For an ethnic minority community to polish animal bones into ornaments should have been perfectly ordinary.
However, after Liu Yang Yang conducted a painstaking investigation while sweating profusely… they confirmed that every bone ornament in Qin Shu’s bedroom, whether crudely or exquisitely made, had been fashioned from genuine human bones. Not one was fake.
That was far less ordinary.
It was especially unbelievable that this little fishing village, which was gradually connecting with the modern world, had installed television antennas and begun buying television sets, yet still preserved such backward—and possibly illegal—feudal customs.
Precisely because it sounded unbelievable, they had to be extraordinarily cautious.
Neither of them could sit still any longer, so they hurriedly began discussing the next direction of their investigation.
Liu Yang Yang was simply too tall and powerfully built to blend into this unremarkable fishing village, so they decided to split up. Liu Yang Yang would invent a false identity and reenter from the opposite side of the village. That way, even if the villagers became suspicious of him, Qin Shu would not be implicated and could remain hidden in the shadows to help.
Qin Shu had already questioned the village children. Although fishing was its principal livelihood, Living Water Village was not completely isolated from the outside world. Merchant vessels frequently passed through during the prime fishing season, and there were quite a few neighboring villages. Women who had married into the village went out to visit people, and sisters-in-law, mothers-in-law, and daughters-in-law always had plenty to talk about.
Once every month or two, a temporary market was also held at a central location near the boundaries of the surrounding villages. Villagers with limited access to transportation could barter there or spend money on cloth, meat, vegetables, salt, sugar, sauces, and vinegar.
Unfamiliar faces were indeed rare, but not entirely unheard of. The children most often encountered traveling peddlers who occasionally made their rounds through the village streets.
Such peddlers usually rode tall bicycles into the village, weaving between the houses and ringing their bells several times to attract the villagers’ attention. Cargo boxes hung from both sides of the bicycle, while a large pack strapped behind the rider held all manner of strange and fascinating objects.
It was the most suitable identity for Liu Yang Yang to borrow, provided he could somehow obtain a bicycle… or simply rob an innocent peddler and temporarily borrow all his equipment.
“That makes sense. Perfectly reasonable—let’s do it! But do the people here take afternoon naps? I’ll look for a chance to sneak out now. Cover for me.”
After a moment’s consideration, Qin Shu shook his head and lowered his voice. “Don’t rush out recklessly. People in Hai City generally enjoy taking afternoon naps, so this village should have a similar routine. Wait until all the adults are asleep before leaving. Hide in my room for now, and after lunch—”
“Kan-Ao!”
Before he could finish, a woman suddenly called from outside.
“Shh. That’s my ama!” Qin Shu immediately closed the disorderly wardrobe and secured its cover before adjusting his headscarf. “Hide under the bed. I’ll go out and see what’s happening.”
“Kan-Ao, the Gui Gong has come to the house to inspect for ghosts! Come out quickly and let him take a look at you!”
Elio’s Notes: Gui Gong is a traditional ritual-specialist role among the Li people of Hainan. Historical descriptions portray Gui Gong as male practitioners especially associated with ancestral-spirit rites and knowledge of local ancestor-ghost traditions.
The woman called again, but Qin Shu barely understood what she was saying. His attention fixed entirely on the so-called Gui Gong. None of the village children had mentioned anyone with such a role.
He sighed and rubbed his face. Muscle memory pulled his features into a practiced smile as he walked toward the sitting room. “Coming, Ama!”
“Kan-Ao, come over here. The Gui Gong came especially to help you today, so you mustn’t lose your temper. After the ritual, we’ll eat meat and drink wine. Ama bought you soda too, and you won’t have those dreams tonight.” The woman sighed with relief, gently patted his arm, and led Qin Shu toward the courtyard.
Qin Shu took the opportunity to study her expression from the side. She appeared to be deliberately coaxing her son with great care, as though afraid that Qin Shu might become unhappy and cause some kind of disturbance.
A boy of sixteen or seventeen should be mostly past his rebellious phase, shouldn’t he? Why did his mother still need to coax him like this? Something about it was strange.
