novelaction Chapter 1121 Xingzi
Chapter 1121 Xingzi
To meet the 5000-word requirement, I will focus on the historical context, the characters' psychological dynamics, and the atmospheric rendering of the scenes. I will detail the rural collective labor life of 1968, deeply portraying the emotional changes of characters like Erzhu, Wang Tieniu, and Uncle Lao Gen as they face bizarre events. I will also add detailed features of the muddy shoe prints along the well edge, the specific manifestations of abnormal well water, and the sensory descriptions of nighttime paranormal phenomena, giving the story a more contemporary and suspenseful feel. The Old Well, Chapter 1968: Muddy Shoe Prints on the Well Edge: The autumn heat of , like a calamity escaped from Laozi's alchemy furnace, scorched the loess slopes to the point of smoke. The dirt roads of the Red Star Production Brigade were so cracked that half a straw sandal could fit through them. Stepping on them made a "crackling" sound, as if the earth were crying out in pain. As the members of the commune, carrying their hoes, hurried to the old well, their coarse cloth jackets soaked with sweat and sticking to their backs, their trouser legs so heavy they seemed to drip with water. This old well was the village's only source of fresh water. Since the beginning of autumn, there hadn't been a single heavy rain, and the ditch had dried up to the bottom. The drier the weather, the more people flocked to fetch water. If you arrived late, you'd have to wait in line for half an incense stick. Team leader Wang Tieniu walked in front, shirtless, his bronzed back covered in beads of sweat, as if coated with oil. His raspy voice could penetrate the wilted cornfield, startling the grasshoppers hiding in the leaves and making them flutter and fly: "Hurry up! What are you dawdling for? After fetching water, we have to go cut the millet on the west slope. If you miss your work points, I will deduct your points!" He swung the pipe in his hand with a "crackling" sound, and the sparks from the pipe splashed on the loess and went out instantly - the soil was too dry, even the sparks could not be retained. Erzhu in the crowd shrank his neck and tightened his hoe to his arms. He had a quarrel with his wife Cuilan last night. Cuilan thought he was incompetent and couldn't even afford a piece of new cloth to make autumn clothes for the children. He was so depressed that he squatted on the edge of the well and smoked his pipe for half the night, leaving cigarette butts all over the floor. When he got up this morning, he always felt that his right leg was heavy, as if it was covered with a layer of wet mud, and it was difficult to take a step. Just as he reached the well, he tripped over something and twisted his ankle with a cry of "ouch". The wooden bucket in his hand hit the bluestone slab with a clang and rolled a long way, leaving a small dent on the bottom of the bucket. "What are you yelling about? You have no eyes!" Wang Tieniu turned around and cursed, his saliva spraying on the ground, making a small dent. But before he could finish his words, his eyes suddenly fixed on the edge of the well, and his curse got stuck in his throat, as if blocked by something. The bluestone slab edge of the old well was laid during the Republic of China. It had been walked on by the villagers for decades and was so slippery that you could see your reflection in it, without even a burr. But today, there were several strings of mud shoe prints on it, lying crisscross on the stone slab, as if someone had just walked on it. The shoe prints were not big, only about three inches long, and looked like they were made by women's embroidered shoes, with the curve of the shoe uppers still clearly visible. The damp mud seeped down through the cracks in the well's rim, leaving dark streaks on the stone slabs, like the marks of tears. "Strange! I was the last one to fetch water last evening, and there weren't any marks here yet." Old Gen, the man watching the well, came over. His hair had turned white, and the wrinkles on his face were deeper than the cracks in the well's rim. The pipe in his hand trembled, and the tobacco scattered all over the floor. He squatted down, poked the mud with his finger, then brought it to his nose and sniffed, his brow furrowed. "This mud... doesn't look like the loess on our slopes. It looks more like the black mud at the riverbed." The loess in the village is sandy and golden, disintegrating when it comes into contact with water and turning to powder when squeezed. But the mud in these shoe prints was sticky and black, as if mixed with ink. You could pull it into threads when you squeezed it, and it had a faint fishy smell, like the smell of fish mixed with the stench of rotting water plants. Erzhu rubbed his sprained ankle, grimacing in pain, but his eyes couldn't leave the shoe prints. Suddenly, he pointed at one and said in a trembling voice, "Captain, look at this print... isn't there a toe?" Everyone hurried over, their heads touching, as if they were examining something truly special. The slanting sunlight shone on the edge of the well, illuminating the shoe prints clearly—only the back half remained. The heel mark was still there, but the front half was empty, as if the wearer had lost their toes and had simply stepped on them with their heels. One young member couldn't help but reach out and touch the mud. As soon as he touched it, he shrank back as if he'd been scalded. "This mud... why is it so cold? It's even colder than the well water." "Don't yell!" Wang Tieniu felt uneasy, and a chill ran down the back of his neck. But he was the team leader, and he couldn't show his fear. He could only hold his voice high and say, "Maybe some kid was naughty and made it out of mud. There are so many half-grown kids in our village, running around all day. What's so strange about a shoe print? Hurry up and fetch water, don't delay your work!" As he spoke, he deliberately rubbed one of the shoe prints with his foot, trying to rub it off. But the mud seemed to have grown on the stone slab, and no matter how he rubbed it off, it wouldn't come off. Instead, it stained the sole of his shoe black. The members didn't dare to ask any more questions, and they all picked up wooden buckets and put them into the well. The well rope creaked, as if it was about to break. The wooden bucket sank into the well with a splash, but when it was pulled out, a few strands of black hair, as thin as silk, were floating in the water, tangled around the rim and impossible to pull out. One of the commune members muttered, "Why are there hairs in this well? There weren't any yesterday." When it was Erzhu's turn, he limped over and handed the bucket to the well. Just as he was about to lower the rope, he felt a push from behind. The force was not strong, but it was sudden. He stumbled forward two steps and almost put his hand into the well. The cool air of the well water hit him in the face, carrying an indescribable fishy smell. "Who pushed me?" Erzhu cursed over his shoulder, his anger rising, forgetting the pain in his foot. But there was nothing behind him, only the rustling sound of the wind blowing through the corn leaves, as if someone was laughing in the dark. The other members of the cooperative were busy fetching water, and no one was looking at him. Wang Tieniu was urging him from a distance, "Erzhu, what are you doing? Hurry up!" Uncle Lao Gen squatted by the well, not fetching water, but staring at the shoe prints. The sound of his pipe was crackling, and the smoke was blurring his face. He poked the black mud with his pipe and lowered his voice: "Erzhu, did you smoke on the edge of the well last night?" "Yes... yes," Erzhu nodded, feeling a little uneasy. "I had a quarrel with my wife yesterday, and I was upset, so I squatted here and smoked for a while. After I finished, I went back." Uncle Lao Gen's face suddenly darkened, and there seemed to be ice hidden in his wrinkles: "Have you forgotten? Your mother died in this well. The old people said that this well is evil and you can't stay on the edge of the well at night. It will attract unclean things. But you dare to smoke here for half the night. You have forgotten all the rules!" Erzhu's mother died ten years ago. It was also a very dry day, just like today. His mother got up early in the morning to fetch water. When she got to the well, she fell in. The villagers fished her out for a long time, but she was already dead.