Chapter 154: The Mice's Wedding

Old Man Ma continued, "Fortunately, out of a great misfortune came a blessing of sorts. The formation was forcefully broken. Although that three-headed snake managed to attach itself to the corpse and escape, its true body was destroyed, leaving it with limited power. It won't be able to stir up any major trouble!"

Its true body destroyed? Old Man Ma and the others had actually destroyed the physical body of that giant three-headed snake. Such a massive creature, and they hadn't been carrying any weapons—how had they managed it? Still, thank goodness things hadn't turned out even worse.

Old Man Ma glanced sideways at me and added, "Let's put the matter of the three-headed snake aside for now. The human lives lost because of your rashness are enough for you to owe a debt for the rest of your life! A million-word essay is getting off easy! If it weren't for the fact that the man surnamed Guo provoked the conflict first, you wouldn't even be my apprentice! You might as well just wait to die a year from now!"

I sighed inwardly. This matter was indeed entirely my fault. No matter what, those were real human lives that had vanished just like that because of my recklessness. I suppose I had taken the consequences far too lightly.

Old Man Ma looked at me, a profound and meaningful expression in his eyes as he said, "Kid, do you know that group of people associated with the fellow surnamed杨 [Yang]? Although your origins and past aren't of primary importance, now that you've entered this trade and joined our lineage, you must not entangle yourself with those people."

Old Man Ma had already seen through Yang Guangyu and his associates, recognizing that their backgrounds were less than upright.

"I don't know them, and I severed ties with that kind of people long ago," I replied.

Ever since I went to Guangdong and cut off contact with the fox-friends and dog-companions from my college days, I had no longer had any dealings with those people.

Since Yang Guangyu failed to find his mother this time, he didn't linger long in the village and left by evening. The villagers sighed with endless emotion. Yang Guangyu had achieved "success" out in the world and had long since grown distant from the village. Now that his last remaining emotional anchor was gone, he would definitely never return to the village again, nor would he ever give the villagers any more money.

Naturally, a village as impoverished as this, suddenly cut off from such a "source of income," felt a deep sense of regret.

While the villagers were not inherently bad people, their behavior in this regard was truly base, which filled me with a sense of disgust.

After looking deeper into the matter, I learned that during the years Yang Guangyu and his mother had depended on each other for survival, the villagers not only failed to offer any help, but even discriminated against the lonely widow and her son. A widow without a husband seemed to become a target for everyone to bully, and people took advantage of them at every turn, always singling them out to hurl abuse at. It was hardly surprising that Yang Guangyu was so reluctant to part with his mother.

Over the years, he had given a considerable amount of money to the village—nearly one hundred thousand yuan every year. Although that amount wasn't much when divided equally among all the households, for a student, acquiring so much money was virtually impossible. It was hardly a wonder that he had strayed onto a crooked path.

No matter what, however, the path was one he had chosen himself; no one had forced him.

The impending one-million-word essay was looming right over my head. I tracked down the middle school students in the village and offered them thirty yuan per ten thousand words to help me write the essay. Initially, I was worried it wouldn't work out and even thought about recruiting a few young people who had returned for the New Year to help. To my surprise, those middle school students were overwhelmingly excited. One by one, they rolled up their sleeves and began writing at the breakneck speed they used to copy homework at school. At this rate, it looked like the task would be finished in no time.

Naturally, I still had to write a little bit myself to put up a pretense, otherwise the sudden influx of word count would look far too suspicious.

Because my legs and feet were inconvenient, I was excused from morning physical training, but the knowledge I was supposed to learn still had to be studied. On top of that, I now had the extra task of writing the essay.

The faint singing and coughing in the night did not appear again. As the Lunar New Year drew closer day by day, the thirtieth of the twelfth lunar month arrived in the blink of an eye.

As night fell, every household swept the areas under their beds, beneath their cabinets, and in the corners of their walls until they were spotless. They also lit candles along the edges under the beds and by the corners of the walls. It was said that the eve of the thirtieth was the auspicious day for mice to marry off their daughters, so people cleared paths for them and lit candles to illuminate the way.

