Ma Sandao married at the age of twenty, taking his first wife. She died the next year, at twenty-one. People said the girl had a chronic cough and often spat blood, but her family had kept it a secret. Back then, nobody talked about dating or falling in love. Poor families didn’t even bother with matchmakers; they simply visited the girl’s home, discussed the bride price, and that was it—one got married, and all were spared trouble. In the end, Ma Sandao felt cheated, having paid over a hundred yuan only to marry a sickly woman. It was truly a bitter pill to swallow.
From childhood, Ma Sandao had a gambling problem, the kind of person who would bet on whether an ant was male or female. With a seriously ill wife at home who never seemed to recover, he grew increasingly anxious and resentful—what people today might call emotionally imbalanced. He began frequenting gambling dens daily. After his wife’s death, Ma thought he had finally been freed from his troubles. But rumors soon spread that he had gambled away the money meant for his wife’s treatment, and that she had died due to lack of care.
Ma was furious and deeply upset. For a man, such rumors could ruin his reputation and make finding another wife difficult. He refused to marry daughters of refugees fleeing hardship, even though they were cheap. As Ma put it, “You couldn’t even talk to them—they spoke a completely different dialect. How could you live together?” By today’s standards, one might even call him a decent man who valued communication in marriage.
Years passed, and by the time he was twenty-six, Ma still hadn’t found a wife. Just as he was growing increasingly anxious, Zhang the Butcher from town came personally to propose, offering his twenty-year-old daughter’s hand in marriage. Zhang was sincere and polite, so much so that Ma was moved to the point of wanting to kneel and call him “father-in-law” on the spot. Just as he was about to agree, he looked up and saw Zhang’s massive, towering frame, his dark face the size of two ordinary men’s, and the creaking chair beneath him groaning under his weight. A chill crept down Ma’s spine.
He replied only, “Let me think about it for a few days.”
But Ma didn’t really take a few days to consider. The very next day, he rushed impatiently into town. Zhang had only one daughter, and Ma had never seen her. Yet given his own reputation, the fact that someone would come to propose to him suggested that the girl’s looks were probably… well, Ma prepared himself mentally. He thought, *As long as she doesn’t look like someone who could scare you to death in the dark, I’ll accept her.*
Seeing that Zhang had just left, Ma hurried to the butcher shop the moment the man was out of sight. “Hey, is Old Zhang around? Give me two catties of pig’s head meat.” From inside, a sweet, soft voice replied, “Dad’s out. Can you come back later, dearie?”
At the sound of her voice, Ma’s bones nearly turned to jelly. Then, a delicate, beautiful face appeared in the doorway. Ma’s mind buzzed, blood rushing to his head. He thought, *This can’t possibly be Zhang’s daughter. This can’t be his girl. She’s so beautiful!* As Ma stood mesmerized in front of the meat counter, lost in time and identity, suddenly Zhang’s voice rang out nearby, snapping him back to reality. He fled like greased lightning.
“Hey, Dad’s back. Why did you leave so suddenly?” Zhang’s daughter stood puzzled, unaware that her future husband had just come for a secret inspection.
Back near home, Ma discreetly asked around and learned the girl’s name was Zhang Zhaodi. At eighteen, she had been kidnapped by bandits from the Hujia Mountains while returning from helping her aunt with the rice harvest. When the ransom note arrived, Zhang was stunned. Following advice from others, he hastily gathered several local men and borrowed money from house to house to pay for her release. But what could one expect when such a delicate, pretty girl fell into the hands of bandits? When Zhang reached the mountains, the bandits were already preparing a wedding feast. He learned that the bandit chief planned to consummate the marriage that very night. Hearing this, Zhang burst into tears, lamenting how he had raised her alone since her mother’s early death. He begged the bandits to release her, offering money with both hands, and added that a fortune teller had once said the girl had a fate that would bring misfortune to any man who married her.
The bandit leader refused the ransom money, saying, “Tonight, she’s mine. If you keep whining, I’ll shoot all of you and bury you right here. Don’t think of yourself as my father-in-law.” Just as Zhang was ready to die of grief, gunfire erupted from below. Word came that the county had sent troops to wipe out the bandits. Zhang and the men seized the opportunity to rescue Zhang Zhaodi. After a chaotic escape, they returned to town at noon. The bandits were completely wiped out, but Zhang’s family had lost all borrowed money during the chaos, and their fortune was ruined. Everyone knew what happened to girls captured by bandits. In town, Zhang Zhaodi was now seen as a ruined woman, a worn-out shoe passed around by hundreds.
