Chapter 2

Panic seized me. My scalp prickled, every hair on my body stood on end, and my heart hammered as if it might burst from my chest.

The voice drew nearer, calling my name between breathy, rasping chuckles.

“Yongshou… Yongshou…”

Now I was certain the voice was inside the room.

“Yongshou… Yongshou…”

I forced myself to calm down. The older people always said that the more frightened you were, the weaker your inner fire became, and the more likely some unclean thing was to latch on to you.

I took a deep breath and made myself settle down little by little. Pretending nothing was wrong, I glanced around the room.

“Heh-heh… Yongshou… I’m right here.”

Slowly, I lifted my head and looked toward the rafters.

What I saw was something I would never forget for the rest of my life.

Shunwa hung from a roof beam in an impossibly twisted pose, completely naked.

He looked as though he had just been dragged out of the river. His body was soaked, water still dripping from it.

Drip… drip…

His head was swollen like a bun of overproofed dough. Even his smile was ghastly. He looked nothing like the Shunwa I knew.

“Yongshou… heh-heh… You broke your promise, Yongshou…”

Shunwa spoke through his laughter, the corners of his mouth stretching almost to his ears in a grotesque grin.

I slowly dragged my gaze away from the rafters and pretended I had not seen him. Looking around once more, I faked a yawn, closed my eyes, and acted as if I were dozing.

Only I knew that terror had nearly scared the soul out of me.

“The Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara, while practicing the profound Perfection of Wisdom, perceived that the five aggregates were empty and was freed from all suffering… Shariputra.”

“What comes after Shariputra? Oh God, somebody please come save me!”

“Heh-heh. Stop pretending, Yongshou. I know you can see me.”

The hollow, terrifying voice came from the rafters again.

I did not have the courage to open my eyes. I repeated a plea to the spirits of heaven and earth under my breath, but I could not drive Shunwa’s dripping face from my mind.

“Yongshou, what’s wrong? You sleepy?”

I had no idea how long I had been sitting there with my eyes shut when a hand suddenly slapped my shoulder.

“Ah!”

I jolted and spun around. It was Deng Gong.

I tried to tell him I had seen Shunwa, but no matter what I did, I could not open my mouth.

The muscles in my jaw seemed to have lost all their strength. Frantic, I could only make guttural sounds and jab a finger toward the spot where Shunwa had been.

“What is it?” Deng Gong asked, glancing where I pointed.

“…It was Shunwa.”

All at once, my mouth opened and the words came out. Apart from a lingering ache in my jaw, I could finally speak again.

“I saw Shunwa just now. Water was dripping from him. He kept laughing and saying I’d broken my promise.”

Still shaken, I told Deng Gong what I had seen.

“What Shunwa? When I came back from the toilet, you were sitting there with your head down, muttering something. Your face was white as flour and covered in sweat, like you’d just been hauled out of the water yourself. You gave me a fright.”

Deng Gong stared at me in confusion.

Only then did I touch my face and discover it was drenched in sweat. My clothes were soaked through too, clinging to my body.

I still shuddered at what I had seen, but having Deng Gong beside me eased my fear considerably.

“I’m soaked. My clothes are sticking to me. I’m going home to change. Wake someone in the side room and have him keep vigil with you for a while.”

Deng Gong woke another boy we were friendly with and brought him in to help.

I was just about to leave when I glanced at the place where I had seen Shunwa hanging.

“Deng Gong… Was there water there before you went to the toilet?”

“Didn’t notice,” he said casually. “I’m exhausted after today—hungry and sleepy. When I came back from the toilet, I smelled something sweet. I thought you’d been sneaking food behind my back.”

“Oh.”

I did not think much of it. I told myself I had been so tired that I had hallucinated, then turned and went home.

My parents were surprised to see me return in the middle of the night. I took a shower first, then gave them a rough account of what had happened.

My mother looked plainly worried. “If you can’t manage it, don’t go back. There are several boys born in the Year of the Ox in a village this size, and you and Deng Gong aren’t Shunwa’s only friends.”

“Maybe Yong is taking Shunwa’s death hard and feels guilty,” my father said, not treating it as anything serious. “He probably fell asleep during the vigil and had a bad dream.”

“Maybe.”

I could not tell whether I had been awake or asleep. I was still uneasy, but I forced myself to rally and repeated inwardly: There are no ghosts in this world. There are no ghosts in this world…

After working up my courage, I returned to the mourning hall and continued the vigil with Deng Gong. Nothing else happened after that.

We drifted in and out of sleep, and the night passed that way.

During the day on the third day, Deng Gong and I slept in the room adjoining the mourning hall at Shunwa’s house.

I slept terribly, sinking into a thick, murky daze.

It felt as if I got up and walked to where Shunwa’s body lay. The sight of him behind the mourning hall made my nose sting, and tears spilled out.

Then I lifted my head.

Shunwa had been lying flat on his back, his face turned toward the ceiling. Now his head had turned in my direction.

Muddy water began seeping from the corners of his mouth and his nostrils. His eyes, which had been shut, opened wide and stared at me.

His gaze was empty, but I could feel it.

Shunwa was watching me. He blamed me.

Gooseflesh erupted all over my body, and an electric shiver raced across my scalp.

I tried to move, but my whole body felt as though it no longer belonged to me.

I tried to call for help, but it was as if a stone were lodged in my throat. I could produce only strangled grunts through the tiny gap around it.

Then, to my horror, Shunwa sat up.

He rose to his feet, his body rigid and unnatural.

One step. Another. Another.

He came toward me.

I wanted to turn and run, but my legs, my feet, every muscle in my body seemed to belong to someone else.

I wanted to scream, but that stone still blocked my throat, keeping me from forming a single complete word. I strained to swallow whatever was choking me.

I did not dare look at Shunwa. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor and continued trying to move, or at least make a sound.

An eternity seemed to pass before a pair of dripping shoes entered my lowered gaze and stopped in front of me.

Slowly, I looked upward.

Wet trousers. A wet shirt. And then the face that had once been so familiar, the face I now feared more than anything.

I could see the water in Shunwa’s hair and on his cheeks, still streaming down.

Drip. Drip. Drip…