Chapter Twelve: Out of Control

His gaze was fixed and penetrating, tinged with a suspicion that sent a chill down my spine.

Startled, I took two steps back.

"Xie Yuan, you and Wang Erjun were at the village chief’s house yesterday. Do you know anything about what Carpenter Wang has done?" The old village secretary asked expressionlessly.

Gritting my teeth, I shook my head.

He looked at me deeply and said, "Xie Yuan, you’re a good kid. But you mustn’t lie."

"Uncle Wang could never do such a thing..." I forced myself to say.

By now, the two corpses had been separated. There was a gruesome gash on Carpenter Wang’s neck, as if he’d really been bitten to death.

The old village secretary frowned.

Just then, my father and Aunt Hui rushed over.

My father’s face was ashen as he shouted, "Old Wang!"

He lunged toward the corpse, shoving aside the men standing there.

The village secretary waved his hand, indicating that the men should let my father through.

My father’s body trembled uncontrollably as he clutched Carpenter Wang’s shoulder, his eyes red-rimmed. "How could something like this happen?" he muttered.

The village secretary spoke indifferently, "A life for a life. When the incident happened at Zhuangshi’s home yesterday, everyone said either some old ghost had come back for revenge, or someone had killed for money. The fire was set by someone—those were your words."

"Carpenter Wang set the fire and killed Zhuangshi’s youngest son. The murder weapon was buried in the yard and has been found."

"He also stole all the valuables from Zhuangshi’s house; they’re all here."

"With the stolen goods and the culprit both found, if he isn’t the murderer, why would Zhuangshi’s youngest son come for his life?"

As he spoke, the village secretary’s hand slowly pointed at the axe on the ground, then at the pile of copper coins and gold bars, and finally at the bodies of Carpenter Wang and the village chief’s son.

My father’s face grew even darker. "Impossible! I don’t believe he could do such a thing!"

The village secretary frowned. "Xie Youzhi, I’ve always spoken to you reasonably."

"Some in the village said Liu the Funeral Keeper entered Zhuangshi’s house, and with all he’s involved in, people suspect him. You said it wasn’t him, and I didn’t insist it was, did I?"

"Now that the arsonist is clear, you say it’s not Carpenter Wang. Are you suggesting the dead would come after the wrong person?"

I rarely heard anyone use my father’s full name: Xie Youzhi.

"I know you’re close with the Wang family. No one knows where Wang Erjun’s run off to. If you’re sheltering him, even the five corpses lying in your house won’t let you get away with it!"

The village secretary’s face grew grim. "Liu the Funeral Keeper has been cleared of setting the fire, but what happened to Zhuangshi also has to do with him refusing Zhuangshi’s father entry. It’s all retribution! I’ve already notified Zhuangshi’s relatives from other villages to help with the funeral. You need to get Liu the Funeral Keeper to come out, wear mourning clothes, and send off the family."

My father knelt silently by Carpenter Wang’s side.

His face was deathly pale, lips moving soundlessly, muttering something I couldn't hear.

Someone pulled my father away from the ground.

The village secretary directed a few men to carry the corpses to the courtyard of Carpenter Wang’s house, saying he’d notify someone from another village to bring a ritual master.

The village chief’s youngest son had already become a vengeful ghost and killed; no one knew if Carpenter Wang would cause more trouble.

Someone would have to keep vigil over the corpses until the ritual master arrived, to make sure nothing happened.

As soon as these words were spoken, the onlookers stepped back several paces.

Even the men who’d just bravely carried the bodies looked terrified now.

The old village secretary thumped his cane on the ground several times, scolding loudly, "Did Zhuangshi ever treat you badly? Now that his family’s ruined, this is how you act? If we can’t keep watch over these haunted corpses, the whole village will suffer!"

Suddenly, my father said, "My family will keep watch. Leave the corpses here. My son and I will take turns."

Aunt Hui’s face changed instantly. "No!"