Qin Shu nodded without speaking. As he tried to guess what the ritual would involve, his gaze simultaneously fell upon the woman’s clothing.
Unlike the village children, she was not dressed simply or casually. She was a woman of considerable poise, with jet-black hair adorned by beautiful silver ornaments. Her wheat-colored complexion glowed with healthy color, while the embroidery and patterns covering her dress were intricate and vivid, and the fabric itself appeared to be of excellent quality.
Considering the television inside the house, then looking at the calf, the enormous fat pig, and the vicious black dog that had suddenly appeared in the courtyard… their family was probably among the wealthiest in this little fishing village.
Pigs and cattle were valuable in this era. The price of the fat pig alone could have covered an entire year’s food for a family of three. The animals carried their own rank, musky odors, different from the fishy smell that permeated the village, yet those odors made Qin Shu relax slightly. Thank goodness. One sniff was enough to tell that they weren’t planning to sacrifice a living person.
Little Fu Fu was unaccustomed to the smell. Covering her nose, she scrunched up her face and ran off with a rapid patter-patter, unwilling to remain anywhere near the courtyard.
Ama paid her no attention and pulled Qin Shu forward. The man known as the Gui Gong stood in a corner of the courtyard with his back to them.
The Gui Gong wore a long black-and-gray robe, with a black headscarf wrapped around his head and bright rooster and pheasant tail feathers tucked into it as decoration. He held a long, pointed knife and repeatedly swung it through the bamboo piled beside him, cutting and sharpening the stalks until he had constructed a simple three-tiered bamboo altar.
“Uncle Gui Gong, you haven’t visited in the past two years, and our Kan-Ao has grown so much that you may hardly recognize him. Kan-Ao is an excellent fisherman. During last year’s Great Wave Festival, he personally caught an entire boatload of fat fish, and every child in the village received two! So you must help him. Please don’t let the Cattle-Eating Ghost take our Kan-Ao away…”
Elio’s Notes: The Cattle-Eating Ghost is a major ancestral spirit in Li folk belief, named for the cattle sacrificed to appease it. The ritual here blends fictional elements with local ancestral and sacrificial motifs.
Hearing Ama’s words, the Gui Gong slowly turned around. His razor-sharp gaze instantly landed on Qin Shu. Qin Shu’s pupils contracted, and it took every ounce of control in his facial muscles to keep his astonishment from showing.
He was a middle-aged man missing half his face. The teeth and gums left exposed on that side appeared to have shriveled for some unknown reason. Dry, flesh-pink, and tightly adhered to the side of his face, they resembled a grotesque mass of overgrown bone and flesh that made him almost impossible to look at directly.
Whenever he swallowed or breathed, saliva occasionally escaped from the mouth he could no longer close, trickling through the gaps between his shriveled teeth and leaving damp stains across his shoulder.
Qin Shu really wanted to punch him to death.
He could not explain why. Perhaps the Gui Gong was simply too hideous, and Qin Shu’s instincts responded by demanding that he kill the man with a single punch.
Endure it. Endurance was the safest strategy.
“Greetings, Gui Gong. I’m Kan Kan.” With considerable effort, Qin Shu maintained his practiced smile. At Ama’s discreet, urging pinch on his arm, he stepped forward and softly introduced himself.
“Woof! Woof! Woof!” The moment the vicious black dog beside the Gui Gong saw Qin Shu approach, it began barking furiously. It bared its teeth at him, saliva pouring from its mouth.
Qin Shu was not frightened, but he pretended to startle and stepped backward. Compared with the Gui Gong’s grotesque face, even a savage dog looked pleasingly handsome. Perhaps he could find some way to calm it down—
“Schk!”
Unfortunately, he no longer had the opportunity. This time, Qin Shu did not need to pretend to be shocked.
Blood covered his face. Some had even rushed unexpectedly into his nostrils. Drenched in the strange, warm, rank smell of black-dog blood, he stood frozen in place, utterly speechless.
With one swift rise and fall of the blade, the Gui Gong had severed the dog’s head before it could issue another bark or threat. Blood erupted from its arteries like a fountain, spraying across the entire courtyard.
