The reason it felt familiar was that when I entered, I saw a similar shade of red on the lips of the madman Bai Jingshui. The woman before me must be Huang, the wife of the madman Bai Jingshui—a woman whose full name I still didn’t know. She had just leapt out of a coffin—or more accurately, a refrigerator shaped like a coffin. Now, she stood right in front of me. Can you imagine her standing before you?
Huang’s ill-fitting red clothes and lipstick somehow made her appear beautiful to both Shen Yihu and me. Having lived inside a refrigerator, her skin had lost all moisture. Her lips were cracked, and the lipstick smeared on them looked as if it had been applied to a donkey’s rear end. The thought of Bai Jingshui kissing that very same “donkey’s rear end” earlier left me at a loss for words. I wanted nothing more than to step outside, fetch a basin of water, and wash that madman’s mouth before letting him back in.
Her face was caked with rouge or something similar, making her look like something straight out of a nightmare—the most revolting kind.
Huang had pushed open the refrigerator door herself. A thin layer of frost still clung to her eyebrows and hair, scattering as it melted and veiling her eyelids. Her eyes, unmoving, stared at me with a mixture of confusion and terror. You might wonder: *You just saw a female corpse emerge from a fridge, yet you had time to notice such details? You even noticed her lips looked like a donkey’s rear—have you ever kissed one?* Pah! *You’re* the one who’s kissed a donkey’s rear!
In truth, Huang was just as stunned to see Shen Yihu and me as I was to see her. After death, aside from the madman, she likely hadn’t encountered another living soul. So when two strangers suddenly barged in, she froze, baffled by who we were, probably thinking: *Who the hell are these two idiots?*
My mind was blank. Anyone in my shoes would’ve been the same. I had no idea who was supposed to be keeping an eye on Bai Jingshui. Suddenly, from outside, the madman’s shrill, slaughterhouse-like screams pierced the air: *”Wife, run! Don’t worry about me!”*
As the last wisps of frost dissipated from Huang’s body, the madman’s cries acted like a curse, igniting her fury. Her malevolence surged, baring two rows of white teeth as she lunged straight for me, her ghostly pale eyes locking onto mine with a soul-chilling gaze.
Shen Yihu drew his pistol and fired. The bullet struck Huang’s arm with a dull *thunk*. At that moment, Shen Yihu was positioned behind and to the side of Huang—he had been about to open the fridge door—while I stood directly in front of her. The gunshot didn’t faze Huang, but she must’ve assumed I was the one attacking. Driven by desperation to protect her husband, she fixated on me—the one standing closest—and leaped toward me. And how far did she jump? Three meters.
I shrieked, cursed, and scrambled backward, shouting, *”Stay the hell back! You’re already dead—why torment the living? Instead of moving on to the next life, you’re going to get your husband killed too, you shameless ghost—!”*
As I retreated, I fumbled with the century-old fermented swill in my hands, attempting to pour it on her. But in my panic, I repeated the motion three times before realizing I hadn’t even opened the damn can. Just as I tried to pry the lid off with my right hand—oh crap, my right hand was still gripping the jade ruler. No free hand.
While I struggled to open the can, Huang pounced, pinning me down.
One glance at her lips nearly made me pass out. Her eyes were devoid of pupils, just pure white—so white they began to tinge red, a crimson so deep it was despair incarnate.
With no other choice, I jabbed wildly with the jade ruler. It had some effect, but I hadn’t yet mastered its power—less than a tenth of its potential. Huang winced but only grew more aggressive. The sinister energy radiating from her made my lips tremble. My lungs burned for air, and my face felt encased in ice.
*”Throw me the can!”* Shen Yihu yelled.
I rolled the glass jar toward him. Seeing bullets were useless, he had already stowed his gun—apparently, guns worked on the living, but not the dead.
Like a scene from a Hong Kong action movie, Shen Yihu somersaulted, caught the can, twisted it open with a *crack*, then lunged forward like a charging soldier, dumping the entire contents onto Huang’s back.
The fermented swill seared into her flesh, releasing an unbearable stench—one so foul it overpowered even the swill’s own rancid odor. The pain must’ve been excruciating because Huang released my throat, sprang up with a *creak*, and turned on Shen Yihu.