Back then, a girl’s reputation was more valuable than her life. Whether she had been violated in the mountains was uncertain, but she later tried to take her own life several times, confirming people’s suspicions. Even the poorest families still clung to old values: *No matter how poor, you never marry a fallen woman.*
Ma Sandao, however, didn’t care. After all, he wasn’t exactly a model citizen himself. Who says rumors only bring trouble? This one had landed him such a beautiful wife. Ma laughed in his sleep for days. When Zhang the Butcher came again three days later, Ma cheerfully called him “father-in-law.”
Back then, girls weren’t given much say. Once the elders agreed, things moved quickly. Within three months, Ma Sandao had taken Zhang Zhaodi as his wife. She had long given up dreams of a romantic life. Seeing that Ma looked decent and had some farmland, she was quite willing.
After marriage, Ma treated Zhaodi with endless love and care. In rural areas, it was rare for a man to spare his wife from fieldwork, but Ma did. Despite his usual laziness and gambling habits, he always smiled through exhaustion. Soon, they had a daughter, Ma Xiaoyan—the village’s first beauty, the girl Liu Dashao had his eye on.
At that time, the government encouraged large families, unlike today’s strict family planning policies. Rural areas still favored boys over girls. So the couple, having raised Xiaoyan, decided they should try for a son while they still could.
One evening, the couple lay in bed chatting sweetly. Suddenly, Zhaodi said she wanted to eat apricots and asked Ma to go to town the next day to look for some. Ma teased, “If you wanted peaches from heaven, I’d find a way to steal them for you. But why apricots? They’re so sour. Maybe peaches instead…”
Zhaodi shot him a look: “Why so many questions? I just want some.” Ma was overwhelmed with affection and quickly agreed, “Fine, fine. I’ll eat sour apricots too. Even if my teeth rot, I’ll eat them with you.”
Zhaodi smiled softly, blushing as she lowered her head. “De’er… I think I’m pregnant…” Her voice was low, but Ma heard clearly.
“What? What is it?” Ma asked, puzzled, then suddenly understood. He jumped out of bed, leaping three feet high. “My good girl, my good girl…” Tears of joy rolled down his cheeks. He said, “Tomorrow I’ll go to the market. It’s a big one. I’ll buy you good apricots!” Zhaodi watched her husband act like a madman, smiling sweetly. Ma couldn’t sleep all night, cherishing his wife like a treasure.
The next morning, he told her he’d return the next day, asked Xiaoyan to watch the house, and left after breakfast with his carrying pole.
As mentioned before, Xiushui Village was a remote, poor “special economic zone,” far from town. Even by cart or tractor, a round trip took hours. On foot, it was even worse. But Ma’s joy made his steps light. He reached town before dark. The market was nearly over. Ma quickly bought some apricots and nice floral cloth, thinking, *It’s been years, and I’ve never bought her nice clothes.* Ignoring the fabric seller’s advice, he hurried home, hoping to arrive by dawn. Bandits and secret societies had mostly been wiped out, and the roads were relatively safe.
In a mountain pass leading to Xiushui Village, a middle-aged man in a single-shouldered leather jacket strode through the grass.
It was Ma Sandao. A naturally fearless man, he wasn’t afraid of ghosts or spirits. Around midnight, he reached a place called Heishi Slope, once a site where bandits were executed by the army. Ma whistled a tune, unafraid. The half-moon above cast enough light. Strange trees along the path twisted like monsters in the moonlight. Strange sounds echoed from the hills. After a while, he felt something was wrong. He should have reached Xiaoming Lake by now, but it wasn’t in sight. As he walked, the road ahead shimmered, white and reflective like a mirror, dazzling his eyes.
His vision blurred, and he grew drowsy. Suddenly, he heard rustling by the road. Looking over, he saw a donkey grazing. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but now he realized a fog had risen—thin but strange for this time of year. Looking closer at the donkey, he froze in terror.
Why? Domestic donkeys always had saddles or halters. Even pack animals had harnesses. But this donkey had nothing. Yet it didn’t look wild—there was a white mark on its head. A horrifying thought struck him: *This must be a paper donkey made for the dead.* In funeral customs, men were given paper horses, women donkeys, and officials carriages. These paper animals had no saddles, only a white flower on the head to show they were for the dead.
