Chapter Seventeen: Entangled by Evil

At the same time, considering what my uncle has been doing lately, he’s actually always been running errands for Ma Weiguo—helping Ma Weiguo, which means helping those gray-robed Taoists.

So, killing all the cats in the village was also for those gray-robed Taoists?

“Fatty, are you suspecting that those Taoists aren’t actually human?” I asked, recalling their shifty appearances, which made my skin crawl.

Fatty nodded, then added, “Those Taoists living in the village consume a huge amount of food. What we have here isn’t nearly enough. Usually, it’s Ma Er who goes out to buy supplies. I found it suspicious and once followed him. Guess what he buys?”

“What?”

“They don’t eat regular food at all—just walnuts, roasted peanuts, and sunflower seeds.”

Fatty was right. When I went to the brigade courtyard, I did see those Taoists constantly eating nuts. After saying this, Fatty pulled a walnut shell from his pocket and handed it to me. “Boss, I found this in the brigade courtyard. Take a look!”

I took the walnut shell and was surprised.

Walnut shells are extremely hard; you need to crack them to get the kernel. But the shell Fatty handed me was odd—it had only a finger-width hole, yet the inside was hollowed out completely. In rural areas, walnuts stolen by mice usually end up looking just like this.

Fatty lowered his voice, his expression grim. “Boss, do you believe mice can become spirits?”

Having fought Ma the Cripple, I’d even seen a weasel spirit, so how could I not believe in this? So when Fatty asked, I didn’t hesitate; I nodded.

Fatty continued, “Boss, what if the villagers all find out that these Taoists aren’t really Taoists, but mouse spirits in disguise? Would they still move their ancestors’ graves?”

“Of course not. I think everyone would bring out rat poison!” I replied.

This seemed like a chance to turn the tables.

But after thinking it over, I realized that with only what Fatty and I knew, we couldn’t be certain those Taoists were mouse spirits. Telling the villagers might not convince them. Fatty wasn’t worried; he said he had a way and that we’d test it soon.

I asked how he’d test it, and he said it was a secret—I’d see soon enough.

It was midday; the villagers weren’t working yet, most were napping, so the village was very quiet. We went to the brigade courtyard. When we arrived, Fatty clung to the wall and suddenly let out a “meow.”

He did a pretty good impression—an authentic wild village cat.

So this was Fatty’s method of testing. I hid nearby, watching inside the courtyard, where the Taoists, having eaten their fill, were resting.

Fatty mimicked cat calls several times. If they really were mouse spirits, they should be startled. But the gray-robed Taoists inside barely reacted; they didn’t seem afraid at all.

Hearing someone approaching, we had no choice but to slip away quietly.

I hadn’t expected that what seemed certain would fail to be confirmed. But if they weren’t mouse spirits, and my uncle was helping them, why did he kill all the cats in the village?

The situation suddenly grew more mysterious. I remembered my grandfather’s stories of the old days—he said that no matter what becomes a spirit, it still fears its natural enemy. It’s a kind of innate suppression. Mice fear cats, chickens fear weasels. I’d seen it myself: our fiercest rooster often bullied other chickens, but when it saw a weasel, it cowered on the ground, terrified.

Could it be that we were wrong, and those Taoists weren’t mouse spirits at all?

Unable to figure it out, I went to ask Granny Wang, who was now my only support. When she saw me, she thought I’d come to ask about my grandfather again and said that though ten days or half a month would pass quickly, I had to wait patiently for the right moment. When the right time came, it would be time to propose again to my future bride.

On that topic, it was strange. Lately, I’d been having dreams at night—always of her in red. They say you dream at night of what you think of by day, but I honestly hadn’t thought of her. Why did she appear in my dreams?

I even grew curious about what she looked like behind that red veil. Was it really as Granny Wang said?

Lost in thought, I was distracted for a moment.

Granny Wang coughed, bringing me back to reality. She asked me to tell her about my uncle and the village, so I did, showing her the walnut shell too.

After examining it, she didn’t speak right away.

After a while, she said, “Child, go find your uncle and bring me a strand of his hair.”

“My uncle’s hair? What for?” I asked, curious.

“Just do it, don’t ask so many questions. Time is tight,” Granny Wang insisted, muttering, “I fear the trouble in your Old Boundary Ridge village can no longer be suppressed.”

“What trouble?”

