Chapter Sixty-Eight: Causes and Consequences

It is said in ancient times that if someone dies far from home or perishes in a sudden misfortune, a great resentment will be born. Such souls are denied entry to heaven or hell, condemned instead to wander restlessly among the living, until one day they may simply dissipate and vanish. These vengeful spirits must find a substitute to bear the weight of their grievances; only once their grudge is lifted can they descend into the underworld and be reborn as humans.

Now, a great horde of ghosts sought to make Fang Yong and Zhang Song their scapegoats, to relieve themselves of their resentment and thus gain passage into reincarnation.

“Run, run!” Zhang Song grabbed Fang Yong and dashed back toward the inn along the path from which they had come, but the ghosts pursued them relentlessly.

“We’ve actually been tricked by two little imps—how infuriating!” Fang Yong grumbled, equally indignant.

But behind them, the throng of ghosts, faces contorted and teeth bared, surged forward with wild desperation, eager for the chance to inflict misfortune and seize their opportunity for rebirth.

“We mustn’t stop here!”

Zhang Song and Fang Yong understood: if they faltered for even a moment, they would never return to the inn, never return to the world of the living.

Yet as they ran, their spiritual strength ebbed rapidly, and their pace slowed with exhaustion, while the ghosts behind showed no sign of relenting.

“It’s over, we’re dead for sure!” Just as the ghosts were about to overtake them, the sharp crow of a rooster suddenly pierced the air.

Dawn was breaking, and as the cock crowed, the ghosts shrank back in terror, scattering into the shadows of the forest.

Seizing the moment, Zhang Song and Fang Yong, not yet fully transformed into lost souls, hurried toward the inn.

“We made it out, thank goodness!”

Meanwhile, inside the inn, with a faint crack, the candle had burned down to its base. The red string fell, the bell dropped to the floor and rang out with a clear, crisp sound.

Yet Fang Yong and Zhang Song, lying before them, did not awaken.

“Master, they…” Fang Min began to ask anxiously.

Fang You, however, was already packing his belongings. “It is Heaven’s will. I can do nothing to change it.”

“Master, what do you mean?” Fang Min demanded, her voice rising in panic.

“Lin Xue once terminated a pregnancy. The vengeful spirit that haunted her was none other than the soul of her unborn child. That child waited a hundred years for a chance to be reborn, only to lose it at the hands of Lin Xue’s thoughtlessness. The resentment is, understandably, profound.

“A mother and child share a bond of heart—there is always a lingering connection. In the grove, when Lin Xue relieved herself, she happened to do so atop the very spot where her child’s spirit lay. When the little ghost saw the mother who had cast it aside, old hatred surged anew. This calamity was fated in Lin Xue’s life.

“As for Zhang Song and Fang Yong’s inability to return, it is because—”

At that moment, Zhang Song and Fang Yong found themselves lost.

“Why can’t I remember how to get back to the inn?” Zhang Song looked around, the path growing ever more unfamiliar.

“Yes, where was our inn again?” Fang Yong, too, seemed bewildered, as though the memory of the way back had suddenly slipped from his mind.

“Was it left, or right?”

“Have we been here? It feels familiar, yet not.”

“How do we get back?”

“What is this place?”

The two of them stared in confusion at their strange surroundings, as if stricken by sudden amnesia, unable to find the road home.

Suddenly, the scene around them began to shift.

“What’s happening?” Clinging to each other, they watched as the world before them changed, like an oil-paper painting giving way to another scene.

In the blink of an eye, they were standing on a deserted road.

A little boy was playing with a ball nearby, while in the distance, a car sped toward him.

“What place is this? Why does it feel so familiar?”

“Yes, I feel it too,” said Fang Yong, both of them gripped by a strange sense of deja vu.

The car’s speed increased, swerving erratically as if the driver was losing control.

The boy, absorbed in his game, was oblivious to the danger.

“Get out of the way, it’s dangerous, kid!” Fang Yong rushed forward to grab the boy, but Zhang Song held him back. “It’s too late!”

The car hurtled forward—and in that instant, Fang Yong and Zhang Song clearly saw the faces of the two men behind the wheel. They were themselves.

“Could it be—?”

The car hit the boy, sending him flying. He crashed heavily to the ground, blood trickling from his lips, his body convulsing.

The car screeched to a halt.

Zhang Song and Fang Yong watched as two men stepped out—identical in appearance to themselves.

“I told you not to drink, but you wouldn’t listen. Now look, drunk driving and you’ve hit someone.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Take him to the hospital, quickly! He’s just a child.”

“Okay, but wait—drunk driving is a serious crime.”

“So what do we do?”

The two exchanged a glance.

“Run! Or do you want to spend the rest of your life behind bars?”

“But—”

“But what? If we don’t run, people will be here any second!”

“The child—”

“Just run!”

They leapt back into the car and sped away.

Watching from the roadside, Zhang Song and Fang Yong recalled what had happened five years ago, when they visited a small mountain village together. Back then, the place was undeveloped, without surveillance cameras or electronics. After a night of heavy drinking, they drove in the dark and accidentally struck a little boy. Young and afraid of the consequences, they fled the scene.

Now, the land where they stood had been transformed over six years into a popular tourist resort. The memory of that incident had faded almost entirely, and if not for the scene unfolding before them, they might never have remembered it.

Suddenly, laughter sounded behind them—the two little ghosts stood there, and all around, the other spirits began to gather, closing in to take them as scapegoats.

Zhang Song and Fang Yong exchanged a final glance, and quietly crouched down as darkness fell. This time, they knew escape was impossible, nor did they wish to flee.

Some deeds, once done, must be answered for. Cause and effect are inescapable—there are things you can never outrun.

“But please, I beg you, save them!” Back in the inn, Fang Min wept bitterly over the bodies of her fiancé Fang Yong and Zhang Song.

But Fang You, having packed his things, walked out without a backward glance. “The cause was sown by them, the consequence must be borne by them. If I were to help them drive away the little ghost, how would I be any different from aiding evil? Some wrongs must be repaid—there is no escaping them.”