Qin Shu’s dear ama had clearly come prepared. She had covered her head with a black cloth, keeping her face and hair dry without allowing a single drop of blood to touch her.
“Ama… cough, cough. What is this for?” Qin Shu weakly turned to stare at her, only for her to interrupt him with a wave of her hand.
Holding the black cloth, Ama appeared perfectly calm as she said solemnly, “Kan-Ao, do whatever the Gui Gong tells you to do. If he says nothing, remain standing and do not move. Don’t do anything at all. Be careful not to disturb the ghost and make it harm you.”
Qin Shu could only suppress his discomfort and turn around again. “All right.”
The Gui Gong glanced at Qin Shu without offering him any explanation. No emotion could be discerned on his deformed, ghostlike face.
He once again drew the pointed knife hanging from his waist and sliced the most tender pieces of meat into thin strips. He placed them on two small porcelain plates, set them on the lowest tier of the bamboo altar, and began muttering in a hoarse, aged voice:
“Evil ghost, come eat your meat.
Black dog makes a splendid treat.
Once you’ve eaten, drunk your fill,
Open the door and welcome me through.”
It was a very simple piece of doggerel, and this time Qin Shu could understand it. He was considering what “open the door” meant when a mass of golden-red fire abruptly ignited on the altar’s middle tier.
At midday, the inexplicably appearing flame shone brighter than the sun. Its tongues of fire swayed with dazzling streams of gold and color, yet the longer Qin Shu watched it, the more his temples began to throb for no apparent reason. The skin drenched in dog blood grew unbearably hot, as though an entire layer of his face were about to burn away.
Perhaps having a layer burned off would be a good thing. Qin Shu did not resist the warm, prickling pain. He forcibly endured it and remained where he stood without raising a hand to rub his face.
Yet while Qin Shu remained calm, the Gui Gong suddenly panicked. Clutching the knife, he took a large step as though intending to flee. His deformed face trembled as he shouted, “This is wrong! This isn’t the right door!”
Ama walked over and blocked his path, her expression sincere. “Uncle Gui Gong, you’re my mother’s third brother. Our blood ties run deep. During the famine, it was my second brother who risked his life to rescue your younger brother. Do you remember? Please help me. Our family has always been free of illness and disaster, and we have never asked anyone for aid before. This is the first time.”
“…”
“Uncle.”
“All right. I understand.” After a moment of silence, the Gui Gong heaved a heavy sigh and turned back. He led out the fat pig, which was squealing incessantly, and began slaughtering it on the spot.
The two of them might have understood, but Qin Shu did not. All he could tell was that the Gui Gong was in an extremely foul mood, and his wrist was trembling faintly.
The long, pointed knife had been sharpened to an extraordinary degree. It plunged viciously into the back of the pig’s neck again and again, every strike growing fiercer and more frenzied, until the pig finally went silent and blood poured from its body.
The Gui Gong caught his breath, then silently sliced off several fine pieces of pork collar and tenderloin and arranged them on a porcelain plate. Only after taking several deep breaths did he force himself to approach the altar. As he placed the offering down, he recited another plain and easily understood piece of doggerel:
“Fat pig meat is rich and fine;
Even ghosts will praise the swine.
Big ghosts eat and fall asleep,
Little ghosts eat and topple—topple! Isn’t it enough? Fall already!”
Why was he growing more emotional in the middle of the chant? Qin Shu’s curiosity intensified, and his panic actually eased somewhat.
He had realized that the Gui Gong was human. No matter how grotesquely his features twisted like those of an evil ghost, the man remained human—and was even a distant relative of Ama’s. The moment a person displayed emotion and revealed fear, he immediately lost the mysterious, uncanny terror he had possessed at first.
What was driving the Gui Gong toward collapse appeared to be the altar’s unresponsive second tier. The flame had already cooked the pork until it gave off an enticing roasted fragrance and oil escaped with a steady sizzle.
The smell was so delicious and tempting that even little Fu Fu, who had fled earlier, could not resist returning to the courtyard entrance. Their silent aba immediately caught up, lifted her by the back of her clothing, and hurriedly carried her away.
