After speaking, the Twin-Headed Ghost Infant vanished in an instant.
I woke up from the dream in a cold sweat. The four eyes of the Twin-Headed Ghost Infant hadn’t frightened me in the dream, but now that I was awake, I was terrified.
The words of the Twin-Headed Ghost Infant were rather intriguing. It said that China wasn’t its territory—could it be that even in their world, there are jurisdictions? You take care of this area, and I take care of that one.
When I was little, I heard the elders say that our village was under the rule of the old man at the local Earth God Temple. Once, during the temple’s renovation, two craftsmen who were waiting for their meal cursed, “We’re fixing this lousy temple, and they can’t even bring us food on time!” A while later, when two people finally arrived with food, they grumbled again, “If you weren’t coming, fine, but now you show up with two at once—what’s the deal?”
After that, whenever someone in our village died, another person would follow shortly after. Strangely enough, every two years, after an elder passed away, another would die within a month. Everyone said it was because the Earth God had taken offense to the craftsmen’s curse and made their words come true: “If you weren’t coming, fine, but now you show up with two at once…”
The spiritual power of the Twin-Headed Ghost Infant is well-known in the Chiang Mai region, so I trusted his words. And his mention of a spirit medium reminded me of Auntie An from our village. They say she was once a completely normal person until one spring, while gathering bamboo shoots near the reservoir, she was almost dragged underwater by a water ghost. An old man on the mountain called her name, and Auntie An managed to break free and climb out. Afterward, she fell into a feverish daze for days, and when she woke up, she devoured three pounds of meat. From then on, she could see all sorts of strange things.
Once, a man dreamed of a giant tree falling and saw his grandfather in the dream. He went to Auntie An for interpretation. After listening, she quickly reassured him, “Don’t worry, don’t worry. Let me ask for you.” She closed the windows, lit a lamp and incense, burned some spirit money, and soon the grandfather was said to have possessed her, speaking: “Grandson, I lost money in the underworld and owe debts. Burn some money for me—the sooner, the better, or they’ll throw me in jail.”
The grandson hurried home, prepared a large amount of spirit money, and burned it all, thinking the matter was settled. But soon, he dreamed of his grandfather again. Returning to Auntie An, she inquired once more and learned that most of the money had gone to bribing officials—the underworld police station, tax bureau, and commerce bureau had all taken their share. It still wasn’t enough, so more had to be burned.
Only after the grandson scrambled to arrange another offering was the matter finally resolved.
Auntie An seemed to serve as a spirit medium—what some places call a “divine woman,” specializing in bridging the spirit world and the human world. People like her often have strange encounters, and even without opening their “yin-yang eyes,” they sometimes see inexplicable things. It’s as if the underworld issued them a business license.
The fact that the grandfather’s money was taken by the underworld’s bureaucratic offices was somewhat amusing—likely a reflection of the living’s dissatisfaction with real-world institutions, exaggerated for a darkly comedic effect…
The next day, I left Chiang Mai, returning to Xishuangbanna via Laos. By the time I got back, Little Rascal hadn’t eaten in days. I fed him some milk, but he immediately threw it up. If even a dog could pine away like this, there was truly no way to handle it.
“Little Rascal, don’t worry. I’ll find He Qingling. Maybe once her business is done, she’ll come back,” I comforted him. “You focus on getting better and stronger. Once you open your yin-yang eyes, you’ll be worthy of a perfect black cat like He Qingling…”
The $100,000 Dai Hao gave me was dirty money, so I didn’t dare exchange it all at once. I visited several Bank of China branches, exchanging $1,000 each time. I sent some to Ji Qianqian’s account for her care expenses and wired some to my parents.
I carried the rest with me and retrieved my motorcycle from the hostel. Riding all the way to Shangri-La—a stunning place near the border of Yunnan and Tibet—I traversed almost the entire length of Yunnan, from the southernmost Xishuangbanna to the northern edge. Passing through Pu’er, Jinggu, Lincang, Yun County, and Nanjian, I rested for a day in Dali before continuing via Jianchuan, finally reaching the Tiger Leaping Gorge area of Shangri-La.
