Grandpa said again, “What I’m taking you to see isn’t something you’d find in the outside world.”
At that moment, I wondered to myself—was “seeing the world” about rare treasures? The year I graduated happened to be when *Ghost Blows Out the Light* was trending. During my recovery, I pulled several all-nighters to finish it. The novel talked about how feng shui masters often helped people rob graves, unearthing countless treasures.
Call it my big mouth, but I asked, “Whose tomb are we digging tonight?” Grandpa rolled his eyes. “There aren’t that many tombs just lying around for you to dig.”
I stuck out my tongue and pressed, “Then what are we doing?” Grandpa replied, “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Dinner was just two simple dishes, both cooked by Grandpa, who wouldn’t let me help. We each had a plate. Grandpa didn’t eat meat, so his was very light, while mine had some shredded meat—delicious, though I couldn’t quite tell what kind. It was white and slippery, almost like chicken, sliding down my throat before I could even chew properly.
Grandpa chuckled. “Since my grandson’s here, I made a special meat dish for you. Finish it all.” The village-grown rice was incredibly fragrant. With the meat, I ate several bowls and cleaned the plate. Only then did Grandpa nod in satisfaction.
After dinner, the sun had nearly set. Grandpa said he needed to prepare and told me to watch TV first. He then went up to the attic and busied himself for a long time.
Don’t be fooled by the old wooden house—it had chickens, ducks, and dogs, but also a fridge, TV, air conditioning, and even a computer (though without internet, otherwise it’d have been the perfect “facing the sea, spring blossoms” life).
That night, the TV was airing *iPartment*, and I laughed my head off. Why do I remember so clearly? Because what came next was terrifying. Laughter first, then sheer terror. As Stephen Chow once said, “The extremes of joy and sorrow are too thrilling.” Perfect for that day.
At nine, Grandpa called me outside. He handed me a small, soft, sealed plastic bag with a weird smell, instructing me to break it if I was in danger.
I nodded, pocketed the bag, and followed him out. “The moonlight’s beautiful tonight,” I said. “May Marx and Lenin bless me and dispel your feudal superstitions.”
Grandpa laughed. “Whether they bless you or not is uncertain, but maybe this old superstitious man will help you instead.”
The moon hung lazily in the sky, casting a gentle glow over White Water Village. We took a mountain path to a small reservoir. The road was eerily quiet, and I prayed silently: *Please, no monsters.*
Grandpa carried a lantern ahead while I trailed behind, feeling a chill—as if a long-haired ghost might be right beside me.
After half an hour, we reached the reservoir. Grandpa told me to take off my shoes and dip my feet in to “fish.” The stone embankment was slick with moss, and one misstep could send you sliding in.
“Mosquitoes are everywhere at night,” I protested. “Who fishes with their feet? What if a ghost shows up?” Grandpa smirked. “You don’t believe in ghosts, do you? Though if you admit defeat, we can go back.” “But what if there *is* one?” Grandpa adjusted his straw hat. “What’s there to fear? The white centipede in the tin box was your dinner. Ordinary ghosts can’t touch you.”
*What?!* A bolt from the blue. I’d been tricked. That “chicken” I’d eaten slithered down so easily—it was *centipedes*. My throat convulsed, and bile rose.
Grandpa scoffed. “Just a few bugs. Why the fuss?” “A *few*? Not *one*?” I was ready to die.
He laughed. “You’re a college student—can’t even count? One bug wouldn’t have that much meat. Now, put your foot in.” Under his gaze, I gritted my teeth, rolled up my pants, and dipped my right foot in.
The icy water shocked my nerves, and I nearly slipped. Fear gripped me. Every summer, kids drowned here. The foggy water made it worse—I just prayed nothing would drag me under, so I could scold Grandpa later.
Suddenly, the moon vanished. “Grandpa! The moon’s gone!” It had been there moments ago—no clouds, just gone.
“Quiet! It’s just the black dog eating the moon. An unlucky day on the calendar, but perfect for water ghosts.” I cursed inwardly. *Unlucky day, and you bring me out for this?*
As the moon disappeared, something *did* grab my foot—a human hand. *Who hides underwater at night to pull people in?*
“Grandpa! Something’s got me!” I looked around—Grandpa was gone.
The hand pulled harder. Clinging to the bank, I screamed, “God! Mom! Dad! I’m gonna die!”
In desperation, I remembered the bag Grandpa gave me. I pulled it out and crushed it.
A stench exploded—rotten eggs, manure, everything foul. *He gave me a bag of animal crap?!*
Terrified, I pissed myself. The reek nearly knocked me out, but the grip on my foot loosened. I yanked it back, stood on the stones, and yelled, “Who’s there? Come out and fight, you coward!” I kept shouting as I stumbled away.
Looking back, the scariest part was that sudden, helpless tug—losing all control.
Blindly, I ran for home, shouting, “Grandpa! Where are you? Fine, I believe you!” Shadows loomed, and scenes from *The Grudge* and *The Wicked Ghost* flashed in my mind.
Then Grandpa’s voice called, “Slow down, I’m right behind you.”
Relief washed over me. I slowed, ready to chew him out for abandoning me. He smiled. “Believe me now?” I nodded frantically. “Good. Let’s go home.”
Two steps later, *another* Grandpa’s voice rang out: “Xiao Qi! That’s not me—it’s a water monkey!” Ten meters away stood an identical figure—same gray clothes, straw hat, lantern.
I fell back into the grass, crickets leaping over me. “Grandpa… do you have a twin?”
The two “Grandpas” eyed each other. The one beside me sneered. “Daring to impersonate *me*, Long Youshui? You’ve got a death wish.”
The distant “Grandpa” rolled up his sleeves and unleashed a torrent of curses—milder ones like “finding nails in your food” or “getting killed by city guards,” escalating to “your wife finding your secret stash, making you wash her underwear for months, stained with discharge, never clean, then kneeling on glue-covered washboards.” And worse: “No woman would want you—except maybe a mountain hag who ties you up for days, whipping you—no, even *she* wouldn’t, so male ghosts drag you off and—”
That was the most worldview-shattering lesson of my life.
The “Grandpa” beside me bared razor-sharp teeth, morphing into a white-furred, red-haired, green-toothed monster with swollen arms. *Now* I understood the old saying: “Red hair, green teeth—that’s a ghost.” As it revealed itself, I fainted like a coward.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage