45: Grandmother Wants to Kill Me

When people vanish during the day, it’s better than disappearing at night.

When Uncle Zhong Fu started acting strangely, I knew the other three elders would be no different. I had no choice but to send them out searching as well, and then I hurried to Uncle Zhong Fu’s house to find his wife, Aunt Zhou, telling her that he had suddenly gone mad and bolted.

Like everyone in the village, Aunt Zhou was well aware that the bizarre deaths of Brother Li and Elder Qian were connected to my family. Hearing that Uncle Zhong Fu had gone mad, she realized it was his turn, and her attitude toward me changed instantly, her gaze fierce and hateful, as if she wished to devour me, her mouth spewing cruel, venomous words.

Though it stung, I didn’t dwell on it—finding him was more important. With only a few hours until dusk, if night fell, it would be even harder to find him.

Next, I went to the home of the village secretary and told him directly that Uncle Zhong Fu had suddenly gone mad and run off; the next victim might well be him unless we found Zhong Fu before sundown. If we could find him, perhaps we could prevent the sort of death that befell Elder Qian and the others.

Mentioning more deaths, the secretary’s face darkened. He immediately used the village loudspeaker to call everyone out to help search for Uncle Zhong Fu, warning that his mental state was abnormal and that anyone who spotted him should alert others right away.

The whole village mobilized, searching outward from the center. Strangely, it was as if Uncle Zhong Fu had evaporated from the earth—there was no sign of him.

As time slipped by without finding him, my anxiety and discomfort grew.

Especially facing the remaining three elders, their eyes told me they suspected me now. I’d told them before that I didn’t know what was happening, but clearly they no longer believed me.

In desperation, I remembered how Xu Buhuo had used secret methods to locate Brother Li after his corpse had changed. I asked if he could find Uncle Zhong Fu, but Xu Buhuo shook his head, saying he couldn’t.

“Are you sure?” I pressed.

From Xu Buhuo’s eyes, I sensed he had a way, but claimed he did not.

“I told you it’s not possible. Why so many questions?” he snapped, then retreated into the house, leaving me standing there, bewildered by his sudden shift in mood. But from his tone, I was sure he did have a method.

Why wouldn’t he share it?

The search was urgent, so I didn’t argue. If Xu Buhuo refused to speak, he must have his reasons. I went inside to look for the books Grandmother had left behind.

I remembered there was something in her writings about finding missing people.

Soon, I found Grandmother’s method: “Incense Divination.”

Incense Divination, similar to rice divination but less complicated, required the person’s birth date and hour, some personal belongings, and a stick of incense.

Confirming I could perform it, I rushed to Uncle Zhong Fu’s home. As I entered, Aunt Zhou anxiously asked if I’d found him. I said no, and her face immediately hardened as she prepared to shut the door.

I had no time for such things and quickly told her I had a way to find him. But as I listed what I needed, her response shattered my hope.

“I only know his birth year, month, and day. I don’t know the hour—his parents died young, and things were chaotic back then. No one remembers exactly what time he was born.”

The birth chart requires all four components: year, month, day, hour, two characters each. Missing even one, the search method fails.

When I’d found the method, I’d been excited, thinking I could finally locate Uncle Zhong Fu and stop a preventable death. Reality, however, rarely matches our wishes.

Without the birth chart, I returned home in frustration, watching the sun sink westward, my anxiety mounting. If Zhong Fu committed suicide outside, it would be even more troublesome.

If the body couldn’t be found, and it changed like Brother Li’s did at midnight, it would be far more difficult to resolve.

Seeing Xu Buhuo sitting at the doorway in a daze, I steeled myself and approached him. “Old man, is there really no way? It’s almost dark.”

From earlier cases, strange suicides usually happened at night. I estimated we had half an hour left.

Xu Buhuo looked up at me, his gaze complicated. “All things are bound by rules. To gain something, you must lose something. Even if I have a secret method, how many years of your life are you willing to waste?”

He paused, then added, “Besides, you don’t have his birth chart—without it, the secret method cannot be used. You know that as well as I do.”

Really, was there no way?

I collapsed to the ground, feeling an indescribable heaviness in body and soul.

Two people were already gone; I didn’t want anyone else to die.

If only I’d known it would turn out like this, I’d rather have left Grandmother’s coffin in the mourning hall forever than bury it outside.

“Before it’s dark, let’s cast a divination,” Xu Buhuo suddenly said, pulling out a pendant from his clothes. He unfastened it, revealing three dark-red copper coins.

