Chapter 259: Frogs And Toads
In order to better understand the things described in the diary, Fang Mu flipped through the diary while also searching for some things mentioned in the diary that he didn’t understand.
For example, regarding the frog statue in the shrine mentioned, Fang Mu searched online and found that this frog statue is actually a type of animal deity worshiped locally in the Guinan Region, named Frog God, belonging to witchcraft worship.
The birth of the Frog God can be traced back to more primitive and ancient times. It is one of the totem cultures that have been passed down since ancient times in the Guinan Region and other parts of Shenzhou. Modern people speculate that because frogs croak to indicate the arrival of the sowing season, this deity was considered by locals as the image of the rain god and harvest god. Praying to it could bring favorable weather, abundant crops.
Fang Mu couldn’t help but think, could the Frog God worshiped in this place have something to do with the Toad Frog mentioned by the diary owner?
Moreover, the diary owner’s expressions regarding “time” were extremely eerie multiple times: “It’s not yet my peaceful era,” “Marry someone who could be my mother,” “The ending is destined anyway”… This couldn’t help but make people fantasize. Could the diary owner be a transmigrator from some future era?
Fang Mu continued reading the diary with slightly excited and nervous emotions.
February 26, 1995. After arriving locally, I didn’t find a local as a tour guide, since this wasn’t my first time here. Although more than twenty years had passed, the place I was going to was relatively primitive and backward, and the passage of time hadn’t changed it much, which made it convenient for me to revisit the old place. Heh, of course no one here would recognize me. With the help of local villagers, I got on a pickup truck that happened to be heading to the destination, and arrived at the mountain village named Wenyatun together with the pickup truck carrying red bricks and tiles. For a young man like me from outside, the villagers in the mountain village cast strange gazes at me. Since the sun was about to set when I arrived at Wenyatun, I had to consider lodging first. I paid extra to the big brother driving the pickup for the fare and lodging at his home, and his family received me very warmly.
February 27, 1995. Since coming to Guinan, my neurasthenia has improved a lot. I know this isn’t due to medication. After staying one night at the pickup big brother’s home, I got up refreshed and planned to go out early to find Wenyatun’s village chief, but big brother stopped me, saying the village chief’s family doesn’t have the habit of getting up early, and told me to eat breakfast at his home first. Breakfast was sweet potato porridge with pickled vegetables; the taste wasn’t great, but it was fine to fill the stomach. After breakfast, I saw big brother’s daughter squatting next to an iron bucket in the courtyard where she was washing vegetables and fetching water, teasing something. I heard sounds like Toad Frog.
Somewhat fearfully and curiously, I approached closer and saw the girl dump things collected with a piece of homework paper all into the iron bucket. Then the iron bucket emitted intense Toad Frog croaking, along with loud collision sounds against the bucket wall, like the Toad Frogs inside were fighting each other for food. Faintly, I also heard the sound of flesh and blood tearing, while the girl let out joyful silver bell laughter as if seeing some interesting and exciting scene.
I shivered with fear. I knew what the girl was doing and was very clear that the things she collected were my hair dropped in the room and the nails I trimmed and threw away last night.
I went to the village chief’s home, explained my intention to the village chief, and told him about the troubles I had endured these past few years. The village chief was silent for a long time after learning about it, then told me to sit in the living room and wait. He then went out leaning on a cane, probably to fetch something. The wait was quite long, so I got up and wandered in the living room, looking around. Soon I saw a shrine here too, and sure enough, it enshrined a Toad Frog, but this Toad Frog was different from the one I saw in the inn.
The thing in front of me, with wrinkled skin full of pimples, even seeming to have spines and hairs, was more like a toad, vastly different from ordinary smooth-skinned, brightly colored and patterned frogs.
That was not the Frog God, but the Toad God, a more niche animal faith locally. Notably, a clear distinction must be made between the two; locals’ attitudes toward Them are completely different.
Looking at that statue whose appearance was neither toad nor frog, with facial features also bearing bat and sloth characteristics, my heart filled with chill, because I was being watched by Him.
The gaze of a deity is sometimes not a blessing, but a curse.
Twenty minutes later, the village chief returned, holding a black paulownia wood box in his hands to me, telling me that the method to eliminate my troubles was to take this paulownia wood box to the cave in Nong Mountain, place the box at the foot of the statue of deity, and then come back. He solemnly instructed me to absolutely not speak during the process of entering the cave, best to hold my breath, and no matter what I saw or heard, absolutely ignore it, not respond… otherwise, I wouldn’t escape that cave.
I was very grateful for everything this elder did for me. Presumably, to get the things inside this paulownia wood box for me, he had paid a considerable price. His hands had become eerily swollen in just a short few tens of minutes, with rough bumps of various sizes emerging, just like toad skin.
I brought the paulownia wood box back to big brother’s home and inquired about Nong Mountain. Big brother’s family all had strange expressions tinged with ferocity upon hearing the place, their gazes toward me subtly changing. He told me Nong Mountain was somewhat far, it was too late to enter the mountain now, and terrifying beasts would appear in the mountain at night. So, I planned to set off into the mountain the next day.
March 7, 1995. I safely returned home. My wife was very happy about my safe return and contacted nearby relatives and friends for a special celebration for me, though the relatives and friends who came to eat at home didn’t know what we were celebrating.
Seeing this, Fang Mu furrowed his brows tightly. He flipped the pages back and forth but found no traces of modification or tearing in the diary.
In other words, during the blank 7 days from February 27 to March 7, something must have happened to the diary owner, but he deliberately didn’t record it.
This blank part made Fang Mu feel unbearably itchy, his whole body uncomfortable. As a writer and a bookworm, he really couldn’t tolerate this missing part. He desperately wanted to know what happened to the diary owner after entering the mountain, but the diary owner had deliberately erased this record like a devil.
