Putting down the jade pendant in his hand, Liu Dashao hesitated for a moment before finally tucking it beneath his pillow. He then rolled over, snuggled into his quilt, and, overwhelmed by exhaustion, drifted into a deep sleep. “It must have been a dream, definitely a dream. Just go to sleep! Everything will be gone after a good nap…” he murmured weakly.
Around dawn, Liu Dashao was awakened by the scolding voice of his mother.
He grabbed an oil lamp, rubbed his eyes, and stepped out of his room. Before he could even sip some tea, he was stunned by the scene before him: there stood Liu Laoshi and Wang Guihua, in front of the house, incense burning brightly and paper money flying chaotically through the air. Not knowing what had happened, Liu Dashao only heard Wang Guihua cursing the person who had burned paper money in front of their house using the vilest language in the village. Upon seeing his son, Liu Laoshi quickly pushed Liu Dashao back into his room.
“You little brat, don’t come out. Go back to bed and sleep quietly.”
“Dad, I’m already awake. What’s the use of trying to sleep again? Tell me what’s going on!”
“This is adults’ business; a child shouldn’t ask questions,” Liu Laoshi replied sternly, not answering directly. He waved his hand firmly, clearly trying to brush off Liu Dashao’s inquiry, and even specifically ordered his son not to go out at night for the next few days, leaving Liu Dashao puzzled about what had gotten into his father.
It wasn’t until the next morning, while having porridge for breakfast, that Liu Laoshi finally recounted the previous night’s events to Liu Dashao. That night, the whole family had already gone to sleep. Around the middle of the night, Liu Laoshi had woken up needing to urinate, so he put on his coat and stepped outside, heading toward the chamber pot. He faintly heard someone calling his son’s name from outside. At first, he couldn’t make out the words clearly, so he stopped to listen carefully. Soon, the voice called again, unmistakably shouting “Liu Dashao! Liu Dashao!” The voice sounded like a child’s—shrill, thin, and eerie, fluctuating between near and far, making him feel deeply uneasy.
Though he was a grown man, Liu Laoshi still hesitated to respond at such a late hour. He hurriedly relieved himself, fastened his trousers, and prepared to return to his room with the lamp. Just then, the voice called out again, still shouting his son’s name. This time, Liu Laoshi couldn’t hold back his frustration. Thinking to himself, “Who the hell is playing pranks at this hour?” he put on his coat, suppressed his fear, opened the door, and shouted loudly into the night, “Who’s there? Which bastard dares to look for our dog son at this hour?”
As the courtyard gate swung open, the ghostly voice disappeared along with Liu Laoshi’s shout, leaving only a brief echo. But Liu Laoshi was completely stunned by what he saw: two candles had somehow appeared in front of the door, burning brightly. On both sides of the stone steps, there stood paper effigies of a boy and a girl, their pale faces painted with thick makeup. Beside them, a pile of burning paper money crackled in the night wind, sending up thick, choking smoke that filled the entire courtyard. Liu Laoshi stood frozen for two seconds before rushing back inside to wake up Wang Guihua. That was what Liu Dashao saw when he got up.
“Damn it, this is just too much!” As soon as Liu Laoshi finished recounting the story, he flew into a rage, smashing the remaining half bowl of porridge on the ground, shattering an entire blue-and-white porcelain bowl. Normally a kind and honest man, Liu Laoshi had clearly been pushed to his breaking point.
In rural villages, people generally follow the traditions and taboos passed down by their ancestors, especially regarding weddings and funerals. Whether one calls it superstition or not, these customs have persisted for a reason—they must have some value. For example, when a family is getting married, they always hire professionals who carefully choose an auspicious date based on the couple’s birth charts. If someone carelessly picks a wedding date or, worse, tries to hold the ceremony during the Ghost Festival, the groom would likely end up beaten so badly by the bride’s family that he’d suffer lifelong injuries. That’s why Liu Laoshi was so furious—what happened last night had clearly violated a serious taboo.
After all, paper money is meant for the dead. Even during the Qingming Festival, villagers always take these ominous items to their family graves to burn them, never daring to burn them near their own homes or in the village. Yet last night, someone had the audacity to burn paper money right in front of Liu family’s door, even placing paper effigies of a boy and a girl beside it. Was this person trying to curse the entire Liu family to death? Thinking about this, Liu Laoshi’s anger boiled over once again.
