Chapter Forty-Five: The Northern Slope

Village Chief Zhao seemed about to speak but hesitated. At that moment, Old Man Zhao took a slow sip of water and began, “This sort of matter isn’t usually spoken of with outsiders, but you all have honest faces, so this old man will tell you the story…”

Back in the Tang dynasty, about thirty kilometers from here, there was a place called North Slope. The villagers there were all skilled artisans—whether weaving silk and satin, or working as carpenters, their craftsmanship was exquisite. Every year, they delivered tributes to the imperial court, and the high-ranking officials all brought them prosperity and wealth.

North Slope was home to a beauty named Lingyuan. Many young gentlemen came to propose marriage, but she turned them all down. It was later discovered that Lingyuan had given her heart to a poor scholar. The rejected young lords would sometimes go to teach the scholar a lesson. Once, they set fire to his house. The scholar managed to escape, but his face was horribly burned. Fearing Lingyuan would no longer care for him, he avoided her.

One night, Lingyuan, veiled, came to see the scholar. Seeing her, he was overjoyed, and the two embraced and wept. Then Lingyuan knocked him unconscious, took out a piece of human skin, and placed it on his face.

When the scholar awoke the next morning, Lingyuan was gone. While washing his face, he discovered his appearance had changed—the two large burn scars on his face had vanished. At first, he found the slight itch on his cheeks strange, but he grew used to it, and his confidence returned.

He later married Lingyuan, and the two lived happily for a time. But their joy was short-lived. Soon, the scholar’s face began to peel and crack, the condition worsening by the day.

Lingyuan said she would fetch a doctor and left. She didn’t return until well past midnight. Again, she knocked the scholar out, and pressed another piece of human skin onto his face, silently gazing at him.

The next day, rumors spread through the village—two men had been murdered, their faces skinned alive and their bodies stabbed multiple times before dying in agony. The brutality and strangeness of the deaths baffled everyone.

In truth, the two dead men were the ones who had set the scholar’s house on fire. With no trace of the killer, suspicion fell on the scholar, who was believed to have taken revenge for his ruined face.

Eventually, the authorities arrested the scholar and, after much torture, he died in prison. The scholar knew Lingyuan was responsible, but he never dared believe it, and he always protected her.

After the scholar’s death, murders became frequent in North Slope—each victim was found with their face skinned, and the killer grew ever more ruthless and swift, leaving no trace. Some claimed they saw countless tree gum masks hanging in Lingyuan’s courtyard; she said they were made to honor her late husband. But to others, the masks were terrifying, seeming as if made from real human skin.

In truth, they were.

Lingyuan eventually lost her mind, wearing those masks herself, changing her face each day, sorrowfully conversing with the mask she wore. The rumors in North Slope grew wilder—some said Lingyuan was possessed by a demon, murdering the villagers. But with no evidence, the officials could not arrest her.

No one realized that the deranged Lingyuan had turned into something neither human nor ghost, killing one person each day, making masks from their flayed skin. Eventually, everyone fled North Slope in terror.

“It’s said that in the end, Lingyuan guarded her husband’s grave, her fate unknown. From that moment, the killings stopped. But who could have guessed that more than twenty years later, the same kind of murders occurred again in North Slope. The killer was never caught. The people there said Lingyuan’s ghost had returned, placing a curse upon North Slope, and no one dares go there anymore!” Old Man Zhao paused, picked up his teacup, leaned back in his chair, shook his head, and took a sip.

“Uncle Zhao, does North Slope still exist?” Zhang Qinglin asked curiously.

He recalled reading about North Slope in a book, which said the place was almost entirely destroyed by a great fire, and all the villagers perished in the flames.

“North Slope is still there, but it’s no longer called by that name,” Village Chief Zhao replied, picking up the story. “It’s now called Ghost Town. The village is even smaller than ours, and hardly anyone goes there for business.”

“Why is that?” Cheng Che asked.

Old Man Zhao, growing uncomfortable, stood up from his chair. “You all continue chatting—I’ll go rest inside for a bit. Sit, please, sit.” Supporting his legs, he straightened his back and walked into the house.

Village Chief Zhao escorted the old man inside, glanced at his watch, and said, “The old man’s legs aren’t good, he can’t sit too long. You all rest here a while. I need to step out. Soon, I’ll have Miaomiao make you some food. Our place is remote, not like the big cities. If you need anything, just ask Miaomiao…”

“No need to trouble yourself, Village Chief,” Zhang Qinglin said, stepping forward. “If Captain Gao doesn’t need us, and our friends arrive, we’ll leave.”

“That’s fine, but you should at least have a meal before you go. Miaomiao, come here—make some food for these gentlemen while I step out,” Village Chief Zhao called as he prepared to leave. His daughter, Miaomiao, walked in.

Miaomiao was nineteen, with delicate features and a cheerful smile for everyone. She went to check on her grandfather in his room.

Wu Cheng’an approached Zhang Qinglin and whispered, “I think we should leave as soon as possible, or trouble will find us.”

“Agreed, but Brother Peng has been gone a long time. Why isn’t he back yet?” Zhang Qinglin stood in the doorway, looking out into the yard. He saw Captain Gao finishing a discussion with Village Chief Zhao. As Zhao left, Captain Gao approached them with a young officer.

After coming in, Captain Gao greeted them politely and asked in detail about their arrival in the village the previous night. He didn’t say much else, just took a brief statement and left.

Shortly after Captain Gao departed, Li Qingpeng hurried in from outside. He said he had waited at the village entrance for a long time but hadn’t seen Wanqing’s car, nor could he reach her by phone.

Wanqing had told Li Qingpeng she would drive over to pick them up, but she hadn’t appeared all morning. The more he thought about it, the more uneasy he became—especially with the murder in the village, and the fact that it happened just as they arrived.

Listening to Li Qingpeng, Zhang Qinglin’s mind filled with questions, but his greatest worry now was the safety of Wanqing and Jiang Xinyue.