Suddenly, Fang Mu’s heart tightened, a thought flashing in his mind: Could the reason the diary owner did this on purpose was to lure me to Wenyatun in Guinan?
Fang Mu became even more curious about the father of the Fang family siblings. What did this person with handwriting and writing style almost identical to his look like, and what kind of person was he?
For this, Fang Mu could only spend money to hire an illegal private detective for further investigation, and if possible, at least find a photo of him.
So far, Fang Mu only knew that on the household registration book of the Fang family siblings, the name registered on the page with their father’s information was Fang Lin.
“Fang Lin…” Fang Mu, who had many conjectures about the diary owner’s identity, felt unease and absurdity slowly surging in his heart upon thinking of this name again.
Remove the “household” radical from Fang, remove the “wood” radical from Lin, and that was his name.
Could Fang Lin… be me?
Once this thought arose, Fang Mu couldn’t shake it off, and at the same time, an idea flashed in his mind.
He knew doing this was wrong, absurd, and that the answer obtained would shatter one’s worldview like a tall tale… but Fang Mu still did it. He asked someone to obtain hair from Fang Jingjing who was in line for funeral procession, and took his own hair to a DNA testing organization for identification.
Before the identification results came out, Fang Mu continued reading the diary, and his reading speed quickened.
He was afraid that after the identification results came out, he wouldn’t have the courage to continue reading.
His trembling hand crumpled the diary’s pages, with a uneasy mood, he continued reading downward.
After returning from Guinan, Fang Lin and his family returned to peaceful tranquility. The diary entries weren’t very frequent, but the lines no longer had the previous sense of oppression, the handwriting became much gentler, and life seemed to be improving.
Feeling the emotions of the diary owner when writing, Fang Mu’s mood also seemed comforted, slowly becoming able to read calmly again.
This relaxed state continued until 1997, that is, July two years after returning from Guinan, when the beautiful voice abruptly stopped.
July 12, 1997. The second child was already two months along. For well-known reasons, while her belly wasn’t obvious yet, she had to return to her rural hometown first. Only then could our unborn daughter be born safely. I stayed in the city to continue earning money.
July 21, 1997. The ominous premonition finally came true. I received a package today. Even through the snake skin bag packaging, I felt the familiar weight of the object inside. I opened the delivery, and the thing inside left me stunned for nearly half an hour. It was a black paulownia wood box, exactly the thing I had sent into the Nong Mountain cave two years ago. It had actually been moved out of the cave and returned to my hands, except this time it came with a key that could open the wood box lock.
I opened the box to check; it was empty inside. My heart was empty too, my soul like falling into an endless abyss. That night, I drank alone on the balcony, suddenly feeling the wind a bit cold, my nape chilly, my heart uncomfortable. From the day I married my wife… no, from even earlier, from the first time I came into contact with His existence, I knew I could never escape my fate of death; I would die on the day I was born.
July 22, 1997. I took the train to Guinan again, harboring a sliver of luck. If I sent the box back there again, could I escape the disaster?
July 23, 1997. Devastating news: the village chief at the time was already dead. The village chief’s whole family was dead. His daughter-in-law went mad after losing her child and soon after squeezed her head into iron guardrails that could fit a small arm through in the asylum, committing suicide in this eerie way. The new village chief regretfully told me that no one in the village could help me anymore. So… who sent this paulownia wood box to me?
July 25, 1997. I’m now sitting on the train home, my heart in deathly silence. When I returned to Nong Mountain, I discovered the cave had collapsed, with no way to enter it anymore. Seeing me dare to enter the mountain alone, the new village chief was shocked and angry, scolding me for having a death wish. Probably seeing me pitiful, he finally revealed the truth: a few months ago, all the family descendants in the village who worshiped the Toad God went to Nong Mountain for the annual worship ritual. Unexpectedly, the cave collapsed that day, and no one who entered the cave survived. So, essentially, all those who knew how to solve my problem died, and naturally no one could help me anymore.
September 30, 1997. My wife’s belly was already large. I expressed to her my idea of taking her to move to a northern city. Though her parents were strongly unwilling, she agreed without thinking.
The subsequent diary entries recorded Fang Lin taking care of his pregnant wife’s daily life, while Fang Lin also worked hard at his new job during the day.
Until April 1, 1998, my long-pregnant wife finally gave birth, and Fang Lin and his wife welcomed their youngest child Fang Jingjing.
April 7, 1998. Daughter was born on the 1st of this month. Mother and daughter are safe. Jianhua is a sensible child; it’s clear he really likes his younger sister. I told him that if in the future mom and dad are gone, no matter what happens, he must love and protect his younger sister with all his effort. Jianhua firmly swore to me. Hearing this, I held my wife and children and cried for the first time in front of them. I could no longer hide my weak side.
May 20, 1998. After Labor Day, I finally had time to write my last diary entry. Presumably you’ve seen up to here, but I want to say that I don’t plan to write much today, because today you will receive a package. That’s the secret I left for myself. We all can’t escape the vortex of time, the trap of fate. Wish my future past self good luck.
Seeing this, Fang Mu’s heart suddenly clenched. Confusion and fear crawled over his body like ants, his breathing organs seemed throttled. He couldn’t describe his current mood with words.
Fang Lin… is it really me?
Ding dong!
“Mr., please sign for your package.”
The dazed Fang Mu took the package sent by the deliveryman from the DNA testing organization, opened the documents inside, read the text above, and read the most crucial piece of information.
Fang Mu suddenly felt the sky collapse, a dizzying vertigo. He fell to the ground, murmuring: “Paternal daughter relationship… Fang Jingjing is my daughter…”
