IBGSW Chapter 166
Two Versions
In the pitch-dark old house in the eerie village, shrouded in the ghost domain where day no longer came, Kuai Mancai listened to Zhao Fusheng vividly describe “his own miserable death,” and his composure collapsed at once.
He shouted and rubbed his arms frantically, while looking around in terror, as if begging Sixth Uncle and the others for help:
“Great-Sixth Uncle, I’ve never left the village, I’m not dead. Feel me, I’m fine, flesh and blood. How could bones bloom?”
Kuai Mancai strode toward Sixth Uncle, but Sixth Uncle’s sons reacted fast and, as though they’d seen a ghost, hauled Sixth Uncle back at once.
“I really haven’t died, Great-Sixth Uncle—”
Seeing this, Kuai Mancai felt so wronged he burst into tears.
Sixth Uncle was still shaken.
Kuai Mancai’s cries echoed through the room. It was so quiet around them that his shouts bounced back and forth in the dim old house, taking on a shrill, terrifying quality.
After speaking, Zhao Fusheng sat calmly and watched, her eyes sharp on Kuai Mancai.
She had exposed Kuai Mancai’s “death.” If Kuai Mancai had been affected by the malignant ghost and become a walking corpse in the same special state as Zhuang Laoqi, he would show his “true form” now.
But Zhao Fusheng did not see the scene she expected.
She frowned almost imperceptibly.
After Kuai Mancai’s outburst, Sixth Uncle suddenly sighed, shook off his sons’ restraint, strode forward several paces, and took Kuai Mancai’s hands.
The old man pulled the frightened, panicked young man into his arms:
“I believe Mancai. Mancai is a good boy, he doesn’t lie.”
He patted Kuai Mancai on the back with his two calloused, wrinkled palms:
“It may be that Fourth Madam couldn’t rest in death and her malignant ghost is making trouble.”
Then he looked at Zhao Fusheng:
“I hope Your Honor will see clearly and not wrong Mancai.”
Zhao Fusheng found this interesting and smiled, shrugging with a hint of regret.
By this point, two versions of events had emerged.
In one version, from Zhuang Laoqi, Kuai Mancai had come to report. Then, as the malignant ghost called people from behind, the people called were marked by the ghost and became possible vessels it could possess, carrying the ghost’s aura wherever they went, in effect expanding the lethality of the ghost calamity.
In the other version, told by the Kuailiang Village people, Fourth Madam Zhuang had been put to death by drowning in a pig cage, and after her death her body wouldn’t sink. The villagers, afraid, burned her corpse.
In the fire, Fourth Madam Zhuang’s malignant ghost revived, and her corpse turned into blood-water.
After that, the village was plunged into a ghost domain, and for several days afterward dawn never came. The villagers were wrapped in darkness, and ghost flowers covered the riverbank, trapping them in the village to die.
The villagers hadn’t left, and Kuai Mancai hadn’t died.
Between the two versions with entirely opposite endings, Sixth Uncle obviously believed Kuai Mancai. That is to say, “You don’t believe Zhuang Laoqi?”
“No, I believe Shouqiang wouldn’t lie,” Sixth Uncle said without hesitation.
His words made Kuai Mancai shudder all over, and Sixth Uncle quickly patted his back twice more to soothe him.
“But Your Honor also knows that where a malignant ghost is involved, ghosts can cloud minds. What Zhuang Shouqiang saw may not have been real,” Sixth Uncle said, a little stubbornly.
“Your Honor, and then?”
Sixth Aunt interrupted their exchange, anxious, and asked impatiently.
She no longer cared whether Zhuang Laoqi’s words were true or false. Her only worry was Zhuang Family Village.
Sixth Uncle’s household felt both afraid and curious about the story Zhao Fusheng had told. People have an innate mix of fear, wariness, and a strange urge to know when it comes to dangerous, uncanny events.
All the more so when the matter touches oneself. They all wanted to know what came next, so they could judge whether Kuai Mancai was human or ghost and decide how to treat him.
“After that, everyone in Zhuang Family Village who witnessed Kuai Mancai’s death developed strange symptoms in turn.”
Zhao Fusheng pressed down her many doubts and went on, answering Sixth Aunt’s question as if nothing were amiss.
“What strange symptoms?” Sixth Aunt’s heart clenched, and she asked.
“The village chief’s family in Zhuang Family Village, and Fourth Madam Zhuang’s family, who witnessed Kuai Mancai’s death that day, and Zhuang Laoqi too, all showed the same symptoms as Kuai Mancai.” Zhao Fusheng paused, then said:
“They all packed up their things and said they were going to Kuailiang Village.”
“How could that be?”
A middle-aged man who had been dragging Sixth Uncle back exclaimed:
“No one has come to our village since that day—”
“They might not have been able to cross the Yellow Springs,” Zhang Chuanshi mused, listening.
