Chapter Four: The Age of Twenty-Nine as the Boundary

I dared not answer. Seeing my silence, she let out a soft sigh, then reached up and removed the red bridal veil herself, tossing it aside, and began to undress before me. With her back to me, her pale skin gleamed in the dim light. Suddenly, she glanced back, lowering her eyes, her willow waist swaying gracefully—like the arrival of spring, flowers blooming in all their glory.

Was she really going to do this at the slightest disagreement?

This was a scene I could never have imagined.

Eighteen years old, blood running hot—in that moment, emboldened by desire, my mind grew hazy, my face burning as if scorched by flames. She crawled toward me along the edge of the bed, the red gauze curtain between us, her figure half-concealed, half-revealed...

But just then, another shadow appeared from nowhere.

With a heavy thud, my cousin-in-law was struck by that shadow with brute force, sent flying. The bridal candle on the table was inexplicably snapped in two, its flame snuffed out as it fell. The large red “Double Happiness” character on the wall was entangled and torn by a swirl of blue fire, reduced to ashes.

After the brief flash of firelight, the room plunged once more into pitch darkness.

Before I could make sense of it, a chill wind swept across my face. Sensing something was wrong, I staggered back, only to be met with a sharp slap—“crack!”—that landed squarely on my cheek.

The sound was crisp, and the pain sharp.

That slap was fierce, but it brought me back to my senses. The heat of desire was gone, replaced only by the searing pain of that blow, stinging to the bone.

What was happening?

Though I could see nothing in the darkness, I could feel the shadow that had just entered standing before me, its gaze fixed on me; under its scrutiny, I felt as if plunged into an icy abyss.

At that tense moment, noises came from outside.

I knew then—Grandfather had returned.

I still could not move or speak, but at the sound of Grandfather’s arrival, the light bulb in the room flickered and lit up again. I opened my mouth to cry for help. Grandfather heard me and entered, asking what had happened. The sudden light blinded me for a moment, and as my eyes adjusted, I found myself still lying under the covers. My pillow and blanket were damp with sweat. There were no broken red candles on the table, nor any sign of the chaos that had just taken place.

Noticing my scattered state, Grandfather sat at my bedside.

What had just happened, though dreamlike, felt so real. I decided not to hide it and told Grandfather everything.

But after hearing me out, Grandfather was not the least bit disturbed—instead, his face brimmed with mingled joy and excitement. He even leaned in, closely examining the nearly blood-red mark on my cheek, nodding in approval.

“Not bad, not bad! Well struck!”

I was speechless, asking irritably, “Why? Am I your grandson, or am I just that lowly?”

“That’s not what I mean,” he replied, smiling and shaking his head. Before I could ask further, he leaned in with a mysterious air, saying, “Lin Yi, don’t be upset. A slap is affection, a scolding is love. Without either, you’re just an unloved cabbage. To have received this slap is your good fortune—and your destiny!”

With that, Grandfather stood and made to leave.

I grabbed his sleeve, pressing for answers, but he said nothing more. I then asked about the situation at the spirit hall. Grandfather said nothing was amiss—perhaps my eyes had played tricks on me, my cousin-in-law’s body was still there, and all was as it should be.

He returned to his room, humming an opera tune.

I was left alone, lying in bed, rubbing my burning cheek, my mind in chaos.

No matter how deep the night, I could not sleep at all.

The events that had just transpired, and Grandfather’s reaction, had upended my understanding once again. Was there really such a thing as fate in a slap?

Then, I recalled what Lame Ma had said.

Heaven’s will turns, and “two nines is the limit.”

Two nines is eighteen; eighteen is the limit. The meaning was clear: it referred to my impending eighteenth birthday, my life’s great limit.

Was Lame Ma saying I would die at eighteen? Utter nonsense—I didn’t believe it. Still, Grandfather had been acting a bit strange lately, though I couldn’t say why.

The more I thought, the more confused I became, so I forced myself to stop.

I drifted in and out of sleep, not knowing how long I lay there. Just as dawn failed to break and I was dozing, a pounding at the door jolted me awake, as if someone was about to tear it from its hinges.

