I should have realized when Jiye first mentioned finding something to make a "Plague Lamp" that the so-called "Plague Lamp" was actually a "Straw Man Dragon." However, being in this environment, the remnants of my memory had already been obliterated by Jiye’s ultimate transformation. Furthermore, I had never seen a real "Straw Man Dragon," only having the impression from stories my grandfather told. Thus, when Jiye uttered the word "Plague Lamp," I, just like Tan Ping’er, was completely clueless about what this "Plague Lamp" was in the parlance of this new generation of Tujia Tima, or what kind of sacred treasure it might be.

This was the lesser concern. The main issue was: could Jiye transform my physical body into a "Straw Man Dragon" and send me back to the other side of that "paper"? Was this some shamanic art taught to Jiye by the Tima from the elders? How had Jiye learned such bizarre methods in just a few days?

Of course, Jiye had no idea what I was thinking. Seeing Man Niao Niao light the incense sticks inserted into the straw, he handed the torch to her to hold. Amidst the swirling white smoke, he bent down and picked up the dark bundle Tan Ping’er had placed on the ground. Opening it, he pulled out a pitch-black robe and draped it over his shoulders. I took a closer look—Good heavens—wasn't that robe the Eight-Fold Luo Skirt that Master Qinghe had just been wearing? Where did Jiye get it? Could it be that Master Qinghe I saw earlier wasn't a lingering spirit but an actual person? Did Jiye and Tan Ping’er run towards the stilt house just now to find Master Qinghe? Does this mean Tan Ping’er’s disappearance, disregarding my and Hua’er’s safety, is actually connected to Master Qinghe’s appearance?

The more I thought, the more bewildered I became. Originally, the idea that "I am already dead, my soul and body utterly separated" had begun to form in my mind, and I had basically accepted this harsh reality. Seeing the Eight-Fold Luo Skirt appear for the second time now made my judgment of my current situation feel unstable, neither here nor there. Am I alive? Am I dead? Am I dreaming? Or am I hallucinating?

The four items Jiye took out next made my belief in my own death even more tenuous. These four objects were a royal crown, a cow horn, a strange blade, and a horse-head-shaped object with six small bells attached—precisely the items that had previously appeared on Master Qinghe.

Jiye solemnly placed the crown upon his head, put the cow horn to his mouth, and blew some meaningless sounds heavenward for a while before hanging it back at his waist. Then, holding the horse-head object in his left hand and the strange blade in his right, he crossed his arms and raised them above his head, slowly kneeling toward one direction. He muttered indistinctly, his voice very low, so I couldn't tell if he was speaking or singing, nor could I make out any of the words he uttered. Tan Ping’er and Man Niao Niao stood perfectly still, their dark eyes gaping, clearly stunned by Jiye’s mysterious and peculiar attire and inexplicable actions. Hua’er behaved even more erratically; he actually ran far away, squatted on the ground, and watched Jiye vigilantly, baring his teeth.

Jiye’s ritual, which seemed part prayer and part sacrifice, lasted about seven or eight minutes before concluding. Standing up, he began to circle my straw-clad physical body, brandishing the blade in his right hand and the horse-head object in his left, his head slightly bowed, still muttering under his breath. Simultaneously, he twisted his waist and swayed his hips, advancing slowly with four steps forward and three steps back while dancing.

Watching Jiye’s strange dance movements, enveloped by the solemn, grave, and tense atmosphere, I inexplicably recalled a completely unrelated song lyric: Turn three times left, three times right, twist your neck, wiggle your hips, let's exercise for early rising and sleeping...

What confused me even more was that when Master Qinghe had brandished the horse-head object earlier, I hadn't heard any sound, but now I could clearly hear the slightly muffled ding-ding of the six bells. Under the illumination of the pale torchlight and the scattered incense embers, the strange blade scattered a burst of white light as if water were splashing out. I, positioned behind that layer of "paper," could clearly feel the scorching heat brought by the white light, feeling as if my entire body was in a sauna.

Jiye circled the "Straw Man Dragon" on the ground, weaving left and right dozens of times, then stopped dancing and stood firmly at the feet of my physical body. He turned his head toward the dazed Tan Ping’er beside him and sang: "Oh, Miss Tan, I require something of yours..."

