The door behind me was already locked, and turning back was impossible. There was no choice but to run forward, dodging and weaving while shouting for help at the top of my lungs.
To make matters worse, I was carrying two pig legs and two ropes, with a cloth bag full of various materials: dried bees, dung beetle shells, dried silkworm cocoons, menstrual cloths, an 80-year-old woman’s underwear, and a baby’s hair… Collecting all these things had been no easy task, and I couldn’t afford to lose them. Tonight’s mission to subdue the water monkey depended entirely on these items.
The jumble of items weighing over ten pounds slowed me down, and several times, I nearly got hacked by the madman uncle. Maybe it was because of that plate of insect feast I’d eaten earlier, but at critical moments, I somehow managed to dodge the swinging axe.
The madman uncle chased after me, swinging his axe with deadly intent, screaming, “Long Youshui, give me back my wife…”
A few villagers rushed out upon hearing my cries for help, but the madman uncle’s terrifying appearance kept them at bay. Then he tripped over a rock, the axe slipped from his hand, and a few brave souls finally managed to restrain him. Someone fetched a rope and tied him up.
The madman uncle was hysterical, his bloodshot eyes burning with rage as he glared at me. In his gaze, I saw an eerie, sinister aura—the kind usually found in women’s eyes.
I didn’t dare look too long. I had no idea why the madman uncle was trying to kill me with an axe, nor why there was such a feminine, ghostly aura about him.
The moon was rising higher, and dealing with the water monkey was urgent. I hurried toward the distant reservoir, the constant chirping of insects accompanying me along the way. Recalling the bizarre events of the past few days, I felt a mix of amusement, frustration, and fear. Today, my life had hung by a thread—would I even succeed in subduing the water monkey?
At the reservoir’s edge, I tied the hefty pig leg to the rope and tossed it into the water. It splashed before slowly sinking. After what felt like an eternity, a tremendous force yanked the rope downward. I pulled back hard, confirming that the water monkey had taken the bait. Expecting it to chase me ashore, I turned and ran.
I sprinted half a mile without seeing the water monkey give chase. Annoyed, I realized I’d wasted a perfectly good pig leg—gone was a hundred bucks. This time, the water monkey must have remembered the trick and stayed put, probably thinking my grandfather was lying in ambush again.
With no other choice, I steeled myself and returned. I took out the second pig leg—this one was different, soaked in a concoction of old woman’s nail clippings, children’s hair, and dozens of other odd ingredients. It was the absolute best of the best.
After reattaching it to the rope and tossing it in, bubbles erupted on the water’s surface within ten seconds. I yanked the rope—the pig leg was gone. Suddenly, a water monkey leaped out, its face already swollen, its originally scrawny body now bloated.
It must have been poisoned by the pig leg. My heart surged with excitement—my ancestors’ methods still worked!
The water monkey, now poisoned, screeched wildly and lunged at me. I yelped and scrambled backward, rolling and crawling on the ground.
It grabbed my throat, its red hair and green teeth dripping with saliva that splattered all over me. All my grand plans for a dignified capture went out the window—instead, I was drenched in foul-smelling drool mixed with the stench of rotting aquatic plants and fish.
Despite its small frame, the water monkey’s strength was terrifying—one bony black hand and one bloated hand pinned me down completely, leaving me defenseless.
I had even prepared a curse from my ancestors’ ghost-banishing techniques, ready to shout: “You damn water monkey, unloved and unwanted… doomed to rot in the water forever—” But with my throat squeezed, I couldn’t utter a word. In desperation, I fumbled for the jade ruler hidden on me and jabbed it at the water monkey.
The jade ruler, passed down from my ancestors, proved effective. The moment it struck, the water monkey convulsed and was flung aside, twitching as if electrocuted. Seizing the moment, I rushed forward and dumped all the bizarre ingredients—menstrual cloths, old women’s underwear—onto its body.
The water monkey trembled violently, swelling further until black smoke billowed from it. I tightened the ropes, crossed them, and looped them around its neck, straining until sweat poured down my back. Only when it stopped moving did I finally relax—then remembered it was already dead. What was the point of strangling it?
Worried it might revive, I jabbed it a few more times with the jade ruler. The water monkey remained lifeless, its body beginning to decompose, black sludge oozing out. Among the muck, an old radio and a dozen batteries surfaced—someone must have thrown them into the reservoir, and the water monkey had swallowed them.
Exhausted from the fight, I collapsed on the ground. Only then did I understand my grandfather’s warning—revenge could wait. If just one water monkey nearly killed me, seeking out his enemies would be suicide.
As the water monkey’s hardened shell and sludge dissolved, a 40-centimeter-long corpse emerged. How did I know it was exactly 40 centimeters? Because I had the jade ruler to measure it.
Now, fear crept in. In the stories I’d read, drowned children were the most vicious, and those turned into water monkeys were even worse. The corpse revealed a long-dead child, its sparse black hair still clinging to its scalp, eyes tightly shut, its time of drowning unknown.
Gripping the jade ruler, I circled the corpse, too afraid to approach. What if it suddenly opened its eyes and bit me to death?
My ancestors’ books had warned: many poor families drowned their unwanted children, or sometimes, by some cruel twist of fate, a child buried in an extremely yin and cursed place would turn into a vengeful spirit.
Only when the rooster crowed multiple times, signaling the rise of yang energy, did I finally believe the child harbored no lingering resentment—contrary to the exaggerated tales in novels.
Judging by its size, the child couldn’t have been more than a year or two old—far too young to have wandered into the water alone. A dark suspicion gnawed at me.
I called the villagers of Baishui to identify the child, now barely recognizable after long submersion. Someone recognized it—the child had been snatched from Widow Wang’s house a year ago. Initially, they thought it had been sold to traffickers, but now it was clear the child had been drowned.
Widow Wang wailed in despair, surrounded by women trying to console her, afraid she might take her own life. The old saying rang true: “A widow who loses her child loses all hope.”
By noon, two police cars arrived, winding up the mountain road. The lead investigator, Officer Bai Xuan, a man in his thirties with piercing eyes, glared at me. “How did you find the child?”
“I was out for a walk at night,” I said. “When I reached the reservoir, I heard strange noises. I went to check and ended up fighting a water monkey. After I killed it, it turned into a child.”
Bai Xuan smirked. “And you call yourself a college graduate? Who’d believe such nonsense? Did you drown the kid yourself and then make up this fairy tale?”
I shrugged. “Officer, I’m just as sad about the death. I’ll cooperate fully with the investigation. But I’m telling the truth.”
Another officer, Ma Yan, brought over a bag of evidence. “Bai, look at this—some sicko left all this by the child: women’s hair, menstrual rags, old women’s underwear, baby hair, animal feces, dried bees, dung beetle shells…”
I explained, “Those were my tools for dealing with the water monkey.”
Bai Xuan narrowed his eyes, sensing my unease. “Take him in.”
Outside the crowd, the madman uncle grinned at me, clapping his hands. “Long Youshui! Long Youshui! Your grandson’s in deep trouble now!”
My heart sank. That madman had once been sane—until my grandfather took him out to “see the world” and broke his mind.
As we drove down the winding mountain road, an unsettling premonition gripped me—something else was about to happen.
At the police station, Bai Xuan shoved me into the interrogation room and slammed a notebook onto the table.
“We’ve received reports that your grandfather, Long Youshui, stole children to raise ghosts—and that you’re his accomplice.”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage