The next morning, Zhou Jiayu woke early. After breakfast, the four prepared to depart.

Shen Musi’s snow SUV, reportedly shipped over, could carry them to the foot of Sheshan. Due to the terrain, they’d park at the base and hike the rest of the way.

Sheshan’s landscape wasn’t treacherous, but year-round snow made the paths strenuous. It was early winter, yet the snow already reached their calves. Zhou Jiayu wondered what the peak of winter would look like.

Shen Musi estimated they’d reach the summit by evening if all went smoothly. Shen Yiqiong piped up, “And if it’s not smooth?”

Shen Musi glanced at him. “Not smooth? Depends how bad. If we’re really unlucky, we might never make it.”

Shen Yiqiong: “…”

Shen Musi added, “Avalanches happen here. If we hit one, buy a lottery ticket.”

Zhou Jiayu felt like that was jinxing it.

Trekking through snow was exhausting. The heavy military coat alone weighed several pounds. Zhou Jiayu thought he was fit, but he turned out to be the weakest of the group. Lin Zhushui’s face didn’t change, Shen Musi was slightly winded, and Shen Yiqiong bounced like a rabbit. Meanwhile, Zhou Jiayu panted like a bellows.

Shen Yiqiong teased, “Guan’er, got asthma? Why’re you wheezing like that?”

Zhou Jiayu gritted his teeth. “Don’t… huff… talk… huff… to me!”

Shen Yiqiong clucked, “Your body’s weak, man. Gotta bulk up.”

Too breathless to retort, Zhou Jiayu mentally marked Shen Yiqiong for payback.

The weather was decent, with no snowfall. They reached Sheshan around 4 p.m., as Shen Musi predicted.

Zhou Jiayu expected a remote, rundown village, but Sheshan’s buildings were striking—mostly neat red-brick houses.

At the village entrance, a few people sat, including an elderly man with white hair but a spry demeanor, making his age hard to guess.

“Mr. Lin,” the man stood to greet them.

Lin Zhushui nodded. “Elder Xu.”

The man, called Elder Xu, smiled. “You’re too kind. I don’t deserve ‘Elder.’ Call me by my name if you don’t mind.”

Lin Zhushui shook his head. “You’re too modest. Elders are teachers.”

After some polite back-and-forth, Lin Zhushui insisted on “Elder Xu,” and the old man relented.

They walked into the village, chatting.

Accompanying Elder Xu were two men and a woman, all fixated on Lin Zhushui with worshipful eyes. Zhou Jiayu realized Lin Zhushui’s fanbase spanned even to Sheshan.

Elder Xu noted it was late and, knowing guests were coming, had prepared a feast. Business could wait until tomorrow.

Lin Zhushui agreed.

The banquet was at Elder Xu’s home, a red-brick building on the village’s west side.

Entering the courtyard, Zhou Jiayu noticed the building looked new, its bricks free of moss—maybe due to the cold or recent construction. But inside, he forgot the exterior. The decor was striking.

The walls were covered with paper figures, dressed in colorful clothes, faces painted vividly, some holding instruments. They instantly reminded Zhou Jiayu of the paper figures that attacked him.

Haunted by that memory, he froze, instinctively stepping back.

Elder Xu noticed, saying kindly, “You must be the young friend who had that incident?”

Lin Zhushui confirmed, “Yes.”

Elder Xu scanned Zhou Jiayu, praising, “Mr. Lin, you’re fortunate to have such a disciple.”

Lin Zhushui smiled. “You flatter him.”

Zhou Jiayu was baffled by the compliment.

Elder Xu didn’t elaborate, gently assuring Zhou Jiayu that the paper figures here were harmless, part of their culture. If he was uncomfortable, they could be removed.

Zhou Jiayu quickly said, “No, no, it’s fine. The ones that attacked me were scary, but I’m not that afraid.” As a guest, he couldn’t demand they change their customs.

Elder Xu didn’t press. It was clear the Sheshan people had a deep attachment to paper figures, their expressions softening when mentioning them.

Dinner was lavish. Elder Xu held high status in the Xu clan, and his household of over ten treated Lin Zhushui with great respect. Zhou Jiayu later learned Lin Zhushui had helped them years ago, earning their reverence.

Zhou Jiayu had little appetite, distracted by the paper figures. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but they seemed to move—arms down one moment, raised the next.

After a few instances, he wondered if he was hallucinating from stress. He checked with Ji Ba, who confirmed, “You’re not wrong. They’re moving.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…”

Ji Ba added, “That red-clad one on your left was staring at Lin Zhushui earlier. Now it’s eyeing you.”

