Chapter Eight: A Forewarning of Death

He had me sit close by. Once everything was prepared, he took out a small bell and began to shake it. Sometimes he rang the bell, sometimes he chanted under his breath, putting on quite a convincing show. It reminded me of the ritual masters from my village; whenever they performed ceremonies, the whole affair would be boisterous, and they’d seem incredibly powerful, though their efforts rarely amounted to much. My grandfather, on the other hand, had never shown any impressive displays, but every household in the village trusted him implicitly.

After a while, he suddenly passed the bell through the candle flame, causing a ball of fire to erupt out of thin air on top of the bell. In one swift motion, he pressed the bell onto a yellow talisman and waved it—the talisman ignited instantly, burning to ash, which he let fall into a bowl of water.

Mr. Chen put away the bell, looking satisfied with his work. A vague suspicion crossed my mind, and I couldn’t help but smile wryly as cold sweat dotted my forehead. Surely not… It can’t be… I hope his method isn’t that mundane, that predictable, that questionable in effectiveness…

“Drink this.” He handed me the bowl of water, now clouded with the ashes of the talisman.

Of course. Just as I thought!

Looking at the dark, ash-laden water, I instinctively recoiled. I told myself that bitter medicine is good for you; after all, sometimes there are all sorts of odd ingredients in herbal concoctions—yellow roots, snakes, insects, rodents… The more I thought about it, the more complicated this water seemed.

“Luo, do you want me to help?” Wenzi suddenly offered.

Like I didn’t know what he was up to! If I let him get his way, I might as well change my surname!

Gritting my teeth, I picked up the bowl and drank it in one gulp. I’d expected nothing more than a faint taste of ash. Never did I imagine bitterness so profound it made me question my very existence! I’ve never tasted coptis root, but I bet this must be what it’s like. This bowl of water was as if the essence of a thousand bitter gourds had been distilled into a single draught—agonizingly bitter, bitter beyond belief!

The moment it hit my stomach, I was wracked with pain. My insides churned violently, as though my liver and bowels were being ripped apart, my chest and abdomen slashed a thousand times. A surge of blood rose in my throat, and I couldn’t help but spit out a mouthful of dark blood!

Even I was startled. The potency of this stuff was terrifying.

Mr. Chen’s expression changed. He pressed his hand to my chest, his eyes suddenly wide with shock. “I thought you’d merely survived a calamity and were weak in life force, but I didn’t expect you’d be harboring such a vicious curse within!”

A vicious curse! What else was hidden inside me? Back then, aside from giving me a protective charm and a few warnings, my grandfather never told me of any such thing…

“Sir… cough… sir, are you trying to frighten me? What else is hidden in me?” After drinking that talisman water, my whole body ached, my chest throbbed painfully, and even speaking was a struggle.

Without a word, he pinched several acupoints on my body, using considerable force, making me hurt inside and out. I almost wondered if I’d somehow offended him and he was taking the chance to get even.

After the round of pinching, he shook his head. “Poisonous—truly poisonous. You’ve been cursed with a ghost’s hex! The one who saved you at the time must have sacrificed everything to seal away that hex, preserving your life. You mentioned your grandfather earlier; it must have been him. If not for a close blood relation, who would risk their life for you?”

I was taken aback. If only a blood relative would save me at such cost… Back when my sixth brother was killed, was it possible Grandpa could have saved him too, but the cost was too high? But that’s all ancient history now, and besides, my brother’s situation was different; he was already gone by then.

Clutching my aching chest, I asked with difficulty, “Is there any hope for me?”

He looked at me, a trace of conflict in his expression. After a moment, he sighed. “If you could live a quiet, uneventful life, you might get by safely. But during this festival, with the gods descending and the spirits roaming, you’ve stirred up the old curse. To be honest, I… cannot save you.”

“What will happen to me?”

“At most thirteen days—then you will die, bleeding from your seven orifices.”

I was stunned. Did this mean I only had thirteen days left to live? Was he serious? Sickly for more than a decade, I’d finally enjoyed two healthy years—and now, before I could make up for lost time or repay the world for my wasted childhood, I was to die? Just two days ago, I was still full of life, chatting with a schoolgirl in a café, savoring the peace I’d fought so hard to find—and now I was told I had thirteen days left.

Despite my doubts, I felt strangely calm. This death sentence was too sudden, yet even the manner of death was spelled out for me. How many people in this world are given such clarity? Still, why thirteen? Thirteen’s an unlucky number. Why not forty-nine days, or eighty-one?

“Hey! What nonsense are you spouting? He’s perfectly fine—how could he die?” Wenzi protested angrily.

His grandmother and second uncle were just as shocked. We weren’t related by blood, but if something happened to me while I was under their roof, they could hardly bear the responsibility.

“Sir! He’s still so young, he can’t die! You must do something!” Wenzi’s grandmother pleaded.

“My abilities are limited. There’s really nothing I can do,” he replied.

Maybe he could have saved me, but at too great a cost—like my grandfather once did. We weren’t related, after all; who would risk their life for a stranger?

“But—” he suddenly changed tack.

Hope flared in me. Was there still a chance?

“I can do my best to extend your life, but for how long, I can’t say. I need to resolve the children’s situation first, then I’ll decide,” he said. “Helping you will consume my vital energy, and I don’t yet know how serious the children’s case is. That must come first.”

Wenzi’s grandmother immediately responded, “Yes, yes, saving the children comes first. Sir, you must go to the hospital—my grandson’s still unconscious and burning with fever!”

Mr. Chen nodded, then turned to me. “I can’t help you for now, but I can at least suppress your symptoms to make you more comfortable.”

He took a folded talisman from his bag and handed it to me. “Keep this against your chest—you’ll feel much better.”

Given the circumstances, any relief was welcome. I was as good as dead anyway.

I took the talisman and did as he said. A cool sensation spread from my chest, gradually enveloping me. The pain and feverish dizziness began to fade. I was amazed—this thing really worked, and fast!

Mr. Chen gathered his things, preparing to go to the hospital with Wenzi and the others. It seemed Wenzi’s grandmother and second uncle would accompany him as well.

“I’ll go too,” I said.