's left pinky trembled violently, sending a shiver through his entire left hand.
With red flowers on his left shoulder and yellow paper on his right, he stared at the scene and spoke deliberately:
Golden Red and white clash—a deadly omen!"
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