“Ah… I have never done anything in my life that violated my conscience. Whenever I made offerings to the Cattle-Eating Ghost, I never secretly kept any of the meat from its bowl.”
The Gui Gong took out his pointed knife and cut deeply into his own finger, allowing blood to drip into the scorching firelight. His eyes turned bloodshot as he watched for changes in the flame and continued muttering, “An evil ghost ate half my face when I was born. Since then, I have blamed neither heaven nor earth. I ask only that our ancestors sleep peacefully and that our relatives and friends remain free of sickness and disaster… You can see me. I have done nothing wrong! Open the door! Open the door!”
Boom!
As the flame consumed the blood he had offered, the already unsteady bamboo altar finally collapsed beneath his chants and cries. The charred bamboo occasionally released sharp crack-crack sounds as it burned, while the pork and black-dog meat were buried beneath pale clouds of ash and smoke.
The Gui Gong’s spirits rose. Without pausing, he hurried toward the young water buffalo. It was still a calf and seemed to have sensed its fate long ago. Tears filled its large, bright eyes, and as the Gui Gong untied its rope, its front knees weakened as it tried to kneel.
“Go on! Go!” The Gui Gong refused to let it kneel. He immediately pulled it upright and secured it in place, then reached out and wiped the moisture from the calf’s eye. In the next instant, he raised his hand and struck Qin Shu across the face with a sharp smack.
Qin Shu: “…”
The cold ox tears seeped into his eyes, making his entire body uncomfortable. He had heard that ox tears allowed people to see ghosts, but not only did he see no ghosts now, his eyes also felt as though something foreign had entered them.
First came a sour, stinging sensation, followed by a wave of piercing pain. It felt as though some abnormal plant had parasitized his eye sockets and taken root there, its roots drinking his blood as they grew and spread into other places… More precisely, the strange pain was growing upward. It finally stopped several inches above the point between Qin Shu’s brows, aching and throbbing as though the thin layer of flesh there might split open at any moment.
The Gui Gong did not appear to notice his discomfort. He turned back, cut off the calf’s head with a single stroke, and quickly carved out the tenderest and most delicious pieces of meat. Then he removed the calf’s two small horns and handed them to Qin Shu.
After Qin Shu accepted the horns, the Gui Gong explained hoarsely, “Reason with the Cattle-Eating Ghost yourself. Tell it not to disturb your dreams in the middle of the night and forbid it from calling your soul away again. Otherwise, we will ask the Niangmu to lead the entire village in burning the mountain, digging out its cave, and setting it ablaze, leaving it without any descendants to worship it ever again!”
Elio’s Notes: A Niangmu is another traditional Li ritual-specialist role, serving as an intermediary in spirit-related rites. Practitioners could be male or female; historical accounts note that male Niangmu could wear women’s Li clothing during ceremonies.
“…All right.” Qin Shu said the words, but in truth, he still did not fully understand.
He tightened his grip around the horns. The Gui Gong immediately raised the porcelain plate of raw beef and set it upon the altar’s highest tier.
Of course, after the earlier minor explosion, most of the bamboo altar had collapsed. Only a single crooked tier now remained standing in the courtyard. It seemed to carry the symbolic purpose of… dragging a lofty ancestor down from its sacred altar.
Only after pulling it down from the altar could they find a way to deal with it and communicate with it at close range. No wonder the Gui Gong had been so anxious before.
But what exactly was that beautiful golden-red flame? Judging from the Gui Gong’s frightened and panicked reaction, it should not have appeared during this ritual at all. Whatever it was, it was clearly not something to provoke.
The stabbing pain above Qin Shu’s forehead grew increasingly intense. He could not help weighing whether he should run… but ultimately decided to remain. Things had already reached this point. Even if he fled, where could he possibly go?
If the villagers mistook him for someone possessed by a ghost and chased him down to kill him, the consequences would be even worse.
Therefore, Qin Shu continued pretending to be a confused and uneasy teenager. Following the Gui Gong’s instructions, he gently tucked the horns into his tightly wrapped headscarf, crudely disguising himself as a “young calf.”
