"Where are we supposed to look? We can't just wander around aimlessly, can we?" one of them said—the one with both ears adorned with ear studs.
The other, with his hair dyed bright yellow, echoed, "Yeah, at least we need a direction!"
Fang Minglan said, "That person mentioned before leaving that the 'Village Rules' were torn up by the village children. Maybe the second half of the rules is in one of the children's hands."
"The villagers are all busy preparing for the upcoming festival day during the day, but the children might not go along. They could very well be left behind in the village. If we go out and look, we should be able to find it."
Finding her analysis reasonable, the two of them followed her.
The village roads were intricate, with alleys and lanes crisscrossing everywhere. Yet every household was empty, devoid of any trace of lively human activity.
As Fang Minglan walked, she carefully memorized the subtly varied scenery around her, trying to construct a complete picture of the village in her mind.
The three of them had been walking for quite some time when they finally spotted a figure—a child playing with a ball under a tree.
The ball was deflated, barely bouncing when hit. The child had to bend down every now and then to pick it up and drop it again.
"It's a child," said the ear-studded man, who had grown a bit impatient while wandering around the village. His mood lifted at the sight of someone.
Just as he was about to approach and greet the child, he suddenly froze in place. In a haunted realm rife with lurking dangers, he dared not make any hasty moves. Who knew if this child was human or something else?
While the ear-studded man hesitated, the little boy had already noticed them. Clutching his ball, he bounced over.
"Big brother, big sister, are you here as guests visiting our village?" The boy's voice was lively and cheerful, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Fang Minglan's gaze lingered on the ball in the child's arms for a moment. It was indeed just an ordinary ball—deflated, old, covered in dust and dirt, its original color no longer visible.
"Yes," Fang Minglan nodded.
The little boy, pleased to have received an answer, beamed and said enthusiastically, "My mom said it's rare for someone to come to our village. Welcome!"
Seeing that nothing seemed amiss with the boy, the ear-studded man's courage grew. He bent down slightly and asked, "Little brother, do you know where the second half of the 'Village Rules' went?"
The boy, still holding his ball, spun his eyes around and replied, "Of course I know. But my ball has no air left—it's no fun to play with anymore."
The ear-studded man was taken aback.
The boy continued, "So, big brother, can you get me a new ball?"
Village Rule 2: "Respect for the elderly and care for the young is a cherished virtue. If you encounter an elderly person on the road, proactively greet them. If you see a child, you should do your best to fulfill their requests."
The ear-studded man froze. He looked down at the ball clutched by the little boy and swallowed hard. A new ball? What kind of ball?
Seeing the ear-studded man's ashen face, the little boy couldn't help but giggle, a hint of malice flickering across his innocent face.
"Big brother, you don't think I want you to use your head as a ball, do you?"
That was exactly what the ear-studed man had been thinking. He stood rooted to the spot, unable to utter a single word.
The little boy smiled sweetly and said, "Just go to the small shop at the village entrance and buy me a ball… Of course, if you can't find one, I wouldn't mind using your head instead."
The ear-studded man heaved a sigh of relief and quickly replied, "Alright, alright, I'll go get one!" With that, he dashed toward the small shop.
The village entrance was close by, and he could already see the shop's wooden sign hanging by the door. It was made of locust wood, with the words "General Store" carved into it.
The moment he dashed inside, he didn't bother looking around and immediately blurted out, "Boss, do you have any balls for sale?"
The shopkeeper was an old woman nestled in a reclining chair, covered with a thick blanket. Even as a customer entered, she remained motionless—only when the black cat curled up at her feet stood up and leapt onto her lap did she finally stir.
Slowly, she lifted her wrinkled eyelids and turned her head toward the ear-studded man in a stiff, mechanical motion, as if she were an ancient robot in desperate need of repair.
The ear-studded man felt uneasy, but he mustered his courage and said, "Give me a ball."
The old lady sluggishly got up from her chair, shuffled behind the counter, and carefully picked up a fully inflated ball, placing it in front of him.
He reached out to take it, but the old lady stopped him, her outstretched hand resembling a set of shriveled, skeletal claws.
"Money…"
The ear-studde man hurriedly pulled out his wallet and slapped a hundred-yuan bill on the counter. "Keep the change."
Yet, the old lady didn't move, didn't even glance at the bill. Instead, from the depths of her raspy throat, she squeezed out a single word:
"Money…"
"How much?" the ear-studde man asked.
After a brief pause, the old lady slowly enunciated, "Twenty yuan."
The ear-studde man took out twenty yuan from his wallet and offered it to her, but she did not accept it.
Suddenly, the ear-studded man recalled something he had read long ago on a forum about ghosts and monsters: they did not use human currency! But he didn't have any ghost money.
A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed repeatedly. His feet were already poised to bolt for the door.
Just then, the old lady spoke again. "One finger—twenty yuan."
Her voice was flat and emotionless, like a programmed machine. Her deep, withered eyes held no gleam—she resembled a shriveled corpse that might crumble with even the slightest push.
But the ear-studded man dared not make a move. After all, the old lady before him was clearly a ghost or a monster, and he was nowhere near strong enough to face one head-on.
Yet if he couldn't pay, he wouldn't get the ball. And if he didn't get the ball… he would have to offer his own head to the boy.
Between a head and a finger, the choice was obvious.