Chapter 355: The "Bleeding" Stone Man

It was only in the last few days, after the craftsmen had finished renovating the main hall, that Master Zhu came for a visit, bringing with him this strange attire—but it wasn’t exclusive to her. All the girls in the troupe under the age of eighteen received a set. Although Master Zhu spoke to her alone, it was only to tell her to practice the pipa well, with no special words.

The next day, a young girl about their age was sent over. Every day, she led them in practicing in the main hall: splits, leg presses… The original brick floor of the main hall had been replaced with wood, half of it covered with a carpet, and wooden bars were installed along the walls.

As members of an opera troupe, practicing their skills was a daily routine. But the new female instructor taught very differently from other masters. Not only were there traditional movements like splits, leg presses, and backbends, but also many new sets of movements. They were neither dance nor the postures of opera, but the poses were very beautiful. During each practice session, there was also soft musical accompaniment—though they didn’t know where it was being played. Sometimes there was no accompaniment, and a small, ticking pendulum was used to keep time, requiring everyone to move in rhythm.

The female instructor didn’t explain why they had to practice this way, and no one dared to ask. The practice was very strict. They practiced for two shichen (four hours) every day, rain or shine. No one was allowed to be absent unless they were sick.

The practice was strenuous, so they received some extra sweet potatoes as a snack every day. Sweet potatoes are high in dietary fiber, so as long as they weren’t eaten in excess, they wouldn’t cause weight gain and would also promote digestion. Besides, by Zhu Mingxia’s standards, the entire opera troupe was currently malnourished. In peaceful times, they didn’t have to worry about food and drink, only the quality. But during the chaos in Dengzhou, these delicate girls had been starved, and almost all of them had lost weight.

Besides practicing, the female instructor held classes every day—teaching them to read, count, and write their own names. Many in the troupe had no names, some didn’t even have a surname, only stage names given by the troupe leader. This time, most of them were given new names, including the troupe leader herself—at least her surname wasn’t changed.

In addition to practicing and learning to read, Zhao Jinghan practiced the pipa diligently—according to the new score transcribed by the troupe leader. The troupe leader said it was Master Zhu’s order—all the women in the troupe who could play an instrument had to practice these strange new tunes diligently.

These days, the troupe leader herself was also practicing the tunes desperately, as if Master Zhu had given her some order. Every night before bed, the troupe leader would teach her again.

Because she had already caught Master Zhu’s eye, the troupe leader no longer dared to hit or scold her at will. But from her tense and anxious demeanor, it was clear that Master Zhu wanted her to have everyone practice these tunes well.

“Daughter, look, this is today’s score…” Liu Yisi said with a somewhat fawning smile, bringing over the score. She had been reluctant to teach her the skill of transcribing and reading music before, but these days, she was teaching her everything she knew.

“You rest for a while, and then practice with me later… This tune is one Master Zhu specifically wants us to master. You are my pillar…”

As she was speaking, a strange, eerie whistle suddenly came from outside, sending a shiver down their spines. The three people in the room involuntarily looked up towards the window.

The whistling sound came from the desolate outskirts of the city. Although it caught the attention of the sentries in the watchtowers and the patrols, there was nothing else unusual. Xue Ziliang, who was on duty in the city, immediately sent out a mixed Japanese-Korean public security team to search in the direction of the sound, but they found nothing.

Hearing the report from the Japanese NCO leading the team, Xue Ziliang’s brow furrowed. The whistling sound was too strange. It sounded like some kind of animal, but the problem was that when he was a US soldier, he had been to Jeju Island many times to enjoy the sea, sun, and women, and he had never heard of an animal on Jeju that could make such a sound: deep, eerie, and filled with a strange feeling that gave one goosebumps.

“Captain Kim, what do you think that sound is?” he asked Kim Yong-ju, who was in the duty room. As the captain of the “White Horse Battalion” and the Jeju military affairs clerk, he was an active collaborator. Feng Zongze trusted him very much. Out of a certain habit, many Yuanlao did not trust intellectuals and propertied collaborators, basically still believing in the theory that “the poorer, the more revolutionary.”

Kim Yong-ju did not disappoint. Whether it was training or patrolling, he was always at the forefront. Although he was illiterate, he was very active in learning Mandarin and could basically carry on a simple conversation.

Kim Yong-ju stammered that he didn’t know what was making the sound—but he was certain of one thing: it wasn’t an animal. He was originally a hunter and had continued to make a living by hunting after being exiled to Jeju. There was almost no animal on Jeju Island that he hadn’t hunted or eaten.

However, he stood up without hesitation and said, “I’ll take some men and go have another look.”

Hunters often traveled through mountains and forests, sleeping in the open, and frequently went to remote places, sometimes risking their lives. Therefore, they were quite polarized. One type was extremely superstitious, worshiping gods everywhere and having many taboos. The other type was fearless, afraid of nothing. Kim Yong-ju was the latter.

