Hou Biao somehow got hold of a minivan, Jiang Deguan felt much safer after getting in.
To prevent him from bleeding too much, Hou Biao pried open the door of a pharmacy in a small town and got bandages, disinfectant, hemostatic drugs, and painkillers. There wasn't time to remove the bullet, Hou Biao gave Jiang Deguan some basic treatment in the car and then hurried on his way under the cover of night.
The car owner will definitely call the police after daybreak, so he must find a place to dispose of the car discreetly before dawn.
Huang Ziqiang had been shaken off, but Hou Biao still felt that a potential danger was lurking nearby. He kept checking his rearview mirror and, finding no suspicious vehicles following him, gave a self-deprecating bitter laugh, wondering if he was being too paranoid.
Hou Biao drove his car into a junkyard parking lot on the outskirts of Kuaiji City. The van was crammed among thousands of junk cars; finding it would probably take a lot of effort.
Besides the scrapped cars, there were also many tricycles, motorcycles, and electric bikes in the parking lot. Hou Biao found a usable tricycle, let Jiang Deguan sit in the back, and then rode the tricycle away from the parking lot.
Hou Biao had been to Jiang Deguan's hometown more than once, so even in the dead of night, he knew the way. The road into the village was built by Jiang Deguan after he became wealthy, and it led all the way to the stone arch bridge at the entrance of the village.
When the road was being built, the villagers all said they wanted to demolish the stone arch bridge and build a larger bridge that could be used by vehicles, but Jiang Deguan did not agree. He was a man of vision and knew what a stone arch bridge that was over two hundred years old meant, and at the same time, that bridge held too many of his childhood memories.
He rebuilt a large bridge over the river, standing side by side with the arched bridge, like two brothers. The large bridge protects the arched bridge, allowing heavy vehicles to pass over it; the arched bridge nestles against the large bridge, listening to the lazy footsteps of pedestrians, while the water flows gurgling beneath it.
Now, their village, along with two neighboring ancient towns, has been designated as a key tourist development area. Jiang Deguan certainly deserves credit for this. When villagers mention Jiang Family's eldest son, they all give him a thumbs up. He has become the pride of the entire village.
Hou Biao rode his tricycle to the bridgehead. Because the bridge was large and he had to take a long detour, he pushed the tricycle onto the arched bridge. But as he pushed, he realized something was wrong.
The river was only twenty or thirty meters wide, and even if the arch bridge spanned more than fifty meters, it would only take a few minutes to cross. But Hou Biao pushed his cart for half a day and still couldn't finish.
He stopped and looked closely. The bridge was still the same bridge, unchanged. The river was still the same river, but the banks were shrouded in darkness, and nothing could be seen. The riverbed reflected the stars in the sky, so densely packed that it turned the river into the Milky Way.
Hou Biao felt something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He suddenly looked up and saw that the sky was completely dark; there wasn't a single star in sight.
This startled him. When he looked down into the river, the starlight at the bottom suddenly disappeared, replaced by a cauldron of boiling oil. Many heads bobbed up and down in the oil, emitting mournful howls.
Many people appeared on the riverbank, looking like walking corpses. The large oil cauldron seemed to have some kind of suction, drawing them towards it, and once they reached the bank, they all jumped in.
Hou Biao suddenly felt empty inside and unconsciously walked over. He came to the edge of the bridge, stepped on the railing carved with Lion heads, his chest heaving violently. A moment of clarity flashed through his mind, and he was suddenly startled. He climbed down from the railing and retreated to the center of the bridge, panting heavily.
He turned back to look for Jiang Deguan, but found that Jiang Deguan was gone. Looking towards the riverbank, he saw a person standing on the embankment calling out, "Mom, where are you?"
A woman washing clothes appeared on the stone steps by the river. She looked up and said, "Where's your brother? You've lost your brother, and you still have the nerve to come back?"
Jiang Deguan then jumped down with a thud.
Hot oil splattered from the pot, sizzling as it landed on the bank, instantly turning the grass on the bank yellow and withered.
Hou Biao only saw Jiang Deguan's head floating in the oil fryer, repeatedly calling out, "Little brother, I've come to join you!"
The oil fryer was filled with heads, their faces charred and indistinguishable by the hot oil. After a while, Jiang Deguan's face was also fried until it was charred yellow, just like the others. Perhaps because his tongue had also been fried hard, he could no longer speak and could only let out a mournful wail like the other heads.
Hou Biao was in a panic, but a sliver of clarity in his mind told him that this was not real. He felt his breathing quicken and his body stiffen, as if he were being held by a ghost.
He struggled desperately, but he couldn't break free.
For a fleeting moment, he suddenly realized—I'm dreaming!
The moment that thought crossed his mind, the bridge collapsed, the oil cauldron beneath it turned into a deep whirlpool, the dark sky collapsed, and the world suddenly plunged into boundless darkness.
He screamed and woke up with a start. As if by reflex, he reached for his gun at his waist and aimed it at the ghostly figure in the darkness.
He opened his eyes and saw himself standing at the head of a bridge, with a tricycle behind him and a person standing on the bridge in front of him, slowly walking towards him.
In the darkness, the person's features were obscured; only disheveled hair stood on end like weeds, a trench coat billowed behind them, and hands were casually tucked into their pockets, giving them a lazy air. They were likely wearing slippers, which made a clattering sound as they walked, particularly jarring on the silent stone bridge.
Hou Biao, covered in sweat, held up his gun and said, "Don't come any closer."
Qingmu stopped and said, "You've already escorted him to his hometown; you've done more than enough."
Hou Biao said, "No, I want him to live."
Qingmu said, "You want him to live, but he may not want that. This is his final resting place."
Hou Biao glanced back at the tricycle. The curtain was drawn, obscuring the view inside. He called out softly, " Master Jiang," but received no response from Jiang Deguan. He flung open the curtain; the tricycle was empty.
"Where did you take him?" Hou Biao knew he had just been hypnotized; it must have been at that time that Qingmu kidnapped Jiang Deguan.
Qingmu said, "I didn't take him anywhere; he left on his own."
Hou Biao didn't believe it. He looked around and suddenly saw Jiang Deguan walking with a limp on the opposite bank of the river, until he reached the back door of a house.
Hou Biao recognized it as the old house that Jiang Deguan had later restored.
Jiang Deguan entered the house, brought out a small table and a small stool, set them up at the back of the house, sat for a while, then got up, walked down the stone steps, took off his shoes, and waded barefoot into the water.
The water was splashing loudly.
Jiang Deguan walked deeper and deeper, calling out, "Mom, I've come to find you!"
Hou Biao was about to rush down to save Jiang Deguan when suddenly Qingmu blocked his way.
Hou Biao said, "Get out of my way."
Qingmu said, "He's the one who wants to die, so why should you save him?"
Hou Biao said, "No, I can't watch him die."