“Divination can only provide a general direction. Whether you’ll find him or not is uncertain.”

A direction was better than fumbling blindly. I resented that Xu Buhuo hadn’t suggested this earlier, when more people were searching in daylight. If we’d had a direction, we could’ve focused our efforts.

I kept my doubts to myself and followed his instructions: washed my hands and face, entered the hall, and took deep breaths to calm my mind.

For divination to work, the heart must be sincere and the body tranquil.

I laid out the three coins in my palm, then pressed both hands together as if praying, thinking of the missing Uncle Zhong Fu. Then, I let my hands fall open naturally.

This process was repeated six times.

This was called Six Lines Divination, recorded in Grandmother’s notes, though I’d never seen her perform it.

Once the hexagram appeared, Xu Buhuo began to interpret it. Shortly, he said, “The signs indicate he’s likely in the southwest. But you know, with outside interference, divination can be distorted—it may not be accurate.”

At this point, accuracy was secondary. I grabbed a rope, called Cao Guangshan, and we rushed out, using my house as the starting point, heading southwest. Xu Buhuo stayed back to watch the other three.

The southwest led to a small grove. Many villagers had searched there earlier but found nothing.

When we arrived, Cao Guangshan and I split up to search.

Given Uncle Zhong Fu’s likely disturbed state, we didn’t shout, fearing he’d hide deeper.

“Ziwu.”

As we searched, Grandmother’s voice suddenly called behind me. My heart tightened. I turned slowly—there she stood, gazing at me tenderly.

Was I seeing things?

I rubbed my eyes instinctively, but she was still there. Unable to help myself, I hurried forward. “Grandmother, why are you here?”

Seeing her alive filled me with joy.

“I know you’re facing difficulties, so I came to help you,” she said.

Then she took the rope from my hand and suddenly looped it over my head. Alarmed, I grabbed the rope. “Grandmother, what are you doing?”

“To help you solve your problem. Don’t you feel troubled? If you die, you won’t be troubled anymore.”

Her smiling face abruptly darkened, her gaze turned fierce, and her hands tightened violently, choking me with the rope.

She gripped it mercilessly. “Stop struggling. Once you’re dead, nothing matters. Come with me.”

I didn’t know what was happening. The more I struggled, the tighter the rope became, my consciousness fading as Grandmother’s smiling face hovered above.

“Chen Ziwu.”

Cao Guangshan’s angry shout suddenly exploded in my ears, followed by a stinging pain on my cheek.

My vision blurred, and all I saw was Cao Guangshan’s panicked face, prying my hands apart. There was no sign of Grandmother—only myself, pulling the rope, trying to strangle myself.

No wonder the harder I struggled, the tighter the rope became. Grandmother was just an illusion—I had been trying to kill myself.

As I recovered, I realized the effects of the Soul-Eating Puppet were manifesting.

Xu Buhuo had said that morning that its hallucinations would take a day or two to appear. Clearly, he’d underestimated its power—after just one day, I was hallucinating.

Thinking back, I shuddered. If Cao Guangshan hadn’t arrived in time, I might really have strangled myself.

The sensation of Grandmother standing before me was indistinguishable from reality—it was a perfect hallucination.

Worried that I might be affected again, Cao Guangshan wouldn’t let me out of sight. We wandered through the grove, searching further, but still found no trace of Uncle Zhong Fu.

“Hey, Ziwu, do you think maybe we’re searching too far out? Maybe he never left the village and is hiding in someone’s house? Otherwise, even if he was fast, we wouldn’t have lost him so quickly.”

Cao Guangshan’s words made me realize it was possible—just like with Brother Li, whom we thought had run outside, only to find him nearby.

When someone disappears, everyone assumes they’ve fled the village, but in truth, they might be hiding within. There are always blind spots in the village, places no one thinks to check.

By now, darkness was falling, night nearly upon us.

I knew this was no time for panic. We needed to analyze where Uncle Zhong Fu might be hiding, for aimless searching would just waste time.

Based on the divination’s direction, I considered which household in that area was most likely.

As we descended the slope, I looked up to see Old Qin’s deserted house, about to pass it by, then realized it was perfectly in the northwest.

“Hurry—I know where he is.”

I was one hundred percent certain Uncle Zhong Fu had gone to Old Qin’s house; in the northwest side of the village, only Old Qin’s house was abandoned.

“Please, let nothing happen.”

We rushed straight there. At Old Qin’s house, we faced the locked gate, pondering how to get in.

Suddenly, laughter echoed from the courtyard.

“Hehehe…”