Xue Ziliang also found it strange, so he prepared to send a few special reconnaissance team members with him to investigate again. Just as he was about to give the order, a guard suddenly reported that Kim O-sun had arrived with an urgent matter to report to the Chief.

And his wife, daughter, and son were now all working, the whole family being active collaborators. Kim O-sun was young and smart, and she learned Mandarin much faster than her father. Feng Zongze had also given her the title of “Civil Affairs Officer,” which had become a “strange tale” among the Korean people in Jeju City.

Because Kim O-sun was ugly and had always been discriminated against and ridiculed, she held an almost adoring fervor for the Yuanlao who had appreciated and promoted her. Although she didn’t show it on her face, the enthusiasm with which she worked surprised everyone who saw her.

That day, she had taken a few members of the “Women’s Labor Service Corps” to deliver food to the canal construction site. The special commissioner from the Agricultural Committee had already arrived on Jeju Island from Lingao and had begun the land construction work for the first state-owned farm there.

After delivering the food, she led her people back to the city. Before they reached the city gate, she saw a crowd gathered around a mound outside the city, talking amongst themselves. Seeing that many of them were members of the Labor Service Corps, Kim O-sun quickened her pace and went over.

As she got closer, she saw that the facial features of several “Dol Hareubang”—stone statues—outside the city gate were bleeding. The members of the Labor Service Corps and the common people gathered around the stone statues were all talking. Some found it strange, others were afraid. She thought the matter was very strange. She looked around and found that although this place was only half a li from the city gate, it was a blind spot for observation due to the many mounds and groves of miscellaneous trees.

In the past, when she walked by here, she had seen people come to burn incense and kowtow. But she had no personal feelings for these stone statues—because there were no such statues on the peninsula. She had curiously asked the locals, but they couldn’t explain it clearly either.

But no matter what, everyone was very fond of the stone statues, believing them to be the local guardians. People came to burn incense and pray from time to time. Now that the statues’ facial features were suddenly bleeding, it was too strange. She stood aside and listened quietly, not in a hurry to speak.

As she was pondering, she suddenly heard an elderly member of the Labor Service Corps say excitedly, “This is terrible! A great disaster is coming! The stone statues are bleeding, a great omen of misfortune! Our Jeju is going to suffer a bloody calamity!”

Someone interjected, “I’m afraid it’s because of what we’ve been doing recently that has angered the gods…”

Hearing this, Kim O-sun quickly searched the crowd for the speaker but couldn’t find him.

“That can’t be right… Everyone is law-abiding…” the old Labor Service Corps member said uneasily.

“Since ancient times, the noble and the lowly have been destined by fate. Some people insist on going against heaven, and they are carrying out large-scale construction on the island… I’m afraid they have offended the spirits… What a sin, what a sin.”

The vague but clear words came from the crowd. Kim O-sun immediately felt that the tone was wrong. She looked carefully and found that the speaker was a man who looked like a peddler or a shop assistant, hiding in the crowd as he spoke.

This speech caused great unease in the crowd. Everyone understood that “going against heaven” referred to the “Great Song,” or “Wo-Kun,” who had landed on the island a few months ago, abolished the status of the original public and private low-born people, and were carrying out large-scale construction on the island.

Of the people present, almost all had benefited from them. But the people of the Joseon Dynasty were deeply oppressed and constrained, and a few months of propaganda could not reverse that. Now, with the help of superstition, a sense of terror suddenly filled the crowd.

Under her father’s influence, Kim O-sun was not a believer in ghosts and gods. She had originally wanted to stand up and refute it, but then she thought the matter was very strange. Chief Feng had told them in class to be vigilant and always be on guard against the counter-attack of the “remnants” of the Joseon Dynasty.

“…So I hurried over to report,” she said, recounting the entire incident in one breath. Xue Ziliang was a “banana” (yellow on the outside, white on the inside) and didn’t quite understand the routine of “counter-revolutionaries using feudal superstition.” But this incident reminded him of a tactic the US military had used during the pacification campaign in the Philippines: they had dropped bodies disguised as victims of vampires in guerrilla-active areas, causing widespread panic and flight among the people in the guerrilla zone, which had been very effective in dismantling the guerrillas’ social base.

“How was the blood put on?” Xue Ziliang asked.

“I looked closely later. It should have been deliberately put on by someone,” Kim O-sun said. “The bloodstains were very fresh, so it shouldn’t have been long since it was put on.”

Xue Ziliang opened the map. The location of the stone statues was indeed a blind spot for the lookout posts. Because it wasn’t an important place, the line of sight had not been cleared at the beginning.

This location was not far from the road and was a place with many branching paths. Anyone could have done it.