The stench of blood, so thick it had almost taken on substance, mingled with the reek of rot and the scent of incense candles like those used when a corpse had not been fully burned. It slammed into the four of them like an invisible wall, rushing straight to the crowns of their heads.
Mo Fei’s stomach churned violently. Sour bile surged uncontrollably up his throat, and he clapped a hand over his mouth, forcing back the vomit that had nearly burst out.
Even An Mu, a commander with a will of steel, saw his pupils contract sharply at the sight before him. His hand tightened instinctively around his weapon.
Lan Ce adjusted his glasses. Behind the lenses, his eyes swept rapidly across the entire scene, trying to use reason and logic to deconstruct this horrifying image that exceeded the bounds of reality and comprehension. Yet his breathing, too, grew hurried despite himself.
Only Bai Yu’s expression remained largely unchanged, as if this hellish banquet before him was, in essence, no different from the cup of coffee laced with hallucinogens he had seen earlier in the café. But in those bottomless eyes, a chill colder than the eerie green light around them had congealed.
“Heh… What a grand, what a sincere reception.” Hei Yan’s delighted whisper sounded in his mind, as though he were admiring a shocking masterpiece. “Mortals always depict death and fear as something so ugly, yet they do not understand that when decay and rebirth are joined in the form of a ‘wedding banquet,’ that in itself is a kind of exquisite art. Look at those dishes, my dear little Bai Yu. Each one is a story, the final destination of a despairing soul. What a deliciously creative idea.”
Bai Yu ignored Hei Yan’s mad ravings. His gaze swept swiftly across the scene.
In the courtyard, dozens of round tables were packed with hundreds of paper effigies. They had been crafted so lifelike that they ranged from tottering elders to babbling toddlers, encompassing every stage of life. All of them wore neat clothing with local characteristics, and identical festive smiles had been painted on their faces. They simply sat there in silence, each in a different posture—some as though whispering to one another, others as though raising cups in a toast—yet the entire courtyard was so quiet that one could hear one’s own heartbeat. This extreme contradiction between motion and stillness formed a hair-raising sense of strangeness. They were like a crowd of revelers whose pause button had been pressed, while An Mu and the other three living people were the only anomalies who had intruded upon this frozen revelry.
Their arrival did not seem to provoke any reaction from the paper guests. Yet all four of them simultaneously felt hundreds of invisible gazes projected from every direction, locking firmly onto them. It was an appraisal devoid of emotion, as though sizing up sacrifices about to be placed on the dining table.
“Captain… we…” Mo Fei’s voice trembled uncontrollably through the mental link. “The fourth rule… ‘enjoy to your heart’s content’… How are we supposed to ‘enjoy’ this?!”
His eyes were fixed on the table nearest to them. In the center of the table stood a huge “pagoda” built from chunks of some grayish-white meat. At the top of that “pagoda,” a fresh heart still trembling faintly had been stuck upright.
“Stay calm, Mo Fei.” An Mu’s voice was as steady as a mountain, forcibly soothing his teammate’s emotions. “This is part of the rules. The more it’s a moment like this, the less we can afford to lose our heads.”
“Calm?” Mo Fei growled under his breath. “Captain An, look over there!”
He pointed toward a table near the corner of the courtyard. Beside that table, the missing investigator Xiao Zhao was sitting together with several other “villagers.” Before him sat a bowl of something resembling white rice. But on closer inspection, it was not rice at all—it was neatly arranged teeth, one after another.
“The literal meaning of the rule is very clear: ‘enjoy to your heart’s content’ and ‘do not waste,’” Lan Ce’s voice sounded in the link. He forced himself into analytical mode. “This means we must have some form of interaction with these ‘foods.’ The question is, what is the definition of ‘enjoy’? Must we eat them, or… is there another form?”
“No matter what form it is, I won’t touch those damned things!” Mo Fei’s attitude was exceptionally firm. “At worst, we fight them!”
