He mentioned that the two magical aspects of the village were both very intriguing: First, all the people in the village, regardless of age or gender, showed almost no signs of aging, maintaining their original appearance with hardly any change over the years. Second, everyone in the village had excellent eyesight, and each of them could see at night.

The informant called from a public phone and didn’t leave any contact information. I have to answer countless calls every day, but from the voice alone, I couldn’t tell if it was someone I knew.

Although I was a bit suspicious, I didn’t think much of it. I know many people who are eager to report news; they’re not after the small reporting fee—gossip itself is enough to make them very excited.

After hanging up, I did some research and found that this village really existed, only it wasn’t by any main road, but deep in the mountains. There was even less other information available, probably because very few people from the village ever left. But precisely because of this, I felt the news was even more credible. Looking at the map, the village was not far from the edge of our city, so I hurriedly got ready and set out with cameraman Big Lee.

But who could have known the mountain road would be so hard to travel? Who knows what year this road was built, or if it had already been abandoned. We spent most of the day winding through the mountains and barely saw any other cars. Not long after entering the mountains, we also lost cell signal, but because of that, I actually had some free time to nap in the car. Watching the sky outside grow darker and darker, I sighed and prepared myself mentally to return empty-handed.

Gritting my teeth, I kept driving for a while longer. After turning around a mountain pass, the sky was completely dark, but I could vaguely make out the shadows of some houses. By the roadside stood a tattered wooden sign, and in the car’s headlights, I could just make out the large characters “木亘村”.

Pointing at the sign, Big Lee frowned and said, “This looks a bit strange.”

I noticed that next to those three characters were many ovals, each containing a small circle, and some stick-figure-like drawings of little people. The little people had big heads and small bodies—maybe children’s doodles—but on closer inspection, there was a weird sense of disharmony that made me very uncomfortable.

We drove into the village, the headlights shining alone on the narrow path. None of the houses in the village had a single light on. We parked the car in the open space at the center of the village. After the engine stopped, we realized the whole village was deathly silent, as if there wasn’t a single person.

Big Lee took a deep breath, rolled down the window, and shouted, “Is anyone here?”

There was no answer, but I could feel countless eyes watching us. The sensation made my skin crawl. I cupped my hands around my mouth and called out, drawing out the words: “Is—any—one—here?”

“Is anyone here?”

No matter how many times we called, no one responded.

Big Lee looked at me and shrugged. “I think you got played by the informant. Ghost village? That’s not funny at all.”

I could feel there were people in the village, but I didn’t tell him how I felt, because it was honestly a bit creepy. I reached for the steering wheel and honked the horn.

The shrill sound of the car horn suddenly pierced the night sky. In that instant, I could feel the gazes watching us disappear.

“Creak—crack—” With the harsh sound of an old wooden door being pushed open, an old man walked out of a nearby house. He slowly came to the front of the car and asked in a very unfriendly tone, “Making such a racket in the middle of the night, what do you want?” His aged voice sounded especially eerie in the pitch-black night.

In the darkness, I couldn’t see his face clearly. I tried to open my eyes wider, but my eyes started to ache. So I took a flashlight from the glove compartment, opened the car door, and got out to meet him.

“Sir, I’m sorry to bother you. We’re reporters from the provincial TV station and wanted to interview your village.” I handed him my business card. “Where is your village chief?”

“I am The Village Chief.” The old man didn’t even lift his eyelids, turned around, and walked back, speaking slowly and impatiently, “Our village doesn’t welcome outsiders. You should leave.”

Big Lee and I exchanged a glance, knowing there was a chance. This wasn’t the first time we’d encountered someone like this, and the way to deal with them was to be persistent. I turned on the flashlight, shone it around, and called out, “The Village Chief, it’s dark and the mountain road is steep. We can’t get down the mountain now. Could you let us stay for one night?”

“Go back!” The Village Chief suddenly looked up, facing us directly for the first time since the conversation began, and shouted at us sternly, “Leave immediately!”

I’ve been a reporter traveling all over for so many years, but at that moment, I was startled by the old man illuminated by the flashlight.

The Village Chief’s eyeballs were actually white. Combined with his fierce expression, for a moment I almost thought that standing in front of me wasn’t a living person, but a lifeless corpse.

Apparently, Big Lee was also frightened. After a moment, he managed to say, “The mountain road is so steep, it’s dangerous to drive. Please just let us stay for one night.”