Zhou Jiayu glanced up, meeting the paper figure’s gaze.

The moment was awkwardly tense. He swore he sensed embarrassment from it.

Zhou Jiayu: “…” He looked away, focusing on the cured meat before him, convincing himself it was all in his head.

Shen Yiqiong, gorging beside him, noticed Zhou Jiayu’s near-fainting look and patted his back, mumbling through a mouthful, “Eat, Guan’er! You not hungry?”

“I can’t eat…” Zhou Jiayu muttered.

Shen Yiqiong said, “You’re too picky, that’s why you’re so weak.”

Zhou Jiayu wanted to crack open Shen Yiqiong’s skull to check if his nerves were chopstick-thick.

Shen Musi noticed too, whispering, “It’s fine. Teacher’s here. These paper figures aren’t dangerous, unlike the ones that attacked you.”

Zhou Jiayu forced a smile and nodded.

The meal was torturous. Lin Zhushui, as usual, barely ate. Elder Xu, familiar with his habits, didn’t urge him. Zhou Jiayu fixated on the paper figures, Shen Musi ate lightly, and Shen Yiqiong, the clueless glutton, ate heartily. Zhou Jiayu envied his carefree nature.

After dinner, Elder Xu arranged lodging.

With four of them, they split between two houses. As a honored guest, Elder Xu insisted Lin Zhushui stay at his home.

Unable to refuse, Lin Zhushui agreed.

Zhou Jiayu, Shen Yiqiong, and Shen Musi were assigned to a guest room in the neighboring red-brick house.

Like Elder Xu’s, its walls were adorned with paper figures. The host was warm, providing hot water and urging them to ask for anything.

Zhou Jiayu, carrying his clothes to the bathroom, was startled to find paper figures there too, wrapped in plastic to protect them from water.

Knowing the figures outside moved, he stared at these for a long time, finally covering their eyes with his clothes.

Ji Ba said, “They’re just paper. So what if they see? They gonna do something?”

Zhou Jiayu snapped, “Did you forget I’m a big chicken drumstick to them? What if seeing me shower sparks some weird impulse?”

Ji Ba: “…” Speechless.

After showering, Zhou Jiayu entered his room, unsurprised to find more paper figures. He gave up, lying on the bed, feeling like a hapless character in a horror story. He was the only one unnerved—even Shen Yiqiong, the coward, was unbothered.

“Fine, fine, sleep,” Zhou Jiayu muttered, reassuring himself. “Nothing will happen. Lin Zhushui’s nearby.”

With that, he closed his eyes and drifted off.

But whenever he thought this, trouble followed. In the middle of the night, Ji Ba’s shrill voice woke him.

“Zhou Jiayu!! Get up, or you’ll turn into a roasted Guan’er!!!” Ji Ba screeched, deafeningly loud.

Zhou Jiayu jolted awake, smelling something burning. “What’s happening—”

Ji Ba yelled, “Fire! Fire!”

Zhou Jiayu scrambled up, threw on a coat, and ran for the door, only to find flames outside. Shockingly, the burning was the building’s walls.

Walls could burn? Zhou Jiayu was stunned, but looking closer, he saw the “red bricks” were thick layers of paper.

He collapsed mentally. “This is a code violation!”

Ji Ba urged, “Run! It’s only the second floor—jump from the balcony!”

Zhou Jiayu, panicking, dashed toward the balcony, but a familiar voice stopped him: “Zhou Jiayu!”

It was Lin Zhushui! Overjoyed, Zhou Jiayu shouted, “Teacher!”

At the burning doorway, a figure appeared in the firelight. Lin Zhushui said, “Zhou Jiayu, come here!”

Zhou Jiayu rushed forward, but mid-sentence—“Teacher, you…”—the figure grabbed his throat with crushing force, as if to snap his neck.

“Well, hello,” a voice, distinctly paper-like, purred from the smiling “Lin Zhushui.” “Long time no see. Miss me?”

Zhou Jiayu realized this wasn’t Lin Zhushui.

Too late. His throat was gripped tightly. The paper building fueled an unstoppable blaze. Oxygen was squeezed from his lungs as he struggled, clawing weakly at the figure’s arm.

“Think you’ll escape this time?” the sharp voice whispered in his ear. The figure, wearing Lin Zhushui’s face, bore a malicious grin Lin Zhushui would never show.

Zhou Jiayu’s vision blurred, heat rising as if he’d be roasted alive. Black spots danced before his eyes, and he felt life draining away.

