amaotonovel Chapter 347 When Will You Return from Your Journey to the West?
Chapter 347 When Will You Return from Your Journey to the West?
Chapter 347 When Will You Return from Your Journey to the West?
(One)
Under the low-hanging clouds, a three-story beige building looked particularly simple in the twilight. The lettering on the sign, "Guishan Hotel," had faded a bit, and under the dim streetlights, it exuded a unique twilight atmosphere characteristic of the old city.
A No. 37 bus slowly pulled up and stopped at the Guishan Han Tomb bus stop not far away. Only one young man with a large backpack got off at this stop. He looked up at the hostel sign, then looked down to check his phone, and then dragged his suitcase toward them.
He pushed open the glass door of the hostel with a "ding-a-ling," and the light from the front desk shone on his face, revealing only a figure with his back to him, lost in thought.
"Check-in."
The person turning around in the computer chair was an unremarkable middle-aged man, wearing a gray jacket and jeans, with short hair, and a bored, scrutinizing, and disdainful look in his eyes, as if he did not welcome anyone moving in to disrupt his enjoyment of life.
The young man placed his large backpack on the high table at the front desk, took out his phone, pointed to an app, and fluently recited a string of phone numbers.
"I booked a standard double room for one night."
As he spoke, his gaze had already moved past the middle-aged man's shoulder to look behind him. He caught sight of a string of discontinuous numbers, all less than 50, on the draft paper. Instantly, he decided to stop prying into the other man's privacy and ignore his increasingly wary gaze.
The middle-aged man grabbed his ID card with a "snap" and began struggling to operate the large, bulky computer. He impatiently tapped the mouse, trying to wake up the interface. This made the young man feel nostalgic. He recalled a time during a holiday when he had also stared blankly at the computer, wondering if the data he had deleted might have traveled from the already illusory online world to some more elusive destination.
The young man sat in a worn-out blue sofa, looking at the somewhat bizarre scenery across the street.
Across the street stood the vermilion gate of the Guishan Han Tomb Scenic Area, now tightly shut as darkness fell. Only a few palace lanterns on the gate tower remained lit, outlining the flying eaves of the Han Dynasty architecture in the deepening night. The wind was stronger than during the day, rustling the leaves of the sycamore trees along the roadside and making the faint announcements from the scenic area in the distance intermittent, seemingly advising stranded tourists to leave the area as soon as possible.
"Young man, you're too late. Did you miss the Guishan Han Tomb?"
The middle-aged man lit a cigarette and spoke in a Xuzhou-accented Mandarin, but it carried a provocative tone.
The young man frowned, looking down at his phone, his fingers seemingly typing rapidly. "Oh, no, I've been there before. It's just so-so, nothing special."
This surprised the middle-aged man, because the Guishan Hostel was positioned as a standard budget hotel, and few people would choose to stay here except for budget-conscious students traveling on a tight budget.
But he didn't say anything more. He finally typed the last word on the computer, then pressed the Enter key with a sigh of relief. He then took out a room key with rounded edges and said...
"203, the third room after turning the corner and going up the stairs."
The young man took back his ID card and room key, but showed no intention of going upstairs. Instead, he stood at the door for a while with his phone, seemingly making a call to someone. Only when the wind outside picked up did he silently return.
The middle-aged man silently finished his cigarette, stubbed it out in the ashtray, and watched the young man walk upstairs with a backpack on his back. His heavy footsteps seemed to be a deliberate act of venting, which made the middle-aged man frown slightly, but he just pursed his lips and didn't say anything.
(two)
When Feng Yue arrived at the door of room 203, the old carpet emitted a faint musty smell. He opened the door, and the room was unsurprisingly damp, which, combined with the stench rising from the bathroom drain, filled the air with an unpleasant mixture of gases.
He closed the bathroom door, turned on the exhaust fan, threw his large backpack onto the bed, and sat down on the edge of the bed. His fingers quickly found a hard-edged hole, which looked like a trace left by a previous tenant who had extinguished a cigarette—perhaps in this kind of air environment, smoking a cigarette is actually a good way to purify the air.
But Feng Yue chose to open the window. The word "Fast" was pasted on the cobalt blue glass, and the wind outside was getting stronger and stronger, making the billboards on the roadside rattle loudly.
He checked his phone; the blue gale warning issued by the XZ City Meteorological Observatory that afternoon was coming true. The few remaining pedestrians were quickening their pace, as the forecast predicted gusts of wind reaching level 7 to 8 from tonight until tomorrow.
