Fortunately, the man's rage blinded him, making him attack without any caution. His knife came swinging wildly at her without any hesitation.
Mei Lin's eyes narrowed as the blade came dangerously close to her face. With a swift twist of her waist, she dodged to the side, and her dagger flicked upward. Just as it was about to slice his wrist, she changed tactics, driving her elbow into his solar plexus. Though her left shoulder was still injured, the force was enough to make the man double over. In one fluid motion, she flipped the dagger and easily held it to his throat.
"Drop the knife," she commanded with a faint smile. The stench of rot and death emanated from the man, making her want to retch, but she didn’t even flinch.
The man’s shoulders slumped in defeat, his eyes, hidden beneath his tangled hair, flickering with confusion.
Clang! The knife fell to the ground.
The man’s hands were now bound behind his back with vines tied to the cart. Reluctantly, he dragged the bamboo cart with Murong Jing He on it, taking one slow step at a time.
He refused to say who he was, and Mei Lin didn’t bother to press him. Instead, she simply called him "Corpse Ghost," mainly due to the unbearable stench coming from him.
Oddly enough, although it was the same path they had taken before, after a few twists and turns guided by the Corpse Ghost, the scenery suddenly changed, all within less than half an hour. The towering stones were still there, but the white bones that had littered the ground were now nowhere to be seen.
Mei Lin’s eyes lit up with hope, thinking they might finally be on their way out. But her hope was quickly dashed.
She spotted a makeshift hut—constructed from dense layers of white bones, with scraps of cloth draped over it. Inside, the hut was divided into two sections by an old robe. One side was filled with a thick layer of shattered bones and tattered cloth, while the other had several pieces of dried meat hanging from the ceiling, along with various other items, including the food, water, and herbs they had brought in, all haphazardly piled up.
Clearly, this was the Corpse Ghost’s dwelling.
Without a word, Mei Lin barged into the side filled with miscellaneous items, grabbed a bamboo tube, pulled out the stopper, and took a swig of water before stepping out to offer it to Murong Jing He.
“What do you want to eat?” she asked, referring to the contents of the hut.
Murong Jing He shook his head, his face pale. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he spoke in a strained voice, “Help me sit up.”
Mei Lin wasn’t sure what he intended, but she did as he asked. No sooner had she propped him up than he collapsed into her arms, breathing deeply as if he’d been holding his breath for a long time. Mei Lin suddenly realized that he had been overwhelmed by the stench too. Even though she knew he had no ill intentions, the feeling of his hot breath seeping through her clothes and warming her skin made her uneasy, bringing back memories of that unexpected kiss.
Struggling to calm her racing heart, she wanted to push him away, but then she noticed the Corpse Ghost watching them with a puzzled expression, as if he couldn’t understand how two people who had been at each other’s throats earlier could now be so close. She decided to suppress the urge.
“If you help us get out of here, everything in this hut will be yours,” she said gently, stroking Murong Jing He’s head as she addressed the Corpse Ghost.
The Corpse Ghost looked at her, then at Murong Jing He, who was nestled against her as if seeking comfort. A trace of anger and resentment faded from his eyes.
“Were you trying to lure me out earlier?” he asked, his speech now awkward and halting compared to the fluent outbursts of rage from before, as though he hadn’t spoken to anyone in a long time.
Mei Lin smiled without saying anything, silently confirming his suspicion. Meanwhile, Murong Jing He’s breathing gradually steadied, and the two of them now appeared like a loving couple.
The Corpse Ghost forced a stiff smile and squatted down on the ground.
“There’s no way out… no way out…” he muttered, burying his face in his knees, his voice heavy with despair. “Anyone who comes in here never leaves… They couldn’t get out… and neither will you…”
Murong Jing He finally felt the urge to vomit subside. Hearing this, he turned his head to look at the man.
“How long have you been here?”
The Corpse Ghost seemed stumped by the question, his murmurs of despair falling silent. After a long pause, he raised his head and asked, “What year is it now?”
Mei Lin’s heart sank as he asked what year it was instead of what day.
“It’s the thirty-second year of the Zhao Ming era, August… uh… what’s the exact date?” Murong Jing He replied, turning to Mei Lin for the details.
Who kept track of the days in this situation? Mei Lin shook her head, only then realizing they were still in that intimate position. She quickly pushed him slightly away and sat down beside him to support him.
“Really… the thirty-second year of Zhao Ming… thirty-two years…” The Corpse Ghost repeated the words numbly, then began to laugh to himself, a sound as mournful as a ghost’s wail, both heartbreaking and chilling.
Mei Lin shrank behind Murong Jing He, unable to bear the sound. She coughed lightly and nudged him, signaling for him to say something.
Murong Jing He ignored her, waiting until the Corpse Ghost had vented enough before repeating his earlier question, “So you’ve been here a long time?”
“Eight years… eight years…” The Corpse Ghost trembled as he lifted his head, his eyes bloodshot and vacant.
Murong Jing He inhaled sharply, immediately regretting it as he turned his head and retched. Mei Lin quickly pulled his head onto her shoulder, and he managed to stop.
Because they had been fleeing through the mountains, Mei Lin’s body carried the scent of pine, bamboo, and herbs, which effectively countered the stench of decay.
“You can’t get out either?” Mei Lin asked skeptically. After all, if he had been here for eight years and couldn’t leave, where did his food and water come from?
“Don’t… don’t ask,” Murong Jing He interrupted, closing his eyes and breathing heavily.
“Huh?” Mei Lin was surprised.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Murong Jing He barely finished the sentence before his stomach churned again, forcing him to clamp his mouth shut. He found it puzzling that this woman could be so sharp at times and so dense at others.
Mei Lin paused, glancing at the Corpse Ghost hunched over on the ground, then at his bone-constructed hut, her gaze finally settling on the dried meat hanging inside. An indescribable feeling welled up in her chest, making her mood heavy, yet also calming her restless thoughts.
“If I were you, I’d probably do the same,” she said to the trembling man, who kept his head bowed as if trying to shut out all the disgusted and judgmental stares.
The Corpse Ghost flinched slightly at her words, slowly lifting his head, while Murong Jing He stiffened at her remark. But he said nothing, instead turning his attention back to the Corpse Ghost.
“If you want to get out of here, tell us everything you know.”
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