abandoned village apartment

abandoned village apartment

Cai Jun

Section 1: A Strange and Unusual Tale

"I know where the deserted village is." This was the title of a post on a BBS. Clicking on it revealed a Flash animation—against a suffocatingly gloomy backdrop, turbid waves crashed against a desolate shore, and below the hillside lay a deathly silent village, its many black rooftops arranged haphazardly. On a cliff overlooking the village, a woman in white stood in the distance, her hair and clothes tossed about by the wind, accompanied by the most famous song from Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical *The Phantom of the Opera*. It turned out this Flash animation was created by a netizen after reading my novel. Was this their vision of the deserted village? The familiar melody of *The Phantom of the Opera* played over and over again in the Flash animation. I took a deep breath. Since my novella *The Deserted Village* was published in *Sprout* magazine, my life had been disrupted by it. And because of this novella, an extremely mysterious figure had entered my life—as for who this mysterious figure was, I will tell you in detail later. Besides this mysterious figure, several other significant events happened around me, which still send shivers down my spine when I think about them. These events were so unbelievable that when I told many journalist friends about them, not a single one believed me; they all thought it was from my latest novel. I really regret not having a DV camera with me at the time to record everything on video, making a chilling and heartbreaking documentary. Otherwise, who would believe such bizarre things? So, just consider this a strange tale you overheard while relaxing in the cool of the night!

In many of my novels, the stories resemble the circular ruins described by Borges, without beginning or end. Any point along the story's trajectory can open a secret door, leading to another world of imagination… However, to tell this story, we must begin with the spring of that year, when my novella "The Deserted Village" was published in the April issue of *Mengya* magazine. This novella of over 20,000 words tells the story of a deserted village that first appeared in my novel *The Ghost Inn*, a desolate little mountain village in eastern Zhejiang, nestled between the sea and a cemetery. But in reality, I've never been to the deserted village, because it's purely a figment of my imagination. If it weren't for a book signing event, the deserted village would have remained only in my imagination.

The book signing for *The Ghost Inn* took place in a bookstore in the subway. It was a cold winter night, and as the signing was about to end, a girl named Xiaozhi appeared before me. She wore an oversized sweater that didn't fit her at all, and her long black hair was tied in a ponytail; she looked like a female college student. This strange girl had a pair of beautiful eyes, with an indescribable quality in them. She asked me to sign her autograph with a slight shyness, saying that her name was Xiaozhi and that she came from a place called the Desolate Village. I was immediately stunned, because the Desolate Village was just a fictional setting in the novel, yet she told me that the Desolate Village did exist, and that it was located between the sea and the cemetery. Although I couldn't quite believe it, I was still stunned by her, and her charming eyes, like a lost fawn in the dark, made me feel a certain fondness for her.

In an instant, I made a decision: I would ask Xiaozhi to take me to the deserted village to see what the fictional place in my novel was really like in reality. After waiting anxiously for several weeks, Xiaozhi finally agreed to my request and took me on a long-distance bus to the deserted village. Xiaozhi told me that the deserted village was located in Xiling Town, K City, on the eastern coast of Zhejiang Province. Eight hundred years ago, after the Jingkang Incident in the Song Dynasty, the remnants of the Central Plains fled to this desolate coast and settled there, thus giving rise to the deserted village. Xiaozhi was born and raised in the deserted village and was admitted to a prestigious university in Shanghai two years ago. She was currently home for winter vacation. After a long and winding journey, Xiaozhi and I finally arrived at the deserted village. It was indeed situated between the sea and a cemetery, with desolate mountains and cliffs everywhere. Time seemed to have stood still here.

