I shouted, “Uncle Ma, something feels off. As I squat here, it seems like there’s something wrong with this grave.”
Ma Ruoxing, being a fortune-teller, surely knew a thing or two about yin-yang matters. Hearing my words, he temporarily set aside the matter of whether the bamboo tube could lure any treasures and began inspecting the grave’s surroundings.
“The feng shui isn’t bad. But I do feel something’s not right too.” If even Ma Ruoxing said so, it meant my hunch was correct.
I asked again, “If there really is a zombie inside, we’d better dig it up and take a look.”
Ma Ruoxing was startled: “Xiao Qi, don’t scare me. Look, Gudun is a good man. If we open up his grandmother’s grave, he’d surely fight us to the death.”
I laughed, “Uncle Ma, if we explain the reasoning clearly, it’d actually be for his own good. Why would he fight us? He knows your character and reputation—aren’t you the famous fortune-teller in our area?”
Ma Ruoxing waved his hand, “This is Jiangxi. Though it’s not far from our hometown, it’s still a different province, and they don’t interact with us. Besides, last night Gudun told me his three sons are planning to build houses in town. Business must be doing well. If we say there’s something wrong with his grandparents’ grave, who’d believe us?”
I walked around the grave, patted the tombstone, and read the names inscribed on it. Gudun’s grandfather was named Gu Zijue, and his grandmother was Madam Liu. I said, “Old Grandpa and Grandma, if there’s really something wrong with your resting place, send your grandson a dream. Otherwise, if you turn into zombies, it’ll be a disaster.”
After saying this, I bowed respectfully to the deceased couple. After all these years, Gu Zijue and Madam Liu had probably long entered the cycle of reincarnation.
Ma Ruoxing plucked two weeds from the ground, “I’ll help you tidy up the weeds in front of your home too.” Bai Yueming stood on the bamboo basket, his eyes a mix of blue and black.
After pulling the weeds, Ma Ruoxing squatted by the tombstone, staring at the bamboo tube in the distance. Something seemed to be moving inside—a flash of green. It was the Green Beauty we failed to catch yesterday.
I couldn’t help but think, *It’s just a particularly green caterpillar. Is it really worth all this fuss?*
Seeing Ma Ruoxing as excited as if he’d been injected with adrenaline, I didn’t dare move.
The Green Beauty was about to crawl into the bamboo tube but, for some reason, took a sudden turn and darted straight toward Ma Ruoxing. It moved so fast that Ma Ruoxing, thinking luck had fallen into his lap, lunged to grab it—only for the caterpillar to dodge him.
It slipped through a crack beneath the tombstone. The tombstone was anchored in cement, and at the junction of cement and soil, there was a small gap—just big enough for the Green Beauty to disappear inside.
No matter how hard Ma Ruoxing tried, the Green Beauty refused to come out. Heartbroken, he looked as if he wanted to tear the tombstone down right then and there.
I asked, “Uncle Ma, what’s special about this Green Beauty caterpillar? I remember there were once Centipedes of Yin Absorption that fed on corpse energy and loved burrowing into graves. Why would a caterpillar do the same? Do all bugs like to crawl into graves?”
Ma Ruoxing pondered, “The Green Beauty is a medicinal treasure, used for healing. If it’s burrowing inside, there must be something strange going on. And to find out, we’d have to remove the tombstone.”
I burst out laughing, “Are you planning to trick Gudun into digging up his ancestors’ grave?”
Ma Ruoxing shifted, stood up, and absentmindedly reached to stroke his beard—only to remember he didn’t have one. He composed himself and said sternly, “How could you think so little of me? Let’s go look for other bugs.”
I couldn’t help but laugh—*the classic “protesting too much.”*
After a whole day of fruitless searching, we hadn’t found a single treasure.
I’d gotten myself all worked up for nothing, and even caught a chill from the wind.
Honestly, I was starting to doubt whether Ma Ruoxing had any real skills. Trekking into the mountains in winter, we’d only scared off a few pheasants and found a couple of hedgehogs nibbling on skulls—hardly a successful haul.
By afternoon, Ma Ruoxing made up his mind. He caught a few pheasants and had me summon two snakes, which we also captured. Carrying our meager spoils, we returned to Gutun Village and headed to Gudun’s house.
Gudun was watching the *News Broadcast* on TV. The report claimed the people’s happiness index had skyrocketed to 10,000%, with children riding luxury buses to school. Gudun couldn’t help but curse, “Bullshit! Our village kids walk three hours on mountain roads to get to school.”
Ma Ruoxing strode in with me and got straight to the point: the grave in the mountains had a problem.
Gudun thought for a moment and said, “That can’t be, Brother Ma. My family’s been doing just fine. If there were really something wrong with my grandparents’ grave, there’d have been signs over the years—things getting worse, or maybe the old folks sending us dreams. But there’s been nothing. Brother Ma, you’re not pulling my leg, are you?”
