Dusk fell thick over the open sea, where a massive ship lay anchored amid the waves. A crowd of villagers lined the vessel’s rail, their murmurs rippling through the salty evening air. Standing above everyone else was the village elder, the most respected man in this remote fishing hamlet.

He raised a hand to hush the restless crowd, then pointed sharply toward the churning seawater below with his right hand. His voice boomed across the deck, cold and unyielding: “Cast these two adulterers into the sea. Let the ocean claim them.”

“I will haunt every last one of you, even as a ghost!”

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the twilight, sharp enough to pierce anyone’s chest. Its echo lingered endlessly, seeping into people’s veins and bones just like frigid seawater. A pale, bloodless face peeked out from matted messy hair, twisted beyond recognition by agony and rage. As the pair thrashed wildly inside their bamboo pig cages, the heavy containers tipped over the ship’s edge and crashed into the ocean.

Violent waves exploded across the once-calm surface. A string of frothy white bubbles bubbled up from the dark depths one after another, then vanished without a trace. The sea fell silent again, as if nothing cruel had happened moments before.

But the ocean was never truly peaceful.

Beneath the sunless, pitch-black underwater layers, water weeds twisted and writhed like malicious water spirits, swaying wildly with hidden undercurrents. They held centuries-old hatred, festering endlessly in the endless dark abyss.

Up above, however, the sea looked deceptively serene. Bathed in warm orange-pink dawn glow each morning, the coastal waters seemed gentle and beautiful. As a new day broke, fishing boats set sail from the tiny village, gliding across golden sunlit waves to start their day’s work.

This quiet fishing village was home to barely over a hundred households. Its residents were descendants of migrants who fled Fujian Province during the Ming Dynasty, preserving simple, honest folk customs for hundreds of years. Back in the Guangxu reign of the Qing Dynasty, two local families arranged a childhood betrothal for their children. The girl was named Xu Ling’er, and the boy Zhang Yuanhui.

They married as planned once they came of age, and their life was meant to be peaceful and happy. Tragedy struck out of nowhere: Zhang Yuanhui drowned at sea when a brutal typhoon capsized his fishing boat during a voyage. Left young and widowed, Xu Ling’er could not bear the lonely life of a widow. She began a secret affair with Xu Bai, an unmarried young man from the same village.

Their forbidden tryst was accidentally witnessed by fellow villagers one night. The scandal spread like wildfire across the tight-knit village, sparking public outrage. Furious at the violation of ancient village rules, the elder immediately ordered the pair arrested. After a brief interrogation, he ruled they would face the village’s oldest and cruelest punishment: drowning in bamboo pig cages.

Waves crashed monotonously against the shore, hour after hour.

Liang Xiaoming stood on the sandy beach, watching the sun sink slowly below the horizon. Total darkness swallowed the isolated fishing village in the blink of an eye. Seagulls circled overhead occasionally, their shrill cries echoing above the dull, rhythmic roar of the tides. The summer night wind swept over the coast, carrying a thick, suffocating briny stench. Dim distant lanterns flickered on the shore, looking like ghostly red lanterns floating aimlessly on dark seawater.

His girlfriend Fang called out from nearby, strolling slowly toward him along the quiet beach.

Xiaoming and Fang took a seaside vacation at this village every summer. This was their fourth year visiting here. According to both of their families, they were set to get married right after this trip.

Fang skipped over playfully, then threw her arms tightly around Xiaoming. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and the two stepped backward slowly into the shallow surf. Soft whispers spilled from their lips as cold seawater rose past Fang’s waist. Heavy, breathless gasps filled the night as the faint glow of the water reflected across Fang’s face. Lost in overwhelming passion and the gentle pull of the ocean waves, the couple melted into the dark, endless sea under the night sky.

Early one morning in the scorching summer of 1995, Village Elder Xu woke up to a terrifying surprise: the young city couple, Xiaoming and Fang, had never returned to his house overnight.