The abandoned village apartment dates back to a desolate era hundreds of years ago. At the village entrance stands a massive stone archway inscribed with the four characters "贞烈阴阳" (Chaste and Virtuous, Yin and Yang). Legend has it that during the Jiajing era of the Ming Dynasty, a scholar from this village passed the imperial examinations, and the emperor bestowed this archway upon his mother to honor her. Xiaozhi led me into the village to an ancient house with the inscription "进士第" (Jinshi Di, Residence of a Scholar). This was Xiaozhi's home, and the grand archway at the village entrance was a gift from her ancestors. The Jinshi Di house was dark and somber, with several courtyards. The main hall, called "仁爱堂" (Ren'ai Tang, Hall of Benevolence and Love), displayed an ancient scroll portrait. The large house was deserted; only Xiaozhi's father still lived there. He was a pale, thin middle-aged man who called himself Mr. Ouyang, speaking in a cold, indifferent tone, like a zombie. Naturally, there were no inns in this abandoned village, so after nightfall, I had no choice but to stay in this ancient house. Xiaozhi, carrying a kerosene lamp, led me to the second courtyard, where there was a room upstairs that had been empty for a long time.

I cautiously stepped into the ancient room, only to be surprised to find an old screen inside. It was a four-panel vermilion lacquer screen, likely an antique from before the Qing Dynasty. But what astonished me even more were the scenes depicted on it: the first panel showed a man and a woman gazing at each other with reluctance, seemingly a scene of a couple or lovers parting; the second panel depicted the woman again, appearing to be weeping, with a monk standing before her, offering her a flute; the third panel showed an interior scene where the woman sat alone on a bamboo mat, holding a flute to her lips, with a three-foot-long white silk ribbon hanging from the rafters; the fourth panel depicted the man from the beginning, lying beside a red lacquered coffin, and even more eerily, the coffin lid was open, and the man also held a flute. Looking at these paintings on the screen, I couldn't help but feel a chill run down my spine. Strange dark shadows flickered on the screen, as if the man in the paintings was about to step out from behind it. Xiaozhi told me the story depicted on this ancient screen—during the Jiajing era of the Ming Dynasty, there was a young couple in a deserted village. The wife's name was Rouge. At that time, Japanese pirates frequently roamed the area, and Rouge's husband was forcibly conscripted into the army and forced to fight against the pirates in another province. Before leaving, the husband made a promise to Rouge: three years later, on the Double Ninth Festival, he would definitely return home to meet her. If they could not meet by then, they would commit suicide together on the night of the Double Ninth Festival.

Three years later, the Double Ninth Festival approached, and her husband, still missing, remained unheard of. Rouge waited at the village entrance every day. One day, she met a wandering begging monk who gave her a flute, instructing her to play it on the night of the Double Ninth Festival, and her husband would return as promised. On the night of the Double Ninth Festival, Rouge played the flute, and when the mournful melody ended, her husband indeed returned home. Overjoyed, she removed his armor and gently helped him to bed. After several happy nights together, her husband suddenly disappeared. Soon after, Rouge heard that her husband had already died in battle on the night of the Double Ninth Festival. It turned out that on that night, her husband was fighting a thousand miles away, deliberately charging at the front of the army, and was killed by a hail of arrows. He died in battle, but in reality, he died for love, fulfilling his promise to his wife with his death. His soul flew across mountains and rivers, only to return to his desolate hometown. Just then, Rouge began to play a mysterious flute, its melodious tune guiding her husband's ghost home. That night, I couldn't sleep, thinking about the story all night. In the early hours of the morning, I finally left my room and discovered a sliver of candlelight coming from the next room. Suppressing my fear, I peeked through the window—a candle was burning on an old dressing table, its dim light illuminating a woman dressed in white. I couldn't see her face, only that she was combing her long, black hair.

I immediately recalled a scene from a classic horror movie and hurriedly fled back to my room. This was my first night in the deserted village. The next day, Xiaozhi took me to see the surroundings of the village. It was indeed a desolate and barren place, with barren mountains and a black sea, reminding me of "The Jamaica Inn." Xiaozhi always had that same expression, seemingly never happy, staring blankly at the sea. Watching her gaze at the sea, I suddenly felt a certain impulse, but I restrained myself. In the afternoon, in Xiaozhi's room, I saw a framed photo on the desk, containing a black and white photograph of Xiaozhi. She looked charming in the photo, but her eyes held a hint of melancholy. But Xiaozhi said that the person in the photo had died long ago. It turned out to be a photo of Xiaozhi's mother; the two looked so alike. Xiaozhi's mother had died of illness when she was very young, in the building where I now live. Her father raised her alone. She could only see her mother's face in photographs. At midnight that night, I suddenly heard the sound of a flute, seemingly coming from the mountains behind the village. The sound of the flute in the darkness startled me. I rushed out of the Jinshi Mansion and followed the sound to find the flute player on the mountain. It turned out that the flute player was Xiaozhi's father, Mr. Ouyang.