Ma Ruoxing didn’t explain. Instead, he asked, “Do you remember who chose the burial site?”
Gudun answered, “A Daoist priest helped pick the spot before my grandparents were buried together. I was just a teenager then and didn’t pay much attention to priests. But I remember he was very old and shared our village’s surname—Gu.”
Ma Ruoxing pressed, “Did he say anything during the burial? Any warnings, like moving the grave in case of drought or disaster?”
Gudun chuckled, “Brother Ma, when the priest left, he said eight words: *‘The poor don’t move houses; the rich don’t move graves.’*”
Ma Ruoxing’s face darkened. Those eight words shut him down completely—no point arguing further.
I blurted out, “An old Daoist priest surnamed Gu?”
Gudun nodded, “Yes. He even stayed at our house for a few days. Despite his age, he walked dozens of miles through the mountains without a speck of dust on him. We all thought he was an immortal.”
As he spoke, Madam Su stood outside the door, eavesdropping. When I glanced her way, she still wore that mysterious smile.
During dinner, Ma Ruoxing brought up the idea of moving the grave again, even offering to pay. But Gudun wouldn’t budge. “Moving a grave for money is the height of filial impiety. How could I face my ancestors in the afterlife?”
Well, it seemed Ma Ruoxing wasn’t getting his treasure. I ate in silence.
Out of options, Ma Ruoxing dropped the subject. After all, pressuring someone to move a grave over a bug wasn’t the act of an honorable man. He fed Bai Yueming some rice, and though the boy was reluctant at first, he ended up eating happily.
After dinner, I gazed toward the grave with a hint of unease. The final swing of the golden compass needle—what did it mean?
I turned to Gudun and said gravely, “Uncle, come with us to the mountain tomorrow morning. I’ll show you proof, and then you can decide. If there really is a zombie, we’ll have to move the grave.”
The night passed without incident. The next day, Gudun followed us up the mountain to Gu Zijue and Madam Liu’s grave.
I took out the compass and walked around the grave. The needle spun wildly.
I told him, “The people inside have turned into zombies. If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you.”
Gudun, his hands scarred by snake bites, lit a cigarette, furrowed his brows, and followed me.
I continued, “Uncle, to be frank, this burial site was once called the *Moon Emerging from Clouds* feng shui formation. But now it’s slowly turning into a cursed site. You might not understand, but I guarantee there’s a zombie inside. If you still don’t believe me, go fetch two dogs, a black rooster, and an ink marker. I’ll prove it to you. If your grandparents have turned into zombies and jump out, I won’t be able to help. Even if they don’t, their spirits will resent you.”
“Don’t say that. Last night, I actually dreamed of Grandpa and Grandma. Grandpa said, *‘We shouldn’t have prospered if it meant my body would suffer.’* Could it be true?” Gudun, a mountain man at heart, paled at my words. And strangely enough, he really had dreamed of his grandfather holding a whip, scolding him for being unfilial and ruining his own body for the sake of a feng shui site.
Hearing this, I grew even more suspicious. Had the Daoist priest surnamed Gu set up some kind of formation, altering the feng shui to accelerate the family’s fortune—while turning Gu Zijue into a zombie in the grave? A blessed site wouldn’t produce zombies, and zombies wouldn’t bring prosperity to descendants.
If the Gu priest had pulled this off, his skills must have been formidable.
But why would he do it? What was the purpose of creating a zombie here?
The more I thought, the more my head ached.
I said solemnly, “It could all be true. Uncle Gudun, hurry and get some rooster blood, black dog blood, dried cow dung, two iron scale weights, an ink marker, the undergarments of an 80-year-old woman, and the menstrual cloth of a 25-year-old bride. Quickly!”
Gudun gritted his teeth at my demands, then turned and ran back to the village. When he returned, he brought the dog blood, scale weights, dried cow dung, ink marker, and other items.
A few village men accompanied him—they’d just slaughtered three pigs and were about to pluck the hair when Gudun called them over.
I poured some of the dog and rooster blood into the ink marker and splashed the rest around the grave. Gudun and the villagers murmured among themselves. One man asked, “Gudun, what’s with this kid’s nonsense—old women’s underwear, young brides’ menstrual rags? What’s he trying to do?”
Gudun replied, “He’s a master. He says there are zombies inside.”
The man scoffed, “Rubbish—”
Just then, a *thumping* sound came from Gu Zijue’s grave.
Gudun quickly prepared. They cut wooden poles from the nearby hills and used vines as ropes.
After setting up a wooden frame and bowing in respect, they began digging.
Once the tombstone was removed, sure enough, there was a gap—just as we’d suspected.
The golden compass behaved strangely, alternating between ominous and auspicious readings. I was certain there was a zombie inside the coffin, but I couldn’t explain why the readings kept shifting.
A yin site was either cursed or blessed—it couldn’t be both.
Suddenly, I understood.
*I knew what the Gu priest had done!*
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