Chapter Nineteen: Setting the Bowls

A powerful sense of fear sprang to life in an instant.

My legs trembled with terror; I fumbled through my pockets and pulled out two black donkey hooves, waving them frantically in the air as if to ward off whatever lurked unseen.

“Whatever you are! Stop following me! Or I’ll stuff your mouth full of donkey hooves!”

I forced myself to sound fierce, putting on a ferocious face. But inside, panic gnawed at me—I dared not linger in the main hall. I rushed headlong into the storeroom at the back.

Perhaps my “ferocity” and the donkey hooves had succeeded, or perhaps it was mere coincidence. I didn’t feel the sensation of a ghostly hand stroking my face anymore; whatever it was seemed to have ceased its pursuit.

Wang Erjun was nowhere to be found in the storeroom. Several filthy footprints marked the wall; he’d climbed out through the window.

I grabbed a stool and clambered up to the window myself.

Behind me stretched a row of old houses, their mud walls and gray tiles weathered by time. The village road was nothing but a broken, muddy track. The sky was ominously overcast, and the oppressive air of the old houses weighed even heavier after the ghostly encounter. Shadows seemed to crawl in every corner, as if something might be lurking just out of sight.

“Wang Erjun!”

I shouted at the top of my lungs. My cry echoed back at me, but Wang Erjun was nowhere to be seen.

I yelled again, louder, “Wang Erjun, you fat bastard!”

Near my house, aside from Wang Erjun’s family, there were no others. The houses in the old village ruins behind us had long been abandoned; everyone moved out when new brick-and-tile houses were built. So I shouted Wang Erjun’s name without reservation. Even if I yelled across the old village, his family wouldn’t hear a thing.

Fat bastard was a phrase that made Wang Erjun jump up and fight whenever he heard it.

I waited two more minutes as the echoes faded. Still, Wang Erjun did not appear.

My unease grew. I called out again, “Fat bastard! Stop messing around and scaring me! This isn’t funny!”

Once more, there was no reply, and the panic in my chest multiplied.

Ignoring the terror in my heart, I climbed straight out the window.

With a thud, I landed on the ground, my legs aching from the impact.

It had rained the day before, so the muddy road was still damp and soft. A string of footprints was faintly visible.

“Fat bastard, quit scaring me,” I stammered, my voice trembling.

The sky was not only gloomy; a wicked wind was blowing, making me hunch my shoulders and shiver with cold.

I took a few steps forward. The footprints were deep and heavy. Wang Erjun’s big feet left tracks even in dry earth; now, after about ten steps, the prints led into a dilapidated courtyard.

My heart skipped a beat. Of all the courtyards, why enter this one—the old house where the village chief and his family lived before they moved?

Following the footprints, I entered. At the threshold of the main hall, the prints vanished.

Under the sullen sky, the cracks in the old house’s mud walls seemed even more pronounced. On the yellowed wooden door, two faded guardian deities—Qin Shubao and Yuchi Jingde—still watched. The sun had bleached their paper faces, so much so they no longer looked like guardian gods but more like gate-keeping ghosts...

The moment this thought crossed my mind, I slapped myself.

I reached out and pushed open the door.

A foul, almost deathly stench wafted out—a smell of long neglect and lifelessness.

The light inside was dim. As the door opened, the wind made the guardian deity papers flutter and rustle.

“Wang Erjun... Fat bastard... Even if you’re hard of hearing, you should have heard me by now...”

I meant to shout, but an inexplicable sense of dread made me lower my voice.

The wind howled, thunder rumbled overhead, and the patter of rain began to fall.

I groped along the wall by the door and grabbed hold of a rope, thick with dust. I tugged hard.

A crisp snap echoed—the old-fashioned gas lamp, with its pull-chain switch, made its familiar sound.

Though our village had always been poor, these old houses had long since been fitted with electric lights.

A faint yellow glow flickered on.

A large, square wooden table stood in the main hall.

In one corner, a candle burned.

What made my heart lurch was the sight atop the table: several bowls were set out.

If they had been ordinary bowls, it would have been nothing. But the one at the head of the table was a filthy iron bowl, stained with dark, congealed blood—its crimson hue oppressive.

Inside were unshelled grains mixed with blood, a scattering of chicken and duck feathers. Five incense sticks stood upright in the center.

That iron bowl was unmistakably the one placed beneath the seat when the village chief’s father died!

Six other bowls were arranged around the table, each at its own place.

I immediately thought of the six members of the village chief’s family.

The eldest sat at the head. The rest were arranged by seniority.

Someone had deliberately set these bowls, preparing a meal for the dead—waiting for the chief’s family to eat funeral food!

What unsettled me even more was that, besides the chief’s father’s iron bowl, another bowl was smeared with blood.

“Fat bastard... If you don’t come out now... I won’t dare look for you anymore...”

Terrified, I gripped the donkey hooves tightly.

Just then, I heard a faint rustling.

Goosebumps pricked my skin; I clung to the donkey hooves, unable to speak.

I feared the sound would notice me—what if it was the person who set out the bowls?

Alone in the house, whoever arranged these bowls must be the culprit!

If it was Liu the funeral man, it was just us two here; Wang Erjun was likely dead, and Liu wouldn’t spare me either.

But I also feared Wang Erjun might be hiding, too scared to come out.

