Yang Qing and the others followed the child to the village chief's home.
Though he was the village chief, his home merely had one more ramshackle room than the neighboring houses.
When Yang Qing and the others arrived, the room was gloomy, with barely any light.
But Mu Feng pointed inside. "Someone is sitting over there."
Looking closely, Yang Qing discovered that a man whose features he could not make out was indeed sitting in the darkest corner.
The child who had guided them seemed afraid of seeing the man inside as well. He turned and ran away.
Yang Qing stepped forward and tapped lightly on the courtyard gate.
The gate was so dilapidated, however, that it made little difference whether it was there or not.
"Come in if you want, provided you dare."
The voice was low and hoarse, like a blunt knife being scraped against sandpaper.
It grated painfully on their ears.
Yang Qing and the others filed inside. With several people standing in that cramped room, the light grew even dimmer.
"No outsiders have come to this village for many years. What have you come here to do?"
Only after entering did Yang Qing and the others discover that the man was sitting in a battered wheelchair. His clothes were just as ragged, and his entire body gave off the distinctive fishy smell of seawater.
To their surprise, however, the man looked different from the dark-skinned fishermen.
Perhaps because he had not seen sunlight for years, his entire face had an unhealthy pallor.
"There are a few things we would like to ask about. Would you have a moment, Village Chief?"
The room did not smell pleasant, but Yang Qing and the others seemed not to notice at all. They merely watched the man in the wheelchair