Chapter Thirty-One: The Rice Bowl

Sweat beaded on my forehead, and goosebumps prickled all over my skin. When I’d entered the courtyard just now, there had been neither that cat nor that bowl. The angle between the courtyard gate and my room let me see the eaves clearly—there had been nothing there.

Had Liu the Funeral Man already come?

Liu Dagen seemed startled by my voice. His hand shook, and the stone he hurled missed the cat entirely, striking the eaves instead and bouncing back to hit him squarely on the forehead.

With a wretched cry, Liu Dagen clutched his brow and rolled on the ground, cursing furiously.

The room door flew open at once. Granny Li and Mr. Wang hurried out, their faces grave.

“Ladder!” Mr. Wang called out.

Wu Gang’s expression was ugly as he gave Liu Dagen a swift kick. “Useless! Can’t even chase off a cat. Go get the ladder—now!”

“There’s one in the woodshed!” someone shouted.

Cold sweat trickled down my face. The black cat hadn’t left; instead, after standing up, it slowly padded over to the bowl. It gave its head a lazy shake, making the urn on its back sway as well.

A wave of goosebumps swept over me. There was no rope on the cat’s back, yet I could clearly see a small hole torn under the urn, through which a deathly pale hand bone gripped the cat’s skin tightly.

The ladder was brought over. With a single leap, Mr. Wang climbed up and started toward the eaves.

The black cat let out a piercing yowl, its fur bristling as it sprang at Mr. Wang.

Mr. Wang’s face was cold, his voice harsh. “Wicked beast! A few licks of corpse oil and you think you’re a spirit now?”

Even as he spoke, his hand shot up, chopping down toward the cat’s waist like a knife.

With such a swift motion, the cat’s bones should have been broken instantly. But as it lunged, the cat twisted in midair, flipping over and spraying a foul liquid everywhere.

Mr. Wang screamed, tumbling from the ladder. Alarmed, I rushed forward to catch him, but the force toppled us both to the ground.

He clutched his eyes so tightly his fingers nearly gouged into his brow, his knuckles bone-white.

Several villagers panicked, and Zhou Gang’s face paled with fear. He shouted, “Kill that black cat! Whoever does it gets a hundred yuan from me!”

In those days, a laborer in our village earned barely a few dozen yuan a month—a hundred was a fortune. The villagers’ eyes turned red at the thought, and their fear was forgotten as they scrambled for the ladder to catch the cat.

The black cat, seemingly satisfied, leapt to the rooftop with the urn, disappearing into the night with a few agile bounds.

The villagers were left empty-handed. Liu Dagen scrambled up, shouting, “I know where that cat usually hides! They’re always around the trash heap behind the hill!”

With that, he dashed out of the courtyard, two villagers in tow.

Granny Li’s voice trembled. “Don’t let them go! There’s something wrong with that cat.”

“What could be wrong with a cat?” Wu Gang retorted gruffly. “It sprayed cat urine and caught Mr. Wang off guard. Once we catch it, I’ll skin it myself. And that urn on its back—it’s downright unnatural. Such a thing mustn’t be allowed to stay.”

“Get that bowl down,” Zhou Gang ordered.

Another villager climbed the ladder and brought down the rice-filled bowl.

The incense sticks had burned to ash, which now mingled with blood and the rice grains, creating a nauseating stench.

“What’s this for?” Zhou Gang asked.

I dared not answer. Zhou Gang never listened to Granny Li; if I revealed it was a bowl for stealing life, who knew what he’d do.

Granny Li ignored the bowl for now. She hauled up a bucket from the well, filled a basin, and carried it to Mr. Wang’s side to help him rinse his eyes.

Within minutes, Mr. Wang’s face took on a ghastly hue, as if dark energy writhed beneath his ashen skin. The rims of his eyes turned black and red, as though blood might seep through.

“Glutinous rice,” Granny Li said gravely.

I’d seen earlier that Mr. Wang had some in his pocket. I quickly reached in and pulled out a handful.

Granny Li pressed the rice to Mr. Wang’s eyes. Before our very eyes, the rice turned pitch black. After rinsing again, his eyes improved a little, but the blackness still swirled beneath his skin.

Mr. Wang was much weakened, his voice hoarse. “We can’t wait for the induced labor any longer. Dawn is almost here.”

Granny Li’s face was solemn. Indeed, the horizon was already paling—the night was nearly gone.

No one answered Zhou Gang’s question about the bowl, leaving him awkward. But when Mr. Wang mentioned the induced labor, his mood brightened immediately.

“The whole village has been looking for that undertaker all night. All we got was that damned cat—Liu the Funeral Man hasn’t shown his face. Does he think I won’t go through with it? Granny Li, get ready to induce labor for Hui Yizi! I’ll show Liu what it means when I give my word. If he still won’t come out, I’ll have his people dragged to the river!”

I lowered my head, unwilling to look at Zhou Gang, for fear I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from tearing into him.

A villager came to help Mr. Wang up. I was about to follow Granny Li inside when she paused at the threshold, giving me a complicated look.

“Child, you shouldn’t come in. Just wait outside.”

I clenched my fists. Before I could back away, another villager grabbed me, dragging me further from the door.

“No tricks,” Zhou Gang said coldly.

I gave him a sidelong glance and muttered, “Those who do evil will face retribution.”

“You—” Zhou Gang raised his fist but let it fall. “I won’t stoop to argue with a brat like you. Your father ran off with his tail between his legs, didn’t he?”

My eyes burned with anger.

He sneered, “Isn’t it so? Drove out his own parents just to let a woman move in, and now her father has caused who knows how many deaths in our village. If I were your father, I’d have found a place to hang myself by now.”

I felt as if my blood was boiling in my skull. I clenched my fists, my voice hoarse with rage. “Shut up!”

Wu Gang narrowed his eyes. “Do you know who you’re talking to? I could tear your mouth apart. You have no right to tell me to shut up.”

Just then, a villager suddenly swung at me with an open palm.

I quickly dodged aside, but a sharp crack rang out.

I was stunned—the slap hadn’t landed on me, but squarely on Zhou Gang’s face.

A farmhand’s strength left his cheek instantly swollen and high. Zhou Gang was dumbfounded, then furious. “You dare hit me? Are you siding with this bastard from the Xie family?”

The villager’s face was stricken with fear. He tried to speak, but his hand moved again, slapping Zhou Gang a second time. Zhou Gang staggered, tumbling to the ground.

“Hold him down! Hold him!” Zhou Gang bellowed, clutching his face.

The remaining villagers realized what was happening and lunged at the man who had struck him.

Flushed with panic, the man cried, “I didn’t move! I don’t want to hit the boss—I really didn’t do it!”

My heart pounded wildly.

There was no wind in the courtyard, yet a sudden chill swept past my ear, making me shiver.

I turned. At the gate stood a figure in white.

She beckoned to me.

My heart faltered—Chan Shu was seeking me out herself?

I hesitated for a moment, then hurried over.

As I reached the gate, she slipped aside and I followed, finding myself soon on the deserted village road.

A faint unease crept into my heart. She was, after all, a ghost; what did she want with me out here? Why had she protected me?

The white figure finally stopped—at the very edge of the village.

She stood there quietly, saying softly, “Go.”

My expression stiffened. “Go? Go where? Out of the village?”

I noticed then that the ancient peach tree at the entrance was in full leaf, with a few tender buds blooming.

“Some people can’t leave, and some don’t wish to. But for you, it’s too late to leave now.”

She gazed at the peach tree with a complex expression, shaking her head gently.