Chapter Five: The Enigmatic Shrine

Grandfather’s words left me uneasy. Matters like these were beyond my understanding, and I had no idea how to respond to him.

At dusk, Grandfather called for me, asking me to fetch a ritual ruler from his room, saying he’d be heading out soon. I knew the ruler he meant—he had shown it off to me before, claiming it was made from genuine lightning-struck jujube wood. It had been left for him by the Taoist priest who had once saved my life with a talisman-infused potion. Grandfather always said it was a proper Daoist instrument, carved with obscure patterns, and, according to him, capable of warding off evil spirits. Whether that was true or not, I couldn’t say, but he always took it with him when he went out on errands.

Normally, Grandfather kept the ruler as if it were a precious treasure, but tonight, as soon as I entered his room, I found it sitting right on the bedside table. I picked it up, ready to bring it to him, when suddenly, the door behind me slammed shut with a bang.

Then came the click of a lock. Alarmed, I called out, “Grandpa, what are you doing?”

“Stay put at home. Don’t ask so many questions,” he replied, and then he left, locking the main door from outside as well. No matter how I called after him, he gave no answer.

It wasn’t the first or second time I’d been locked inside the house since I was a child, so I was used to it and didn’t think too much of it. All I could do was hope Grandfather would return from his errand safe and sound.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, bored, I flipped through some old books from Grandfather’s bedside. The pages were yellowed and worn, filled with obscure content I couldn’t comprehend, so I tossed them aside.

Beyond the courtyard wall lay a small bamboo grove. The night wind whispered through the stalks, making them rustle and clatter, adding to the night’s desolation. Without realizing it, goosebumps crept up my skin.

I heard a noise at the gate outside.

Rising, I looked that way and saw the gate stood open. I thought Grandfather had returned, but there was no one outside. Only thin night mist drifted at the empty threshold—nothing but darkness beyond.

If Grandfather hadn’t come back, then who had?

Given all that had happened recently, I grew tense, snatching up the ritual ruler from the bedside and gripping it tightly.

Then came the sound of footsteps in the courtyard, though I saw no one.

Holding my breath, I crept toward the window and peered out. Suddenly, right before my eyes appeared a wrinkled old face.

One eye was bloodshot, the other sunken and bruised, exuding an eerie and grotesque aura.

I recoiled in terror, barely stifling a scream, but then, recognizing the face, my fear turned to anger. I shouted, “To hell with you! What are you doing?”

The bellow was as much to bolster my own courage as anything.

“Hey, kid, open the door. Old Ma wants to have a word with you,” the old face said, pressing closer to the window, his one good eye swiveling to peer inside.

“I have nothing to say to you! Get lost!” I snapped. I felt nothing but disgust for him—who knows, maybe he was the one who killed my cousin.

Ma the Cripple let out a cold laugh, then sighed. “You’re about to be killed by Lin Tianjian and you’re still in the dark?”

Lin Tianjian was my grandfather’s name. I couldn’t accept this and roared, “Get lost and stop spouting nonsense!” Grandfather was my only family; I would not allow anyone to slander him.

“Ah, don’t get so worked up, kid. I know why you don’t believe me. You think I’m the one who killed Lin Shuanzi, don’t you?” Ma the Cripple said. The Lin Shuanzi he mentioned was my cousin’s full name.

“If it wasn’t you, why did you go to my cousin’s wife’s mourning hall that night?” I retorted.

Ma the Cripple forced a stiff smile. “I told you, I went there to save you. If I hadn’t, your grandfather would have killed you long ago!”

Before I could reply, he added, “Kid, you really shouldn’t doubt me. I have proof. If you don’t believe me, check your grandfather’s ancestral shrine. You’ll find the answer there.”

In rural homes, old spirit mediums often keep such shrines, usually enshrining various deities and spirits—rarely the orthodox gods, more often lesser or even malevolent ones.

As for what Grandfather worshipped in his shrine, I never knew. The spirit tablet stood beside the ancestral tablet, always covered by a black cloth.

After Ma the Cripple finished speaking, he fell silent.

After a while, the noise outside ceased, and I looked, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Gone?

