Chapter 28: Fury

Hearing this, the hope that had risen in me was extinguished, replaced by terror and despair.

The Old Ghost—that was how Liu of the White Ceremonies referred to Chan Shu. He must be able to see things invisible to me. Chan Shu, too, had died at some unknown time; being called an old ghost was hardly surprising.

But then Liu said that Chan Shu also wanted my soul?

I recalled what Granny Li had told me: Chan Shu would follow me and protect me.

Yet Granny Li warned me not to speak to her, not to approach her. I couldn’t understand; her words seemed contradictory.

It was she who let Chan Shu follow me. If she hadn’t told me to pick up that hairpin, none of this would have happened.

Only now did I realize the truth.

Of course—Chan Shu was a ghost. A ghost following a living person—what else could it want besides harming, besides stealing the living’s vital energy?

Liu picked up the brick again.

He struck at my mouth with savage force.

But at that moment, my shirt at the chest suddenly tore open with a sharp rip.

A hairpin shot out like an arrow.

Liu’s face changed dramatically.

“I warned you—touch him again and I’ll make you beg for life and death alike.”

The cool, clear voice echoed. That pale figure appeared in front of me, silent as a shadow.

The hairpin darted toward Liu, who swung the brick at it.

But he was too slow!

A muffled sound of flesh being pierced—suddenly, the hairpin embedded itself in Liu’s chest.

Pain flickered across his face. He stared at Chan Shu in terror, his voice trembling, “What kind of ghost are you?”

The white figure walked forward, slowly, yet in an instant stood before Liu.

She raised her hand and pressed the hairpin deeper into Liu’s chest.

He tried to dodge, but was half a beat too late. The hairpin was driven halfway in, and he staggered back with a scream, collapsing beside the earth temple.

A shrill cat’s cry echoed.

The black cat, carrying the urn on its back, shot out from the earth temple, leapt into the woodlands behind, and vanished into the night.

Alarmed, I struggled free, wanting to chase after it, but still couldn’t break loose.

Chan Shu didn’t pursue. She stood where she was, fixing Liu with her icy gaze. “Get out.”

Liu glared venomously at us both, clutching his chest, unable to stand, crawling into the woods.

“Don’t—don’t let him escape—”

I called out, forcing the words through my fear.

She remained where she was, unmoving.

Uneasy, I realized that though she’d saved me, Liu’s words had awakened a deep terror within me. Coupled with Granny Li’s warnings, my anxiety only grew.

The air felt unnaturally still. The night was bleak as water, the moonlight cold and pale, falling on her form and making her seem to waver.

Her jet-black hair merged with the darkness.

Such a being—she did not belong to this world.

No, not right—she never was human.

My breath was stifled. I watched her uneasily.

At last, she slowly turned and came to stand before me, gazing at me in silence.

On her clear, cold face, an expression of complex emotion gradually took shape.

“Are you afraid?”

She lifted her hand and gently touched my wrist; suddenly, the rope there snapped.

Then the rope at my legs fell away.

I backed away anxiously, several steps.

Her figure slowly faded, neither speaking to me nor doing anything else.

I stood there, lost and bewildered.

Looking around, I could no longer see her.

The unease in my heart turned into a strange, indescribable emptiness.

And her last look at me—why was it so conflicted?

I dared not linger. Liu had left behind two bowls on the ground; I wrapped them carefully in my shirt and cradled them in my arms.

Then I headed toward the village.

My thoughts began to clear—Liu had said Aunt Gray would need one more day of life or she wouldn’t survive the night. This made me ever more anxious.

I went home first. My father lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, not moving or speaking when I entered.

My heart ached. I brought him food and drink, left them by his bed.

I couldn’t tell him what happened with Liu.

Nor could I speak of Aunt Gray.

Leaving home, I carried the two bowls and wrapped my hands in bandages.

Granny Li hadn’t said where she lived, but thinking it over—she must be staying at the old village chief’s house.

If not, I’d just have to look for her.

The pain in my waist and stomach had grown numb.

Walking along the village road, before long, I heard faint footsteps behind me.

Startled, I turned and saw Wang Erjun following me.

He was dressed in mourning clothes, a white cap on his head, standing stiffly behind me, who knows for how long.

A chill ran through me. My voice was hoarse as I said, “Don’t follow me. I don’t know how to talk to you.”

Wang Erjun’s expression didn’t change. His gaze was vacant. He walked toward me.

My heart skipped a beat. Something was very wrong with Wang Erjun.

I hurried a few steps ahead, but he continued to follow, stiff and slow.

His pace didn’t quicken; in fact, his walk was so strange, as if his legs couldn’t bend, so he couldn’t run.

And I noticed something else—the moonlight was clear, with no mist. My shadow stretched long on the ground, but Wang Erjun cast no shadow.

He wasn’t just “strange”—he was possessed by a ghost.

Cold sweat drenched my back as I forced myself to run, ignoring the pain.

At last, I reached the old village chief’s door, gasping, pounding hard on the gate.

Soon, the door opened.

The old chief appeared, his face cold and indifferent. At the sight of me, he slammed the door shut.

He didn’t even give me a chance to speak.

I was furious and resentful toward him, but then I remembered—he hadn’t arrested Aunt Gray, just followed the rules. In truth, I couldn’t hate him.

If Zhou Gang hadn’t paid off the villagers, Aunt Gray wouldn’t have been caught.

I knocked again and called Granny Li’s name.

After a moment, the door opened. The old chief, leaning on his cane, said flatly, “She’s not here. She and the master are at Zhuang Shi’s burned-out house. If you want her, go there—but I advise you not to.”

His words unsettled me.

“Why?”

“If Liu doesn’t show himself, he won’t let it go so easily.” The chief shook his head and moved to shut the door.

He used to be the most involved, but now I saw a kind of exhaustion in him.

“Xie Yuan, you should go home. You can’t handle this. Take your father and leave, go far away, don’t ever return.”

He spoke those words at last.

My face changed. “What are they planning to do to Aunt Gray?”

The chief’s expression shifted, and he closed the door.

This time, no matter how I knocked, he wouldn’t open it.

Frustrated, I ran toward the village head’s house.

When I arrived, the scene made my heart tremble.

At the entrance, six coffins were laid out—five sealed, one left open.

In front of the coffins burned a large brazier, filled with paper money.

Zhou Gang was nowhere to be seen.

Beside the coffins stood a frame made of bamboo and wood. Aunt Gray was bound to it, weak and frail.

Granny Li stood nearby, speaking constantly to the middle-aged man—the master called by the village chief.

Several villagers patrolled around.

As I approached, they saw me and watched me warily.

My heart trembled as I saw Aunt Gray, her hair disheveled with every cough, looking utterly exhausted.

Just then, a patrolling villager cursed, “Cough, cough, cough—quit pretending! Just days ago you were full of yourself, pointing at me and yelling. Now you act sick? If you’re sick, just die already!”

That villager was Liu Dagen, the very one Aunt Gray had rebuked before.