That yellow river, stained red by blood-light, lay between Kuailiang Village and Zhuang Family Village, and its bed was “overgrown” with corpses like waterweed. Perhaps those were the villagers lured by the ghost to cross the river and who died halfway.
“What Yellow Springs? This, how could this—”
Hearing this, Sixth Uncle shook all over, shaking his head and denying it unconsciously.
“It’s the river beyond that road of red flowers, a tributary of the Shangjia River, the very channel where Fourth Madam Zhuang drowned. It’s been dyed red with blood and become a ghost road that kills any ordinary person who walks it.”
Zhao Fusheng answered lightly.
Sixth Uncle was dealt a heavy blow.
“And then? What about Zhuang Family Village?” Sixth Aunt asked again, holding back her grief.
“The village was empty. Following Zhuang Laoqi’s directions, we went into the village and found the village chief’s house—”
Zhao Fusheng paused deliberately.
Sixth Aunt, frantic, couldn’t hold her composure and said in a tearful voice:
“Your Honor—”
“In the village chief’s house in Zhuang Family Village, I found what Zhuang Laoqi described: a human skeleton with the skull separated from the body.”
All the Kuailiang Village people in the room fell silent.
Everyone’s face looked terrible.
From what Zhao Fusheng said, Kuai Mancai’s death was now certain.
Even Sixth Uncle stared dazedly at the younger man in his arms. His lips trembled and his eyes were uncertain.
On one side were his own kinsmen, and on the other were court envoys who had arrived unexpectedly...
His expression shifted, and finally he said in a low voice:
“Your Honor, what evidence do you have for any of this? Why should I believe your identity?”
Pfft.
Fan Wujiu sneered: “The fact that Her Honor could get into your ghost village is the best proof! In all of Wan’an County, who besides her has that kind of power?”
That one sentence punctured the courage Sixth Uncle had just gathered.
Sixth Uncle said: “There’s something uncanny about this, and we need to think it over.”
After saying this, he asked in vexation:
“Manyin? Has Manyin come back yet?”
After calling Kuai Manyin’s name twice, he let go of Kuai Mancai and paced in a circle:
“I don’t believe it—”
“Waah.” Sixth Aunt sobbed softly.
She’d been crying since she learned that Zhuang Family Village was in trouble, making soft broken sounds, and said in self-reproach:
“It’s all my fault, if only I hadn’t played matchmaker back then—”
The weird events, Kuai Mancai’s unclear life or death, the weeping of his wife, and the mystery of the missing Zhuang Family Village people formed heavy clouds pressing on Sixth Uncle’s heart.
All of a sudden he abandoned the calm and composure with which he’d received Zhao Fusheng earlier, and shouted: “My head is killing me, and my body hurts too.”
Then he pressed a hand to his waist and twisted his upper body a few times.
Sixth Aunt, who had been crying, stood up the moment she heard this and rubbed his lower back for him, explaining to Zhao Fusheng:
“My old man’s health isn’t good. He carried loads on his shoulders and back when he was young and wore out his bones, and now that he’s old, it hurts here and there.”
Sixth Uncle groaned loudly in pain, and a few of his sons hurried over to help their father into the room to rest.
Before he went in, he still couldn’t quite let go, and looked back to instruct his family:
“Kill a chicken to host the guests.” Then he called:
“Where’s Changshun?”
A young man of about twenty stepped out:
“Grandpa, I’m here.”
“Go see why Manyin hasn’t come yet. Go hurry them up—” Sixth Uncle, holding back the cry of pain at the tip of his tongue, instructed his grandson.
“—All right.” Hearing his instructions, the young man hesitated for a long while before answering, but his face clearly showed displeasure.
The Sixth Uncle of earlier would certainly have noticed this, but being tormented by pain, he overlooked his grandson’s displeasure.
Kuai Changshun’s reluctance was seen by Zhao Fusheng, and she stood up:
“If Kuai Wu’s family hasn’t come yet, how about having Kuai Changshun take me over to look?”
She had a ghost case to handle anyway and wanted to walk around the village.
And Kuai Changshun was young, unlike a seasoned old fox such as Sixth Uncle. He seemed to have long harbored resentment over some of his grandfather’s behavior, and now that Sixth Uncle couldn’t keep watch, Zhao Fusheng wanted to see whether she could pry some information out of him.
At any other time, Sixth Uncle might have refused such a proposal, but at this moment, tormented by pain, he seemed unable to think carefully. Just as he was about to speak, his sons urged:
“Father, lie down for a while.”
He nodded vaguely and waved a hand:
“That’ll do. Changshun, take good care of our guests.”
His sons then helped him into the room, and the rest of the people were left in silence, looking stiff and ill at ease.
“Changshun, since Her Honor has asked, you can take her over to Kuai Wu’s place. The rest of you stay and help me with the preparations for the meal, or if you don’t want to help, wait on Her Honor—”
“No need. The others stay here. Changshun can show the way.”
