Flowers of the Departed Souls - Chapter 7

Thanatos, Thanatos.

Chi Ziming silently repeated the English word. Thanatos? Wasn’t that the Greek God of Death? The son of Nyx, the goddess of night, and the twin brother of Hypnos, the god of sleep. Legend had it that Thanatos was a beautiful young man who resided in the Underworld, holding a sword and wearing a black cloak. With a pair of large, chilling black wings, he would fly to the bedside of the dying, cut a strand of their hair with his sword, and their soul would then be carried away.

He was the god who commanded death, possessing silver hair and eyes. No matter how far away, he could take anyone’s life. Like Hypnos, he was a trusted subordinate of Hades, the King of the Underworld.

Could the God of Death truly have appeared? But this Thanatos was clearly the God of Death from ancient Greek times. Could someone be deliberately using the name of the God of Death to commit random killings? No, it should be wildly intimidating and killing? And Zhong Dan, too, seemed to have self-mutilated after being intimidated, just like Xia Yimin. Or, was it the work of someone excessively worshipping Thanatos, believing that through their unique method of killing, they would possess dark power like the God of Death and ride alongside him?

He felt that this seemingly peaceful village was becoming increasingly restless. He seemed to see this village controlled by a terrifying devil, retaliating. Could the rumor of the burned man in black be true? Was that man in black Thanatos, the God of Death? Why would he use such a Westernized name? But if he was the God of Death, how could he have been burned to death? Or did his ghost linger after being burned, transforming into the God of Death? Or, had he never truly died, constantly retaliating against human cruelty?

This sounded too much like mythology. Chi Ziming shook his head. Although he enjoyed reading strange stories, it was merely out of curiosity, driven by a strong desire to understand certain mysteries in this world. In fact, he was an atheist. The God of Death? And from ancient Greece, Thanatos? Why not Yanwang from China, or Anubis the jackal-headed god from ancient Egypt, or Yama from India? Then, Thanatos must have distinct characteristics that differentiate him from other gods of death. So, what would this characteristic be?

As Chi Ziming and Luo Xiaofeng walked Luo Yifu home, these questions flashed continuously in his mind. Along the way, the three of them remained silent, each burdened by heavy thoughts.

When Luo Yifu reached her doorstep, she held Luo Xiaofeng’s hand and said, “Stay at my place tonight. Don’t go back to that place; it’s too terrifying. Or just sleep here, with me, okay?”

Luo Xiaofeng shook her head. “I’ll go stay with Grandma. You go in first and get some good sleep.”

Chi Ziming interjected, “I’ll see her home.”

Luo Yifu turned to glance at them, nodded, and went inside, closing the door.

Next, Chi Ziming escorted Luo Xiaofeng home. When they reached her doorstep, Luo Xiaofeng stopped, wanting to speak but hesitating. Finally, she said, “How about you and Mr. Ge stay at my place? It’s just my grandma here, and there are several empty rooms.”

“No, I think it’s better if I stay at the inn. I don’t think Ge Jianliang would want to come over here, and I can’t leave him there alone. I really want to know what’s going on, why two people committed suicide within three days of each other. Tell me, what exactly is going on with this inn?”

Luo Xiaofeng was silent for a long time, then slowly said, “This inn used to be a guesthouse in the 1920s or 30s. One day, a stranger dressed in black came here to stay. It’s said that he never left his room during the day, and at night, no light was ever seen in his room. Someone once, out of curiosity, secretly peeked in, only to see him standing motionless in the middle of the room like a statue, and sometimes, no one was there at all. No one knew how he went out. Ever since this man in black appeared, people in the village often died mysteriously, and some suspected the man in black was responsible. Later, they invited a sorcerer to perform a ritual, and the sorcerer said it was the work of a demon, and that the guesthouse was the place with the strongest demonic energy. So, the villagers unanimously decided that the man in black was the demon. Therefore, everyone in the village surrounded him, captured him, and then burned him along with the guesthouse. In the late 1990s, people no longer thought much of these things, and they were just old wives’ tales, these old events faded from memory. Today’s children basically don’t know about it. My uncle saw that the place had good feng shui, and it was close to the sea, with good scenery, so three years ago, he built the inn on the old guesthouse site. My grandma warned him that the place shouldn’t be built on, but he didn’t listen, never thinking…”

Chi Ziming pondered for a moment. “Why didn’t your uncle see any of this? He’s Luo Yifu’s father, right?”

“Yes, he likes to travel everywhere and has investments in many places. And there aren’t many tourists here now; he’s usually not here in winter. And Yifu hasn’t graduated yet, she’s still in college. Her mother isn’t well, she has asthma, so I was left to manage the inn.”

Just then, a cold voice suddenly sounded behind them. “Are you two planning to chat like this all night?” Both were startled. They turned to see an old woman standing there, with gray, disheveled hair, leaning on an ebony cane, staring at them with icy eyes. Chi Ziming even had a feeling she had just crawled out of a grave; her body seemed to carry that terrifying, damp chill.

“Grandma, why are you out here?”

“You two were chirping outside, I couldn’t sleep. How could I not come out? Did someone else die at the inn?”

Luo Xiaofeng nodded. “Grandma, is that story true? It’s so close to your time. Do you think that man in black’s ghost might have lingered and come back to claim lives again? Are there really ghosts in this world, or a so-called God of Death?”

The old woman turned her head, her gaze fixed on the deep night sky, as if talking to herself: “Life and death have their own destiny. If it’s your calamity, no one can escape.”

Chi Ziming’s heart stirred. At this moment, he thought of Ge Jianliang again. “I should go back to the inn first. Mr. Ge is alone at the inn now, and I’m afraid something might happen to him. Sigh, if anything else happens, it will be troublesome. I’m leaving now.”

“Wait.” The old woman took a chain from her bosom and gave it to Chi Ziming. “It contains a charm, passed down by our ancestors here. Keep it with you for a few days.”

Chi Ziming took the chain, thanked her, and left. All the way, his mind was filled with the old woman’s words: Life and death have their own destiny. If it’s your calamity, no one can escape. This sentence, and those words on the wall, conveyed such similar meanings, along with the old woman’s icy gaze. Then he shook his head again, telling himself that old people often say such things.

What puzzled him, though, was how she was equally cold towards her own granddaughter, as if without any affection.