Chapter 16: Frightening

Li Miao used a branch to lift the snake’s corpse before him, carefully examining it. The skin of a snake, once dead, does not rot; every injury it sustained in life would show upon this lifeless sheath. After a long inspection, Li Miao finally discovered a tiny opening on the serpent’s belly. He scrutinized it for a while, then casually tossed the snake into the pond, his suspicions mostly confirmed.

The afternoon sun was waning, and though the hour of haunting was still distant, it served no purpose to wait idly. Suppressing a yawn, Li Miao returned to find the trembling servant and asked him to lead the way for dinner and rest.

As the sun set and the moon rose, the night deepened to the third watch. When Master Wu moved away, he took with him many servants, leaving numerous empty rooms in the Wu household. The remaining servants, plagued by terror in recent days, had always drawn some comfort from the presence of neighbors in every room. Now, the emptiness only heightened their unease, so they gathered together in a few adjacent rooms for the night.

Most had already fallen asleep. One servant, unable to hold it any longer, got up to relieve himself but stopped at the door, too afraid to venture out alone. After a moment’s hesitation, he went back and woke a fellow servant with whom he was on good terms.

“Hey, wake up.”

“What is it?”

“Come with me to the latrine.”

The other grumbled, displeased, but knowing he too might need company on a midnight trip, said nothing more. He threw on a coat and accompanied his friend outside.

Fortunately, the latrine was not in the allegedly haunted courtyard. When they arrived, the first entered while the other waited outside. It was late autumn, and the air had grown chill. A corridor draft whirled fallen leaves and dried grass, rustling in the night.

After squatting for a while, the servant inside felt an odd chill in his heart and knocked on a pillar.

“You there?”

“I’m here, I’m here—hurry up, it’s freezing,” came the impatient reply.

Relieved, he continued, “Say, those four people who came today—what kind of officials do you think they are?”

“They seem quite kind, not fierce like Lord Wang who used to visit.”

“But officials usually ride in sedan chairs—why were they leading their own horses?”

“And those two women—so beautiful, prettier than even the Third Madam.”

He sighed. “If only I could marry such a lovely wife someday.”

He rambled on, finished his business, pulled up his trousers, and reached for the door—only to freeze.

He suddenly realized that the man outside had not spoken for quite a while.

He asked in a trembling voice, “Are… are you still there?”

No reply.

“Don’t scare me like this…”

“If you’re there, say something… Stop playing around…”

Still, silence.

“Please, don’t do this… I’m really scared…”

He wanted to open the door and look, but his hand shook uncontrollably, too frightened to push.

Drip.

When the wind stilled, he distinctly heard a liquid drop just outside the door.

Drip.

Drip.

Each drop seemed to strike his heart.

“It’s here… I’m done for…”

He remembered what another servant had said after seeing a ghost only days before, and panic set in.

“What do I do, what do I do, what do I do!”

There was only one door; if the person outside had gone quiet, the ghost had probably gotten him already! Perhaps the ghost was waiting right outside for him to open the door!

“The window—the window!”

Above the latrine was a small vent window, not on the same wall as the door. He was small enough to squeeze through!

He rushed beneath the window and jumped. But his hands, weak with fear, failed to grip the ledge.

Tears sprang to his eyes; he struck his fist against his thigh, wiped his sweaty palms, and tried again. This time, he managed to catch hold of the sill.

His heart pounding, he scrabbled against the wall, straining to haul himself up, but something seemed to snag his coat. He twisted, trying to free himself, then slipped back inside to untangle the caught fabric.

Creak—

At that moment, he heard the door behind him begin to open.

His limbs gave way and he fell, sitting hard on the floor.

Behind him came the sound of clothing rustling in the wind, drawing closer.

He forced himself to look back.

Floating above him was a blood-soaked white robe.

Above that, a face smeared with blood—a pair of bleeding holes for eyes—stared straight at him.

An inarticulate, guttural scream escaped his lips, his voice strangled by terror. The bloody face paused in midair, then lunged at him.

At last, he managed a piercing, desperate scream, before fainting dead away.

The face collided with him, making a dull thud before tumbling off and rolling across the floor. The white garment fluttered down, covering his body—empty within.

After a few moments, the robe seemed to be drawn along the ground, slipping out of the latrine.

Li Miao stooped to pick up the garment, tugging at it until he drew out a silk thread.

“Celestial silkworm thread. A fine thing indeed.”

He turned his gaze toward a rooftop. “So this is what you use it for? To frighten people?”

From above came a soft noise. A figure in black leapt away, fleeing silently across the eaves.

“No need to rush off,” Li Miao called, winding the silk around his hand. Then, turning to the servants who had come running at the sound of the scream, he said, “There are two men at the latrine—one drugged, one scared unconscious. Take them in and have a doctor look at them in the morning.”

With that, he sprang onto the roof and set off in pursuit.

Meanwhile, Wang Hai, Little Four, and Mei Qinghe had also heard the commotion. Expecting trouble that night, all three had rested earlier and now were wide awake in their small courtyard. Wang Hai had a room to himself; Little Four and Mei Qinghe shared another. Hearing the scream, they trusted Li Miao to handle matters and stayed put, minding their own safety.

Suddenly, a large cat leapt into the courtyard. Its steps were stiff and uneven, its fur matted with mud and leaves, patches bare, and only its eyes glowed a vivid green.

The cat paced a few steps, glancing toward the two lit rooms—one with two shadows inside, the other with one. It hesitated, then shambled toward the room with fewer people.

Inside, Wang Hai heard the sounds outside. He reached into his bundle and pulled out a pair of gloves fitted with iron plates and sharp, hooked blades at the fingertips, and slipped them on.

“So you’ve chosen me?”

“Well then, you’ve certainly chosen right.”

“Digging things out from beneath flesh—that’s my special skill.”