Chapter Eighteen: The Banquet with No Guests

Following Zhao Hong’s directions, I used the brightness of the high beams to see clearly what was blocking our way directly ahead on the road.

To be honest, if some monstrous fox spirit or ghostly creature had suddenly appeared, I wouldn’t have been afraid—after all, we’d already had more than our share of strange encounters on this journey. And to be fair, this “Old Qi Road” had long since fallen into disuse; when we entered, I’d mentally prepared myself for all kinds of unexpected events, even the possibility of encountering unknown supernatural phenomena.

But the thing now laid out before our car was beyond my understanding. My first reaction was to wonder if I’d traveled back in time—could something like this really be set up right in the middle of the road?

What I saw, about a hundred meters ahead, was three square tables prominently arranged in the center of the road.

And that wasn’t all—each table was covered with a vivid red cloth draped all the way to the ground, and on the tabletops were white porcelain dishes, bowls, and pots, with faint wisps of steam rising as if the food was still hot.

The three tables were arranged exactly like three banquet settings, quietly awaiting their “guests.”

Everyone except Little Fourth had been jolted awake by Zhao Hong’s sudden braking. Now, all of us saw those three empty tables illuminated by the headlights.

No one spoke for a moment; none of us could make sense of what we were seeing.

After a brief silence, everyone turned their eyes to me. Their expectant stares made me feel deeply uneasy.

It made my skin crawl, so I spoke up first, “Why are you all looking at me? I didn’t set up this banquet.”

“But you’re the cook!” Xian Hongye whispered, “And you’re the cook from the Five Viscera Temple! Don’t tell me you don’t know the meaning behind a three-table banquet in the middle of the road?”

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I gazed at those three tables, still emitting wisps of smoke.

To be honest, I had no idea what any of this meant. The old squad leader had never mentioned anything like this to me, and in recent years, I hadn’t heard of any rural custom involving setting up a ‘dragon gate array’ in the middle of the road.

I shook my head helplessly.

“You really don’t know?” Wang Hou asked in surprise, pointing at the three tables outside. “You know all about coffin banquets and ghostly feasts, but you don’t know what three simple tables mean?”

His question annoyed me, so I waved my hand in protest. “Come on, Hou, it’s not the same thing at all. Even if you ask me about the meaning, we’d have to go see what’s actually on the tables first, right?”

My words immediately split the group into two camps. Zhao Hong and Little Fourth thought we should get out and investigate before moving on. Wang Hou and Hongye firmly opposed the idea, arguing it was better to avoid trouble if possible.

Wang Hou, in particular, was extremely cautious, still shaken by the “ghost banquet” incident that morning. He even suggested, half-madly, that we just ignore it, step on the gas, and barrel straight through.

Both groups had their reasons, and the debate was at a stalemate. In the end, everyone’s attention returned to me.

“You make the call! Otherwise, we’ll be stuck here until dawn. You’re the ‘professional’—think it over!” Hongye handed the decision to me first.

With his words, everyone nodded, once again giving me the final say.

But what could I do?

In the silence, I stared at those three empty “banquet tables,” feeling slightly dazed. With everyone waiting expectantly, I could only try to explain,

“A long time ago, I remember the old squad leader saying, ‘In the cook’s trade, anyone who enters is a guest, and when dishes are placed on the table, it’s an invitation to dine.’ In other words, in restaurant etiquette, anyone who enters is treated as a guest, even if all they do is drink a pot of water. Once the dishes are on the table, you’re inviting people to eat—even if they don’t want to, they’re expected to at least move their chopsticks. So I think… since these three tables are fully set, with utensils and all, they must be meant to invite someone—or something—to eat, right?”

“So we’re back where we started,” Zhao Hong said with a furrowed brow. “If we knew who or what these tables were for, we’d have our answer, wouldn’t we?”

Exactly. The key question was, we didn’t know. And to find out, we’d have to get out and take a closer look.

With everyone’s expectant gazes on me, I decided on a compromise.

“How about this? Whoever wants to get out and look, let’s go check it out. Whoever doesn’t can stay in the car and wait.”

“That works…” Wang Hou, surprisingly, was the first to agree. “If anything happens, at least not everyone will get caught up in it.”

I gave a helpless smile—he clearly had other motives. He probably wanted to stay in the car to keep Hongye company… I couldn’t be bothered to think about it.