In the distance, Turtle Mountain became a blurry silhouette in the night. More than two thousand years ago, King Xiang of Chu, Liu Zhu, rested in the belly of that mountain, separated from this bustling modern street by an invisible barrier of time.
A strong wind rushed into the room, finally bringing some refreshing air, but he frowned as he looked at the darkening sky outside the window, seemingly still struggling mentally.
Feng Yue came here to see a friend.
They had been classmates for many years, and in their small county town, such opportunities were plentiful. In fact, their homes were very close, separated only by an old, overgrown dormitory building. Whenever the afternoon sun poured down without any obstruction, unnamed little yellow flowers and Kalanchoe pinnata would quietly peek out from the cracks in the walls and the roof.
In Feng Yue's memory, the streets of the county town seemed to be perpetually in summer. There was no one on the road, and even the sparrows were too lazy to chirp. Only the distant buzzing of pigeon whistles could be heard on the wind, and the cobalt blue glass reflected the sky above. Yet, even at noon in June or July, there wasn't a single cloud in the sky.
He thought about it carefully and realized that it was his vivid memory of long summer vacations from elementary school, junior high school and high school, just like the abrupt and hazy prelude to "June Rain".
Later, he went to university, and so did his friend. One went to Fujian, and the other went to Jiangsu. They only maintained brief contact and limited meetings. After graduation, his friend went to work as a salesman at BYD, and they never saw each other again on holidays.
Later, a friend borrowed money from him, saying that his mother's chronic illness could not be delayed any longer. After much consideration, Feng Yue lent him three thousand yuan, but the three thousand gradually turned into more than ten thousand yuan, and there was never any news of repayment.
In this unspoken understanding, he seemed to have lost a friend.
He could occasionally be seen on social media, but his situation was never ideal. It seemed that he had first suffered a setback and quit his job, and then his living conditions got worse and worse. However, he still maintained his previous humorous habit, often joking about his predicament on social media and wondering if any rich woman would be willing to support him.
Until Feng Yue received a WeChat message that appeared to be a group message.
"Let me finish before you block me. Can you help me out with 50? I'm not working and just lying around. It's a long story, I'm all alone. Actually, 13 is enough for daily rent. If you need money, just let me know, and I'll go to work for a day or two to give it to you. As a former classmate, please help me out, otherwise the landlord will kick me out."
Feng Yue hesitated for a moment, and then another WeChat message arrived instantly.
"Don't block me, because I still owe you a favor. You helped me three years ago, and I remember it all. I haven't been doing well these past few years, and I probably won't live much longer. I've been doing nothing for years. It's not a few hundred or a few thousand; I'll pay you back with interest when I'm gone."
Feng Yue hesitated for a moment before turning over the hundred. He knew that such help might be like the farmer and the snake, but he couldn't afford to gamble on whether his friend's situation was truly so dire.
With the WeChat chat window open, Feng Yue saw the words "The other party is typing" appear, but no message was sent for a long time. It wasn't until more than ten minutes later that the other party claimed the red envelope, and then he didn't see the words "thank you".
The days passed slowly like this, and about last month, he suddenly received a message from a friend.
"Bro, I have some good news for you. A rich woman is willing to take care of me. She'll provide food and lodging and give me a hundred yuan a day. It's just that her fetish is a bit strange. She always likes me to cosplay as a security guard and sit at the factory gate all day long."
Feng Yue typed a string of words in a flurry.
"You're calling security now!"
(three)
On the sidewalk in front of the hotel, only the noodle shop and restaurant next door still had their lights on. A thin layer of condensation covered the glass doors, and the sounds of bowls and chopsticks clattering and the aroma of stewed chicken wafted from inside.
Perhaps it was the aroma of food that made Feng Yue feel hungry, so he went out lightly dressed, ate a bowl of noodles in the strong wind, and then returned to the lobby of Guishan Hotel. This time, he chose to greet the middle-aged man on duty.
The middle-aged man looked up and saw the only guest in the room for the day. After thinking for a moment, he tossed him a cigarette, and the two of them completed some kind of ritual while puffing on the cigarette. They then sat on opposite sides of the high table at the front desk, ready to pass the boring night.
"It's best to stay indoors after dark; it's very windy today," the middle-aged man said, exhaling a puff of smoke and revealing his yellow teeth.
