Chapter 55: Misfortunes Never Come Singly

Bai Xian crouched beside Miao Hui’s corpse, unperturbed by the shattered skull and the horrific contortions of his face.

She sensed no trace of evil or supernatural presence lingering over Miao Hui’s body.

There was indeed a slippery mark at the spot where he’d fallen from the stairs—could it really have been an accident, a simple slip that sent him plummeting from above?

It was a pity that Miao Hui’s death had produced no soul to question; otherwise, she might have been able to inquire about the details.

She pressed his eyeballs back into their sockets and instructed Professor Guan to find a tattered mat in the villa to wrap the body, granting the dead at least a semblance of dignity.

Wu Hao and Meng Dejun, seeing Bai Xian—a “stranger” to them—go to such lengths, felt too ashamed to stand idly by.

Together, the two lifted the corpse and settled it in a storage room on the first floor.

Now, even if their archaeological work could continue, they would have to return to Sichuan University first to handle Miao Hui’s affairs.

“Where are Old Zhou and Ma Yu?” Guan Xingbang was about to ask Zhou Jun to get the bus ready when he realized that, despite all the chaos, neither the driver Zhou Jun nor Associate Professor Ma Yu had appeared.

For some reason, an uneasy premonition flickered in his heart.

“Master Zhou said early this morning he was going to check the vehicle.”

“As for Professor Ma,” Wu Hao added, “he spent the night working on the mural restoration. He sent me some materials at dawn before returning to his room.”

They knocked on Ma Yu’s door.

After a long moment, Ma Yu appeared in pajamas. Judging by his appearance, he had only just fallen asleep—not surprising, given the all-nighter spent restoring the mural.

When he heard the news of Miao Hui’s fatal fall, Ma Yu’s face registered utter disbelief.

He stood in the doorway, lost and devastated, blocking the entrance completely.

“How could something like this happen? The boy was about to graduate…”

Guan Xingbang seemed to age ten years in an instant at these words.

A heavy sorrow once more settled over everyone.

But then—

“Professor Ma, did you leave your room earlier?” Bai Xian’s question startled them all; her meaning was unclear.

“No, I spent the entire night working on the mural and only went to sleep after five this morning. Wu Hao can confirm it.”

Wu Hao nodded. Ma Yu had been sending him updates on the mural’s restoration in the early hours, asking him to continue the work that day.

Bai Xian made no comment, nor did she press further—her gaze, however, swept unobtrusively beneath Ma Yu’s bed.

Ma Yu was accounted for, but the driver’s room was empty.

Could he still be in the vehicle?

There was no road by the villa.

The minibus was parked over a hundred meters away, by the roadside.

Guan Xingbang called upon two male students and Bai Xian, and together they braved the downpour toward the minibus.

They trudged through muddy paths until the school’s vehicle came into sight.

The door was open, the interior light aglow. In the driver’s seat, a familiar figure was faintly visible.

Guan Xingbang felt a wave of relief.

“Old Zhou! Old Zhou?”

He rapped on the driver’s side window, but Zhou Jun made no response.

Wu Hao boarded, intending to shake his shoulder—

But a small, firm hand gripped his arm, and Bai Xian’s cold voice whispered in his ear: “Don’t move. He’s dead.”

Wu Hao recoiled in shock.

Looking closely, he saw a large dark stain on Zhou Jun’s shirt. At first, he’d assumed it was rainwater; now, he realized it was blood.

Zhou Jun’s upturned face was ghostly pale, his lips a deep blue.

Wu Hao staggered back in horror, nearly falling.

Bai Xian examined the body closely.

There was a caved-in spot atop Zhou Jun’s head, clearly the result of a heavy blow from behind.

Scattered on the floor was a half-finished pack of cigarettes.

There were no signs of struggle or a fight—the attack had been swift and deliberate, the work of someone familiar.

First Miao Hui, now Zhou Jun.

Two members had died, one after the other. Even Guan Xingbang, usually so composed, turned ashen and wilted.

“Who? Who would want to kill Master Zhou?”

When word of Zhou Jun’s death reached the villa, the two female students left behind nearly broke down.

If Miao Hui’s passing could be dismissed as an accident, Zhou Jun’s was clearly murder.

Murder.

They had only been in Old Tomb Village for two days, had no enemies, had provoked no one—why were they being targeted?

“We can’t stay here. We have to leave—now, right now!” Wu Hao’s face was wild with panic.

The pressure of Zhou Jun’s death was too much; even Miao Hui’s “accident” now seemed deeply suspicious.

Had Miao Hui truly fallen by accident?

But when Wu Hao reached the door, he found that no one else had moved.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you coming?”

“How?” Diao Tingting whispered. “The driver’s dead—who’s going to drive?”

Several of them had licenses, but the school minibus was a manual, and no one knew how to operate it.

Besides, the rain was so heavy that they could barely see the road; one wrong move and they’d plunge into a ravine.

No phone signal, no driver.

They were utterly trapped in Old Tomb Village.

“From now on, no one is to act alone—even going to the bathroom, at least two people together.” At last, Guan Xingbang took charge. “I’ll go to Director Sun’s house. The village must have other vehicles—if we pay, perhaps he can arrange a ride out.”

His plan was the only sensible one under the circumstances.

Xie Miao and Zhou Jun had both died while alone; staying together offered a measure of safety.

Soon, Guan Xingbang and Meng Dejun donned raincoats and set out for Director Sun’s home.

They’d wanted Wu Hao to go, but he was so terrified that, no matter how Guan Professor pleaded, he refused to leave the building.

There was no choice but to separate Gu Xiaohan and Meng Dejun, the young couple.

Without her boyfriend nearby, Gu Xiaohan felt emptier than ever.

Perhaps because of the incident with the monkey the night before, she instinctively drew closer to Bai Xian.

“Bai, what should we do now?”

During the meeting, Bai Xian had sat silent in a corner, her gaze passing over everyone’s faces, missing not a single flicker of emotion.

“Someone doesn’t want us to leave Old Tomb Village,” she said icily. “All we can do now is wait. I want to see exactly what he intends.”

The rain did not let up.

If anything, it grew heavier.

Over an hour passed before Guan Xingbang and Meng Dejun returned, bedraggled, with bad news:

The mountain road out of the village had been washed away by the rain. No vehicles could leave.

They were completely and utterly stranded in Old Tomb Village.

When misfortune comes, it seldom comes alone.

Perhaps from shock, both Wu Hao and Diao Tingting fell ill, developing mild fevers.

Now, not only did the team have to guard against danger, they also had to care for the sick.

Professor Guan gathered everyone’s bedding into the first-floor hall, laying the beds side by side.

At least now, no one would be left alone.

And yet, even so, disaster struck again the next morning.