Then, a deafening crash—like something smashed open. A gust of wind roared through, and Lin Zhushui’s voice, icy and deliberate, rang out: “You’re courting death!”

Beads clattered to the ground, followed by a scream. The grip on Zhou Jiayu’s throat released, and he collapsed.

Cough, cough, cough… Oxygen flooded back, making him cough uncontrollably. Something lifted him, and before he could react, it carried him toward the balcony.

Though only the second floor, Zhou Jiayu was too weak to climb, his eyes stinging from smoke. He expected a struggle, but whatever held him hoisted him up, wrapping a long band around his waist to lower him down.

Coughing violently, Zhou Jiayu glimpsed his rescuers in the firelight—two paper figures. Their eerie faces now seemed almost endearing. He caught one glance before being gently set on the ground.

“Zhou Jiayu! Zhou Jiayu!” Shen Yiqiong rushed over, frantic. “You okay?”

Zhou Jiayu lay on the ground, barely clinging to life. Despite all he’d been through since his rebirth, this was by far the most perilous moment. His throat throbbed painfully, leaving him unable to respond to Shen Yiqiong’s concern.

Shen Musi propped him up, pressing a water bottle to his lips. “Drink, quick, take a sip.”

Zhou Jiayu managed a swallow, the effort easing the searing pain in his throat. After a moment, he rasped, “What happened? Why… did it catch fire?”

Shen Yiqiong’s face darkened. “Someone tried to kill you.”

Zhou Jiayu muttered, “…I figured.” The paper figures had tried to kill him twice before, failing both times. But this attempt—setting an entire house ablaze—was massive. Yet, what terrified him most wasn’t the paper figures but the house itself, built entirely of paper.

Shen Musi asked, “Feeling better?”

Zhou Jiayu nodded, pulling himself upright to sit. “When did you guys get out? I didn’t even know there was a fire…”

Shen Yiqiong sighed. “We were tricked. It used your voice to tell us there was a fire, luring us out. It was chaos, and by the time we realized it was impersonating you, the whole building was up in flames.”

“Where’s Teacher?” Zhou Jiayu asked.

Shen Yiqiong hesitated. “Haven’t seen him.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Elder Xu’s gone too.”

Zhou Jiayu was certain he’d heard Lin Zhushui’s voice before being carried out. “But I heard Teacher’s voice right before I got out…”

“For real?” Shen Yiqiong asked skeptically.

Zhou Jiayu nodded. His throat still hurt, but he could speak. “I’m sure.” He hesitated, choosing not to mention the paper figure that had mimicked Lin Zhushui perfectly.

Shen Yiqiong and Shen Musi exchanged a glance, silent, their expressions suggesting they thought Zhou Jiayu had been dazed by the smoke.

The village didn’t bother fighting the fire. The Xu clan seemed to know the paper house was doomed once it ignited, standing quietly to watch it burn.

Shen Yiqiong scavenged some stools, and the three sat in the open space before the blazing house.

Zhou Jiayu, dazed, murmured, “I thought I was going to die in there.”

Shen Musi handed him a cigarette without a word.

Zhou Jiayu took it, puffing a few times, feeling steadier. “What about the others in the house?”

Shen Yiqiong said, “They weren’t so lucky. The two on the third floor broke their legs jumping. Probably at the village doctor’s now.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” So, being on the second floor made him relatively fortunate?

Shen Yiqiong continued, “The fire started on the third floor. By the time it tricked us out, it was already raging. Look, that’s the paper figure that posed as you.” He nudged a crumpled figure on the ground with his foot.

Zhou Jiayu glanced at it. The figure’s face was a simple sketch, yet it bore an eerie resemblance to him—enough to pass as him at a glance.

“It looked exactly like you in the house,” Shen Yiqiong said, gesturing animatedly to convince him. “I swear, identical!”

Zhou Jiayu nodded, believing him. After all, he’d seen a figure identical to Lin Zhushui. How it was done, he couldn’t fathom.

The paper house burned fiercely, flames casting a lonely glow on Zhou Jiayu’s face.

An Xu clan member approached, asking if they wanted to rest in another house. Zhou Jiayu, after a pause, asked seriously, “Are all your houses made of paper?”

The questioner, a young girl, looked embarrassed. “Uh… yeah, they are.”

Zhou Jiayu’s face twisted. “What do you do if there’s a fire?”

She whispered, “They usually don’t catch fire…” Glancing at the burning house, she faltered, her voice dropping. “Of course, there are exceptions.”