Zhao Fusheng turned down Sixth Aunt’s suggestion.
Sixth Aunt was meek by nature, and Zhao Fusheng’s forcefulness made her quickly comply.
Zhang Chuanshi wanted to slack off and didn’t want to go with Zhao Fusheng. After she stood up, with Fan Wujiu and Wu Shaochun rising too, he dragged his feet and wouldn’t leave his stool.
“Your Honor, I—”
“Enough, you can stay here if you like.”
Zhao Fusheng’s mind was on the road to Kuai Wu’s house. As far as she could tell the trip wasn’t very dangerous, and she already had Fan and Wu with her, so leaving Zhang Chuanshi behind was no great problem.
The party got up and followed Kuai Changshun out of Sixth Uncle’s gate. Fan Wujiu said, displeased:
“I think Old Zhang is getting more and more out of line. That lazybones—”
Zhao Fusheng ignored his grumbling. As soon as the four stepped out of the house, the light dimmed without the other torch-bearing villagers, and the surroundings took on a more sinister feel.
Under the ghost domain, Kuailiang Village heard no night wind rustling through the woods, no birdsong or insect chirp. It was strangely silent.
Ghost fog hung in the air, never dispersing, covering the moon and stars.
“Wait a moment, Your Honor.”
As soon as he left the gate, Kuai Changshun, seeing how dark the road was, turned back and soon came out with an oil lamp.
Zhao Fusheng caught a faint stench that seemed vaguely familiar.
Her eyes flickered. She rubbed her nose and said casually:
“This oil lamp of yours looks pretty exquisite.”
At Zhao Fusheng’s words, Fan Wujiu and Wu Shaochun both looked at the lamp in Kuai Changshun’s hand.
The lamp was cylindrical, about as thick as a bowl, and half a chi long. Its body looked cast of brass, in an openwork design. Because of its age, the brass had darkened a little, but its owner clearly treasured it and wiped it often, so its surface was glossy and bright, carrying an air that was archaic yet gorgeous and solemn.
“It’s certainly nice.”
Wu Shaochun looked at it and said:
“Back in Huanggang Village, I saw old goods that came out of a ‘box’—”
Realizing he’d let something slip, he pursed his lips at once.
But since it concerned the ghost case, he thought for a moment, stepped over to Zhao Fusheng, and said in a low voice:
“Your Honor, I’ve heard these lamps are either burial goods from old wealthy families’ tombs, or lamps hung in ancestral halls to illuminate the spirit tablets.”
After he whispered this, Zhao Fusheng nodded.
Whether Kuai Changshun overheard their exchange, who could say, but he glanced at Wu Shaochun and said:
“This lamp used to hang in the ancestral hall. After my Fifth Aunt died, many lamps in the village wouldn’t light anymore. Only the lamps in the clan hall hadn’t been affected and could still be lit.”
When he said this, Zhao Fusheng no longer cared about pursuing the fact that he seemed able to hear Wu Shaochun’s whispers. She said in a low voice:
“How strange.”
“Who says it isn’t? Truly strange.”
Kuai Changshun shook his head with a gloomy face, then lifted the lamp to light the way and said attentively:
“Your Honor, watch your step, this way.”
After a few steps, Zhao Fusheng’s gaze fell on the strange big house next to Sixth Uncle’s.
By now the gate archway of the Kuai Clan Ancestral Hall stood out sharply, and beyond the archway there was no gate.
The yard was spacious and swept immaculately, the ground laid with stone slabs, not a single fallen leaf in sight.
The hall was unlit. By the light of the lamp in Kuai Changshun’s hand, one could just make out several tiers of roofs hidden in the dark, each higher than the last, like something uncanny crouching in the dark looking down on humans.
Zhao Fusheng felt, inexplicably, the unease of being watched by some consciousness.
She remembered how earlier, when she had paused before the ancestral hall, Sixth Uncle had grown wary, and she asked:
“Changshun, is this your Kuai Clan Ancestral Hall?”
Kuai Changshun was still young and could not keep his composure like Sixth Uncle.
For him, Zhao Fusheng’s status as the Bureau’s commanding officer carried a natural, towering authority. Besides, he had seen the scene earlier where her presence made even Sixth Uncle uneasy, and he was a little afraid of her. At her question he answered:
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“May I go in?” she asked lightly.
An expression of helplessness appeared on Kuai Changshun’s face.
Sixth Uncle had said that under the rules, Kuailiang Village’s ancestral hall was open only to men surnamed Kuai. But Kuai Changshun was not confident in front of Zhao Fusheng, and at her question he said in a panic:
“My grandfather says, says that isn’t in keeping with the rules...”
“Rules? Do your Kuailiang Village rules outrank the court’s laws? Is there anywhere my Bureau’s people can’t go?” Zhao Fusheng feigned displeasure, firing off several questions in a row.
As she spoke, she seemed to disregard Kuai Changshun’s objection and headed straight for the ancestral hall.