In Dali, I bought a new pair of AdiWang sneakers, which lifted my spirits. The motorcycle performed well, enduring both sunshine and storms. Little Rascal slowly recovered, gnawing on a few bones. The Jade Ruler sat behind me on the bike, occasionally spreading its arms and shouting. Xie Lingyu remained asleep inside the jade, rarely speaking, leaving me unbearably lonely. Without conversation, my mouth felt numb.
Compared to Little Rascal, I wasn’t doing much better.
In Tiger Leaping Gorge Town, I parked the bike, shooed Little Rascal off, and checked into a small inn called “No Cheating.” For a wanderer like me, such places felt like home.
The name amused me for a while.
“Boss, we’d like a room with good window light. The bike’s parked outside,” I said.
The owner, Dabao, a local, eyed me, my small dog, and my “girlfriend” traveling such a distance. “I’ll arrange a room for you. Not many ride solo all the way out here like you.”
The Jade Corpse lowered her head, seemingly shy. The room was small, with just one large bed. I prepared to sleep on the floor.
After washing off the dust, I took Little Rascal out to eat. Dabao kindly warned me, “The dishes here are a bit pricey—choose carefully.”
The town was mostly ethnic minority communities. I found a small restaurant, ordered some greens and rice. Worried about sunlight harming the Jade Corpse, I brought a black umbrella.
I happened to pick up a magazine introducing the area. “During WWII, a crashed pilot landed in a gorge here and was stunned by the scenery—locals appeared youthful and vibrant, as if in a legendary valley of immortality. Jin Yong even referenced it in *Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils*, where Duan Yu takes Wang Yuyan to seek eternal youth.”
“In 838 AD, Tibet’s last king, Langdarma, ascended and banned Buddhism, initiating the most brutal suppression in Tibetan history. Monks hid scriptures and relics, secretly transporting them to a hidden temple—Pabala Renboqie Dalai Temple. Lost to time and war, this treasure-filled temple vanished from history… Rumors say a secret passage connects Shangri-La to the Potala Palace.”
The article made the place sound mystical, brimming with divine wonders. But the true Shangri-La was said to lie in the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, shaped like an eight-petaled lotus—a symbol of utopian beauty.
It might not even be here…
Yet the Twin-Headed Ghost Infant had told me, “That place is called the Blue Moon Valley.”
At another table sat a young couple with their seven-year-old son. All three looked haggard, especially the boy—malnourished and sallow. Given the parents’ neat attire, this wasn’t neglect; the child likely suffered from some stubborn illness.
The boy blinked, a flicker of slyness in his eyes, gone as quickly as it came. A plate of chicken legs sat before him, his small hands greasy…
“Something’s inside that child,” I blurted.
“You can tell?” the father, Xu Jun, asked. The mother, Liu Yunxin, eyed me warily.
I approached to touch the boy’s, Xu Xiaokang’s, head, but he snapped at me like a feral creature.
I’d intended to sense what lurked within him—not necessarily a ghost or monster, but something…
His bite startled me.
Liu Yunxin pulled him close, murmuring, “It’s okay, Mama’s here…” Up close, I noticed his swollen belly, like a small watermelon.
“I mean no harm. It’s just… the child seems afflicted,” I said gently.
Xu Jun sighed, recounting their ordeal.
This was another supernatural tale, following Auntie An’s story. Xu Xiaokang had been well-behaved until playing in an abandoned building left him unconscious. After being found, his appetite surged while his health declined.
Doctors found nothing wrong—just shock-induced overeating that should pass. Instead, he grew thinner, his belly larger, gnashing his teeth at night, even tasting his own feces.
Xu Jun and Liu Yunxin, corporate executives who’d struggled to conceive Xiaokang via IVF, tried everything—science, religion, spending fortunes—but to no avail. Some experts refused to expend their spiritual energy on a child.
Staring into Xiaokang’s eyes, I sensed countless tiny figures writhing inside, chattering—something beyond mere ghosts. If it were just a haunting, he wouldn’t have turned into this ravenous wraith.
“We heard there’s a powerful spirit medium here,” Xu Jun said weakly, a rare vulnerability showing.
“I’m actually here for the same reason…” I admitted.
Incidentally, Xu Jun worked in Jiangcheng…
(All stories began to intertwine…)
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