Though Ma usually scoffed at ghosts, now he felt a chill. *Damn, I shouldn’t have traveled at night…*
He held his breath, trying to sneak past the donkey. But as he passed, the donkey suddenly lifted its head and stared at him. Ma felt as if icy water had been poured over him. The donkey’s eyes were blood-red, fixed on him. Ma thought, *Damn, I shouldn’t have come tonight…* He tried to walk faster, but his whole body turned cold and stiff. He couldn’t move.
“Brother, what’s in your baskets?” The fog thickened. Ma looked up and saw, to his horror, a pregnant young woman sitting on the donkey’s back. Her face was pale, with a red mark on her cheek. Dressed in red like a bride, she radiated no warmth, like a lifelike paper doll. Ma couldn’t help but wet himself, trembling violently. The woman’s eyes rolled, lifeless, and she asked again, “Brother, why don’t you speak? What’s in your baskets?”
“A… a… a… apricots…” Ma’s legs shook like cotton. He barely managed to speak.
“Could I try one?” The woman’s face emerged from the fog. The donkey’s body began to swell, as if soaked for days. “O… o… okay…” Ma was truly brave. Even after wetting himself, he stood his ground—truly a man among men. Most would have fainted.
But Ma couldn’t move. He hoped the woman would take the apricot and leave. She said, “I’m pregnant. I can’t get down. Brother, could you hand me one?” Ma nearly cried. *Damn, just as my wife gets pregnant, I run into this…* He dared not refuse. Trembling, he picked an apricot from the basket. His hand shook like Hu Laoye, the old man from the village who had a stroke two years ago. The apricot rolled in his palm. The woman extended a pale hand, took it, and her icy fingers brushed his palm. Ma wet himself again.
“Mm, haven’t eaten one in a long time,” she said sadly. “Thank you, brother.” Just as Ma thought he couldn’t take it anymore, he heard voices nearby. *People!* He thought, *Saved!* But the woman sighed, “Thank you, brother. Good apricot!” Then the donkey turned and disappeared into the fog, the sound of hooves fading.
“Hey, brother, why are you in the water?” A man’s voice startled Ma. He suddenly realized he was waist-deep in water. Around him stretched the lake. On the shore stood three men staring at him. He realized he had wandered into the lake.
“Oh my god, oh my god!” Ma stumbled out, nearly slipping on the bank. One man caught him. Ma collapsed to the ground, trembling. “My ancestors!”
One man asked, “Brother, did something haunt you?” Ma sat on the ground, “If you hadn’t come, I might be dead by now.” He shivered at the memory. Another asked, “Brother, are you coming from town? Why travel at night?”
Ma regretted his decision deeply. He told them everything. The three men were chilled to the bone. They introduced themselves—cousins named Li Er, Li Daquan, and Zhang Bao. Zhang Bao said he had seen the girl too—she looked exactly like Ailan from Xiushui Village, who had once eaten chicken livers and was killed by the village chief. “She must be a ghost,” he said. “Since you’ve come to your senses, let’s go together.” Li Er added, “It’s late. You shouldn’t travel alone. We were going to visit someone ahead. If you don’t mind, rest there tonight and leave in the morning.” Ma, still shaken, agreed.
The four walked and talked, the mood lively. Soon, they saw a thatched hut by the road with lights inside. The three invited Ma to rest there. Ma, too scared to walk further, gratefully accepted. Zhang Bao knocked, “Old Yang, we’re here.” An old man opened the door. Seeing Ma, he asked, “Who’s this stranger?” Li Daquan explained, and Ma thanked him repeatedly. Old Yang let them in.
Sitting still, Ma felt cold, maybe from being soaked. He took off his wet clothes. Old Yang brought out a set of dice and dominoes. The four sat around a table. Ma’s heart leapt. He hadn’t gambled in years since marrying. But now, the sound of dice and dominoes made his heart race. He heard Old Yang sing, “East Gate mixed seven pairs… my fate is lucky…” The old man’s raspy voice sounded like heavenly music. Ma stretched his neck like a goose hearing water.
Old Yang noticed Ma’s expression and said, “Brother, want to play a few rounds?”
In the past, Ma wouldn’t have waited for an invitation—he’d already be winning all the money. Now, he swallowed hard and said, “I’m pretty good at this, but I spent all my money today. No funds to play with.”
The four replied solemnly, “Brother, you’re an honest man!”
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