Zhou Jiayu felt oddly calm, a testament to his resilience.

Shen Yiqiong and Shen Musi, however, were incredulous. “Paper?” they pointed at the house.

The girl nodded.

Shen Yiqiong patted Zhou Jiayu’s shoulder. “You surviving is a miracle.”

Zhou Jiayu had no response.

The girl, resigned, said, “So, you staying? I’ve cleared out a clean house—the only brick one we’ve got.”

Zhou Jiayu replied, “I’ll stay here a bit. Have you seen my Teacher?”

“Mr. Lin? He left at midnight with my grandpa to the cemetery,” she said. “Only our clan’s priests can go there. Mr. Lin’s an exception because he helped our clan, but you definitely can’t.” Her grandpa was Elder Xu, the clan’s priest.

Relieved Lin Zhushui was safe, Zhou Jiayu sat, watching the flames, feeling as if his bones had collapsed, his body limp. He just wanted to sit, doing nothing.

The girl, seeing he wasn’t ready to sleep, gave him the brick house’s location and keys before leaving.

The paper house burned for hours.

Whistling cold wind scattered ashes everywhere, flecking Zhou Jiayu’s black hair. He realized the Buddhist beads Huiming had given him were gone, likely broken when he was nearly strangled, burned to nothing in the fire.

“Jiayu, let’s rest,” Shen Musi said.

Zhou Jiayu brushed ash from his hair. “Alright.”

The house was nearly gone, reduced to a pile of ash, confirming it was all paper—no beams left.

They called it sleep, but rest was impossible. The brick house, long unused, was hastily cleaned. It had one bed, barely fitting three.

They didn’t talk much. Shen Musi lit a stove, saying, “Sleep. Teacher should be back by dawn.”

Zhou Jiayu lay staring at the ceiling, the finger marks on his neck now purplish-blue.

“Why’s that thing so fixated on Guan’er?” Shen Yiqiong muttered. “Is there a reason it has to kill him?”

Shen Musi paused. “Zhou Jiayu’s constitution is a big issue. Like a magnet, it draws those things.”

“I need to step up,” Zhou Jiayu murmured. “Can’t always rely on Teacher.”

He’d leaned too much on Lin Zhushui. What if Lin Zhushui wasn’t there one day? How would he handle this? But Zhou Jiayu didn’t want to dwell on it. Closing his eyes, he pictured their parting, pretending to sleep.

Shen Yiqiong and Shen Musi fell silent, and the room grew quiet.

After a day of hiking and the night’s ordeal, they were exhausted. Zhou Jiayu’s sleep was fitful, half-awake.

Shen Musi stayed by the stove, not sleeping. Near dawn, he stepped out, likely because Lin Zhushui had returned.

Zhou Jiayu woke to the door’s creak, hearing Shen Yiqiong’s faint snores. Glancing over, he thought Shen Yiqiong’s dark skin made him nearly invisible against the wall.

Slipping on a coat, Zhou Jiayu crept to the window, spotting Lin Zhushui in the snow, talking with Shen Musi.

He hid carefully, but Lin Zhushui noticed, turning and beckoning him.

After a brief hesitation, Zhou Jiayu went out.

“Teacher,” he croaked.

“Your neck okay?” Lin Zhushui, despite being blind and just back, seemed fully aware of his condition.

“It’s fine,” Zhou Jiayu said. “Senior Brother Musi gave me water, and it’s not so bad now.”

Lin Zhushui nodded.

“The beads Master Huiming gave me… they’re gone,” Zhou Jiayi said.

“A small thing,” Lin Zhushui replied. “I’ll get you a new string later.”

“Okay,” Zhou Jiayu said.

Dawn broke. The burned house was gone, leaving only blackened ash.

Lin Zhushui said, “Last night, I visited the Xu clan’s cemetery.”

“Cemetery?” Zhou Jiayu asked.

Lin Zhushui paused. “Outsiders can’t enter. I didn’t expect him to be so bold, attacking you while I was away.”

Zhou Jiayu wanted to tell Lin Zhushui something privately, and Lin Zhushui, sensing it, sent Shen Musi to rest.

Alone, Zhou Jiayu recounted seeing a paper figure identical to Lin Zhushui. Lin Zhushui sneered, “He’s got some guts. I injured him badly this time. He won’t dare act for a while.”

“It was you who saved me…” Zhou Jiayu said, recalling the two small paper figures dragging him from the fire.

“No,” Lin Zhushui said. “You saved yourself.”

