IBGSW Chapter 75
Memory Manipulation
The old man’s expression was a little strange. The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile that was just right...
But Zhang Chuanshi’s trade was coffins, and he dealt with the dead more than the living. Next door was the joss stick and paper effigy shop, and he often watched the shop’s owner lead the hands in making paper figurines, and the finished paper figurines smiled in just this way, with a stiff face.
By rights, having seen so many uncanny smiles, Zhang Chuanshi’s nerve should have been well trained.
But seeing a paper figurine and seeing a living person were different things.
Especially since he knew that what stood before him might be a malignant ghost, and he and Zhao Fusheng might have fallen into a ghost domain.
This ghost controlled memory and perception. For all he knew, the two of them were only walking in circles along the field ridges of this remote, lonely village at night, and there might be no Wu Dajing at all and no such conversation.
Or what stood before them might even be a corpse, and the ghost had deluded them into thinking they were talking to a ghost.
The more he thought, the more afraid he got, trembling all over. He reached out a hand and poked Zhao Fusheng’s back, signaling her not to talk to this person and just go.
She ignored him and looked at Wu Dajing, and persistently asked again, “You don’t know much about Wu Datong’s earlier life. How much do you know about what came after?”
Wu Dajing paused for a while and said, “When he was thirty-one he left the village for Wan’an County and took refuge with a paper effigy shop owner named Zhang Xiongwu.”
The scattered memories linked up again. The content of Wu Dajing’s conversation with Zhao Fusheng on the carriage reappeared in her mind in fragments.
“This man admired Wu Datong’s talents and asked him for a favor.”
This sentence sounded unfamiliar, and Zhao Fusheng was certain no such conversation had taken place before.
The new dialogue was too novel and made her uneasy.
Perhaps because of the several inexplicable losses of memory, she took out the case scroll tucked in her sleeve as if possessed, and held it in her hand.
Wu Dajing continued. “Wu Datong agreed.”
Zhao Fusheng thought of the Beggars’ Alley ghost case and, combining it with the memories that had flashed, said, “He asked Wu Datong to help steal the coffin nail?”
“It wasn’t Wu Datong who stole it!”
Wu Dajing snapped.
“Who stole it?” Zhao Fusheng sensed something strange.
By now the moon in the sky had begun to change color again, and the fog, refracting light, took on a blood-red tint.
A black shadow slowly poked its head out of the moon.
A blood-red cord hung down from the moon, dripping as if water were falling.
“It was Wu Liren who stole it.”
Wu Dajing answered.
Zhang Chuanshi suddenly felt his back itch unbearably and scratched twice hard through his clothes.
The rough fabric rubbed against his skin, and after the itch eased a burning pain followed.
“My lord, I’m a little scared...”
Perhaps because the atmosphere was eerie, cold sweat soaked through him in an instant, and he felt his clothes sticking to his back, wet and uncomfortable.
Zhao Fusheng also sensed the sinister atmosphere. And not only that, the Investiture of the Gods in her sea of consciousness prompted:
Detected the appearance of a Baleful-tier great ghost. Use Hell to capture it?
She thought of how much merit had been deducted from her for no reason, and she no longer remembered what had happened.
But she surmised she had tried to use Hell to capture the ghost, perhaps failed, and used up Hell’s power, with the final cost deducted from her merit to make up the difference.
She now had only six points of merit in hand and must not squander them.
Zhao Fusheng trusted the prompt from the Investiture of the Gods. The ghost was definitely at her side, but her gaze swept around without a trace and found no sign of it.
The ghost hid in the dark, stirring.
Her heartbeat spiked, but at that moment her thoughts had drifted somewhere else.
From the moment Wu Dajing knocked at the village gate and she found the village already blanketed in a ghost domain, and suspected Wu Dajing himself to be a ghost’s avatar, the Investiture of the Gods hadn’t warned her during the time they’d traveled together.
That is, even if Wu Dajing back then was a ghost’s avatar, he might have been only a not-yet-fully-revived malignant ghost, perhaps simply manipulated by the ghost’s power.
Or, as Zhang Chuanshi thought, her traveling and talking with Wu Dajing was an illusion.
She and Zhang Chuanshi might only be trapped in this dark lonely village, walking in circles in a ghost domain.
Zhao Fusheng stopped her drifting thoughts in time.
The Investiture’s prompt now was like a lamp in the darkness for her, and with her memory and perception in trouble, she trusted it as never before.
