Lost in the Otherworld

"What's the situation?" Officer Huang inquired.

"We can't get out. Damn it, this is insane!" Wang Zikai exclaimed, full of enthusiasm, with no trace of fear or anxiety.

"As soon as we left the village, we encountered a river. No matter which way we go, we can't cross it," Fat Jun said, his face ashen and his voice listless. "Officer Huang, I fear we’ve stumbled into some kind of ghost trap."

As an atheist, Officer Huang refrained from commenting.

"I need to get out of here," Qing Ling muttered, clearly disliking situations she couldn’t understand or control.

"How can we? Ghost traps are inescapable. We're doomed..." Fat Jun’s voice grew more and more despondent. "I told you we should’ve turned back, but none of you listened..."

"Coward," Wang Zikai snorted, "Whatever it is, gods or demons, I'll crush them all!"

"It’ll be fine," Gao Yang reassured, "If this is a space, then there must be an exit. The exit is a door, and once we find the key, the door will open."

"Exactly." Officer Huang agreed, encouraging, "Let’s not lose our heads. This might be a test from the organization."

Gao Yang, however, doubted that the Zodiac Organization would go to such lengths to test them, though he kept his thoughts to himself.

"So... what do we do now?" Fat Jun asked nervously.

"Since we're here, we might as well make the best of it." Gao Yang lifted his head and looked toward the ancestral hall at the top of the hill. "Let's attend the funeral."

"Let’s go!" Wang Zikai was the first to agree.

Qing Ling and Officer Huang had no objections, and after some hesitation, Fat Jun nodded reluctantly.

The group made some brief preparations and started their ascent along the village path. Soon, they arrived at the funeral tent outside the ancestral hall.

A table was set up outside the tent, with two men seated behind it. One was a thin young man with a literary appearance, wearing a pair of vintage black-framed glasses and an 80s-style white shirt. A white flower was pinned to his chest, and he held a calligraphy brush, jotting names down in a book of contributions.

"Gu Guilun, five yuan. Gu Xianfang, ten yuan. Gu Mingxue, six yuan," the thin man recited. Beside him sat an elderly man with a head full of silver hair and a face half covered in vitiligo. The old man was unwrapping white envelopes and reading out the names.

The old man looked up at them, squinting, "You folks... friends of Huazi?"

Officer Huang had intended to pose as a mourner, but upon seeing the old bills on the table, all decades-old currency, he realized pulling out a few fresh hundred-yuan notes from his wallet would seem out of place.

Without hesitation, he pulled out his badge. "We're from the Shanqing District Police Station, here to investigate a case."

"Haven’t you been here several times already? We're holding a funeral today. Can’t you let us have some peace?" The old man’s tone was disgruntled, but he kept his temper in check in front of the officers.

"Master Wu, as long as this case remains unsolved, no one in the village can truly rest. The officers are just doing their job, and it’s a good thing they’re being so diligent," the young man chimed in. He set down his brush and extended his hand to Officer Huang. "Nice to meet you. I’m Gu Xianzhi, but feel free to call me Ah Zhi. Whatever assistance you need, we’re happy to provide."

"Thank you." Officer Huang nodded. "Would it be alright if I went inside to light some incense?"

"Of course, of course." Ah Zhi smiled warmly, then glanced at the others. "And these are?"

Officer Huang quickly explained, "Oh, they’re fresh graduates from the police academy, interning at our station. I thought it’d be good for them to come along and observe. Young minds are sharp, and they might offer a new perspective on the case."

"I see, I see." Ah Zhi nodded in understanding. He stood up, handing a cigarette to Officer Huang, and led the group into the tent. "Auntie Fan, bring out five cups of tea for our guests."