txolops Chapter 381 I'm seasick
Chapter 381 I'm seasick
This shopkeeper is not quick to speak.
But the knife was quite accurate.
He finished his noodles, paid the bill, and gave the extra two silver coins.
Manager Hu looked at the silver.
"This is?"
Mo Chengyue said, "It's a fee for asking for directions."
Manager Hu confiscated it.
"What do you want to ask?"
Mo Chengyue asked, "Where does Old Zhou live?"
Manager Hu remained silent for a moment.
"The small house behind the watchtower on the west side of the ferry crossing."
"But he's not seeing anyone now."
Mo Chengyue said, "I'll give it a try."
Manager Hu frowned.
It's getting dark.
Mo Chengyue looked towards the door.
The last ray of sunset glow had been swallowed up by the river mist.
In the distance from the ferry crossing, the sound of water lapping against the wooden stakes could be heard.
It's like someone slowly clapping in the dark.
Mo Chengyue said, "That's why I'll go and come back quickly."
Manager Hu stared at him.
"Sir, Red Maple Ferry has no shortage of daring people."
Mo Chengyue stood up.
"I'm not brave either."
"I'm already here."
Manager Hu remained silent.
Suddenly, the stubble-bearded boatman stood up.
"I'll take you there."
The skinny boatman grabbed him.
"Old Zheng, have you gone mad?"
The stubble-faced boatman gritted his teeth.
"Old Zhou is my uncle."
"He went crazy for a month, saying every day that the ship would come back."
"I also want to know what that ship is."
The lean boatman was getting anxious.
"If you want to die, don't drag others down with you."
Old Zheng shook off his hand.
"I don't go near the river."
"Send it to the watchtower."
Mo Chengyue glanced at him.
"Can."
"But if you hear someone calling you, no matter whose voice it sounds like, don't turn around."
Old Zheng's face turned pale.
"Is it really that evil?"
Mo Chengyue thought for a moment.
"uncertain."
"But discussing it in advance can reduce after-sales disputes."
Old Zheng didn't understand.
But he understood and told not to turn around.
The two left the inn.
Manager Hu stood inside the door, watching their backs as they walked away.
The skinny boatman whispered, "Boss, why didn't you stop them?"
Shopkeeper Hu asked softly, "Can we stop them?"
The skinny boatman looked at the increasingly thick fog outside the door.
"Who exactly is that young man?"
Manager Hu lowered his eyes.
"Someone who can finish a bowl of noodles before investigating ghosts."
"At least he's not stupid."
The skinny boatman was stunned.
"You can tell from that?"
Manager Hu said calmly, "Fools usually rush to their deaths without even eating."
It's colder on the west side of the ferry crossing.
Only half of the wooden stairs remained on the watchtower, and the lanterns had long since gone out.
The small house next door leans against the maple tree, with a tattered wooden sign hanging at the door.
Old Zheng walked to within ten zhang and refused to come any closer.
"Young master, I'll be waiting for you right here."
Mo Chengyue nodded.
"Don't wander off."
Old Zheng nodded vigorously.
"I understand."
Mo Chengyue walked to the front of the small house and raised his hand to knock on the door.
thump.
thump.
thump.
There was no response from inside.
He knocked three more times.
This time, a dry, hoarse voice suddenly came from the crack in the door.
"No boat."
There are no boats tonight.
Mo Chengyue said, "I won't take a boat."
The sounds inside the room stopped for a moment.
"Then what are you doing here?"
Mo Chengyue said, "Ask about the boat."
The room fell silent instantly.
After a long time, dragging footsteps came from behind the door.
The wooden door was opened a crack.
An elderly man with gray hair was hiding behind the door, only half of his face showing.
His eyes were sunken, his lips were blue, and he was wrapped in a thick cotton coat.
Even though the weather wasn't cold, he was shivering as if he were standing in the snow.
He stared at Mo Chengyue.
"You saw it?"
Mo Chengyue replied, "Not yet."
The old man's eyes suddenly turned to terror.
"Then don't look."
"It's too late when you see it."
Mo Chengyue asked, "Why?"
The old man's throat bobbed, as if he was trying to swallow something back.
