Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Even today, public cemeteries have yet to become common in some county seats and towns. The dead are often still buried on hills outside town.

That was all the more true twenty years ago, in 1999.

The hills around Lianghe Town were dotted with graves. Where the feng shui was especially favorable, burial mounds clustered across entire slopes. Locals simply called such places grave hills.

The wager between Zhao Zheng and Wang Dachun concerned one northwest of town, where over a hundred graves spread from halfway up the slope to the summit.

Lianghe Town was a prosperous place on a major overland route between Sichuan and Chongqing. The Chuan River flowed to its north, and its river port had flourished before the founding of the People’s Republic. With more than ten thousand residents and five or six centuries of history, it had quite a few grave hills nearby.

The boys agreed to meet inside that graveyard at ten that night, then decide on further challenges. Whoever failed to appear was a dog and had to admit before their little delinquent circle that he was inferior.

Even now, I would hesitate to visit a grave hill at night. Yet these two brainless, melodramatic teenagers had risked it over wounded pride. They truly were idiots.

After evening study hall, Wang Dachun sent Zeng Jin and the other followers home and headed into the hills beyond Lianghe Bridge alone, knees trembling in terror the entire way.

When he finally reached the grave hill at ten, Zhao Zheng was nowhere to be seen.

Pride soon replaced some of his fear. He was the brave one, while Zhao Zheng was a coward. Tomorrow at school, he could humiliate the boy mercilessly.

The night happened to be the fifteenth day of the lunar month, and the moon was nearly full.

At five past ten, Wang Dachun decided to leave. Once the thrill of defeating Zhao Zheng faded, fear crawled back over his heart like maggots gnawing bone.

This place is terrifying. I have to go.

He had taken only two or three steps when something seemed to flash behind a nearby burial mound at the edge of his vision. He nearly fell onto his backside.

An illusion. It had to be. Ghosts did not exist.

He tried to reassure himself and hurried downhill.

Just as he was about to leave the graveyard, however, some strange impulse made him turn for one last look.

The sight nearly scared his soul out of him.

In the cold, watery moonlight, a black silhouette stood atop a tombstone not far behind him.

“Ghost!”

Wang Dachun screamed and fled down the hill, half running and half tumbling.

Fortunately, the grave hill was not particularly remote. A trip that normally took ten minutes brought him to Lianghe Bridge in six or seven.

The nearby homes, lights, and passing vehicles calmed him. When he looked back at the trail, nothing was there.

His courage returned, and he walked home muttering curses.

It was only around ten thirty when he arrived. He brushed off his parents’ questions about why he was late and went to his bedroom.

During morning study hall the next day, he found Zhao Zheng and mocked him relentlessly, strutting until the other boy could not raise his head.

According to Wang Dachun, he now ruled the seventh and eighth grades of Lianghe District Middle School. Only the ninth grade remained before he unified the whole school’s underworld.

Of course, two years made a large difference in adolescent size and strength. He could not beat the ninth-grade boss.

Then the trouble began.

From the first class that morning, he drank water compulsively, draining a huge cup every ten or twenty minutes. If he stopped, his entire body felt unbearable and his throat burned as if smoking.

I already knew the rest.
After hearing the full story, I could only marvel at his talent for courting death.

Wang Dachun looked at me pleadingly. “Brother Wu, it’s completely over now, right? No more evil things will come after me?”

I considered it, then shook my head. “I can’t be sure. Was the shadow on the tombstone the Dry Immortal, or something else from that grave hill?”

His face crumpled. “Could another filthy thing still come for me? Brother Wu, you have to save me!”

He seized my hand and looked utterly pitiful.

I sighed. “We’ll see. If more trouble comes, I’ll take a look, but not for free. I happened to be here this time, so I saved your life. Next time, you pay.”

I rubbed my fingers together.

An esoteric practitioner was still flesh and blood. Someone versed in the esoteric arts still needed food and clothing, so of course we charged for our work.

“No problem! I’ll pay you this time too, Brother Wu. Just wait.”

He sent Zeng Jin to fetch a tin savings box from his room. Inside was five hundred yuan.

“This is what’s left of my New Year’s money and allowance. It’s all yours!”

He waved grandly.

Comparing people really could drive you mad. His family was well off, while I usually received only thirty or fifty yuan for New Year’s.

I saw no reason to pretend otherwise. He offered willingly, so I accepted it all.

With the matter mostly settled and midnight approaching, I got up to return to the coffin shop. Before leaving, I told him to eat well for the next week or two because his vitality had been damaged. He also needed to stay alert–after visiting a grave hill at night, who knew what else might have noticed him?

He thanked me profusely. At least I had not saved an ingrate.

Five hundred yuan richer, I strolled back to the shop.

Old Cao sat smoking on the threshold. When he saw me, he stood and grinned. “Xiao Wu, you’re back late. Been out having fun with some little girl?”

“You shameless old man. I’m thirteen!”

“So what? In the old days, you could’ve had a child by now.”

I had no answer to that.

Old Cao sobered. “Enough joking. Xiao Wu, your steps are unsteady and your eyes are dull. You look drained. What happened?”

I told him about the Dry Immortal’s spirit possession of Wang Dachun and how I had destroyed it.

Old Cao frowned deeply. He tapped his pipe against the doorframe and smacked his lips.

“A minor thing like a Dry Immortal shouldn’t come this close to town. They’re born from dead leaves and branches that have accumulated for centuries deep in forests. They don’t arise in graveyards. Strange.”

I knew far less than he did. Only then did I see the problem. The books I had read said Dry Immortals arose in remote, untouched forests. That grave hill outside town was hardly wilderness.

“You think something is wrong there? That there’s a problem with the grave hill?”

“Exactly.”

Old Cao exhaled a smoke ring and watched it slowly dissolve. “When something defies the natural order, evil is usually at work. We ought to inspect that grave hill carefully.”

I nodded. “All right, but there’s no rush, is there? Tomorrow is Friday, and school lets out early. Meet me beside Lianghe Bridge, and we’ll go together after class. I’d like to see the awesome might of a Lianghe coffin bearer again.”

“Well, aren’t you a smooth-talking brat?”

We agreed that Old Cao would wait by the bridge the next afternoon. I would leave school, meet him, and head straight up the hill.

What mystery awaited us in that graveyard?