“Nothing. Go on home!” she said, then went inside, leaving me alone in the living room. I couldn’t figure out why she wanted his hair. I remembered my grandfather once needed my hair for a paper figure, but Granny Wang surely wasn’t making a paper figure of my uncle?

Unable to make sense of it, I could only comply.

Returning from Dongwa Village, I headed straight for my uncle’s house. The door was bolted from inside. I heard some noise from within, but it was too faint to make out—seemed like someone else was inside. Ignoring that, I knocked and called for my uncle, but after a long while, he didn’t answer.

Just as I was about to climb over the wall, I heard the door to the main house open. My uncle, irritated, said, “Yiwa, what do you want?”

“Uncle, open the door, I need to talk to you. I’ll leave right after,” I said.

He opened the door. He was sweating profusely, his eyes sunken with heavy dark circles, looking utterly exhausted. “Yiwa, say what you need to say and get going. I have things to do.”

“Uncle, are you alright?” I couldn’t help but ask; his appearance was alarming, and standing at the door, he didn’t invite me in—he kept his hands on the door, almost as if afraid I’d come inside.

He grew impatient, about to close the door.

I quickly stopped him, saying, “Uncle, wait! You’ve got some white hair. Let me help you pull it out!”

He paused, and before he could respond, I reached in and yanked out a small tuft. He winced, angry. “Yiwa, what are you doing?”

I gave a sheepish laugh. “Nothing, Uncle. Go rest, I’ll be off now.”

With his hair in hand, I rushed back to Granny Wang’s house.

Once there, she immediately took out a yellow talisman paper from a drawer. There was no vermilion pattern on it. She told me to place my uncle’s hair on the yellow talisman.

I did as instructed, and then witnessed something strange.

The hair, upon touching the talisman, seemed to come alive, writhing on the paper. Soon it began to shrivel, as if scorched by fire, and I smelled the scent of burning. In moments, the hair turned to ash.

I asked Granny Wang what it meant.

She sighed and said, “Child, my suspicions were correct. Your uncle has been possessed by an evil entity. I fear he doesn’t have much time left.”

“Possessed by evil? What’s going on?” I asked.

“He killed all the cats in your village, not for those Taoists, but for the one in his own house,” Granny Wang replied.

Thinking carefully, I remembered how my uncle acted when I went to see him. He used to invite me inside and offer treats. This time, he kept me outside—clearly, there was something inside the house. Judging by everything, the one in his house was likely the mouse spirit.

But my uncle never offended anyone—how did he suddenly attract evil?

Granny Wang explained that people are most vulnerable to evil when feeling despondent. My uncle, made deeply dispirited by recent events, had thus been targeted. Even so, the timing seemed too coincidental—right as the graves were to be moved.

“Granny Wang, I know you have a way. Please save him!”

Granny Wang stood, thinking for a while. At last she said, “Your uncle loves to drink. Give him a bottle of good liquor—he shouldn’t refuse. But I can’t guarantee this will work; it depends on his own fate. Remember, do not alarm anyone, or you may bring harm to your uncle.”

I nodded, understanding that the bottle Granny Wang would give me was no ordinary liquor.

She soon brought out a bottle of very fine liquor—it was clearly expensive. Of course, I’d been forbidden liquor since I was young, so I had no idea of its value.

With the bottle, I hurried back to the village to find my uncle.

I ran into him on the way. Seeing me, he tried to avoid me. I quickly caught up and asked where he was going. He said he needed to buy peanuts and sunflower seeds to go with his drink.

As an avid drinker, he immediately noticed the bottle in my hand, pausing to ask, “What are you doing with that bottle?”

“A friend gave it to me. You know I can’t drink. Why not give it to you?” I said. He knew I couldn’t touch liquor, so he accepted it without hesitation.

“This is four or five hundred a bottle!” he said.

I scratched my head. “I wouldn’t know.”

He then asked what I wanted to talk about earlier. I said I just wanted to persuade him again. Hearing this, he shook his head. “Don’t bother. Stay out of it. Take care of yourself and your grandfather.”

“Why?”

“You ask too much. I’m off!” With that, he turned and left with the bottle. I tried to ask more, but he ignored me. Since Granny Wang said not to alarm anyone, I dared not act rashly, so I could only hope the liquor would work and save my uncle.

But to my shock, early the next morning, I heard from the villagers a piece of news I could not accept.