Tan Ping’er snapped out of her trance, hesitated for a few seconds, and asked with a trembling voice, "What is it?"

"This thing, Yingying once gave it to you, oh, hey..." Jiye maintained his singing style.

"..." Tan Ping’er froze. I was also quite perplexed—what exactly had I given Tan Ping’er?

"It’s that, he used his blood to treat your face, oh, hey..." The dialogue was normal, but Jiye's aged, strange, singsong tone made it laborious to listen to. I really couldn't figure out if his mind was amiss or what the reason was for him always speaking in a chant.

"Are you talking about... my blood?" Tan Ping’er asked hesitantly.

"That’s right, oh, hey!"

"..." Tan Ping’er clenched her white teeth and said resolutely, "You promised me you would summon Yingying’s soul back. Never mind the blood in my body; even if you needed my heart, I’d agree..." Saying this, she opened her mouth and bit toward her index finger.

"Wait a moment." Although Jiye’s two words still carried a hint of humming, they thankfully lacked the accompanying auxiliary words like "ah" or "oh, hey." I found this surprisingly comforting to hear.

"...What is it?" Tan Ping’er looked steadily at Jiye.

"You can't use fingertip blood, oh, hey~" Jiye, having successfully stopped Tan Ping’er from piercing her finger, sang out again, interspersed with distracting auxiliary words, his tune going slightly off-key.

"..." Tan Ping’er was clearly at a loss, staring blankly at Jiye. After a long pause, she mumbled, "...Which part of the blood is needed?"

"You need the..." Jiye paused as he sang this. That pause nearly made me tumble over, and my first thought went to blood from that place. I inwardly cursed Jiye for such a terrible, unimaginative idea. Even if the blood from that place was a potent medicine for saving lives, how could he know if Tan Ping’er happened to be in an "unsettled period" these past few days? Recalling how he determined in Anle Cave that Tan Ping’er was still physically intact, I grew more convinced this old fellow was the type to make a mountain out of a molehill and indulge in needless mystification.

Tan Ping’er evidently felt the same way I did. Her snow-white face instantly darkened—or perhaps it was red; I couldn't distinguish any color other than black and white right now.

"...I... I haven't been... recently..." Tan Ping’er glanced at Man Niao Niao beside her, ducking her head and stammering. Not only was her voice trembling, but her body was also shaking slightly, making my own heart dangle precariously.

Jiye paused, then sang after a while, "...I meant the blood from the tip of your tongue, oh, hey yo hey..."

I was so furious I nearly went mad, not just because of his bizarre intonation, but because of the suggestive ambiguity in his "singing yet holding back." What was so taboo about blood from the tongue? His hesitation sent my thoughts down a huge detour. I genuinely wanted to offer Jiye a "daily phrase" frequently used by Man Niao Niao.

Tan Ping’er clearly breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing Jiye wanted blood from her tongue. She let out a long breath, stuck out her tongue, clenched her silver teeth, and a spurt of dark ** blood sprayed out. Since I was standing directly opposite Tan Ping’er, I saw this scene very clearly.

Jiye saw that Tan Ping’er had bitten her tongue. He used the strange blade to part the hair on my physical body’s head, revealing the forehead clearly. Jiye then made a slight cut on the physical body’s forehead next to the first horizontal stroke of the character that looked like "earth" but wasn't the character "earth" []. Then he sang to Tan Ping’er, "Oh, Miss Tan, you, you, you must drip the blood from your tongue onto this small wound, oh!"

With her mouth full of black blood, Tan Ping’er could no longer express her confusion in words. Hearing Jiye ask her to drip her tongue blood onto the wound on the physical body’s forehead, she obediently walked over to the body, knelt down halfway, leaned forward, and pressed her small mouth against the forehead. A drop of black blood dripped down from her tongue like dripping candle wax.

Man Niao Niao stood far off, timid and hesitant, her dark eye sockets, which rarely held light, staring fixedly at Jiye and Tan Ping’er’s busy work.

My attention was not on Man Niao Niao. Seeing that Tan Ping’er’s blood almost entirely covered the physical body’s forehead, I, behind the layer of "paper," still showed no reaction whatsoever. I smiled bitterly to myself; Jiye was probably just trying another one of his "crossing the river by feeling the stones" tricks.

Alas! The sorcery of this new generation of Tujia Tima isn't anything special after all.

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