So, with our roles assigned, I stepped out with Zhao Hong and the dwarf, Little Fourth. Hongye, Wang Hou, and Zhao Hong’s uncle’s black dog, Dudu, stayed behind just in case.

As we left, Wang Hou called after us with barely concealed excitement, “Take a good look! And don’t be afraid if it takes a while—I’ll keep the lights on you from here.”

Hearing his words, I couldn’t help feeling exasperated. Did he have no shame? The headlights belonged to Zhao Hong’s car, not to him.

To get to the point, when we approached those three tables draped in red, each of us was stunned—and also deeply relieved.

We were relieved because, had we followed Wang Hou’s suggestion and rammed through blindly, disaster would have been unavoidable.

Why? Because as we drew near, we realized the three “tables” were not tables at all. They were square stone platforms, built from small rocks, thick and solid like ancient stone stools used for chess. Even when I tried to push one, it wouldn’t budge an inch.

These three stone platforms had been set in the middle of the road, covered not with cloth but with large sheets of red paper that reached the ground. On the red paper, the white porcelain pots and bowls were real enough, but all of them were empty.

From a distance, it truly looked like banquet tables set with food.

But what surprised me most was that, among the empty bowls and dishes, wisps of blue smoke still curled. The scent was reminiscent of barbecue, or perhaps just steam.

As I watched the smoke weaving among the porcelain, I suddenly realized its source.

Following the line of thought, I quickly walked around to the opposite side of the central stone “table” and immediately saw a pile of incense ash at the “table’s” corner.

Among the ashes, three tall sticks of incense were still slowly burning, their fragrance filling the air, two-thirds of each stick already consumed.

The blue smoke drifting over the tables came from those incense sticks.

Zhao Hong was just as puzzled. He touched the red paper on the tabletop and remarked, “The paper is still new—this was probably set up just a day or two ago.”

Looking at the burning incense, I suddenly realized, and corrected him, “This isn’t a banquet. It’s an offering.”

“An offering? Is that how it’s done?” Zhao Hong looked at me in confusion, gesturing to the bowls and utensils. “But there are chopsticks and empty bowls. Isn’t that for someone to eat? Or is it… a banquet for ghosts?”

Saying this, Zhao Hong startled himself. But Little Fourth scoffed, muttered something about superstition, and actually asked me for a scientific explanation—why set up a banquet here, with nothing in the bowls?

Frankly, I had no scientific explanation. Setting up a “banquet” like this in the middle of the road is unscientific on its face.

But Little Fourth’s words sparked an idea. Instead of answering right away, I told them, “Don’t touch the bowls, chopsticks, or dishes yet. First, look carefully—is there anything in any of the bowls?”

At my words, Zhao Hong’s eyes widened, and Little Fourth tiptoed up beside me. Together, we bent over the neat rows of white porcelain bowls to peer inside, one by one, afraid to miss any detail.

But soon, I was disappointed. They were all empty.

“You guys didn’t find anything either?” I asked them, a little let down.

“Nothing at all,” Zhao Hong replied, just as disappointed.

But as we were about to give up, Little Fourth let out a sharp cry—he’d made a “major discovery.”

“There’s something! There’s food in the bowl!” he announced.

“What?” Zhao Hong and I froze, then both pressed, “What is it?”

Little Fourth pointed to a bowl he’d just checked. “There’s a single grain of rice in this bowl!”

His words were both within my expectations and completely unforeseen. I’d suspected there might be rice, but I hadn’t considered—why only one grain? What could that mean?

I didn’t have time to ponder. I hurried over, picked up the bowl Little Fourth indicated, and took out the lone grain of rice.

Under the light, I examined it closely and could just make out that it was glutinous rice.

My heart sank.

As I suspected—glutinous rice.

Still, hoping against hope, I brought the grain to my nose and sniffed.

A moment later, the musty scent of mold hit me.

“It’s over,” I said, my hand trembling as I held the grain. I told Zhao Hong and Little Fourth, “This glutinous rice is already moldy. It’s ‘provisions for the underworld soldiers’—soldiers of the Netherworld!”

“What do you mean, ‘soldiers’ provisions’?” They both asked in unison.

My answer was almost word-for-word what Zhao Qingshan once told Lei Aniu.

I explained, “This moldy glutinous rice is food for the soldiers of the underworld. Wherever you find it, the ghostly army is sure to pass.”