Chapter Sixty-Three: Tea and Tales

Jiang Yun had completely put Xiaoliang’s matter out of her mind and continued recording the show. Although today was Jiang Yun’s birthday, she didn’t ask for any special treatment. She joined the five others, following He Ling to pick apples in the fields. It was apple harvest season, and soon there would be none left.

“It’s almost five o’clock. Let’s head back!” He Ling called for everyone to return.

“Alright!” the others replied.

The camera crew followed the six of them back. Upon returning to the Mushroom House, Huang Kang began to cook.

“Jiang Yun, since today is your birthday, I’ll make you a bowl of longevity noodles.”

“Thank you!”

Huang Kang busied himself in the kitchen. Jiang Yun wanted to help, but he stopped her.

“Longevity noodles are ready!” Huang Kang finally brought the dish to the table, and everyone gathered to eat.

As they ate, they chatted and laughed, presenting an ordinary scene beneath the cameras.

“Jiang Yun, don’t do the dishes. Let me handle them!” Zheng Ling stepped forward, so heavily it seemed the house shook.

Cai Duofen and Zheng Ling took care of the dishes, while Jiang Yun, Shen Luo, and the other three sat together, drinking tea.

After a while, Zheng Ling and Cai Duofen joined the tea circle as well.

Once everyone was present, He Ling took the lead. “Let’s not play games tonight. How about I host a story hour?”

“What’s a story hour?” Huang Kang voiced everyone’s curiosity.

“We just share some eerie detective tales or folk stories.”

“Great!” Cai Duofen responded, her carefree nature evident.

“Ah—won’t that be scary?” Zheng Ling looked miserable.

“Let’s take a vote!”

“I agree!” Shen Luo was first to raise her hand.

Jiang Yun hesitated, then raised her hand too. Cai Duofen followed, and finally Huang Kang. Only Zheng Ling looked distressed.

“Minority follows the majority. Who goes first?”

“I will,” Jiang Yun smiled. “I just happen to have a story!”

“Alright, you’re up first.”

“Listen closely.”

She cleared her throat and began: “In the old days, there was a man who sold mutton.”

They sat around, with only a single lamp illuminating the room.

“Ugh—just from the beginning, I don’t want to hear it!” Zheng Ling covered her ears.

“I won’t listen, I won’t listen!” She shook her head.

“No cheating, Zheng Ling!” He Ling chided. “Go on, Jiang Yun.”

The dark room, the dim lamp, the circle of friends—there was something eerie about the scene.

Jiang Yun continued, “In the old days, there was a man who sold mutton. Every day, at the crack of dawn, he would rise and ride his bicycle from village to village, calling out his wares.”

Zheng Ling edged closer to Cai Duofen. Both hugged their knees, wrapped in blankets.

“One morning, he took a shortcut and passed a graveyard. There, a man stopped him to buy two pounds of mutton. The seller sliced off the meat and, without looking closely, took the money.”

“He then continued on to the next village. By noon, he was returning the same way and passed the graveyard again. Something felt off, so he glanced at the graves.”

“What he saw startled him—a chunk of mutton sat on every grave mound. Each and every one. He pulled out the money he’d been given, and found it was all paper money used for the dead.”

‘Boo!’ Jiang Yun shouted at Zheng Ling.

“Ah! Ha ha!” Zheng Ling was so frightened she burst out laughing.

“You scared me!” She slapped Jiang Yun’s arm.

“My story’s done! Who’s next?”

“Since you’ve finished, let me go next—it was my idea after all,” said He Ling, sipping tea.

“Ahem, everyone listen! Here’s the first story: The Story of Penguin Meat!”

The five listened intently, even the director’s team pricked up their ears.

“Xiao Ming ate penguin meat at a friend’s house and ended up committing suicide. Why?”

There was a collective groan.

“What kind of story is that?” Huang Kang complained. “It’s like saying, ‘Let me tell you a story,’ and then just passing gas.”

“Huang Kang, mind your manners, there are ladies here,” Shen Luo tugged his sleeve.

“How am I not being polite?” Huang Kang rolled his eyes.

He Ling sighed. “It’s a riddle, a detective story. Try to solve it!”

Jiang Yun, hearing it was a riddle, rested her chin and pondered.

“I know!” Cai Duofen raised her hand. “Was Xiao Ming just too excited to eat penguin meat?”

“No,” He Ling shook her head.

Zheng Ling was no longer afraid, joining in. “So why was it?”

“Did Xiao Ming have depression?” Shen Luo asked.

“No.”

“Then he must have had schizophrenia and only imagined eating penguin meat!” Huang Kang declared.

“Also not it.”

“What? Still not? Then what is it?” Zheng Ling pressed.

He Ling took a sip of tea. “Only Zheng Ling and Jiang Yun haven’t answered. You two try.”

“Then Xiao Ming must have had some mental illness!” Zheng Ling guessed.

He Ling shook her head.

“Your turn,” Zheng Ling nudged Jiang Yun.

Jiang Yun thought for a moment. “Maybe Xiao Ming had eaten penguin meat before, and realized this didn’t taste the same.”

He Ling paused. “That’s close!”

“Close…” Jiang Yun continued to ponder.

“Go on, you’re on the right track!” Zheng Ling cheered.

Jiang Yun thought a long while, but couldn’t find the answer and finally shook her head.

Seeing no one could solve it, He Ling decided not to keep them guessing.

“The answer is: Xiao Ming and his girlfriend went on an expedition to the Arctic. They encountered an avalanche, and Xiao Ming went snow-blind. They ran out of food. His girlfriend brought him ‘penguin meat’ every day, and he survived—she did not.”

“When Xiao Ming finally ate real penguin meat again, he realized that what he’d eaten back then was not penguin at all, but his girlfriend’s flesh. Overcome with grief, he took his own life.”

“What kind of answer is that?” Zheng Ling jumped up.

“That’s so twisted!” Cai Duofen exclaimed.

“This is fun! Let me tell the next one!” Huang Kang was eager.

“Listen, everyone—here’s the second story: The Train Jumper.”

“Xiao Ming was blind…”

“Xiao Ming again?!” Cai Duofen protested.

“It’s a different Xiao Ming, just listen!”

“Alright, alright!”

“Xiao Ming was blind. He went to a neighboring town for treatment. On the way back, as the train passed through a tunnel, he jumped off and killed himself. Why?”

Huang Kang, exasperated, said, “I let one go—why did that happen?”

“Ha ha!”

“Honk honk honk!” Cai Duofen and Zheng Ling laughed, imitating geese.

He Ling said, “Old Huang, be polite. There are ladies present!”

“How am I impolite? But you—your stories are both missing their beginnings and ends!”