At the other end of the phone, Yao Shunyu was clearly taken aback. "What?"
"It's like this: there are no signs of modern industry where I am. And there's something else—there are eight people traveling with me." Jiang Cheng paused. "Including Wang Fugui and me, there are ten of us in all."
Yao Shunyu sucked in a sharp breath. "It's the same."
"Exactly. And someone died here last night, too."
Jiang Cheng briefly explained what had happened on his end: the eerie temple, the mad Monk Huicong, the bizarre events of the night, and, most importantly, the ghost of Lord Guan that could kill people.
Yao Shunyu was stunned by it all. But when he heard that there was a fixed time every day when someone was chosen, he grew excited. "That matches! It all matches! We have something similar here, too."
"Only the way it happens is different. Here, we draw lots from a set of name plaques," Yao Shunyu stressed.
At the words "draw lots from a set of name plaques," the first thing that came to the Fatty's mind was a hugely popular Chinese period drama from a few years ago, where the emperor chose which concubine would spend the night with him by turning over a plaque.
"Name plaques?" Jiang Cheng had much the same thought as the Fatty. In his mind, choosing by plaque was something only ancient emperors did.
"Yeah. How should I explain it?" Yao Shunyu lowered his voice. "Anyway, the customs in Heishui Village are bizarre. Men are inferior to women here."
"The women are in charge of everything. The men never leave the house, don't eat at the table, and even speak softly. They're all like shy little wives who've married into another family, afraid of upsetting the women."
"The creepiest