"The Rules of Burial": Trap or No Trap, Step In First

Seeing that the young man only glanced at him indifferently, Hang Ze didn't care.

He turned to look at the old house's gate, one hand on his hip, the other scratching the back of his head. "This... means we have to knock on the door?"

The chubby boy, Yu Hao, was still smiling, but his eyes darted around nimbly.

Tang Shutong, the woman with her hair up, had a calm expression, but her toes unconsciously shuffled lightly across the wet bluestone pavement.

The scarred girl, Shi Weiwei, with her hair in a ponytail, crossed her arms and frowned slightly, seemingly lost in thought or on guard.

Xing Ge, the man with the buzz cut, had a deep gaze, occasionally sweeping over the gate and the high walls on both sides, with a scrutinizing air about him.

The young man with his hair in a bun Lin Zuo, tilted his head slightly, seemingly watching the trajectory of raindrops falling from the roof tiles.

Hang Ze looked around, somewhat exasperated by the dull atmosphere, and said in a slightly familiar tone, "Gentlemen, since none of you are saying anything, I'll go knock on the door then."

Just as he was about to step forward, the heavy door creaked open a crack from the inside, and an old man with a thin figure and a slightly yellow face, wearing a gray-blue long robe, appeared before everyone.

He held up a worn-out oil-paper umbrella, his gaze quickly sweeping across the faces of the seven people, ultimately settling into a formulaic, sorrowful respect.

The old man bowed slightly, his voice not loud, yet it clearly pierced through the fine rain and reached everyone's ears.

"Young masters and ladies, you... you've finally returned."

Young master? Young lady?

The tense bodies of everyone paused for a moment.

Are they trying to play the role of children returning home?

After taking in the expressions of the seven people, the old man bowed slightly again. "The master's mourning hall is set up in the Ancestral Hall. Young masters and ladies, you have had a long journey. Please go to the manor to rest first, change into dry clothes, and then go to pay your respects at the altar later. The manor... has prepared Mourning Clothes."

His tone was even, and he pronounced the words "Mourning Clothes" with exceptional clarity.

As soon as he finished speaking, the two heavy wooden doors slowly opened inward, revealing a deep and unfathomable courtyard behind them.

A damp, cold draft, carrying a strong, musty smell, blew out and blew onto the seven people outside the door.

The seven players finally learned part of the background of this Dungeon: the reason they "returned home" was to attend the funeral of Master Shen, their nominal father.

Xu Xi could sense the almost simultaneous change in the aura of her teammates when the old man mentioned "worshiping before the spirit" and "Mourning Clothes," a kind of instinctive alertness similar to that of prey stepping into the edge of a trap.

He looked up at the gloomy sky, and when the old man stepped aside to invite them inside, he stepped forward without hesitation.

Forget about traps, just step on them first.

Xu Xi's leading the way surprised the others.

Tang Shutong remained expressionless and was the first to step forward and follow.

Yu Hao of when, suppressed his smile and followed closely behind with lowered eyes and a solemn expression.

Xing Ge frowned, his gaze lingering for a moment on the open door and the butler's profile before he stepped inside with a stiff expression.

Shi Weiwei lowered her arms, Hang Ze rubbed his arms, muttering, "This wind isn't very strong," Shi Weiwei stepping over the threshold one after the other.

Lin Zuo, the last one, withdrew his gaze from the sky, let out a soft breath, and followed.

The gate closed silently after swallowing the last person's figure, completely shutting out the rain that was pouring down outside.

The rain seemed to have thickened, falling down the lintel and gathering into a small wet patch in front of the threshold, like some kind of silent boundary.

*

Inside the house, there was a different kind of somber silence.

The corridors were winding and dimly lit, with only a few lanterns hanging under the eaves emitting a faint glow.

The courtyards, rockeries, and plants along the way were shrouded in misty rain, appearing indistinct and unclear.

The entire house was eerily quiet; apart from the footsteps of the eight people, there was no other sound, like an exquisite yet lifeless empty shell.

Just then, a clear voice broke the silence.

Hang Ze quickly walked up behind the old man, subtly maintaining a certain distance, and tentatively called out, "Butler?"

The old man continued walking and replied, "Does Fifth Young Master have any orders?"

Fifth Young Master?

The mention of this ranking caused a slight change in everyone's expression.

Hang Ze looked grave, his voice low. "I still can't believe Dad's gone. How could that be? I haven't even had a chance to be by his side and fulfill my filial duty."

He asked with genuine emotion, his face perfectly conveying sadness and confusion, as if he were truly a son who had just received devastating news and was struggling to accept it.

Hearing this, Xu Xi, who was walking on the other side, couldn't help but think to herself, "Wow, everyone here is an Oscar winner!"

The most unconventional and rebellious guy can actually act quite convincingly.

Moreover, their conversation was very skillful.

The butler's figure, holding an umbrella, froze for a moment, but he still didn't turn around. His flat voice drifted to everyone's ears along with the raindrops.

"Master... he died three nights ago in the Ancestral Hall... when the servants found him, he was already... alas!"

He spoke slowly, each word carefully chosen, as if he were struggling to utter it, revealing a suppressed sense of dread.

"The Ancestral Hall?" Hang Ze pressed, his curiosity almost overpowering his feigned sorrow. "Why would Father go to the Ancestral Hall in the middle of the night, alone?"

The others pricked up their ears, but only heard one sentence. "This old servant dares not presume to speculate on matters concerning the master."

Hang Ze was unwilling to give up and wanted to ask something more, but then he saw the butler suddenly stop in his tracks.

"We've arrived at the east wing." The steward stepped aside and pointed to several Young Servants in gray-blue short jackets who had appeared silently ahead. "Over the years, I've always arranged for servants to clean the rooms of you young masters. Please rest assured and follow these Young Servants to change your clothes."

He then gestured to the two female players.

"Please follow me, ladies. The backyard has always been managed by Seventh Concubine, so I presume your rooms are ready."

Their gazes met briefly in the dim light.

The separation came too quickly, which is clearly not good news.

Shi Weiwei and Tang Shutong exchanged a glance, but decided to follow the housekeeper.

Xu Xi followed behind a meek and obedient Young Servant, heading towards one of the side rooms.

The Young Servant moved with extremely light, almost silent, footsteps, leading the person to a room further inside. He pushed open the door, stepped aside, bowed his head, clasped his hands in front of him, and respectfully said:

"Third Young Master, please rest for a while. I will go and fetch you Mourning Clothes right away."

Third Young Master?

It seems he is the third child.

I just don't know where the other players are ranked, or whether this ranking is even useful.

Xu Xi hummed in agreement as she pondered these questions.

After everyone left, he began to look around the room.