Then he knelt on one knee before the collapsed remains of the bamboo altar and softly recited the final nonsensical piece of doggerel:
“Ancestor starves and aches inside,
Returning home among the living to abide.
The sick child cannot sleep at night;
Ancestor eats the cow…
Eats cow and pig and an old ram too,
Then drives the ghosts away for you.”
Boom!
The moment the words left his mouth, thunder exploded beneath a clear midday sky. A brilliant bolt of lightning tore through the heavens with a deafening crash, drawing thick, gloomy clouds across the noonday sky above Living Water Village and illuminating the Gui Gong’s suddenly bloodless, distorted face.
Lightning struck the altar, which instantly erupted into a raging blaze. No ordinary person could approach within even half a step. The terrifying heat seemed capable of melting bones on the spot.
“This is wrong! It’s wrong! Wuli, you lied to me!” The Gui Gong was nearly breaking down. He drew his knife and pointed it at the still-composed woman, his lips trembling. “Tell me the truth—is Kan-Ao a jin ghost? Why didn’t you ask the Niangmu to come?”
Elio’s Notes: In traditional Li folk belief, jin (禁) practices were associated with supernatural harm such as illness. The novel frames that belief here through a harmful spirit it calls a “Jin Ghost.”
Hearing his “name” mentioned again, Qin Shu’s heart jolted. He rose and stepped in front of Ama, shielding her. Frowning at the Gui Gong, he demanded, “What are you trying to say? Explain what happened right now. This is my home. Are you threatening my family with a knife?”
Before the Gui Gong could react, the sharp, elongated knife abruptly snapped. With a crisp crack that followed Qin Shu’s question, the silvery blade fell to the ground and shattered into pieces.
“I was right. My guess was right! That is absolutely not your family’s ancestor! What kind of evil, heterodox creature did you summon? You’re a jin—urk!”
Before the Gui Gong could finish his accusation, his entire body stiffened. His throat convulsed as he released agonized hoh… hoh… sounds.
Qin Shu also drew a soft hiss and instinctively raised a hand to cover his forehead, yet he could still feel a warm, viscous liquid seeping between his fingers.
His forehead was bleeding. At the same time, an eye began grotesquely growing outward from the center of the Gui Gong’s neck. It tore through muscle, bone, and skin, opening with a faint squelch.
Yes, it was an eye. Its entire surface carried a lifeless gray-white hue, but its sclera gradually absorbed the Gui Gong’s blood, slowly turning the deep red of severe congestion.
A sudden chill of revulsion rose in Qin Shu’s heart. He removed the hand pressed tightly against his forehead. “Ama, don’t just stand there! Look at my forehead right now. Has something strange… grown out of it too?”
“A horn has grown from your head. It’s pitch-black, like a cow’s horn, but also like a goat’s.” The woman’s voice trembled slightly. After a single glance, she looked away and struggled with all her strength to remain calm. “Kan-Ao, don’t be afraid. Ama is here… Ah!”
Her composure did not last long, because the Gui Gong died—horribly and almost instantaneously.
The instant the gray-white eye completed its growth and fully attached itself to the Gui Gong’s neck, his head separated directly from his body. His cervical vertebrae snapped apart, and blood erupted like a fountain.
His head struck the ground heavily and rolled away with a hollow rumble-rumble, never returning. Qin Shu pressed his lips together without speaking. He listened closely to Liu Yang Yang moving inside the house and did not act rashly.
The succession of horrifying transformations before him was not what currently left Qin Shu most alarmed and uncertain.
Something even more dangerous stood behind the Gui Gong’s corpse.
It was the altar consumed by flames. It was the beautiful young man dressed in an ordinary school uniform who emerged from the scorching blaze, walking toward him one step at a time.
His eyes were a clear, luminous golden amber. His face remained expressionless, and his pale, slender figure was as delicate as it was ghostlike, surrounded by an aloof, somber air.
Only those eyes stared directly at Qin Shu. Reflected amid the shifting brightness and shadows of the flames, they appeared more dazzling than gemstones—and far more capable of bewitching the heart.
“Who are you?” Qin Shu asked softly.
“I’m Pei Zhao,” Pei Zhao answered just as softly.