“Dad, don’t get so worked up. The more upset you get, the happier they probably are,” Liu Dashao said while chewing on some pickled vegetables.
“Hmph! Just let me catch that brat. I’ll scald him alive, strip his skin, and pull out his tendons,” Liu Laoshi growled through clenched teeth.
“You’re just talking tough,” Liu Dashao said with a grin, setting down his bowl. “Last time you argued with Master Wang from the neighboring village, he hit you with a hammer, and you came back home ranting about tying up his wife and kidnapping his daughter, even threatening to make Master Wang kneel and kowtow to you. But the next day, when you ran into him, you were so scared you almost knelt down yourself.”
“What did you say!” Liu Laoshi’s eyes flared.
“Nothing, nothing. Let’s eat, let’s eat.” Liu Dashao quickly lowered his head and resumed eating.
“Ah, I tell you, son, do you have any idea who might have done this last night? Did you get into another fight with someone again?”
“Me?” Liu Dashao paused mid-bite. “Come on, Dad, I’m such a well-mannered and cultured guy. Why would I get into fights? Besides, all the kids in the village are good friends with me. Who would do something like this? If they got caught, it wouldn’t be solved with just a few lashes.”
“You’re right,” Liu Laoshi thought for a moment and nodded. “But then who could it be? I’m sure the voice I heard was a child’s. Adults can’t fake that. The voice was strange too—it kept shifting, sometimes near, sometimes far. It was really scary. Could it be… a ghost?”
As Liu Laoshi muttered that last sentence, Liu Dashao clearly furrowed his brow and shivered slightly, but his father was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice his son’s reaction.
After finishing his meal in a flash, Liu Dashao wiped his mouth and said, “I’m done.”
“That fast? Want another bowl? There’s still some hot porridge left in the pot.”
“No thanks, I have something to do.” Liu Dashao shook his head, changed his shirt, and prepared to go out.
“Where are you off to now, kid? Didn’t I tell you not to go out these days?”
“I have something important to do.” Liu Dashao replied.
“Important? Sure. You’re probably going to hang out with those other troublemakers again. Just make sure to come back early!” Liu Laoshi gave Liu Dashao a scornful look, as if to say, “I know you too well.”
“Alright, alright.” As soon as Liu Dashao stepped over the threshold, he quickened his pace and hurried toward Tian Guoqiang’s house.
Watching his son’s back disappear, Liu Laoshi couldn’t help but sigh. While clearing the dishes, he muttered to himself, “Son, I don’t know what that thing was, but since it kept calling your name, it must have been targeting you. I can’t stop worrying about this. Later, I’ll take some money from the grain harvest and go visit Madame Guhua to ask for her help.”
Tian Guoqiang’s house was enormous—easily twice the size of an average home. No wonder his father was the village chief. With a higher rank came a bigger house. As Liu Dashao admired the surrounding flowers and trees, he knocked on Tian’s front door. It was opened by Tian’s father. Seeing it was Liu Dashao, the village chief gave a forced smile and politely, albeit coldly, turned him away at the doorstep.
“Uncle Tian, what’s going on here?” Liu Dashao felt uneasy being chased away without even being allowed inside.
“Guoqiang is sick and lying in bed. When he recovers, I’ll ask him to come find you,” Tian the chief replied.
“Sick?” Liu Dashao was taken aback. His eyes flickered with suspicion as he sneered, “Chief, you’re not just making up an excuse to get rid of me, are you?”
“How could I do that? Do you really think I’m that kind of person?” the chief frowned.
“I know Guoqiang’s always been super strong. You couldn’t knock him down even with a stick. How could he suddenly fall so seriously ill?”
“I’m not lying. It’s true,” the chief said with a bitter smile.
“Really? You expect me to believe that?” Liu Dashao was certain the old man was lying. He guessed it was probably because the chief feared his son might be influenced by him and his friends, leading him astray from his studies. So this was just another “Empty Fort Strategy.”
“You don’t have to play this game with me. I’m not Sima Yi.”
“You…” Completely at a loss for words against the sharp-witted Liu Dashao, the chief finally stepped aside and pointed toward the room. “You’re so stubborn, not even two oxen could pull you back. Go see for yourself. See if I have any reason to lie to you. Oh, and remember to lower the curtain when you go in—it’s windy, and Guoqiang catches cold easily.”
“Fine!” Liu Dashao nodded and briskly walked into Tian Guoqiang’s room.
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