Few urban tourists ever visited this remote coastal village. Elder Xu had taken an immediate liking to the cheerful, easygoing Xiaoming when the couple first arrived, and invited them to stay at his empty home. His wife had passed away years ago, and his only child worked far away in the city, rarely coming back to visit. Though all villagers respected him deeply, Elder Xu lived a painfully lonely life alone.

He had shared a joyful dinner with Xiaoming and Fang the night before, drinking far more rice wine than usual after months of quiet solitude. In his good mood, he suggested the young couple take a walk along the shore after dinner, before heading to bed early due to drunken fatigue.

A sharp sense of unease jolted Elder Xu awake before sunrise. He skipped breakfast and rushed straight to the beach, only to find all footprints completely washed away by overnight tides. The endless sea stretched out empty and silent as far as the eye could see. After searching the entire shore alone until early afternoon, Elder Xu knew with dread that the young couple had vanished into the ocean.

He gathered dozens of villagers and set out on fishing boats for a full-day search, yet they found no trace of the missing pair. Exhausted and hopeless, everyone returned to shore as night fell.

Elder Xu stayed awake the entire night, consumed by guilt and worry. At dawn the next day, he led another search fleet back to sea. A long thin rope hung from the side of his boat, with a whole watermelon tied tightly to the loose end, floating freely on the wave surface. Local village folklore claimed watermelons could lead searchers to drowned corpses. Desperate and helpless, Elder Xu decided to test the old legend.

Every villager onboard stared rigidly at the floating watermelon, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. No one dared make a sound for fear of breaking the eerie silence. After a long moment with no movement, Elder Xu stood up, lit three incense sticks, planted them firmly on the bow, and bowed solemnly toward the open sea.

The boats drifted across the ocean for hours, and many villagers began to lose hope. Then a trembling shout cut through the quiet: “Look!”

All eyes snapped back to the watermelon. Right as the boat drifted across this specific patch of sea, the fruit sank silently downward into the dark water without a single ripple.

“Quick! Dive down right now—follow the watermelon!” Elder Xu roared urgently.

Two skilled local divers plunged into the seawater instantly. They resurfaced minutes later, gasping for air with terrified expressions.

“Elder Xu! We found them! Both of them are underwater!”

The bodies of Xiaoming and Fang were laid side by side inside the village ancestral hall. Elder Xu stood before the two corpses, his face etched with sorrow. He whispered brokenly to the lifeless young man: “Xiaoming… I’m the one who killed you.” Thick, tearful drops rolled down his wrinkled cheeks. Darkness crept over the village while he stood lost in grief. He finally turned and stumbled away slowly, his back looking frail and worn under the dim hall lights. Flickering candle flames danced wildly in the drafty ancestral hall—would the two lost souls ever rest in peace?

A strange unease lingered with Elder Xu all the way home. That night had been completely calm, with no high tides, no storms, no dangerous ocean currents. There was no logical reason for two healthy young people to drown suddenly in shallow shore water. He swore he heard faint, ghostly whispers carried on the night wind, soft and cold, calling out to him from nowhere. Cold dread crawled down his spine.

Deep night fell. Elder Xu lay down on his bed, seemingly asleep. Only the ancestral hall remained lit. The moon vanished behind heavy storm clouds, plunging the entire village into pitch darkness. Wind howled through tree branches, and leaves rustled endlessly in the oppressive blackness.

Suddenly, flickering flames darted through the dark night, moving straight toward the ancestral hall. The wooden hall door creaked open slowly on its own. A horrified scream stuck in the throat of the villager holding the lantern: blocking the doorway was Liang Xiaoming’s upright corpse. His face was deathly pale, and endless seawater dripped nonstop from his clothes, pooling into a large wet stain on the stone floor.

A cold, hollow voice drifted up from hell itself, slow and icy cold: “Xu… Bai…”

The lantern flame flickered violently, and Fang appeared right behind Xiaoming, her long hair hanging loose over her face with glowing, sharp eyes. Before the terrified villager could run, Fang let out a shrill, soul-piercing cackle. She lifted both hands to her head, then twisted her head clean off and held it out toward the petrified witness. The villager collapsed to the ground instantly, paralyzed by mortal terror.