“And trigger the rules, then turn into a puddle of rotten flesh like that villager who peeked at the bridal sedan earlier, adding a little thickness to this blood carpet?” An Mu’s voice rang out, cutting off Mo Fei’s impulse. “Mo Fei, put away that useless brute courage of yours.”
Though An Mu’s words were harsh, they were like a powerful sedative, slightly calming Mo Fei’s agitated emotions. He knew An Mu was right, but he could not accept it.
“Then what do you say we do?” Mo Fei asked unwillingly.
An Mu turned his gaze toward Bai Yu, who had been silent beside them.
Bai Yu did not answer immediately. He closed his eyes slightly, pulling himself away from the terrifying scene around them, his mind beginning to operate at high speed like the most precise instrument.
“Hei Yan, what do you think is the purpose of this ‘wedding banquet’?” he asked inwardly.
“Purpose? Hehe, does art need a purpose?” Hei Yan chuckled in return, but still leisurely gave his insight. “However, if one must interpret it using the shallow logic of you mortals… this wedding banquet is both a ‘display’ and a ‘fusion.’ The host has placed the most precious ‘collections’ on the table to show the guests. And what the guests must do is express their ‘praise’ and ‘recognition’ of these works of art. Only then can you integrate into this banquet, rather than become the banquet itself.”
“Praise and recognition…” Bai Yu chewed over those words. He slowly opened his eyes, and his gaze once again fell on the paper guests.
He noticed a crucial detail. Although those paper effigies had all assumed the appearance of “taking seats,” the bowls and chopsticks before them were placed neatly. Up to now, they had not “eaten” anything on the table. They were merely sitting here, forming part of this banquet.
“They aren’t eating. They’re ‘observing the ceremony,’” Bai Yu said softly. “The essence of this banquet may not be dining, but a kind of ritual. As guests, we need to complete this ritual.”
“What ritual?” An Mu immediately pressed.
“I’m not certain yet. But the key point in the rule is ‘do not waste.’ If we understand the ‘food’ as offerings, then the meaning of ‘waste’ changes. Offerings that are not enjoyed are the greatest waste.” Bai Yu’s train of thought grew clearer and clearer. “So we must ‘enjoy.’ But the one who ‘enjoys’ does not necessarily have to be us.”
“Not us? You mean…” Lan Ce followed Bai Yu’s gaze.
Bai Yu looked toward a round table before them with four empty seats. This table had clearly been prepared for the four of them, the “living guests.” The table was also covered with those horrifying dishes, but in the very center of the table, there was an extra clean set of bowl and chopsticks placed before an empty seat of honor.
“It,” Bai Yu said, pointing toward that empty seat. “At a traditional banquet, this seat is reserved for the most honored guest, or for an ancestor who is to be worshiped. We are guests, but we are also latecomers. We need to express respect to the host here—or rather, to this wedding banquet itself.”
“You mean… we have to serve food to that invisible ghost thing?” Mo Fei’s voice was filled with absurdity.
“That is currently the most reasonable inference.” Bai Yu’s tone brooked no doubt. “The rule only says ‘enjoy’ and ‘do not waste.’ It does not specify who must enjoy it. By serving dishes to the ‘host,’ we both express our intention to ‘enjoy’ and avoid ‘wasting’ the offerings. This is the only possible way to break the situation.”
An Mu stared at Bai Yu. After a few seconds, he made his decision. “We’ll do as you say. Who’s going?”
“I’ll go.” Bai Yu said without the slightest hesitation. “If the judgment is wrong, I’ll bear the consequences.”
With that, he gave no one a chance to object. He strode toward the table prepared for them.
An Mu, Mo Fei, and Lan Ce all felt their hearts leap into their throats. They watched Bai Yu’s back as, under the eerie gazes of hundreds of paper effigies, it appeared lonely and resolute. Every step seemed to fall on the edge between life and death.
Bai Yu arrived before the table. He did not sit down immediately. Instead, he first bowed slightly toward the empty seat of honor in a gesture of respect. This tiny motion seemed to allow a trace of movement to pass through the stagnant air around them.