Section 2: The Descendants of Ghosts

A strange man in a deserted village went up the mountain at night to play the flute, a behavior that piqued my curiosity. The flute he carried was also very special, said to be several hundred years old. Sure enough, this flute must have a story. Sure enough, Mr. Ouyang told me that this was the mysterious flute that Rouge had played years ago, and Rouge's story had another version—hundreds of years ago in a deserted village, Rouge played this flute on the night of the Double Ninth Festival and reunited with her husband's ghost. Three months later, she discovered she was pregnant. It was a miracle. The child in her womb was the seed planted by her husband's spirit, who had died on the battlefield and returned. The villagers began to suspect her of infidelity, but Rouge insisted on her innocence. To protect her unborn child, Rouge endured immense suffering, carrying the pregnancy for ten months before finally giving birth to her son. Rouge raised her child alone, enduring discrimination and humiliation. More than a decade later, Rouge died from overwork, but her son studied diligently and later passed the imperial examinations, becoming a student of the emperor. The story of Rouge reached the emperor's ears, and he was moved by it, bestowing upon her a chastity archway to honor her virtue. It turns out the chastity archway at the village entrance was for Rouge, the Jinshi Mansion was built by her son, and Mr. Ouyang and Xiaozhi are both descendants of Rouge—descendants of a ghost?

I was so frightened that I ran back to the Jinshi Mansion. In the courtyard, I was surprised to find Xiaozhi dressed in white, wandering alone in the moonlight. She didn't say a word, her eyes seemingly sleepwalking. I immediately vanished without a trace. On the third day after arriving in the deserted village, I finally couldn't bear it any longer and decided to leave immediately. Before leaving, I said goodbye to Mr. Ouyang and Xiaozhi. They didn't try to stop me, but their words seemed to conceal something. I looked at Xiaozhi at the gate of the Jinshi Mansion. Although we had only met briefly, her pitiful gaze still made me feel a little bitter. I didn't know what to say, so I resolutely left the deserted village. Back in Xiling Town, I didn't immediately return to Shanghai. Instead, I went to the local cultural center director to ask him about the legend of the rouge in the deserted village. The cultural center director told me that twenty years ago, an ancient tomb from the Ming Dynasty near the deserted village was looted by tomb robbers. Mr. Ouyang reported the case, and the archaeological team immediately rushed to carry out a rescue excavation. They discovered that the tomb contained the skeletons of a man and a woman, as well as a relatively well-preserved epitaph that recorded the life and deeds of the tomb's occupants.

It turned out that this ancient tomb contained the remains of Rouge and her husband. The epitaph explained that during the Jiajing era of the Ming Dynasty, the southeastern region was plagued by Japanese pirates. Ouyang An, a villager from a remote village, was forcibly conscripted into the army. Before leaving, he made a promise with his wife that they would return home for the Double Ninth Festival three years later, or they would commit suicide together. Three years later, the Double Ninth Festival arrived, but Ouyang An was still fighting far away. Knowing he could not keep his promise, he resolved to die on the battlefield. On the night of the Double Ninth Festival, Ouyang An charged at the forefront of the army, struck by several arrows and collapsed. However, he was only seriously wounded and unconscious. He later recovered, and several months later, when he returned to his hometown in the remote village, he discovered that his wife had hanged herself on the night of the Double Ninth Festival.

Ouyang An was devastated. He longed to see his wife one last time, so he secretly opened her coffin and found her body intact, with a flute beside her. He carried the coffin home, and every year around the Double Ninth Festival and the Spring Festival, he would play the flute he had taken from the coffin at midnight. Several years later, one winter night, Ouyang An played the flute again, and his wife truly awoke from the coffin. Overjoyed, Ouyang An fed her thin porridge daily, and she finally recovered her health. His resurrected wife was still young and beautiful, and they lived a peaceful life, even having a son. Later, their son passed the imperial examination, ranking highly in the palace examination in the capital. The emperor, deeply moved upon hearing this, bestowed upon him a memorial archway honoring his wife's chastity. After hearing this version of the Rouge story, I was almost overwhelmed—was the story told by Xiaozhi and Mr. Ouyang true or false? But the grave doesn't lie. Suddenly, I felt as if I had fallen into an abyss reminiscent of Akira Kurosawa's *Rashomon*. What secrets is the Ouyang family hiding in this deserted village?