To be honest, every word Ma the Cripple said stabbed at my heart. Although I found it hard to believe—and didn’t want to believe it—curiosity got the better of me, and I went into Grandfather’s shrine.

The shrine was tucked inside his bedroom, in a windowless room he never let anyone enter. Now, the door was locked.

Grandfather usually left the key above the doorframe. I reached up and, sure enough, found it there.

As soon as I opened the door, a chilling wind struck me in the face.

I instinctively held my breath.

When I turned on the light, the scene before me made me scream in terror.

Someone was hanging from the ceiling, face deathly pale, tongue lolling long and limp like a hanged ghost. But on closer inspection, I realized it was a paper effigy. Grandfather, who had long crafted funeral offerings, was skilled at making lifelike paper figures. This one was so realistic I nearly mistook it for a person—my mind even leapt to my cousin.

The paper man’s face bore that same simple, foolish look as my cousin’s. On its back were eight bloody, sinister characters I couldn’t decipher.

This had to be what Ma the Cripple wanted me to see.

“No need to doubt it—that’s the one. The bloody writing on the paper man’s back is Lin Shuanzi’s birth date and time. It’s a spell to harm people. With this in Lin Tianjian’s shrine, I don’t need to say more. You know now who really killed Lin Shuanzi!”

The voice of Ma the Cripple sounded again from outside.

His meaning was clear: my grandfather had cursed my cousin to death with black magic. My cousin’s death was not payback from his wife.

This was something I simply could not accept, nor believe—that the one I had always revered could have killed my cousin!

No, it was impossible!

The blow was too devastating.

“Kid, I know this is hard to accept. But remember, the truth of this world is often cruel, and you can’t hide from it no matter how you try!”

“Lin Tianjian is not your real grandfather. There’s no blood between you. He raised you not because he loves you, but for his own sake. The cycle of fate, the law of two nines—it's not about you, but about Lin Tianjian himself. He needed a living sacrifice to ward off disaster, and that person was you, whom he raised for eighteen years…”

“Stop! I don’t want to hear any more!”

My heart was being shattered by every word, the pain beyond description.

“You may not want to hear it, but I must say it. Heaven has compassion for life, and I, Ma the Cripple, am not one to stand by and watch someone die! Let me tell you the truth, Lin Shuanzi isn’t actually dead!”

“What?”

My cousin had been found hanging from the persimmon tree, long since dead and stiff by the time he was taken down. How could he not be dead?

“Listen, kid, here’s what you must do: if you burn the paper man hanging from the beam, you’ll break Lin Tianjian’s evil spell, and your cousin will have a chance to come back!”

Ma the Cripple was still speaking.

His words sounded fantastical, much like when Grandfather told me that a bowl of talisman water from that Taoist had once saved my own life from the brink of death.

When I thought about my cousin’s wife’s crime, it wasn’t truly deserving of my cousin’s fate.

If there really was a way to save him, I could never let the chance slip by. Glancing around, I saw a box of matches. I struck one, gritted my teeth, and moved toward the paper man.

The flame flickered.

But just as I brought the match near, a cold wind swept through, snuffing it out.

I tried again, but the result was the same. The chill raised goosebumps all over my body.

At first, I thought nothing of it, blaming the drafty old house. But soon I realized the wind was different—it had a ghostly chill, as if blowing down from above.

Glancing up, I saw the paper effigy hanging from the beam grinning at me.

Its lips were blood-red, twisted in a rigid, grotesque smile.

It was as eerie as could be.

I bolted—there was no way I would stay another moment in Grandfather’s shrine.

Rushing into Grandfather’s bedroom, I clutched the ritual ruler tightly. Thankfully, there was no further movement from the shrine. But now, I heard a commotion in the courtyard. Looking out, I saw two figures grappling—one limping, the other all too familiar: my grandfather.

Grandfather held an axe and brought it down hard on Ma the Cripple’s back. With a muffled groan, Ma the Cripple collapsed. With a cold laugh, Grandfather hefted the axe and strode toward the house where I was hiding.

Under the pitch-black sky, Grandfather’s face was shrouded in darkness.

The icy axe glinted with a deadly chill.

I couldn’t see Grandfather’s expression, but the oppressive terror in the air was suffocating—I hardly dared to breathe.