I gasped for air, my head dripping with swill, chunks of tofu residue, and peppercorns. Propping myself up, I coughed violently—I’d nearly suffocated. The red thread, glutinous rice, and dried cow dung in my pouch were all gone. All I had left were clattering steel nails and a lump of tree resin.
*”Master, quit spacing out—get over here and help!”* Shen Yihu barked.
Then I remembered—the *Compendium* mentioned that female corpses like Huang were sustained by sheer willpower. Their weak points were their nostrils and mouth. Block those, and they’d be subdued.
I pulled out the tree resin—my last hope. *Damn you, Shen Yihu—you wasted my twenty-yuan fermented swill and drenched me in it!* But ironically, reeking of the stuff kept Huang at bay.
Shen Yihu was now pinned to the bed, a grown man about to be violated by a vengeful ghost. Strangely, the absurdity of the situation had chased away my fear. I grabbed a rope—likely the one the madman used to draw water—and looped it around Huang’s neck. I yanked with all my might. She didn’t budge.
Shen Yihu, recalling some old dog-paddling technique, scrambled over while I held the rope, joining me in pulling.
Huang’s yin energy intensified, but the swill was still working. Seizing the moment, I shouted, *”Dong Lingzi, if you’re messing with me, I swear I’m no disciple of yours!”* Freeing one hand, I pressed the jade ruler against Huang’s lower back. Together, Shen Yihu and I pulled with all our strength.
Finally, we toppled her. Ignoring the donkey’s rear lips, I shoved the resin up her nostrils and crammed the can into her mouth. After a few feeble struggles, Huang went still.
Shen Yihu’s hands were raw from the rope, his body drenched in sweat. I stood up weakly. *”Officer Shen, hold her down while I hammer five nails into her pressure points. Once she’s subdued, we’ll remove them and cremate the body.”*
Shen Yihu, still dazed, snapped, *”Hold her yourself, damn it!”* Too exhausted to argue, I drove the nails in myself, panting heavily. Huang’s limbs stiffened, her eyes turning fully white.
We staggered out of the derelict house—nearly an hour had passed since we entered. Fifty-nine minutes, to be exact.
The madman Bai Guangde lay paralyzed on the ground, his face twisted in grief as I emerged. The forensics team, sent to retrieve the corpse, bolted out, hands clamped over their mouths. Only Chen Tutu remained, stepping inside calmly.
Shen Yihu and I trudged to the well, shoulders slumped. *”Officer Shen, got a cigarette?”* I asked.
He seemed lost in thought. I called twice before he snapped out of it, fishing out a crushed pack of Huanghelou—no intact smokes left. We didn’t care. He handed me a broken one, his hands shaking so badly he could barely light it. My own lips trembled around the cigarette.
*”Stop shaking,”* we both growled at the same time.
Finally, the cigarette lit. Two drags later, my eyes blinked back to life.
Drenched in sweat and reeking, we sat on the ground, smoking like a pair of fools. My mouth was parched, my mind blank. I couldn’t even recall what I’d just done.
Then Shen Yihu’s phone rang. Despite being tossed around, his Nokia still worked—those things were indestructible.
*”Shen Yihu, you heartless bastard! You hung up on me? Two washboards and three keyboards are waiting for you when you get back!”* His wife’s voice was as fierce as ever.
Shen Yihu listened quietly, then said, *”Honey, don’t be mad. I need to tell you something.”*
*”Confessing, are you? It wasn’t thirty yuan you lost gambling—it was a hundred, wasn’t it?”*
*”Honey,”* he said softly, *”I love you.”*
Silence. Then, after a long pause: *”You— It’s been years since you said that… When are you coming home? I’ll cook your favorite… You jerk… catching me off guard like that…”*
I chuckled stupidly, stood up, and drew water to wash the tofu residue from my hair and the pain from my body. For some reason, tears welled in my eyes. I thought about calling my mom to say the same thing but worried I’d scare her. Maybe next time.
After resting for half an hour, I finally recovered. Then my phone rang.
*”Master Xiao, come up here… Oh, this is Chief Wu.”*
*”What’s wrong?”* I asked.
Wu Zhen’s voice quivered. *”The coffin’s shaking… like there’s a damn dance party inside.”*
*”A dance party?!”*
*”Yeah. A goddamn dance party.”*
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage