24: Midnight Summoning of Souls

The insect was tiny, yet I felt as tense as if I were facing a venomous snake, afraid that any slight movement would provoke it to strike. When the little red bug crawled away on its own, I felt as though I had just returned from the gates of hell.

Xu Buhuo came closer, his gaze complicated as he looked at me. Seeing the beads of sweat on his forehead, my heart warmed unexpectedly. The sweat was cold, drawn by anxiety; clearly, he had truly been worried just now, fearing I might touch the red insect.

"You didn't touch it, did you?" he asked.

I nodded. Xu Buhuo let out a long breath and looked at me seriously. "Curiosity is good, but don't let it get the better of you. If you get bitten by that little bug, there will be no tomorrow for you."

Could such a small insect really be so terrifying? Watching it crawl slowly on the ground, its body stained with what seemed to be blood, I instinctively thought of Liu the Leper, whose corpse in the coffin was stripped of flesh and blood, leaving only skin. Could this tiny creature have something to do with it?

"Ghost-face Xi, an extremely poisonous corpse insect. If it bites a living person, their organs and bones will rot into blood within three days. If it bites a corpse, only the skin will remain in three hours. There's only one fate for anyone bitten—waiting for death."

Those words pricked at my heart like a needle, sending numbness through my arm that had just regained some feeling. It seemed I truly had walked close to the gates of hell moments ago.

Had Liu the Leper's skin not still been in the coffin, I might have doubted Xu Buhuo's explanation. It was hard to imagine how such a poisonous corpse insect, called Ghost-face Xi, could exist.

Xu Buhuo took out a small glass bottle from his cloth pouch and carefully coaxed the Ghost-face Xi inside. He held it up to his eye, muttering, "This thing was supposed to be extinct a hundred years ago. Who would have thought one still existed?"

He seemed genuinely surprised by the discovery. I thought, for such a dreadful Ghost-face Xi, the one responsible must be the mysterious third person whose identity remains unknown.

Why would he do such a thing? It was as if he wanted to destroy all evidence, but Liu the Leper had no apparent clues on him. Why use Ghost-face Xi to reduce him to nothing but skin?

It was fortunate the village chief was unconscious now. If he learned his younger brother was not only dead but left with only a skin, he would surely turn the whole village upside down in rage.

Returning to the coffin and gazing at the remaining human skin inside, Xu Buhuo frowned deeply, lost in thought. He seemed to be pondering the purpose behind using Ghost-face Xi to further torment Liu the Leper. After all, Liu was already dead; this seemed unnecessary, a pointless act.

Having circled the room once more and found nothing new, Xu Buhuo and I left.

No sooner had we stepped outside than the villagers surrounded us, demanding to know why Liu the Leper had ended up like that.

The corpse, sealed in the coffin, had been reduced to skin within hours. Such an event was beyond belief—science could offer no explanation. The villagers’ fear was palpable.

"Don't panic, everyone. He was killed by this insect," Xu Buhuo announced, showing them the Ghost-face Xi and explaining in detail. The villagers listened, their faces aghast, unable to comprehend how a bug so easily crushed could reduce a body to mere skin.

Afterwards, the villagers dispersed hastily. I overheard several uncles say they would go to town to buy disinfectant powder, fearing the insect might appear at their homes and preparing to sterilize everything.

Back at the old house, Xu Buhuo examined the small bottle containing Ghost-face Xi over and over. I watched for a while, but since he said nothing, I lost interest and went to read.

Several times, I took out the cloth pouch Grandpa Qin had given me, intending to secretly place it in Xu Buhuo’s bag by the coffin, but each time I restrained myself.

Before discovering the corpse rat and soul-swallowing chicken, I trusted Grandpa Qin completely. But after finding those evil things, doubts crept in. Especially recalling how Xu Buhuo had been so genuinely anxious when I nearly touched Ghost-face Xi; it seemed his concern was real, not faked.

There are instincts in people that cannot be feigned. Whatever motives Xu Buhuo might have for his diligence, his concern for my safety made me feel favorably toward him. The issues I found with Grandpa Qin led me to question what he claimed to have witnessed that night.

What if he deliberately fabricated that scene, trying to drive a wedge between Xu Buhuo and me?

The truth was hard to ascertain at the moment.

Looking at the coffin before me, I felt torn and confused.

Tonight was the sixth night; tomorrow would be the last. After that, I had no idea what to do. Keeping Grandma’s coffin in the mourning hall was clearly impractical—it needed constant watching, and there were things at home to take care of. Mother and I couldn’t spend our days guarding the coffin.

After thinking it over, I decided: since Grandma left no special instructions, after tomorrow night, the coffin would be buried. That would be easier on everyone.

At midnight, I lit the Soul-Calming Lantern as usual, and Xu Buhuo, too, lit incense. This time, however, the incense he drew from his pouch was red, not black as before.

Once lit, the smoke rose straight up, like a rod, with not a trace of wavering. I couldn’t help but ask what kind of incense it was.

"Peace Incense," he replied, then went back to his wooden chair, lying down half-dead as usual. I stared at the incense for a while, seeing nothing strange, and returned to my book. Before long, drowsiness crept over me, so I went into the ancestral hall to put my book away.

On impulse, I glanced at the gap where I’d previously seen the little ghost’s eyes. As soon as I looked up, it felt as though an invisible hand gripped my heart. My mouth opened to call out, but the sound was crushed in my throat.

If I called out, Xu Buhuo would surely come in and might act against the little ghost.

The little ghost was raised by Grandma and had always stayed upstairs. If it were dangerous, it would have acted long ago, not merely watched in secret.

Blinking to regain my composure, I looked up again; the eyes in the gap had vanished. I took a deep breath, deciding not to investigate Grandma’s little ghost for now.

But just as I stepped forward, a piercing cold wind swept from behind, making me shiver instinctively. As I prepared to turn, the sound of pages being flipped echoed behind me.

The ancestral hall had no windows; cold wind and pages turning could only mean the little ghost was there.

Even though I was prepared, turning to face the little ghost still made me tense all over.

He looked about eight or nine years old, dressed entirely in black like funeral clothes, his face pale as death. Aside from his unusually large black eyes, he was not especially frightening.

I had seen the reanimated Mrs. Wang, the long-dead Jiang Yan, and even Liu the Leper reduced to skin. Compared to those, the little ghost seemed almost normal, yet I could not relax.

A book had appeared on the wooden cabinet. The little ghost pointed at it, and the pages turned automatically, stopping to reveal a slip of paper in the middle.

He was reminding me.

Suppressing my nerves, I picked up the paper. There were few words, left by Grandma.

Just like her previous letter, Grandma seemed to have foreseen everything, leaving reminders in advance. Otherwise, how could the little ghost suddenly appear? Thinking of the letter that had mysteriously disappeared before, I couldn’t help but ask the little ghost, "Were you the one who took that letter?"

He nodded, and smiled. I glanced at the slip of paper and was about to ask if Grandma had left any other instructions, but the space before me was empty.

Seeing no sign of the little ghost in the ancestral hall, I didn’t search further and turned my attention to the paper:

"When seven days of mourning are complete, bury the coffin at midnight. Southeast corner of the ancestral tomb, under the shadow of the locust tree."

I read it carefully twice, but still didn’t understand. Instead of leaving right away, I tried to sort everything out, because I knew it was time to determine Xu Buhuo’s position. The burial arrangements Grandma had left required his help to interpret.

The mysteriously vanished letter had been taken by the little ghost. Grandpa Qin had guessed it was left by Xu Buhuo, but the paper and the ghost’s appearance completely debunked that theory.

With the little ghost as proof, it was clear the letter was truly from Grandma, showing she trusted Mr. Xu—otherwise, she wouldn’t have specified him. Given all that had happened these past days, I was certain Grandpa Qin had been lying all along, while Xu Buhuo was innocent.

Having figured everything out, a sudden sense of relief washed over me. I hurried out with the slip of paper to find Xu Buhuo.

He was not surprised at all when he saw it, as if he had known in advance. I wanted to ask him, but then realized the ancestral hall wasn’t far, and he probably heard what I said. Moreover, people like him were highly sensitive to spirits; he likely noticed the little ghost’s return upstairs before I did, but chose not to intervene.

"Tomorrow, as soon as midnight passes, we bury her."

"Right after midnight? Isn’t that a bit rushed?" I couldn’t help asking.

"Wu hour is the first watch, Hai hour the second, and the third watch is Zi hour—between eleven and one. Once it’s past midnight, that fulfills your grandmother’s seven-day requirement."

So midnight referred to eleven to one; I had always thought it meant three in the morning.

"Is there a locust tree near your ancestral tomb?"

I thought for a moment—there really was one. Xu Buhuo walked to the door and looked outside. "Let’s hope there’s a moon tomorrow night; otherwise, it will be troublesome."

"Why?"

"Your grandmother said to bury her under the shadow of the locust tree at the southeast corner of the ancestral tomb. Without moonlight, there’s no tree shadow, and it’s hard to find the spot."

He turned back to look at Grandma’s coffin. "Sister Chen, you really have made things difficult for me."

Reflecting on Grandma’s arrangements, I couldn’t understand why her passing required such mysterious measures.

Knowing Xu Buhuo was trustworthy was the greatest relief for me. With tomorrow’s plan clear, all my worries faded, and I soon drifted off to sleep.

I was awakened suddenly by my mother’s voice.

"Ziwu, come home quickly!"

"Ziwu, hurry back, it’s dark, it’s not safe outside!"

The voice was unmistakably my mother’s, calling out in words almost identical to when Grandma used to summon my soul as a child.

I walked to the door, anxious, not knowing why my mother would be outside the yard, calling for me in the middle of the night.

I turned to ask Xu Buhuo what to do and found him fast asleep, eyes tightly shut.

"Mr. Xu..."

Thud.

As soon as I nudged Xu Buhuo, he collapsed to the ground.

His eyes remained closed, completely motionless.