Chapter 65: Woman (2 / 2)

Shen Qingluan, kind as always, tried to cheer me up and convinced me to return to the camp. When we got back, what met my eyes was five freshly skinned yellow weasel pelts. The ground was littered with glands they had sliced out, releasing a pungent stench. As we approached, Cui Hai looked up from his busy work and sneered:

"Well, if it isn't Grandmaster Zhang back from his pilgrimage. You really missed out—our Zhang Da-xian was telling stories earlier that were better than Journey to the West. Just look at these little yellow weasels I caught—he nearly made them sound like demon lords from Lion Camel Ridge!"

The crowd burst into loud laughter. A few classmates tried to speak up for me, but their voices were quickly drowned out by the crowd and eventually even they joined in the ridicule.

Truth is, this Cui Hai was the son of a real estate mogul in Shenyang. I had noticed earlier that he'd driven up in a brand-new Range Rover, his whole outfit reeking of brand names.

People are like this—fickle and shallow. As the saying goes:

"Look around at a banquet—every toast goes first to the rich."

Zhou Han, who had been our PE rep and now apparently worked in a government office, joined in with a crude jab:

"Alright, Cui Hai, we get it, you're the ultimate hunter. I've never tasted yellow weasel before, but that stink gland sure smells ripe. What's the rush to boost your libido? Things not working so well lately, huh?"

More laughter followed.

Then Liu Ruoyi—still cold and sharp as ever—added:

"To be fair, Cui Hai isn't wrong. We're out here to have fun. What's the point of telling horror stories? What, are we all supposed to join some animal protection society now? So we're the bad guys, and someone else gets to play the saint?"

Her tone left no doubt that "someone else" was me.

I gave a bitter laugh. Deep down, it cut me hard. I'd come back to this reunion for one reason only: to see Liu Ruoyi again—my first love. But this? This was what I got? The way I felt… it was like someone had smashed open a jar of old emotions—sour, bitter, salty, and not a drop of sweet left.

Yes, the years had passed. Things had changed. We were no longer who we once were. Even though she had once been my girlfriend, the warmth of those days was gone. People change—and she had changed so much I barely recognized her.

That night was one of the hardest I'd endured in years. Even classmates who hadn't done so well in life sat with me like they were looking down on me. Maybe it was because of Liu Ruoyi's disdain… or maybe because of all their jeers at my profession.

I don't even remember how I got through it. Except for Shen Qingluan, everyone else treated me as some joke. Some even teased me into giving them fortune readings. But the worst part wasn't their mockery—it was seeing those five lifeless yellow weasel pelts laid out under the firelight. My heart sank.

"Let's hope… they really were just ordinary weasels," I muttered to myself.

They didn't understand. They thought I was full of tricks and lies. But I really, truly hoped nothing bad would happen to them. Not for their sake, maybe—but for the sake of the past.We were classmates, after all. Even if I didn't remember every name, we'd shared the same classroom for three years. That's something.

So I sat alone beside the bonfire, watching the others laugh and grill yellow weasel meat. Cui Hai munched loudly and claimed the meat tasted like lamb. Over ten of them tried it, laughing, shouting, cracking jokes.

Maybe it was because wild meat is rare, or maybe it was Cui Hai's big talk about its "enhancing effects," but they were clearly having the time of their lives.

But I couldn't let it go. Adult yellow weasels often burrow into human bodies to cultivate. These five were clearly just pups. So where was the mother?

Just as I was thinking that, a sudden jingling of bells rang out—clear and crisp. I turned to look.

And there she was.

A woman.

She must have been around forty, with a headscarf and tiny bound feet. Her face was narrow, almost animal-like. Something about her felt deeply… off. I couldn't quite say what it was. Maybe it was her features, or maybe it was those anachronistic bound feet.

What era was this? What kind of woman still had bound feet?Especially in this abandoned mountain village—no people for miles around. No homes. No light. No reason for a woman to be wandering around in the middle of the night.

I frowned, a chill running down my spine. She was not normal.

I tried to use my spiritual eye to see her true form—but the yin energy in the night air was too thick. My ability was blocked.

The woman was holding a rope, and at the other end was a goat with a small bell around its neck. The jingling sound came from there.

She walked right up to our campfire and asked calmly:

"Have any of you seen… my child?"