Dawn broke hours later. Villagers crowded outside the ancestral hall, shocked to find the two corpses had disappeared without a trace. As chaotic gossip spread across the village, Elder Xu rushed over and immediately sent someone to report the bizarre incident to the town police station.

Two veteran police officers arrived soon after: Officer Ma and Officer He. They conducted detailed interviews with villagers and finished a full crime scene investigation. The two officers decided to stay overnight at Elder Xu’s house to continue the investigation the next day.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Loud knocks echoed at the door late at night. No voice answered from outside, only repeated heavy knocking. Elder Xu cracked the door open slightly, relaxing when he saw the visitor. “It’s you, Zifeng. Why didn’t you say anything? You scared me half to death. Are you here to play cards? I can’t sleep either—I’ll call Pingyu and Jun over right now.”

Minutes later, Xu Pingyu returned with two more villagers, only to find Xu Zifeng already sitting quietly at the card table. After chatting briefly about the strange missing corpses in the village that day, the four men started their card game.

“Why didn’t you come yesterday?” Pingyu asked Zifeng. “It was boring without you.”

“He must have been meeting his secret lover,” Yun joked with a laugh. “He forgot all about us.”

“You look gloomy tonight,” Jun added. “No one owes you money here. Why won’t you talk?”

Violent wind suddenly roared outside, followed by a torrential summer downpour. A deafening thunderclap exploded directly above the roof, startling every man inside. Jagged lightning flashed across the sky, twisting tree shadows into monstrous shapes outside the windows.

“Water is leaking into the room!” Pingyu stood up abruptly, then froze staring at Zifeng’s hands. “Wait… why is water dripping from your hands?”

The other two men looked down immediately. Drop after drop of seawater fell onto the wooden table, soaking a dark wet patch. Curious, Jun dipped his finger into the dripping water and tasted it. His face turned ashen white in a second. “It’s salty…”

Cold sweat broke out across Jun’s forehead. He slowly lifted his head and met Zifeng’s eyes—cold, empty, completely inhuman. Seawater poured down endlessly from Zifeng’s entire body. Jun screamed and flipped over the card table, stumbling backward. “He’s possessed by a ghost!”

Panic swept through the room. Everyone jumped away in terror. Zifeng stood up slowly, his mouth stretching open unnaturally wide to reveal a blood-red oral cavity. He stared blankly out the rain-lashed window and called out clearly through the storm: “Xu Ling’er… come here.”

The voice cut through thunder and rain effortlessly. The three living men froze stiff, their blood running cold. Before they could react, a ghostly figure crashed straight through the window. It was Fang, her form blurred and inhuman like a vengeful spirit.

Fang and the possessed Zifeng advanced rapidly. In seconds, they grabbed Pingyu and Jun by the throat, squeezing tight without mercy. The two villagers’ eyes bulged out wildly, and they collapsed dead on the floor instantly. Terrified, Yun regained control of his legs and sprinted for the door, screaming nonstop: “Ghosts! There are vengeful ghosts in the village!”

He stumbled and fell multiple times while running through the pouring rain, desperate to escape.

Yun burst frantically into Elder Xu’s lit house and slammed the door shut, collapsing onto the floor gasping for breath. Elder Xu and the two police officers rushed forward to help him up immediately.

Shaking violently, Yun pointed at the rainy outdoors. “Ghosts… real ghosts killed Pingyu and Jun! Zifeng is possessed! And he called the female ghost Xu Ling’er!”

The name hit Elder Xu like a lightning strike. Xu Ling’er.

He instantly recalled the village’s hidden dark history recorded in the ancestral genealogy. Hundreds of years ago, Xu Ling’er and her lover Xu Bai were drowned in pig cages for adultery. It was the only shameful supernatural tragedy in the village’s entire history.

The truth crashed over him: the drowned young couple Xiaoming and Fang had been possessed by the two ancient vengeful ghosts. The century-old wronged souls had returned to take revenge. Chills ran down Elder Xu’s entire spine. Seeing the elder’s horrified expression, Officers Ma and He understood the danger instantly. They drew their service pistols and chambered rounds without hesitation.