The Investiture of the Gods had suddenly signaled the ghost’s appearance, whereas before it hadn’t, which meant there had been no occasion for the ghost to show itself earlier.
What had stirred the ghost? Her conversation with Wu Dajing?
What had Wu Dajing mentioned?
Forty-one years ago, Wu Datong, at Zhang Xiongwu’s request, went to Liu Huacheng’s house to steal a coffin nail.
She thought it silently, and then denied it: no, no, Wu Datong didn’t steal it, it was Wu Liren who did!
When Wu Dajing said that, the ghost had appeared.
That meant the key point was Wu Liren.
“Wu Liren” was a taboo existence, and mentioning his name caused the malignant ghost to revive...
Thinking this, she realized again that something was off.
No! That’s not right.
To test her guess, Zhao Fusheng asked, “What day did Wu Liren’s family disappear?”
She had changed the subject. The black shadow in the moon in the sky hid itself again, and the blood-dripping red cord was silently pulled back into the moon by a pair of black hands.
The Malignant Ghost’s aura retreated reluctantly, and the heart-chilling pressure vanished.
Zhao Fusheng calmly brought up “Wu Liren,” and Wu Dajing said, “The fourth of the eighth month.”
This time nothing strange happened. The Investiture of the Gods stayed quiet, with no similar prompt.
That is, the three characters “Wu Liren” were not the ghost’s true taboo.
Her thoughts turned, and she guessed: could the “Wu Liren” Wu Dajing mentioned be not village chief Wu Liren but someone else?
“How old is Wu Liren this year?” she asked again.
Wu Dajing answered slowly, “Forty-one, my lord.”
Zhao Fusheng noted this clue.
She had groped toward something about the ghost’s rule, and now had some idea in her heart.
At this point Zhao Fusheng dared not trigger the rule lightly again. She was already marked by the ghost and in the ghost fog, and might die at its hands at any moment. Until her memory was fully recovered, she mustn’t take further risks and lose the clues she’d just gained.
Thinking this, Zhao Fusheng stopped asking. “That’s enough. We’ll talk when we get home. Let’s go!”
She waved Wu Dajing along and took charge herself, telling Zhang Chuanshi, “I’ll go in front. Old Zhang, light the way and follow behind me.”
“...”
Hearing this, Zhang Chuanshi nearly wet himself with fright.
Zhao Fusheng would walk first, he in the middle, and Wu Dajing last. Wasn’t that putting him between the ghost and Zhao Fusheng?
“Me?” His chin tucked in, and his sharp-jawed monkey face was full of fear and panic. “This, this won’t do.”
“Stop talking nonsense. Do you know the way to Wu Dajing’s house? What are you doing at the front?” Zhao Fusheng said flatly.
Zhang Chuanshi hastily said, “Of course I...”
Before he finished he saw her warning gaze, and the rest of his words were swallowed back. “...Of course I don’t.”
Zhao Fusheng strode forward leading the way, and Zhang Chuanshi, in a panic, held the lamp and followed her closely.
A few paces behind them, Wu Dajing’s figure followed unhurriedly.
After two lanes, Zhao Fusheng suddenly changed direction and, instead of heading to the brightly lit Wu Liyou house, turned toward another dark mansion.
“My lord...”
Seeing her change direction, Zhang Chuanshi’s legs shook.
He hadn’t been in Goutou Village long, but the village wasn’t big, and having gone in and out of Wu Liyou’s house he had a rough idea of the directions.
Now Zhao Fusheng wasn’t leading Wu Dajing home. The way she was going was clearly toward Wu Liren’s house.
Zhao Fusheng didn’t answer.
Zhang Chuanshi understood: she was deliberately leading the wrong way.
With her intelligence she certainly knew the road. Why was she now taking Wu Dajing toward Wu Liren’s house?
Shaking all over, he dared not look back and could only half-close his right eye and force open a slit in his left to look at the ground.
Under the firelight, Wu Dajing’s shadow was cast forward, almost touching his own.
Zhang Chuanshi at first thought nothing of it, then seemed to think of something and shuddered, pushing Zhao Fusheng forward and running several steps.
“My lord...”
His limbs were cold, and he swallowed several mouthfuls of spit while poking Zhao Fusheng’s back.
As he spoke, he was still looking down, and the horror happened again!
Within Wu Dajing’s shadow, another shadow seemed to be poking its head out.
A blood-red cord trailed behind his shadow, and the black shape that had poked out of the shadow seemed to open its eyes and “look” at him.
That single look made Zhang Chuanshi cold from head to toe.