After all, when I entered, I spoke in a low voice.

Wang Erjun looked stout, but his courage was less than a rabbit’s.

I clenched my teeth and listened intently for the source of the sound.

Soon, I pinpointed it—a room to the left.

I turned to look; the door was old, with a calendar from the eighties still hanging there.

The door was ajar.

Had the room been untouched for decades, the gap would have widened on its own, but clearly someone had been inside.

I braced myself and moved to the room, afraid to call out.

I leaned close to the crack, peering inside.

The lighting was worse here, with only a trickle of yellow gas lamp filtering in.

After a moment, my eyes adjusted enough to make out a bed.

On it lay a figure, thin and frail—not Wang Erjun.

Nor was it Liu the funeral man; Liu wasn’t that tall or broad.

What kind of person could be lying here in this old house?

Had I suspected the wrong person? Was the culprit not Liu?

Curiosity killed the cat, as they say. I was torn between my suspicions and a desire to see who was on the bed.

Despite my terror, I reached out and gently pushed the door open wider.

The crack widened, letting in more light.

My scalp tingled with horror.

With the door open, I could see clearly now.

The thin body was clad in a black vest, trimmed with dark red fabric.

I remembered distinctly—on the day the village chief’s father celebrated his birthday, he wore this very garment.

I saw the face, too.

Compared to a living person, it seemed shrunken, almost shriveled. The skin was sallow and ashen—the color of death.

I shivered from head to toe, barely suppressing a scream.

The man on the bed was none other than the village chief’s father!

Liu had warned not to let the chief’s father return after his death, for fear the old ghost would come home.

Yet he had entered his own old house, and the table was laid with a meal for the dead family!

I nearly went mad with fright, rooted to the spot, unable to move.

The chief’s father’s body was trembling slightly, quivering in place.

His eyes remained shut, but I felt as if at any moment this corpse would open its eyes.

I dared not linger.

But my legs shook like leaves, and though I wanted to run, I simply couldn’t move.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded behind me.

My heart was about to leap out of my chest—who was it? Liu? The funeral man?

Before I could turn, a hand clamped over my mouth, another seized my arm, dragging me forcefully toward the door.

I didn’t dare scream; being pulled, I found I could move again.

Within a few steps, I was yanked out of the hall.

Rain lashed my face, icy cold and chilling to the bone.

“You idiot, do you want to die? Hurry up and leave...”

The trembling voice was low and hoarse.

Wasn’t that Wang Erjun’s voice?

I dared not look up, but from the corner of my eye I saw his round, pudgy face.

His complexion was pale, rain streaming down, making him look even more startled.

His steps were quick, never slowing or stopping.

We ran straight toward my house.

The rain was pouring now, drowning out the noise of our footsteps.

I couldn’t say exactly what time it was, but surely past six. Because of the heavy clouds and rain, it felt as though night had already fallen.

We ran more than a hundred meters—the boundaries of the old village weren’t large.

When we reached the wall outside my house, Wang Erjun let go of my hand, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath.

His fat face quivered as he said, “Xie Yuan, are you insane? You even opened the door to look!”

Fear and anger warred within me. “I thought you were inside!”

I cursed under my breath, “You fat bastard, are you deaf? I shouted all the way over, and you never came out! Were you trying to scare me to death?”

Wang Erjun’s cheeks shook as he muttered, “I didn’t go in... I climbed out the window before, and when I got to the door, I remembered it was the chief’s old house. I didn’t dare go in. Then I thought about my mom running home, and the old party chief leading people to search your house; I was terrified, so I sneaked back to my house and climbed the wall to keep watch. If they messed with my mom, I’d fight them to the end!”

“Afterwards the party chief didn’t come; I watched from afar as he carried a corpse out of your house. My mom kept kneeling beside my dad’s body, crying, your dad and Aunt Hui tried to comfort her, and the ritual master the chief brought was doing his magic.”

He paused, then continued, “After a while, Granny Li came to my house. She called your parents back, and told my mom to go home too. I figured things were fine then, you’d be looking for me, so I rushed back.”

“I never thought you’d have the guts!”

Wang Erjun glared at me.

My lips quivered, but I said nothing more.

Seeing Wang Erjun about to climb through the window, I grabbed him, saying, “If we both go in like this, we’ll make a mess of the storeroom wall. Let’s use the front door.”

With that, I started toward the passage beside the house.

At that moment, a faint voice whispered near my ear: “Climb through the window, go inside.”

My heart skipped a beat. Wang Erjun rubbed his hands, about to step aside.

He hadn’t spoken!

That voice was thin and small—it couldn’t be Wang Erjun.

“Hurry up, Xie Yuan, what are you waiting for? Want the chief’s father to get up and invite you back for dinner? There aren’t any extra bowls at his house.”

Then the voice came again, more urgent this time: “Quick, climb through the window, go inside!”

I shuddered, calling out, “Fat bastard, climb the window.”

Wang Erjun stared at me, wide-eyed. “Damn, are you messing with me?”

I couldn’t say why, but chills ran down my spine, my heart pounding with unease.

“Push me up... I’ll pull you in, I’m not as bored as you...” I grabbed the window, jumped, and began to climb.

I thought Wang Erjun would curse at me.

But suddenly his voice changed, trembling as he said, “Hurry up, Xie Yuan!”