The rain intensified, pounding harder against the house walls.

Fierce roars echoed outside the door. The two vengeful ghosts had arrived.

“Quick! Block the door with the table! Barricade all windows with heavy furniture!” Elder Xu shouted urgently. The four people huddled together in the center of the room, back-to-back. Officer Ma raised his gun steadily, keeping his eyes locked on the door and windows. Yun trembled uncontrollably, his teeth chattering nonstop.

A brutal crash shook the whole house. Dust fell from the ceiling as the door slammed inward. The barricading table slid backward with the second violent impact. The four pushed against the table with all their strength to hold the door shut.

Before anyone could catch their breath, the window shattered completely. Both ghostly figures jumped into the cramped room from the rainy darkness. Fang and the possessed Zifeng stood in front of them, bloodshot eyes wide open, thick saliva dripping from their mouths. “Give us back our lives!” Fang snarled, stepping forward slowly.

Officer Ma fired immediately. The bullet pierced straight through Fang’s torso, yet she did not slow down at all. A gaping bullet wound tore open her body, revealing rotten dark-green flesh underneath, exactly like a dead fish. Yun nearly fainted from sheer terror, unable to make any sound.

“Our revenge is complete…” The dual voices of Xu Ling’er and Xu Bai filled the room, thick with centuries of hatred. Elder Xu suddenly remembered the cinnabar hanging on the wall behind him—ancient Chinese folklore stated cinnabar could suppress evil spirits and make exorcism bullets effective.

He grabbed the cinnabar pouch and tossed it to Officer Ma. “Make cinnabar bullets quickly!”

Officer Ma understood instantly and began reloading bullets mixed with cinnabar powder. But it was too late. Xu Ling’er lunged forward and bit Officer He hard on the throat. Meanwhile, Xu Bai grabbed Elder Xu’s clothes and pulled him forward, opening his bloody jaws to devour the village elder.

Elder Xu struggled desperately to push the ghost away, too scared to look directly at its ferocious face. Yun stood frozen, helpless to assist and unable to run away. As Officer He was on the verge of death, Xu Ling’er turned her murderous gaze toward Yun. Her icy cold fingers wrapped around his throat, and Yun squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for death.

Elder Xu roared and shoved Xu Bai backward forcefully, losing his balance and falling to the floor. Enraged, Xu Ling’er spun around and charged at the fallen elder. Right at this fatal moment, Officer Ma fired the modified cinnabar bullet.

A huge smoking wound exploded on Xu Ling’er’s chest. White smoke billowed out with a harsh sizzling sound. She let out a deafening scream and collapsed motionless on the floor.

Xu Bai let out a grief-stricken howl and rushed at Officer Ma in the blink of an eye. He knocked the pistol out of the officer’s hand and drove both hands straight into Ma’s chest, pinning him against the wall. Officer Ma’s eyes widened, blood flowing from the corner of his mouth before he stopped moving.

The pistol lay on the floor within reach. Elder Xu crawled over with his last strength, picked up the gun, and pulled the trigger toward Xu Bai. Another dull roar echoed through the room. Xu Bai fell to the ground, his hands still stretched upward. Thick white smoke filled the small house, mixed with a repulsive rotten stench that lingered for a very long time.

Yun woke up hours later, as if emerging from a terrifying nightmare. Morning light seeped through the broken windows. He sat up with a splitting headache and saw Elder Xu lying unconscious on the floor, alongside the bodies of the two police officers. Seawater covered the entire floor, yet Fang and Zifeng were gone—vanished completely without a trace.

Yun crawled over and shook Elder Xu awake. The elder slowly opened his eyes, letting out a long tired sigh when he saw the surviving villager. Yun broke down crying in his arms, still traumatized by the horrific night. Elder Xu patted his back silently, wearing a bitter, helpless smile.

Soft sea breeze swept across the ancient fishing village once more, gentle as a hand brushing over an innocent child. A hundred years of hatred was nothing but a fleeting pause in the endless flow of ocean time. No amount of obsession and resentment could stop the inevitable fading of all sorrows, swallowed quietly by the endless dark waves.