But the next moment, he suddenly reached out and grabbed Mo Chengyue's sleeve.
"Don't stand on the shore when the red light is on."
"Someone on board is taking attendance."
"Whoever is called on has to board the ship."
"We have to go, whether we want to or not."
Mo Chengyue looked down at the old man's hand.
The crevices under my fingernails were full of black grime.
There was a thin red line on the palm of his hand.
It looked like it had been cut by some kind of thread.
Mo Chengyue's eyes darkened slightly.
"Roll call?"
The old man said in a trembling voice, "Yes."
"It knows your name."
"I know which room you're staying in."
"I know who you most want to see."
Mo Chengyue's heart stirred slightly.
Soul Technique.
Mind control techniques.
Or some kind of formation that uses water vapor to transmit sound.
This is unlike ordinary evil spirits.
Just as he was about to ask more questions, Old Zheng's voice suddenly came from behind him.
"Young master."
"Have you finished asking your questions?"
Mo Chengyue did not turn around.
Because the sound was coming from the direction of the river.
Old Zheng was clearly outside the watchtower.
The old man's face turned deathly pale instantly, and he slammed the door shut behind him.
"They're here!"
"The ship is here!"
Mo Chengyue raised his hand and pressed down on the door panel.
"Old Zhou, one last question."
The old man was almost in tears.
"Don't ask anymore."
Mo Chengyue lowered his voice.
"Does the bride on the boat have any frost marks on her face?"
The old man froze.
How did you know?
A flash of coldness crossed Mo Chengyue's eyes.
There are indeed traces of a cultivator.
well.
This mission has begun to escalate from a "water ghost folk experience" to a "suspected outsider working overtime illegally".
Behind him, that voice that sounded like Old Zheng rang out again.
"Young master."
There are boats on the river.
Someone asked you.
"Would you like to board the ship?"
The fog rolled in from the direction of the ferry crossing.
An old red lamp lit up in the fog.
The light was dim and dull, like blood that had been soaked in water.
Mo Chengyue slowly opened the door panel of Old Zhou's house and turned around.
In the distance, by the river, Old Zheng stood beside the watchtower, frantically waving his hands at him with a look of terror on his face.
Meanwhile, another voice, "Old Zheng," was still laughing through the fog.
"Young master."
"Let's get on the ship."
Mo Chengyue touched the thunder talisman in his sleeve, and then touched the Moon Shadow Illusion Pendant.
Then he sighed sincerely.
"No."
"I am seasick."
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.
Fog pressed down from the river.
Unlike ordinary water mist.
Ordinary fog is scattered, cold, and drifting.
The fog felt like someone was slowly smearing a basin of cotton soaked in corpse water onto a person's face.
Mo Chengyue stood below the watchtower, the thunder talisman in his sleeve slightly warm.
He glanced at Old Zheng, who was waving frantically in the distance, and then at the old red light in the fog.
well.
The real and fake Lao Zheng are operating simultaneously.
The night shift system at Hongfengdu was even more rigorous than that of the Hehuan Sect's External Affairs Hall.
The voice in the fog was still laughing.
"Young master."
"The ship has arrived."
"If we miss this trip, we'll have to wait until tomorrow night."
Mo Chengyue spoke sincerely.
"Even tomorrow night can be missed."
There was a moment of silence in the fog.
The voice seemed surprised by his response.
The real Old Zheng, who was in the distance, was so anxious that his face turned pale, and he shouted in a low voice.
"Young Master Mo!"
"Don't respond to it!"
"Don't look at the lights!"
Mo Chengyue immediately looked away.
He doesn't have many good points.
But listening to advice counts.
Especially when advising him not to get on the wrong boat.
Old Zhou, standing behind the door, said in a trembling voice, "Young master, please come inside!"
"When the red light flashes, the riverboat invites passengers; if you respond three times, your soul will be taken away!"
Mo Chengyue lowered his head and counted.
The other person called him three times just now.
He replied three times.
But the content is "No," "I get seasick," and "I can miss tomorrow night."
Strictly speaking, it doesn't count as agreeing.
This is called the art of language.