Chapter 6:
Events in Dongpi Village (Part 6):
“Be good, walk forward…”
Chen Henian leaned against his grandfather’s chest. At one, he had been cradled and fed, his face against his grandfather’s belly. At two, he had sat in a basket, entertained by his grandfather’s playful grass stalks. He had grown up on his grandfather’s shoulders, and now, no matter what he faced, he shouldn’t be afraid. But why was he still crying?
Because he was a bad child, disobedient, his unease pouring out in his sobs.
Grandpa Chen glanced at the mountain, then turned and hurried towards the village, shielding Chen Henian’s head, his steps shaky.
Chen Henian, pressed against his grandfather’s chest, heard his rapid breathing, felt the dampness of his sweat-soaked shirt. He reached out and touched his grandfather’s back, wet with cold sweat.
As he tried to rub his eyes, his grandfather’s hand covered his face.
“Shh…” his grandfather whispered, his voice trembling with urgency. Chen Henian felt the tremor and opened his eyes, staying still. A deafening crack of thunder exploded beside his ear.
Boom—! The sky roared its fury.
Lightning struck the foot of the mountain, a flash of white searing his vision. The thunder echoed through the mountain, shaking the earth. The black-bellied grass at the foot of the mountain turned to ash, rocks tumbling down the slopes, dust and debris engulfing them.
Chen Henian choked on the dust, coughing, his throat sore, struggling to breathe. The red string on his finger grew warm, sliding around his knuckle.
It was like a living snake. Unnoticed by Chen Henian, the dust swirled around him, and his breathing eased. He heard the wind howling and the sound of footsteps.
“Going home… finally going home…”
“…”
“Mother… Old man…”
“Child… going home…”
His grandfather didn’t speak. The voices came from the mountain, not sharp cries, but faint, ethereal, like a mournful chant echoing through the valley.
Grandpa Chen hurried on, his pace quickening.
Chen Henian peeked through his grandfather’s fingers. The mountaintop was ablaze, ashes falling like black snow. More and more dark figures emerged.
They moved towards the village, their mouths gaping maws, large enough to swallow a hand, uttering unintelligible sounds.
They were fast. In an instant, they caught up. Chen Henian saw a twisted face approaching, like skin peeled from a body, reaching for his head.
He squeezed his eyes shut, shrinking back. His grandfather continued walking. He didn’t dare make a sound. After a moment, he felt nothing, only a sharp scream from above, a sound of pure agony.
Black clouds descended, engulfing the village in darkness, deeper than any ordinary night, only the blood-red moon visible.
Grandpa Chen carried Chen Henian home, breathing a sigh of relief as they crossed the threshold. Drenched in sweat, he placed Chen Henian under the eaves and looked out into the open.
“How did it come to this?” he sighed, his voice heavy.
After the resentment on the mountain had spawned evil entities, the Chen family’s living sacrifices had created a yang gate, maintaining a balance between the ominous mountain and the land.
Someone going up the mountain had provoked the weasels. Grandpa Chen had assumed they would be appeased after taking revenge, but the craftsman’s death had alerted him. The weasels were far more powerful than before. A sign of impending slaughter by evil entities was the killing of livestock. His suspicions were confirmed. The yang gate was failing.
He had decided to put on the burial clothes, to fill another coffin.
The second day of the sixth month was when yin energy was at its peak.
He had wanted to celebrate Chen Henian’s sixth birthday, but now, the entire mountain was unleashed, the yin gate wide open, ghosts roaming freely!
In his sixty years dealing with the dead, he had never seen anything so terrifying.
Chen Henian saw a strange, mournful look in his grandfather’s eyes.
Grandpa Chen instructed him urgently, “Stay in the ancestral hall, don’t come out. The ancestors will protect you.”
Chen Henian grabbed his hand. “Where are you going, Grandpa? Don’t go, please?”
“I have to save Aunt Wang.” Grandpa Chen said anxiously. He had made arrangements with Aunt Wang. Without her, Chen Henian would have no one to rely on.
“Don’t go,” Chen Henian pleaded again.
“Trust Grandpa, I’ll be back. Don’t be afraid. But if you don’t listen to Grandpa, I… I won’t want you anymore.” Grandpa Chen pushed his grandson away and ran out of the courtyard.
“Grandpa!” Chen Henian cried out, but his grandfather was gone. He was alone in the ancestral hall.
He clutched his hands, his body numb with fear, his lips trembling. He was afraid his grandfather wouldn’t return, but he didn’t dare disobey. He was even more afraid of being abandoned.
He huddled in a corner, sobbing softly, as bloodcurdling screams echoed from outside.
They had come home.
The dead from the mountain had returned, entering houses, disemboweling the living.
Chen Henian heard the creaking of the roof above him, feeling eyes watching him, a chill running down his spine. The incense before the ancestral tablets snapped, the ash scattering. With no wind, the tablets fell to the ground with a clatter.
He stood up, seeing nothing, not knowing where to hide. Drops of water fell beside him. He looked up and saw a hole ripped in the roof, revealing a weasel’s face, drool dripping from its mouth. The weasel, several times larger than normal, paced on the roof, unable to enter.
Chen Henian gulped, his eyes fixed on the weasel. If he ran outside, he would be eaten. Staying inside meant watching the weasel trying to force its way in, its head and claws already through the hole.
Suddenly—
His vision went dark. Wind swirled around his feet. His shadow rose up, growing larger and longer, taking the shape of a giant wolf!
The wolf-shaped shadow lunged through the roof, seizing the fleeing weasel in its jaws. Blood sprayed from the weasel’s fur, its screams echoing as its flesh and blood evaporated.