In an instant, I made a decision—to return to the deserted village immediately and unravel this secret. On that cold winter night, I traversed the steep hillside back to the village and heard a strange flute melody. Nothing could stop me then. I rushed into the mansion and found a faint light shining from the small building where I had once lived. I rushed into the room and found Xiaozhi dressed in white, staring blankly at the screen. Her face was so pale, her dark eyes staring blankly ahead, still in that sleepwalking state. I spoke loudly to her, but she didn't respond. Only then did I realize with astonishment—she wasn't Xiaozhi at all! Just as I felt a chilling fear, Mr. Ouyang suddenly appeared behind me and told me an unbelievable answer—she was Xiaozhi's mother. But I clearly remembered Xiaozhi telling me that her mother had died long ago.

Mr. Ouyang, from the abandoned apartment building, recounted his story. Twenty years ago, shortly after Xiaozhi was born, her mother passed away from illness. Mr. Ouyang was devastated and didn't want to live alone anymore. Soon after, his family's ancestral graves were robbed, and he saw the epitaph. His ancestor's story gave him a profound insight—if he followed the instructions in the epitaph, his wife would surely return to him. So, he often went up the mountain at midnight to play his flute, because this ancient flute possessed a mysterious magic that could bring your loved one back—and yes, she returned. I then remembered the photograph of Xiaozhi's mother in her room; she looked exactly like Xiaozhi. No wonder I mistook her for Xiaozhi. I realized that the woman combing her hair in the room next to mine on the first night was also her, and the woman wandering in the courtyard on the second night was also her. This was a couple, one human and one ghost. The still young and beautiful wife looked up at her now haggard and aged husband—he loved her deeply, whether she was dead or alive, even though they were separated by the realms of the living and the dead, he longed for his beloved to return home. But then I heard a strange flute melody, which hypnotically made me faint… When I woke up the next morning, the Jinshi Mansion was completely deserted.

I searched every room, finding only a thin layer of dust, as if no one had lived there for a long time. Anxious, I rushed out of the Jinshi Mansion and found the village chief of the deserted village, inquiring about the Ouyang family. The chief's answer terrified me even more. It turned out Mr. Ouyang was long dead! He had died of cancer three years ago, right there in the Jinshi Mansion. His wife had died of illness at home twenty years ago when he went to work in another city. As for Xiaozhi, she had been studying in Shanghai, but about a year ago, she died in an accident on the Shanghai subway. If the entire family of three in the Jinshi Mansion had long since perished, then who were Xiaozhi and Mr. Ouyang that I had seen? I couldn't stay in the deserted village any longer; perhaps this place belonged only to another era, to the strange tales in thread-bound books. Xiaozhi—I thought of her, but my body hastily left the deserted village. The imperial chastity archway still standing at the village entrance resembled a giant tombstone. Back in Shanghai, I asked a friend who worked for the subway company.

He told me that a year earlier, in the winter, at the very subway station where I was signing books, a serious accident had occurred: as the train was about to enter the station, a twenty-year-old female college student slipped and fell onto the tracks, and was run over and killed instantly. -- Her name was Ouyang Xiaozhi. The original text is over 20,000 words long, but due to space limitations, I can only give a brief summary here. In that rainy spring, after the novella "The Deserted Village" was published, hundreds of thousands of readers across the country read it, immediately sparking much controversy and numerous comments online. I hadn't expected so many readers to be so deeply immersed in the world of the deserted village; it seemed that this 20,000-word novel had a fulcrum that inadvertently triggered a soft spot in their hearts. However, what was more prevalent were the readers' various speculations about the "deserted village." Over a month, I received many emails, mostly inquiring about several unsolved mysteries in "The Deserted Village." I apologize for not answering them all, because at the time, I myself was also eager to know the answers. To my utter surprise

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