I had heard about the custom of mice marrying off their daughters from Man Chai; it was an old tradition passed down through various parts of Guangdong. His grandmother used to perform it quite often in the past. Although they didn't do it anymore, she would still bring it up during festive seasons, much like how people mentioned inviting the Basket Maiden during the Mid-Autumn Festival.

A Foshan proverb says, "On the night of the thirtieth of the twelfth month, it is time for the mice to marry off their daughters." Legend has it that on the eve of the New Year, the wedding procession of the mice sets out from beneath the beds at the midnight hour. Candles are lit to illuminate the path for the mice's drum and gong orchestra, sedan chair bearers, and the bride, with the intention of marrying the mice off and sending them far away to distant places in order to eradicate the rodent infestation. According to the legend, when the wedding procession departs, one can faintly hear the sound of drums and music, firecrackers, and the squeaking sounds of the bride crying as she leaves her home.

I never expected that this village, located far away in Guangxi, would also preserve this custom.

Because Old Man Ma was advanced in years and had rendered a great service to the village this time, he had been invited out as an honored guest. Tu'e and I stayed behind in the house, waiting for the arrival of midnight.

It wasn't that I genuinely believed I would witness the spectacle of mice marrying off their daughters; rather, I had nothing of interest to discuss with the villagers, and instead of engaging in idle chatter with them, I preferred to stay put.

The village was quiet, as it was not yet time to set off firecrackers. Only the sounds of distant, joyous banquet celebrations drifted over. When I was a child, the village probably celebrated the New Year in much the same way—the whole village gathering together to eat New Year's Eve dinner and chat about everything under the sun. Back then, it felt immensely lively. But my mindset was fundamentally different now, and besides, this wasn't my hometown, so I felt no sense of belonging.

I wondered how Uncle and Aunt were doing. They were probably spending the New Year in the city again; after all, with their busy work schedules, returning to their hometown for the New Year not only wasted time but also required handing out too many red envelopes.

A soft humming melody drifted over. I turned my head in shock and looked at Tu'e—it was actually him singing!

Although he hummed very softly, his pitch was dead-on. Wow! The guy could actually sing! You really couldn't tell by looking at him! Moreover, the tune he was humming had this gentle, lingering melody. If he had been humming something childish like *Big Head Son and Small Head Father*, it wouldn't have felt so jarring!

He kept humming to himself. As I stared at him, the more I looked, the more I felt something was amiss. Why hadn't I noticed before that his figure looked somewhat familiar, as if I had seen it somewhere previously?

The tune he was humming grew higher, and I suddenly remembered—it was on the sea! The singing I had heard back then, along with that long-haired man who was with the merman! At the time, I hadn't seen very clearly, and because the whole thing was so bizarre, it had felt just like a dream. But comparing the two now, Tu'e's silhouette bore a striking resemblance to him!

Wait, "Tu'e"—I suddenly remembered what that name meant! Tu'e was the water god who ruled the oceans in Zhuang mythology! No wonder I kept feeling like I had heard that name somewhere before.

This was far too coincidental, and with a strange sort of coincidence at that. "Tu'e" was the water god ruling the oceans, and his physical build bore an uncanny resemblance to that strange, long-haired man on the sea. While one couldn't say there was a direct connection between them, both were tied to the ocean!

When I first encountered Tu'e, it had also been in Hainan. Could that long-haired man I saw on the sea back then really have been him?

I couldn't help but think of the character "艮" (Gen). Surely that couldn't be a reference to the dugong (*ru'gen*)! Dugongs were also known as mermaids, which suddenly tied everything back to the ocean and the mermfolk!

This was utterly absurd! I was starting to doubt my own imagination! Things that were apparently completely unrelated now seemed to be inextricably linked!

"Try pinching my neck!" I said to Tu'e.