Then he picked up the cold chopsticks on the table, which seemed to be made of jade. His gaze swept over the nauseating “dishes” on the table, and in the end, landed on one particular plate of “food.”
He could smell that rich, strange odor, a mixture of bloody sweetness and spices. His movements did not pause in the slightest. With a steady wrist, he respectfully placed that slice of “food” into the clean empty bowl before the seat of honor.
“Please enjoy,” he said softly. His voice was not loud, yet it echoed clearly through the deathly silent courtyard.
At the very instant he put down the chopsticks.
“Click—”
A faint yet perfectly uniform sound came from all directions.
An Mu and the other two were astonished to see the hundreds of paper guests in the courtyard stiffly nod in unison toward their direction at the same moment.
The smiles on their faces remained eerie, but the crushing sense of scrutiny that had nearly overwhelmed them receded like the tide at that instant.
It had succeeded! Bai Yu’s judgment had been correct!
Mo Fei and Lan Ce almost sagged with relief, and An Mu’s tense shoulders finally relaxed as well.
Bai Yu bowed slightly to the seat of honor again, then pulled out a chair and sat down.
An Mu and the other two immediately understood. They stepped forward and, copying his example, first saluted the seat of honor before taking their seats one by one. In this way, the four of them became honored guests at this hellish wedding banquet together with the courtyard full of paper effigies.
Although the crisis had temporarily been resolved, sitting before these “dishes” composed of unknown flesh and blood remained an extreme torment.
“I told you, art needs to be understood.” Hei Yan’s voice carried a hint of praise. “You did well, little Bai Yu. You pleased the host of this grand feast with mortal etiquette. Now, you are true ‘guests.’”
However, before Hei Yan’s words had even faded, alarm bells blared in Bai Yu’s heart. In this place, safety was always temporary. The end of one rule often meant the beginning of another, even more dangerous rule.
His premonition was soon fulfilled. Less than half a minute after they had taken their seats, from the direction of the main hall of the ancestral shrine, there suddenly came a series of clicking sounds like rusted machinery turning.
The four of them abruptly raised their heads and looked toward the host’s table. They saw that the groom, who had been hanging his head as though dead asleep, had begun to move.
His neck lifted upward inch by inch in an unnatural posture. His movements were slow and mechanical, as though every joint had long since rusted solid and required the full strength of his body to complete even this simple motion. At last, his head was fully raised, facing all the “guests” in the courtyard.
Only then did they clearly see the groom’s face. It was the face of an exceptionally handsome young man, yet so pale there was not a trace of blood in it. His skin was as smooth as fine porcelain, and his features were as delicate as someone from a painting. But his eyes were tightly shut, his long eyelashes casting a bluish shadow beneath his lids. His lips were blue-purple, without the slightest hint of life.
He was clearly… a corpse.
After this handsome corpse groom “raised” his head, he did not open his eyes. The hand that had been resting on the table all along, wearing an antique jade thumb ring, began to slowly lift in the same stiff manner. In his hand, he held a wine cup filled with some kind of deep red liquid. The liquid was as viscous as blood, reflecting an ominous gleam under the eerie green light.
The groom held the wine cup out, his arm pointing distantly in the direction of Bai Yu and the others. He did not speak, but a cold, emotionless voice abruptly sounded in all four of their minds at the same time: “Guests have come from afar. Please drink this cup.”
The third rule was triggered at that instant.
The groom is hospitable. If the groom offers you a toast, you must drink it to show respect.
The four of them instantly turned even paler than the groom’s face. They stared at the wine cup filled with bloodlike liquid, held up from afar by that corpse, and felt a chill rush from the soles of their feet straight to the tops of their heads, as if even their souls were about to freeze. Eating—they had relied on wisdom to avoid it. But this time, it was the groom personally offering a toast. The rule was written as clear as day—“you must drink it.”
This cup of wine was unavoidable.