“My lord!”
He raised his voice and called again.
Zhao Fusheng turned her head. Zhang Chuanshi jutted his lips toward the ground, signaling her to look down.
Of the three, Zhao Fusheng walked in front, Zhang Chuanshi in the middle, Wu Dajing at the back.
And only Zhang Chuanshi carried a torch.
The firelight was in the middle, so Zhao Fusheng’s shadow in front was cast slanting forward, while Zhang Chuanshi’s fell at his feet.
By rights, if Wu Dajing were normal, his shadow should have been cast backward.
But now his shadow was crawling forward, almost touching Zhang Chuanshi’s.
When Zhang Chuanshi had worked this out, terrified, at the sight of the other’s shadow nearly touching his own, he hurried forward to put distance between them.
Zhao Fusheng looked down, and the shadow inside the shadow had already shrunk back.
“What’s wrong?”
Seeing the two stop, Wu Dajing asked, puzzled.
As he spoke, the shadow at his feet, which had been cast forward, seemed to realize something was off and slowly wriggled back until it retreated behind him and obediently stopped moving at his feet.
“...”
Zhang Chuanshi nearly foamed at the mouth at the sight.
Zhao Fusheng, bold, shook her head at his words. “Nothing. We’re nearly there, so why not walk ahead of us.”
As she spoke she stepped aside and pointed at Wu Liren’s old house ahead.
Zhang Chuanshi shrank behind her in terror, not daring to look at Wu Dajing’s face.
Wu Dajing didn’t stand on ceremony, just nodded.
He stepped forward slowly.
Hearing the tapping of his footsteps, Zhang Chuanshi dared not look at him, yet remembering how their shadows had nearly touched, he retreated again and again, wishing he could curl up his limbs and stay a hundred thousand miles away.
Zhao Fusheng drew her hand into her sleeve and gripped the ghost arm tightly, outwardly calm, and reminded him, “Old Zhang, hold the lamp properly.”
Her composure eased Zhang Chuanshi’s tension. Holding back a sob, he forced open his bulging, puffy eyes to a slit, tears streaming. “Y-yes, my lord.”
He raised the torch high, and the firelight stretched Wu Dajing’s figure out ahead by ten feet.1
The three, one behind another, soon arrived at Wu Liren’s front gate.
When the two had entered the village, the first place they came to was Wu Liren’s house, and now the gate was wide open.
Wu Dajing entered like an old horse who knew the way and went straight into the courtyard.
Zhao Fusheng and Zhang Chuanshi said nothing and followed behind him.
He passed three gates in a row, entered the main courtyard, pushed open the main-room chamber door where Wu Liren had lived, walked to the bed in front of Zhao Fusheng and Zhang Chuanshi, and without taking off his shoes lay down on it.
“...”
“...”
Zhao Fusheng and Zhang Chuanshi looked at each other, so shocked they couldn’t speak.
Just then, a strange sound came from outside.
Zhang Chuanshi’s nerves were already taut, and the slightest sound made him jump three feet. “Who? Who? Who?”
He asked three times in a row.
Soon someone answered timidly from outside. “Re-replying, my lord, it’s me, Wu Shaogu. Shaochun sent me to return, return things...”
Hearing this, Zhao Fusheng thought a moment and went out to look.
“Wait for me.”
Seeing her leave, Zhang Chuanshi didn’t dare stay behind.
He didn’t dare look at Wu Dajing lying flat on the bed and called out tearfully, then hurried after Zhao Fusheng.
Quite a few villagers had come to Wu Liren’s house this time, most carrying things in their arms.
At dusk, Zhao Fusheng had seen that the objects in Wu Liren’s house had been nearly emptied out by the villagers and had casually asked about it.
She had come to Goutou Village to investigate the case.
But now the ghost case was shrouded in fog, and she had promised that if the case were solved the whole village would get tax relief.
The objects in Wu Liren’s house were worth something, but compared with taxes they were nothing.
So after the villagers went home and talked it over, they decided to carry back what they’d taken from Wu Liren’s house, and if worst came to worst, once the ghost case was solved they could simply divide it up again.
It happened that Zhao Fusheng had just led Wu Dajing to Wu Liren’s house, and so they ran into each other.
After learning the reason, Zhao Fusheng stopped paying attention to these people and told them to hurry and put the things back where they’d been.
She and Zhang Chuanshi hurried back to Wu Liren’s room, and something strange happened again: Wu Dajing, who had been lying on Wu Liren’s bed, had vanished!