Feng Yue nodded. He hadn't dressed warmly enough before leaving home and wasn't prepared for the temperature drop, but he had prepared a topic that could be used to discuss anything except the weather.
"Boss, how's business here?"
The middle-aged man said, "It's next to the Guishan Han Tomb Scenic Area, and there are two internet cafes next door. They've been open for about ten years now."
Feng Yue said, "Isn't it bad feng shui to open it at the entrance of the tomb? When I visited it when I was a child, the tour guide said that after the Han tomb was opened, there was a shadow on the coffin dressed in ancient clothes, with a tall crown and wide belt. He also said that it was the 'King of Chu welcoming guests'. I hope it doesn't run out one day."
The middle-aged man seemed to have his competitive spirit ignited. He stubbed out his cigarette and said, "I've lived here for over ten years, and I've seen too many of these things. The security guards say that after 2 a.m., they often hear men and women talking quietly deep inside the tomb passage, and there's always a shadow running around in the passage that they can't catch. They're used to it now."
Feng Yue paused for a moment, then asked in confusion, "Is it really that eerie? It sounds like a story."
The middle-aged man waved his hand: "I don't know if what the security guard across the street said is true or not. But there was one time when I really did see some strange things."
"Around 16, there were very few people in this development zone. Tourists stayed in the city. During the day, there were only couples who rented rooms in internet cafes for a few hours. At night, I was the only one left to look after the shop."
"That night, I saw a shooting star in the sky. It looked like a live snake, with a long, hairy tail, and it slithered from the northwest. Its light wasn't bright, but it was eerie, making the surrounding night look green."
"I was still in a daze when I saw the gate of the Guishan Han Tomb across the way move. Leading the way were two horses covered in green rust, followed by twelve soldiers in black armor, their faces covered with black cloth. Behind them was a six-horse carriage with a black canopy, the embroidered patterns on it almost faded. The carriage was covered with black curtains, so I couldn't see the people sitting inside, but I could see a hand resting on the window."
"I watched the group walk along, and the whole procession was completely silent. There was no sound of horses' hooves, no sound of wheels, not even a footstep. They just walked quietly along Xiangwang Road until they passed the No. 37 bus stop, and then suddenly disappeared..."
The middle-aged man handed Feng Yue a cigarette and forced it into the hand of the dazed man.
"Were you scared? If I had other skills besides running a shop, I probably would have moved long ago. But nothing has happened all these years. I guess it's because we took over their land and they were unhappy."
Feng Yue felt a bone-chilling cold that made him determined not to go out that night. He then lit a cigarette and explained.
"Luckily, I'm not going there. I'm going to the Journey to the West Art Museum next door, but my friend said it's closed at night and I can't go in, so he told me to go during the day."
The middle-aged man nodded after hearing this: "That's good. You can just play around Gushan Reservoir and Jiuli Hancheng. There's not much to see around here."
Feng Yue asked, "Boss, there shouldn't be any problems with the Journey to the West Art Museum, right?"
"What problems could there be? They were all created by later generations."
The middle-aged man answered very readily, slapping the table as he said, "That place was probably built around 1995 by a Hong Kong businessman in partnership with the city. It was very lively when I was young, but it didn't do well after that. In 2012, it suffered a major fire, and then it closed down completely."
In the late 1980s and early 1990s, with the popularity of the 1987 TV series "Journey to the West," a "Journey to the West" craze swept the country. In order to capitalize on this cultural trend and enhance the local tourism appeal, the relevant departments of XZ City decided to build a man-made landscape themed around "Journey to the West" on the north side of the Jiulishan Ancient Battlefield.
At that time, it wasn't just Xuzhou; in fact, from Heilongjiang to Hainan, from Xinjiang to Shanghai, almost every province in China had at least one Journey to the West Palace. At its peak, there were at least four hundred of them existing at the same time. However, the glory of almost all of these Journey to the West Palaces lasted only three to five years before they were closed or demolished in large numbers.
冯越来之前也查过网上的消息，百度百科显示徐州这处西游宫于2012年1月5日下午4时突发大火，消防支队出动5辆消防车及数十名官兵进行扑救，直至当晚7时许明火才被扑灭。
The sudden fire destroyed most of the palace's facilities and essentially scrapped the scenic area. As the area was closed and sparsely populated at the time of the fire, no one was injured. However, the specific cause of the fire has not yet been released to the public.