Zhou Jiayu didn’t understand, but Lin Zhushui offered no explanation, so he let it go.

The next day, exhausted, they stayed in the brick house, catching up on sleep.

Zhou Jiayu, dozing lightly, was jolted awake by rustling sounds. Alert, he checked the window.

What he saw nearly floored him.

Outside, seventeen or eighteen paper figures—some from Elder Xu’s walls—were hauling what looked like bricks, building something. Closer inspection revealed they were constructing a house, and the “bricks” were paper.

Zhou Jiayu: “…” He was genuinely worried about this village’s fire hazards.

The paper figures worked fast, erecting the outer walls in no time. Astonishingly, once finished, the paper walls transformed to look like brick, indistinguishable from real stone.

Zhou Jiayu watched, dumbfounded.

In two or three hours, a three-story house stood, complete with intricate details.

Nibbling a sweet potato, Zhou Jiayu thought, Good thing the Xu clan isn’t in real estate. These houses are a buyer’s nightmare.

After finishing, a brightly dressed paper figure ran toward him. Zhou Jiayu tried ignoring it, but it reached his window, waving cheerfully. “Hello!”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” He wasn’t sure if he should respond.

The figure, resembling a girl with pigtails, seemed shy. “We… we like you.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” After a pause, he said, “Thanks.”

“You smell nice,” it said. “Like something tasty…”

Zhou Jiayu: “…Thanks.” He was at a loss.

“Bye!” The figure twirled away, polite but leaving Zhou Jiayu silent, wondering if he was hallucinating from exhaustion.

The rebuilt house proved it was real.

The fire’s only casualties were the two homeowners who broke their legs jumping from the third floor. Zhou Jiayu saw them, on crutches, moving into the new paper house.

The scene was absurd, but laughing felt wrong.

The village’s paper figures, no longer hiding, roamed freely. Shen Yiqiong woke to a changed world, freaking out at the window. “What the hell? Am I still asleep? What are those paper figures?”

Zhou Jiayu, calmly digging out a sweet potato by the stove, said, “Paper figures. Literally.”

“But why are they moving?” Shen Yiqiong demanded.

Peeling his sweet potato, Zhou Jiayu said, “They’ve always moved. At that first dinner, they were eyeing your bone.”

Shen Yiqiong was stunned by Zhou Jiayu’s calm. “Guan’er, you okay?”

“Fine,” Zhou Jiayu said, biting the warm sweet potato. “Want one?”

Seeing Zhou Jiayu’s nonchalance, Shen Yiqiong wondered if he was overreacting. He grabbed a sweet potato and joined Zhou Jiayu, munching while watching the paper figures scamper outside. They had distinct personalities—some lively, some shy, some curious, some stern. The bold, cheerful ones even waved at their window.

Shen Yiqiong, initially uneasy, grew numb, occasionally chatting with them.

When Lin Zhushui entered, he overheard his two idiots’ conversation.

Shen Yiqiong said, “That one in the red jacket looks better than the green one.”

Zhou Jiayu replied, “They’re both okay. Green’s nice too.”

Shen Yiqiong argued, “Nah, green’s too dated. Red’s more stylish.”

Lin Zhushui: “…”

He’d entered silently, and Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong only noticed after a while, jumping up to greet, “Teacher!”

Lin Zhushui said, “Zhou Jiayu, rest up today. Tonight, you’re coming with me somewhere.”

Shen Yiqiong piped up, “Teacher, what about me?”

“You and Musi stay here,” Lin Zhushui said.

Shen Yiqiong whined, “I wanna go too…”

“You can’t,” Lin Zhushui said.

“Why not?” Shen Yiqiong asked.

“Because the paper figures don’t agree,” Lin Zhushui replied.

Though it sounded like a joke, Lin Zhushui was serious. Shen Yiqiong, speechless, muttered about the paper figures chatting with him. Then, crestfallen, he realized most were drawn to Zhou Jiayu, barely noticing him.

Zhou Jiayu, flattered, asked, “Teacher, where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Lin Zhushui said. “We’re settling this at its root.”

Zhou Jiayu didn’t grasp what “at its root” meant until that evening, when he followed Lin Zhushui out and realized Lin Zhushui was taking him to meet the ancestor of these paper figures.

__

Author’s Note:
Hahaha, An Jin’s comment was too good not to share:
Zhou Jiayu: Sleeping on the floor, so pitiful.
Lin Zhushui: We were too pure before.
Zhou Jiayu: Pure?
Lin Zhushui: But if we get less pure, I might end up on the floor.