Chapter Seventeen: The One Cursing in the Dead of Night

The great ship struck with a crash, and the mysterious figure vanished in an instant, like smoke dissipating. Under the moonlight, the treacherous waves continued to lash relentlessly against the battered hull. Shao Qiu was terrified. Yet he dared not move, nor flee — there was nowhere to go, and no direction to escape toward. The wind howled ceaselessly; this night was unlike any other.

At that moment, a massive hand grasped Shao Qiu, and without resistance, he was pulled from the ship. Opening his eyes, he found himself lying in a desolate wasteland, surrounded entirely by water. “Where am I now?” he wondered aloud, but no answer came, only the relentless howling of the wind.

In the distance, beneath the faint moonlight downstream, the great ship slowly sank into towering waves, accompanied by the cries of the people and the furious roars of strong men unwilling to perish so easily. But Shao Qiu paid little heed; these events no longer seemed to concern him. He lay down in this forsaken place, listening to the vast river flowing eastward.

He was grateful not to have remained aboard the ship. Looking back, there was almost nothing left to see—everything had been swallowed by the great river. Only a few broken planks floated on the surface, and even these eventually disappeared into the depths of night, just like Shao Qiu’s long, sorrowful sigh, forever lost.

When Shao Qiu awoke, the darkness still lingered. In the wasteland, footsteps approached—strange and terrifying, neither wholly human nor spirit. Shao Qiu did not want to listen, much less look, yet he opened his eyes. The moonlight was blindingly white, and a vast black shadow silently advanced, its footsteps resounding like iron.

Shao Qiu ran desperately, trying to escape, but he stumbled and seemed unable to rise again. Yet he had to get up; behind him was the huge black man. What would happen if he were caught? The thought was too dreadful to imagine.

He ran blindly, unsure of direction, plunging into water at one moment, sinking into mud the next. Still, he did not give up and pressed on until he reached his dilapidated home. Sitting beneath a kerosene lamp, he pounded his chest. Fortunately, he was alive—a fate far better than death. At that moment, what else could he think of?

The next day, upon stepping outside, he learned the great ship had sunk, with many villagers from the forsaken hamlet perishing. As for why the ship sank, no one knew.

For a long time afterward, Shao Qiu dared not attend the market in Lü Town. If he went, he refused to travel by boat, choosing to walk instead. By the time he reached Lü Town, his feet were blistered and bleeding. Yet this was nothing compared to drowning in the floodwaters.

Night fell, and rain poured relentlessly outside. In this desolate village, being able to listen freely to the rain’s song was a small comfort. Suddenly, a voice shouted loudly, rushing toward Shao Qiu’s house from outside. Why they came, he could not say.

“Don’t go looking for trouble; this has nothing to do with you!” someone called out, though the words had little effect. The attackers continued their shouting, seemingly intent on killing the bookish recluse who lived here.

Shao Qiu was truly afraid, yet he had nowhere to flee. He sat by the kerosene lamp, hearing heavy breathing at his door. Suddenly, a knife struck the doorboard, the blade piercing through. Shao Qiu nearly wept in terror.

The black bandit bellowed, “Shao Qiu, come out! If I don’t chop you today, then I’m not a bandit—I’m your son!”

Shao Qiu paid no mind to these words, for his conscience was clear and he did not fear. Even if the bandit broke into his home, he believed no harm would come to him. Quietly, he sat on the broken stool, listening to the rain outside and the voices trying to calm the bandit.

“Damn it, if it weren’t for you, I never would have taken that boat. I took that boat to Lü Town to find you. If you hadn’t gone there to sell sweet potatoes, I wouldn’t have boarded that boat,” the bandit cursed loudly.

In truth, the bandit had lost nothing; he merely thought his wallet was gone. With no money and no outlet for his anger, after drinking, he came here to curse Shao Qiu. Shao Qiu was unaware of this and wanted to return the wallet, but seeing the bandit’s state, he dared not step outside for fear of violence. As a weak scholar with slender limbs, he could not withstand a single punch.

“You bastard, just you wait! If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have gone to Lü Town. Every time I see you, I want to hit you. If I don’t, it’s a waste. I’m going to hit you—what can you do about it?” The bandit’s curses faded as he walked away, carried off by the wind into the night.

Shao Qiu remained inside, his heart heavy and desolate. The rain continued o