Chapter Twenty-Six: The Eerie Reservoir

Instinctively, I uttered a soft "oh," wanting to ask more, but in the end, I chose silence.

So I boarded the bus, setting off toward Dongmen Village with the bus uncle. Around six o'clock, we finally arrived at the outskirts of Dongmen Village. From afar, I could see the dam of a reservoir several hundred meters ahead, flanked by a vast, lush bamboo grove.

That must have been the dam of the Dongmen Reservoir from the photograph—the very spot where Wang Feiyang stood at the center in the picture.

Below the reservoir lay a desolate, ancient village. Dusk had already settled, casting everything in twilight. Not a single light flickered in the village, nor was there any sign of cooking smoke. The silence was so profound that not even a whisper of life could be heard. Many of the mud houses had completely collapsed, and even the occasional brick house seemed on the verge of ruin. From a distance, the place, overgrown with wild grass, looked less like a village and more like a graveyard long abandoned.

Who could have imagined that this place, now resembling a forsaken burial ground, was once, twenty years ago, a thriving community of over three hundred people? They lived simple, contented lives, working at sunrise and resting at sunset, not wealthy but at peace. Until that night—no one knew what happened. The entire village, over three hundred souls, abruptly left their homes and, as if under some dreadful curse, one by one leapt into the reservoir, ending their lives. By dawn, the floating corpses filled the entire reservoir.

I stared at the black-and-white photograph in my hand, then glanced at the dam. Wang Feiyang was still struggling within the photo, and I silently prayed nothing would befall him.

Yet I could not fathom why the ghostly woman had lured us here. Was it truly possible to uncover her true identity and the hidden truth behind all this?

The road ahead ended. After parking the bus, the bus uncle and I quickly walked toward the dam.

As we approached, the shrill noise of water pumps reached our ears. The bus uncle and I exchanged a glance, both faces etched with confusion.

"Wasn't Dongmen Village abandoned twenty years ago? Why is there the sound of pumping water?" I asked.

He seemed equally puzzled, shook his head, and motioned that we continue up the dam before asking questions.

Once atop the dam, I saw three high-powered water pumps on the other side, tirelessly draining water from the reservoir. The water itself was a strange, inky red-black color.

Near the bamboo grove, several large tents had been erected, and people were kindling fires and preparing food beside them.

"What are those people doing here?" I frowned, glancing toward the tents and asking the bus uncle.

His expression soured, and he strode purposefully toward the tents. I hurried after him, scanning the surroundings, hoping to spot Wang Feiyang. I looked toward the center of the reservoir, guided by the photo, but there was only emptiness—no sign of Wang Feiyang.

"Hello, may I ask what you are doing here?" we quickly reached the tents. The bus uncle took out a cigarette and offered it to a middle-aged man tending the fire.

"Who are you?" The man eyed us warily, ignoring the proffered cigarette, clearly suspicious.

After a moment’s thought, the bus uncle replied, "We used to live here in Dongmen Village. With the New Year approaching, we thought to return and pay respects to our ancestors. The village has been deserted for over twenty years, and suddenly we see you pumping water from the reservoir. We were curious and came to ask."

At these words, the man's demeanor changed. He hurriedly turned and ran into one of the tents, shouting, "Professor Liu! Professor Liu, come quickly! Someone from Dongmen Village is here!"

Soon, several people in yellow work uniforms emerged from the tents. At the front was an elderly man, perhaps in his sixties, with graying hair and glasses. He appeared visibly moved, grasped the bus uncle's hand, and asked if he truly was from Dongmen Village.

Both the bus uncle and I were taken aback, but he nodded and asked in turn what they were doing here.

The elderly man quickly introduced himself as Liu Huaidong, Director of the Geological Survey Bureau, and said he had been in Dongmen Village for nearly two months.

I was perplexed—what was the Geological Survey Bureau doing here? The bus uncle voiced the same confusion. Hearing our questions, Professor Liu’s expression grew tense.

"What happened?" asked the bus uncle.

Professor Liu adjusted his glasses and said that in all his years of geological work, he had never encountered anything so strange.

At this, our curiosity was piqued. We pressed him for details.

"Come with me," he said.

He led us into one of the tents. Inside, several large fish tanks stood in a row, and what we saw within was unsettling.

Have you ever seen catfish over a meter long, or crucian carp half a meter in length? These tanks held such monstrous creatures.

There were meter-long catfish, crabs as big as watermelons, and even loaches, which should have been finger-length, were as large as eels.

"Where did you find these giants?" the bus uncle asked, frowning.

"From this reservoir," Professor Liu replied.

I was dumbfounded. Even in great rivers, such specimens would be rare, let alone in a humble reservoir. How could such gigantic fish be reared here?

Professor Liu explained that this was precisely the strange thing about the reservoir. But there was more—something even more bizarre and terrifying. His face grew tenser as he asked again if we were truly from Dongmen Village, and if we knew of any unusual events in the reservoir’s past.

The bus uncle answered, "Why don’t you tell us what frightening things you’ve encountered here? And why did you come?"

After a moment’s thought, Professor Liu explained that about three months ago, a group of amateur anglers stumbled upon the place and caught these enormous fish, which drew the attention of the Geological Survey Bureau. They suspected that chemical weapons from the war against the Japanese were buried beneath the reservoir and had leaked, causing the fish to mutate. So they immediately dispatched a team to investigate.

At first, seven people from the bureau arrived, but on the third day, every one of them drowned themselves in the reservoir.

I was shocked. "How could all seven have drowned?"

Professor Liu said they too found it incomprehensible. Nevertheless, they promptly called in the police to recover the bodies. Three divers went down, but things took a turn for the worse.

"What happened?" I was all attention now.

Professor Liu took a deep breath. "Of the three divers, two never resurfaced. The only one who did went mad on the spot. He was sent to a psychiatric hospital, but the next day he escaped, returned to the reservoir, and drowned himself."

At this, grief clouded Professor Liu's face. He said, in all his decades of geological work, he’d encountered many strange and fatal incidents, but never anything causing such massive loss of life.

"And then?" the bus uncle asked.

"After that, we dared not send any more divers. We could only use lifeboats to try and recover the bodies from the surface. But when the lifeboats entered the water, something completely unforeseen happened again."

"What happened now?" My nerves were taut.

"One of the lifeboats, upon reaching the center of the reservoir, suddenly lost all buoyancy, as if it had fallen into a swamp, and sank straight to the bottom."