My legs trembled with fear.

A loud voice rose from the villagers, "Why not! This is men’s business! No place for a woman to interfere!"

"Old Xie and Carpenter Wang were good friends! If your family’s not involved, what’s the harm in keeping watch?"

"Right, the village chief’s family has already taken their corpses home, why be afraid of just two more? Besides, all this trouble started over money. If Liu the Funeral Keeper hadn’t led them astray, how would they have made money off the dead? That’s why the whole family was wiped out!"

"Exactly! Let Xie Youzhi keep watch over the corpses!"

Aunt Hui bit her lip, her face flushed red.

My father glanced at her, lips twitching. "Once your father comes back, he can perform a ritual. If there really are ghosts, he can calm their anger."

The village secretary suddenly said, "The more Liu the Funeral Keeper hides, the guiltier he looks. Even if the matter of stealing life spans isn’t his fault, he still bears responsibility for Zhuangshi’s destruction. He can’t dodge mourning duties—if he tries, we’ll drive him out of the village."

With this, the old village secretary ordered the valuables gathered up, to be kept in custody, saying they were cursed and no one should touch them, lest more disaster follow.

Then he hobbled off toward the other end of the village.

The villagers lingered, gossiping for a while, then dispersed.

Aunt Hui stomped her foot. "Old Xie, are you out of your mind? Burnt corpses are one thing, but these violent deaths—how can we dare to keep vigil? What if they come back to life? If something happens to you, what will become of me and Xie Yuan?"

My father hung his head and said nothing.

Aunt Hui was so anxious she began to cry.

I didn’t dare defy my father. Deep down, I sensed he had his reasons—this wasn’t some rash impulse.

"Old Wang could never kill for funeral money—he was framed."

"The village chief’s family was framed too."

"Are you saying your father doesn’t plan to come back?" my father suddenly asked.

Aunt Hui was stunned.

She stared at my father, eyes wide. "What did you say?"

My father looked up, his gaze bleak. "I asked if your father doesn’t plan on coming home."

Aunt Hui’s tears streamed down. "So you don’t trust me anymore?"

With just a few words, my father’s suspicion, though unspoken plainly, was all too evident.

Sweat beaded in my palm; I’d suspected he harbored doubts, and now, with Carpenter Wang’s death, he could no longer keep them in.

"It’s not that I don’t trust you—it’s your father I can’t believe. With something this serious, our family has stood against the whole village to defend his innocence. He should at least come out and say something, shouldn’t he?" my father said quietly.

Pain flashed across Aunt Hui’s face. She looked at the corpses, tears falling.

"Old Wang was close to our family, and you’ve known him for years. I know you’re grieving. But I mean no harm—so many have died lately, I just don’t want anything happening to us."

He fell silent, squatting by the gate of Carpenter Wang’s yard, his back to us, smoking.

Watching Aunt Hui cry, I felt my father was too harsh.

Liu the Funeral Keeper was indeed suspicious, but Aunt Hui had always treated us well—my father shouldn’t have spoken to her so.

"Xie Yuan, go home with your aunt. I’ll keep watch here. When the ritual master arrives, if the village chief’s relatives come to our house, let them take the corpses away," my father said calmly.

I opened my mouth to speak, but Aunt Hui pulled me home.

Her hand trembled violently.

"Auntie... my father..." My words came out in fragments.

She forced a smile. "It’s all right. I don’t blame him—he can’t be blamed for this."

I bit my lip and whispered, "Auntie, was Uncle Wang really bitten to death by the village chief’s youngest son?"

Her hand shook again, and a trace of fear flickered in her eyes. "Xie Yuan, you’re still a child. Don’t ask too much. Just stay home. I need to prepare something for your father—he can’t keep watch empty-handed."

Her words sent a chill through me.

"Will the corpses really rise tonight?" The thought flashed through my mind.

"If they do... will Father be in danger?"

A cold, paralyzing fear seized me.