Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Drowned Spirit

Cui Yue bent down, ready to hoist the little boy onto his shoulder and leave. To his surprise, when he wrapped his hands around the boy’s waist and gave a firm lift, he found he could not pick him up.

“How strange!” he muttered inwardly. No wonder people say that when you’re in a bad mood, even a drop of wine can make you drunk, while in high spirits, you could drink a thousand cups and not falter. Tonight, his mood was low, and after just a moderate drink, his arms were weak—so weak he could not even lift a mere child yet to be weaned.

He was about to try again when the boy began to wail and struggle.

“I won’t go! I won’t go! He’s a bad man, I don’t want to go!” the boy cried, thrashing.

Cui Yue thought the child was babbling nonsense, but paid it no mind. He braced himself, ready to muster all his strength and sling the boy over his shoulder.

Suddenly, Cui Yue noticed the boy in front of him had lowered his head, and his teeth were chattering with a chilling, crackling sound that sent a shiver down his spine.

Abruptly, the boy emitted a strange shriek and looked up. At some point, his eyes had turned entirely black and his face had become swollen and deathly pale. His skin seemed to puff outward as if inflated, beads of water seeping from every pore, making his whole body appear grotesquely distended. Those black eyes bore into Cui Yue, his face twisted in an eerie grimace. He spoke, each word emerging slowly and deliberately:

“Big brother, don’t leave. I want you to stay and play with me. You’re not allowed to go anywhere.”

A chill ran down Cui Yue’s back. He could hardly move his legs, let alone run. Who would have thought that the pitiful little boy just moments ago would transform into such a ghastly apparition? A ghostly apparition? Could it be this boy wasn’t even human—he was... he was... a ghost!

Regaining his senses, Cui Yue let out a piercing scream, stammering for mercy:

“Good, good boy, b-b-brother has something to do, I’ll come play with you another day, another day...”

His words tumbled over themselves, but he had barely turned around when—

A cold, sinister voice came from behind:

“No, you’re not allowed to leave. I want you to stay with me forever and ever. Hee hee hee...”

A shrill, eerie laughter echoed along the empty riverbank.

Cui Yue thought, It’s not that I don’t want to play with you, but if I play with you now, I’m afraid I’ll never make it back. I haven’t had enough of this world yet—I’m not ready to report to the other side. You go play on your own, don’t drag me into this.

Gone was any trace of cuteness from the little brat. His face was twisted with malice, his mouth bristling with rows of jagged teeth. His small hands, swollen and deformed from soaking in water, gripped Cui Yue’s arm and yanked with sudden force. Caught off guard, Cui Yue staggered, nearly tumbling down the riverbank.

He quickly steadied himself, finally prying the boy’s grip from his arm. In the moonlight, he saw several dark marks on his arm, each matching the size of the boy’s small hand.

Cui Yue was shocked—what was this? Had he been infected by corpse poison, or had something unclean attached itself to him?

Before he could think further, a searing pain shot up from his leg—a tight, agonizing grip. Looking down, he saw the boy had clamped onto his leg, soaking his trousers with icy water.

No matter how hard he struggled, Cui Yue could not shake the boy off. Gradually, he felt his body being dragged inch by inch, backward. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the boy was pulling him slowly toward the river, his pale, swollen hands like steel claws, digging deep into Cui Yue’s flesh, making him groan in pain.

For a little ghost, his strength was terrifying!

Staring at the rushing Wei River just a stone’s throw away, panic surged in Cui Yue’s heart. He had nothing at hand to defend himself, and the little brat was about to haul him into the water.

Suddenly, the boy’s earlier words flashed in his mind—he wanted Cui Yue to stay with him forever and ever! Was he planning to drag Cui Yue into the river and drown him, turning him into another ghostly playmate? Then they really would be together forever, never to part.

Cui Yue recalled the stories of water ghosts seeking substitutes. The legend held that water ghosts were the souls of those who drowned before their allotted time, their resentment too deep to dissolve. Submerged in cold agony day and night, denied passage to the next life, they could only be free if they found a living substitute—dragging someone into the water to die in their place. Only then could the original water ghost reincarnate, leaving the new victim to bear their endless suffering. Thus the cycle continued, an inescapable loop.

Looking at the boy now, Cui Yue was certain—he was a water ghost, intent on dragging him into the river to die as a substitute, forever denied rebirth.

A cold sweat broke out on Cui Yue’s back, his spine tingling. His hands were scraped raw against the ground, desperate for purchase, but nothing helped. The riverbank loomed closer and closer, and soon he would tumble in.

The night was thick and empty; if anyone had been on the bank, they would have witnessed a bizarre scene: a child of six or seven, clutching a grown man’s leg, straining to drag him toward the river. The man, helpless as a chick, struggled desperately at the edge. The sight would have been both darkly comical and deeply disturbing.

Cui Yue’s body now hung almost entirely over the riverbank, his hands clutching a sharp rock jutting from the edge. He cursed his luck over and over—ambushed, betrayed, and now even the water ghost wouldn’t spare him, determined to drag him down to a watery grave, to join the ranks of the damned. The thought only tightened the suffocating pressure in his chest.

He was at his wit’s end, wishing he’d anticipated this and stolen Zhang Hu’s belt earlier. That beating would have scattered this ghost’s soul—this little fiend wouldn’t have dared touch him.

Cui Yue watched helplessly as his arms grew numb, his hands trembling. Desperation mounting, he drew a deep breath, mustered all his strength, and jerked his legs with one last effort. The little ghost, caught off guard, lost his grip on Cui Yue’s right leg, leaving it dangling in midair.

The boy lunged, his pale, swollen hands reaching again, but Cui Yue would not squander such an opportunity. With his leg free and having learned the boy’s tricks, he would not let himself be caught again. Throwing all caution aside, he knew that if he missed this chance, he would surely end up as another water ghost in the Wei River.

Cui Yue drew his right leg back and, pouring every last ounce of strength into it, kicked at the boy’s sodden head. The force was so great, he nearly tore his shoe.

Take that, you little demon—let’s see if you survive this!

In that desperate moment between life and death, Cui Yue fought with a fury born of terror.