Amid the din, I heard my uncle’s anxious voice.

Something had happened again.

Grandfather’s room stirred as he got up to open the door. I rose as well. Only then did I learn that last night, Honest Brother had hanged himself—right across from my cousin-in-law’s spirit hall, on the old persimmon tree.

Crossing the river, I could see from a distance Honest Brother hanging stiffly from the tree, naked, feet several meters from the ground. In a flash, childhood memories surfaced—Honest Brother climbing the tree with a bamboo pole to knock down persimmons. My nose stung with grief.

Just yesterday he was fine, and today he was gone.

Many villagers gathered to watch, but most whispered from afar, unwilling to approach, believing it inauspicious.

Some muttered that this was retribution for my aunt’s misdeeds.

When Grandfather, my uncle, and I arrived, my aunt seemed deranged—crying, cursing, smashing things inside the spirit hall. The coffin was overturned, my cousin-in-law’s body flung to the floor, Grandfather’s paper effigies crushed, their heads trampled to pulp.

Grandfather strode over and barked,

“Out!”

Aunt froze in fear, collapsing to the ground in tears.

Grandfather ignored her, gathered some men, and worked out how to get Honest Brother’s body down from the persimmon tree. His face, even in death, showed no pain—just the same foolish grin he’d worn in life.

“Shuanzi… it’s all your mother’s fault…” Aunt sobbed from afar, too afraid to come closer. My uncle held her up, but she trembled so violently she couldn’t stand.

Grandfather sighed and said to my uncle, “Hongfa, prepare for the funeral.”

At those words, Aunt’s eyes rolled back and she fainted.

Watching Grandfather, I felt my nose sting again. “Grandpa, wasn’t the wedding curse already resolved? How did Honest Brother end up hanging himself…” He’d always protected me when I was bullied as a child, taking beatings for me. Now he was gone, and my heart ached deeply.

“You’re right—the curse was broken. If your cousin-in-law had been buried on schedule, there’d be no more resentment. Once the seventh night passed, all would be settled. I can say for certain—she would never cause trouble at this critical moment. So she cannot be the culprit!” Grandfather declared.

“Then who else could it be?” I asked.

Grandfather didn’t answer, instead instructing me to tidy up the spirit hall for the afternoon funeral, while others prepared Honest Brother’s burial.

I sensed that, like me, Grandfather was thinking of Lame Ma.

Privately, I asked if Lame Ma might be behind this. Grandfather shook his head slightly. “We have no solid evidence—we can’t make baseless accusations.”

I nodded, feeling Grandfather shared my suspicions.

Then Grandfather proposed that my cousin-in-law be buried first, in Honest Brother’s plot. After three days, they’d be reburied together, and Grandfather could arrange a ghost marriage for Honest Brother—so he’d have a companion in the afterlife. But my aunt refused, believing my cousin-in-law was a bringer of misfortune, and wanted nothing more to do with her.

Not only did my aunt object, but the villagers all chimed in, unanimously opposing the burial of my cousin-in-law in the old family cemetery, claiming such an unlucky person would ruin its feng shui.

Though Grandfather tried to explain that the curse was dispelled and could not affect the land’s energies, no one listened.

The burial plot and time had already been set, but with their interference, my cousin-in-law could not be buried as planned. Her body had been placed in the coffin, ready for the funeral procession, but after much commotion and conflict with the villagers—nearly coming to blows—the red coffin was carried back again.

Now, her body would have to remain in the mourning shed one more night.

Grandfather sighed, his face clouded with worry. “Every night of delay brings new risks.”

I was afraid, but knew I could do nothing more for Grandfather but stand vigil. So I volunteered to keep watch that night.

Grandfather waved his hand, somewhat comforted, and said, “No need. If trouble comes tonight, even you won’t be able to hold it back.” Seeing my confusion, he added, “The curse is broken, but your cousin-in-law hasn’t been laid to rest. If they insist on making trouble for the dead, they have only themselves to blame.”

“Well, perhaps a little chaos will do them good.”