Chapter 23: There Really Is a Ghost

“When the army was reorganized back then, our old company was disbanded. With my mother growing old and her legs not as nimble as before, I decided to come home and transferred to our fertilizer plant. In the end, the only things that stayed with me were my green military uniform and this belt. This belt bears our national emblem, forged with the blood of countless heroic soldiers; within it lingers the spirit of their valor. No ghost or demon would dare show itself before it.”

Only now did Cui Yue fully understand why such an ordinary belt wielded such power.

He suddenly thought of the resentful look on the ghost’s face that day, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Uncle Zhang, that ghost today refused to leave no matter what and kept muttering about looking for someone. She seemed rather pitiful—maybe she had some unspeakable sorrow?”

“Cui, when a spirit possesses someone, there are always unresolved matters. Perhaps she died unjustly, her resentment so great she refuses to reincarnate,” Zhang Hu responded.

“Do you think she might have been murdered, and is seeking justice?”

“Well, that’s not for us to worry about. The King of Hell is in charge down below—why are you so concerned? If you like, I could call her back for you to ask yourself. How about that?” Zhang Hu chided.

“No, no, I don’t want to see her again.” Cui Yue quickly waved his hands. “I was just asking.”

They drank a few more cups. Zhang Hu kept talking, but Cui Yue could hardly recall his words; he only remembered how Zhang became more spirited and excited the more he drank, his face flushed, energy surging. Cui Yue thought to himself, thankfully the plant manager and party secretary weren’t here, or on his first day of work he’d be out of a job too. How would he explain that at home? His father would surely twist his leg off.

Cui Yue watched as a bottle of baijiu was nearly emptied. Dawn had yet to break, and soon it would be time for another patrol. For Zhang Hu, this amount of liquor was nothing. With a big filter-tipped cigarette dangling from his mouth, Cui Yue used the excuse of going to the bathroom; the room’s thick smoke made his eyes water.

He pushed open the door, drowsy, stretching lazily as he wandered to the back of the house. Just as he unzipped his pants and was about to relieve himself among the flowers and grass, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye—something seemed to flit past ahead.

The moonlight was bleak. The entire factory was eerily silent; not even the usual roar of the machines could be heard. The stray dogs around had all gone quiet. Not a sound.

He saw a woman in work clothes, her long hair draped over her shoulders, drifting slowly around the great locust tree at the heart of the factory. The moon cast shifting shadows over her figure, flickering light and darkness, overlapping with the shade.

Cui Yue’s heart leapt into his throat. He wondered if the drink had made him hallucinate and rubbed his eyes vigorously, but no matter how he looked, all he could see was the woman’s long-haired back; her face remained hidden.

A loud buzzing sounded in Cui Yue’s head, his mind going blank. His limbs wouldn’t obey him; his eyes were fixed on the woman as she circled beneath the tree, her movements infinitely eerie.

Suddenly he remembered what Zhang Hu had said earlier: the living walk with both feet on the ground. He looked down, and—dear heavens—she was floating above the earth, her feet not touching the ground. She wasn’t walking, she was drifting. This—this was a ghost, not a person at all. The place was haunted.

Panic surged through Cui Yue. His body went weak, his hair stood on end, even his urge to urinate vanished; he didn’t even have time to zip his pants.

He racked his brain for every method he’d ever heard of to ward off ghosts, but not a single one would come to mind.

At some point, the long-haired woman stopped beneath the tree, hovering motionless, her face still concealed.

Cui Yue’s heart pounded so fiercely it was about to leap from his chest; all he could hear was his own ragged breathing.

In that brief moment, the ghostly woman, originally dozens of meters away, suddenly appeared less than five meters before him.

The shock made Cui Yue’s scalp tingle, his eyes wide with terror.

The ghost stretched out her hands, slowly parting her long hair to either side, revealing a deathly pale face.

Her eyes were all white, without pupils, emitting a chilling light. Even more horrifying, she had no nose—just a black hole—and her lips were twisted in a mocking, ambiguous smile.

From her eyes poured overwhelming resentment, a venomous hatred Cui Yue knew he would never forget. It was familiar—yes, it was her, it was definitely her.

Cui Yue was so terrified he forgot to breathe. Paralyzed, all he could think of was fleeing, but his body felt as heavy as stone.

The ghost drew closer, her vengeful gaze nearly swallowing him whole, her pallid face only inches from his own.

At that moment, Cui Yue nearly burst into tears, squeezing his eyes shut from sheer terror, assaulted by a nauseating stench.

His heart thudded wildly. In his mind flashed hundreds of possible ways he might die—all of them brutal, organs ripped out, eyes gouged, hearts torn asunder, each more gruesome than the last.

Yesterday, he had dreamt of emperors; tonight, he was to become a midnight feast for ghosts.

“I, Cui Yue, only seventeen, am to lose my life tonight,” he thought. Not even enough time to utter a last wish.

As his thoughts spun in panic, suddenly his throat twitched and he felt his right pinky move slightly; the numbness in his body eased just a little.

Startled, he mustered all his remaining strength and, steeling himself, lunged forward with all his might.

A sharp “thud” rang out.

“Ow!” he cried.

Cui Yue yelped in pain; his forehead throbbed as if he’d slammed into a stone wall. The rebound sent him sprawling onto the ground, flat on his stomach.

Gritting his teeth, he squinted through the pain and glimpsed, standing before him, a figure as solid as an iron tower—broad-shouldered, thick-waisted, glaring fiercely at him.

“Isn’t that Zhang Hu?” Cui Yue pinched himself to be sure. Yes, it really was Zhang Hu.

“Uncle Zhang! Uncle Zhang…” Never before had Cui Yue been so glad to see Zhang Hu; in that moment, he was a savior. Cui Yue scrambled for help, but as he looked around, there was not a trace of the ghostly woman.

“What are you doing, losing your mind in the middle of the night? Did you drink yourself silly?” Zhang Hu scolded, his face dark.

“No, I… I just came out to use the bathroom and I saw… saw…” Cui Yue stammered in terror.

“Saw what? A ghost?” Zhang Hu snapped impatiently. “So much for your supposed drinking skills—now you show your true colors.”

“Yes, yes, I really did see a ghost!” Cui Yue nodded vigorously, like a hammer pounding garlic.

“You blockhead. Did you get so drunk you hit your head? And don’t you dare go home and tell your old man I took you drinking—he’ll curse me to death,” Zhang Hu grumbled. “Hurry up, get inside, tidy yourself up. It’s almost time for another patrol, and shift change is coming soon.”