Chapter 56: Status

A fine rain, like threads, fell ceaselessly, weaving a curtain of white mist. Fang Baoliang tore off his oilskin coat and bamboo hat, letting himself be drenched entirely by the rain.

With Fang Yue’s acknowledgement, the heavy stone weighing on his heart finally settled, and he breathed out in relief. Rationally, he knew he ought not to have sought out Fang Yue, should have kept his distance. Yet, caught in the whirlwind of sudden change, Fang Baoliang’s heart was filled with fear and unease.

Not everyone can accept becoming a monster.

Especially after encountering that terrifying creature in the depths of the sea, the one that brought him back from the dead, Fang Baoliang felt no gratitude—only endless fear. This fear surpassed even the terror of death itself.

His request to Fang Yue to learn martial arts was, in a sense, a desperate attempt to grasp at anything. When Fang Yue exposed his true identity, Baoliang regretted it deeply, his panic reaching its peak. He thought instantly of the demon dog that had died at Fang Yue’s hand.

Fortunately, things did not turn out badly. Fang Yue recognized his existence, did not treat him as he had the demon dog. To Fang Baoliang, that meant everything.

For a person, if one cannot find meaning in their own existence, madness comes easily.

Fang Yue, in Baoliang’s eyes, was a man of insight and ability. Receiving his recognition relieved a great burden, even if he must live as a monster.

It is like the tales told in the countryside: mountain spirits and wild demons, after cultivating their powers, wish to transform into human form. They descend from the mountains and ask the first person they meet, “Do I look like a human?”

If the answer is “Yes,” the demon succeeds in its transformation, taking on a human shape. If the answer is “No,” the transformation fails, and it becomes grotesque and ugly, losing much of its power.

Of course, these are mere rural legends, not to be taken seriously, but the principle is similar.

“Status”—that elusive thing—may seem useless, but for people, and those wishing to become human, it holds great meaning. It represents one’s existence within society.

Rain soaked him through, but Fang Baoliang felt invigorated. Since crawling out of the sea, he had developed a strange dependence on water.

...

Fang Baochen felt uneasy.

Outside, rain was falling. He sat indoors, reviewing his lessons, the window directly facing the eaves left open.

His sister-in-law, Chen Xiangyu, sat beneath the eaves, motionless, staring fixedly in his direction.

Of course, Chen Xiangyu was watching the fine rain falling in the courtyard; it just happened to be aimed this way.

What unsettled Fang Baochen was that she had been staring at the rain for a long time, her gaze strange—intense, yet unfocused.

Her face was devoid of blood, deathly pale. In the dim light of the rainy day, she looked as eerie as a corpse sitting in a mountain village.

Baochen set aside his book, deciding to go out and ask what was wrong, since Chen Xiangyu had been sitting there for nearly an hour since morning.

His parents had gone out to sea. For veteran fishermen, a bit of drizzle and wind was nothing to worry about.

His elder brother, Fang Baoliang, had also gone out early, destination unknown.

Only he and his sister-in-law remained at home.

Though Chen Xiangyu had never cared much for her brother-in-law, Baochen felt that, as the only man left in the house, he should take responsibility—even if he was only ten years old.

He stepped out, crossed the main hall, and approached Chen Xiangyu from behind, calling out, “Sister-in-law.”

She did not respond, nor did she turn her head, remaining seated and dazed.

The rain continued, water from the broken tiles on the eaves dripping and splashing loudly.

Baochen’s nerves grew tense. Chen Xiangyu’s state was clearly abnormal.

“Sister-in-law, sister-in-law,” Baochen called out twice more, still no response.

She sat there as if all life had drained from her.

There was a fishy smell coming from her, the stench of dead fish.

Baochen knew that, despite her unpleasant personality and laziness, Chen Xiangyu was very clean and would never let herself smell so strongly.

He reached out, trembling, to tap her shoulder. Under his hand, it felt soft—not like flesh and bone, but as if something else filled her skin.

Suddenly, Chen Xiangyu turned her head sharply, startling Baochen.

“Sister-in-law, are you… are you alright?” he stammered.

She looked dreadful—her face was ghostly white, her eyes empty and lifeless.

If she hadn’t moved, Baochen would have suspected she was already dead.

Just then, his brother returned from outside.

...

“Brother, why are you soaked through?” Baochen asked, seeing his brother carrying the rain gear yet dripping wet—a clear sign he had walked in the rain.

He had the gear but didn’t use it—quite odd.

Baoliang shook his head. “I was in good spirits, decided to walk in the rain.”

Baochen didn’t press further. “Brother, sister-in-law seems unwell. Is she sick?”

Normally, Baoliang was very attentive to his wife. If Chen Xiangyu said she felt even a little ill, he would be frantic, asking questions, running errands, buying whatever she wanted, borrowing money if necessary, and never hesitated to fetch doctors and medicine.

Fisherfolk rarely called for doctors over small illnesses—usually they endured it, perhaps buying some herbs, and only sought medical help when things got serious.

But Baoliang would go to town several times a year to get doctors for Chen Xiangyu, buy her things, driving the family into poverty and even incurring debts.

Baochen expected his brother to worry again, given Chen Xiangyu’s odd state.

Yet, unexpectedly, Baoliang only glanced at his wife and said, “Don’t worry. She’s fine. It’s almost noon; you must be hungry. Let your sister-in-law cook.”

He looked at Chen Xiangyu.

Baochen was dumbfounded—not only was his sister-in-law in no state to cook, but she had never prepared a meal since marrying into their family.

He turned to look at Chen Xiangyu, thinking his brother’s attitude would surely provoke her fury.

Given her domineering temperament, this was only natural.

But, to his surprise, beneath Baoliang’s gaze, Chen Xiangyu seemed fearful and submissive, obediently rising and walking woodenly towards the kitchen.

Baochen was stunned again and looked back at his brother.

“Don’t overthink it,” Baoliang said, tossing his rain gear into the corner and patting his young brother’s shoulder. “Go study in your room. I’ll call you when the meal is ready. Your big brother’s useless; in the future, the family will count on you to bring it honor.”

Baochen nodded in confusion. He sensed that, not only was his sister-in-law acting strangely, but his brother was somewhat off as well.

A muffled thunder rolled across the sky, and outside, the rain suddenly intensified, turning the world into a white blur.