By 2024, relevant departments in XZ City had included the Journey to the West Palace site on their agenda and had begun acquisition and management work, with reconstruction slowly underway.
His friend was probably targeted and tricked by the employers here.
But for some reason, ever since he arrived in Xuzhou and his friend told him to see him tomorrow, the other party suddenly stopped sending messages and answering calls, as if they had vanished into thin air.
(four)
"...There's really nothing to be afraid of. Even the reservoir next door drowns several people every year. On the contrary, this Journey to the West Palace is just something built to grab attention. The only reason people aren't allowed in is because they're worried about aging electrical circuits or people falling into the stinky river and drowning."
The middle-aged man comforted Feng Yue and took the initiative to talk about other related matters. It was clear that living near a cemetery for a long time could hardly have a positive impact on a person's mental state.
"Young man, you're a post-90s generation, right? Have you seen the 1986 version of Journey to the West?"
Feng Yue nodded in agreement: "They're on summer vacation every year. I've watched them since I was a child."
He patted Feng Yue on the shoulder and naturally began to talk about what he had seen and heard, "Do you know that in 1987, CCTV put on a Spring Festival Gala called 'Qi Tian Le' and invited all these actors to perform?"
"Uh... I don't think I've heard of that before."
"You're still too young. Although I didn't have a TV at home back then, I later rented videotapes from a video rental store and watched them several times in their entirety. Do you know who didn't attend?"
Feng Yue shook his head: "How would I know? I haven't even seen it."
"Yama!"
The middle-aged man uttered two words, seemingly pleased to have the opportunity to share his observations: "Almost all the gods, Buddhas, kings, queens, and even the demons and monsters from the eighty-one tribulations in 'Journey to the West' have come, but not a single one of Yama's little devils has shown up."
"The production crew even explained that they hadn't sent an invitation to the King of Hell because it wouldn't be appropriate to invite him on such a festive occasion. But I was thinking to myself, if you hadn't brought this up yourself, who would have known about it?"
Feng Yue asked, puzzled, "Isn't this quite normal? It's strange to invite underworld figures during a major festival."
The middle-aged man shook his head mysteriously and said, "I heard that Liu Jiang, who plays the King of Hell, refused to participate because he encountered too many strange things while filming the scenes of the King of Hell, and he was afraid that he would bring bad luck and affect the New Year."
"What strange thing is this?"
"I heard that he often had dreams in which he held the Book of Life and Death and the Judge's Pen. Later, when filming a scene where he was surrounded by little ghosts in the underworld, he turned around halfway through his performance and actually saw several little ghost actors he didn't recognize. As a result, after the director yelled 'cut,' these little ghosts suddenly disappeared."
"You know, the Journey to the West crew didn't just film in one place. They traveled all over most of China, but the crew members could still often see these little devils when they were setting up the sets, especially in the Black Wind Cave and the Spider Cave. There were often figures running around in the sets, and they would suddenly disappear when you chased after them."
"By the way, in the videotape I watched back then, I could actually see some actors' scenes that weren't in the versions circulating online now, especially those actors who played the little monsters. I can't find them anywhere now, not even in the group photos. I was amazed at how realistic their acting was back then."
Seeing that his words were becoming increasingly bizarre, Feng Yue quickly stopped him from continuing, raising his hands in surrender and saying, "Boss, what you're saying is giving me goosebumps. How am I supposed to go to the Journey to the West Art Museum to see my friend tomorrow?"
"If it really doesn't work, I'll go with you. I'll ask my wife to watch the shop tomorrow."
The middle-aged man grinned, revealing his yellow teeth. "I'm not exaggerating. Who wasn't terrified by the Yama's Palace, the mountains of knives, and the boiling oil in the Journey to the West Palace? Think about it, why do all the Journey to the West Palaces across the country suddenly build a bunch of eighteen levels of hell to scare people?"
Feng Yue immediately retorted, "I do know that. Back then, the first Journey to the West Palace in the country in Zhengding, Hebei, was a huge hit, and governments from all over the country sent delegations to learn from it, and then copied it to build their own local palaces."
The middle-aged man chuckled dismissively:
"Do you know that the first Journey to the West Palace in the country in 87 was designed by the chief stage designer of the 86 Journey to the West TV series? As the originator, why did he create the Eighteen Levels of Hell?"
"I heard that the reason they built all sorts of Journey to the West Palaces and Hells was to trap those little devils and prevent them from chasing after the Journey to the West crew again, so that they would never find their way out!"