The entire roof of the ancestral hall was torn off. As the building collapsed, the giant wolf landed on the ground before Chen Henian, dissolving into a misty shadow, a hand emerging from within.
The hand was large enough to crush his head, its grotesque skin reeking of death. As it reached for him, Chen Henian ran.
The ancestral hall collapsed, leaving him nowhere to hide.
In just an hour, the entire village was shrouded in white mist. He stumbled out of the gate, barely able to see, the air thick with the stench of death, a coldness that chilled him to the bone.
“Grandpa… Grandpa…” Chen Henian called out, trying to remember the way to Aunt Wang’s house, running blindly.
No matter how fast he ran, the black shadow followed, clinging to him. It became his own shadow, then materialized in front of him, blocking his path, a massive, indistinct human form.
Gasping for breath, Chen Henian yelled at the shadow, “Get out of my way!” His voice choked with fear. “I want my grandfather!”
“Grandpa… where are you…”
The shadow remained motionless. Chen Henian was about to give up when it seemed to exhale, obeying him, vanishing in an instant.
He had no time to celebrate, continuing to run, disoriented, not realizing he was running in circles. He was on a small path, through fields and grass, his small figure insignificant.
The grass in the field rustled.
“Hee hee… looking for Grandpa, hee hee… little child, looking for Grandpa.”
Something was speaking in the field. Chen Henian’s legs were weak, his breath ragged. He could run no more, looking into the field. Weasels emerged, as large as dogs, carrying pale babies on their backs. The babies were speaking, licking their lips, giggling.
Mocking him. Despair and anger welled up as more weasels surrounded him. The ghost babies crawled off their backs, towards his feet, their mouths like bird beaks, attached to rotting human skin.
“Then eat me! Eat me!” Chen Henian screamed.
A ghost baby opened its mouth wide.
Suddenly, a light shone, blue flames illuminating the creatures. They shrieked, glaring at Chen Henian before fleeing into the field.
“Little Nian, why didn’t you listen to Grandpa?”
Chen Henian turned and saw his grandfather standing before him, holding a candle. He wondered if he was dreaming.
Grandpa Chen smiled stiffly. “Grandpa will take you away, don’t be afraid.”
His grandfather extended his hand. Chen Henian slowly reached out, afraid it was a weasel in disguise, yet hoping it was real. He placed his hand in his grandfather’s.
His grandfather was wearing burial clothes. His hand was ice-cold.
Chen Henian froze, speechless, tears welling in his eyes.
Grandpa Chen held his hand tightly, leading him down a path, the candlelight illuminating the way.
“Grandpa… your hand, why is it so cold?” Chen Henian asked, his voice trembling.
His grandfather’s voice came from above. “It’s not cold, it won’t be cold soon.”
Chen Henian fell silent, tears falling as he looked down, splashing on the mud. His grandfather’s entire body was cold, the chill of death seeping into him.
His grandfather had said that the soul of a dead person could become a candle.
The path was long, the candle almost burned out.
Grandpa Chen led him to the village entrance, the large stone engraved with the red characters “Dongpi Village.”
He stopped, turning his stiff neck to look at Chen Henian.
He was grateful that Chen Henian didn’t have Chen blood. The Chen family’s fate was tied to the mountain. Their ancestors had made a blood pact: the mountain lives, the people live; the mountain dies, the people die. The Chens couldn’t leave the mountain, couldn’t leave Dongpi Village.
Chen Henian could, but how would he survive? He was still so young.
Grandpa Chen’s eyes were fixed. A large hole gaped in his back, his body almost hollowed out. A trail of blood marked their path. How had he died?
A weasel, a powerful weasel. He had overestimated himself, dying without a whole corpse.
But he couldn’t bear to leave, couldn’t bear to leave Chen Henian alone in this world. His grandson had suffered so much. What else could he do?
Little child, you must live.
Finally, Grandpa Chen loosened his grip, pushing Chen Henian forward.
“Little Nian, keep walking.”
Chen Henian shook his head, biting his lip.
“Little Nian, walk forward, don’t be afraid, and don’t look back.”
His grandfather’s voice came from behind. “Be good, listen to Grandpa one last time, okay…”
Chen Henian took two steps forward.
“Be good, it’s Grandpa’s fault,” his grandfather said. “Grandpa can’t stay with you…”
“Be good, walk forward, walk fast, and grow up.”
Chen Henian covered his mouth, biting his lip to stifle his sobs. He was afraid that if he cried, his grandfather wouldn’t be able to leave in peace, becoming a wandering ghost. He had to obey. He lowered his head, hiding his tears.
The candle burned out, the faint warmth disappearing. His grandfather’s figure was gone. As the darkness closed in around him, Chen Henian knew his grandfather had left. His legs gave way, and he fell to his knees, his head on the mud, finally crying out loud.
“Grandpa… Grandpa.”
“Grandpa, you abandoned me, Grandpa…”
Chen Henian couldn’t move, his cries swallowed by the mournful sounds.
Fire engulfed the village, human figures twisting and screaming in the flames. More and more shadows gathered behind Chen Henian, held back by the wall of fire, separated from him as if by a bridge to the afterlife.
Chen Henian’s cries tore through the night, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his nose blocked, forcing him to breathe through his mouth, each breath a moan. He fainted.
The figures in the flames watched hungrily. Then, black mist emerged from the back of his neck, coalescing, its formless body lifting him up.
It stood there, a head forming, long black hair flowing down. It looked down at Chen Henian for a long time, then suddenly extended vine-like shadows from its back, lashing out at the ghosts behind him, tearing them apart like a sharp blade.
It continued to hold Chen Henian, but the wails around him ceased. The night was silent once more.
