What astonished us was that this turtle shell, as large as a traditional eight-immortals table, was not made from stitched-together small shells—it was one single, flawless piece. Under the sun, its surface glowed with a faint jade-like light, as if reflecting the long-lost ancient past.
In all my life, the largest turtle I've ever seen was only about the size of a washbasin—caught by Grandpa in the Yellow River—but he later released it. He claimed it had lived in the river for over a century and had become a spiritual beast; it shouldn't be harmed, or misfortune would follow.
I turned to Grandpa and asked, "Have you ever seen a turtle that large before?"
Grandpa reached out and ran his hand over the hard shell.
"I've worked the Yellow River for over fifty years and never seen such a giant. But an old river worker once told me a strange tale: the 'Nine Turtles Carrying a Serpent'—and it mentioned turtles of this size."
Gu Meidi, intrigued, put down her tools and turned to Grandpa: "Grandpa, I want to hear about those Nine Turtles carrying the serpent!"
How could Grandpa refuse such a request from his "future granddaughter-in-law"? He pulled over a small stool, sat down, and in his gravelly voice began:
"In the early Republic era, one year after a great Yellow River flood, fishermen spotted a massive gray-white log floating on the water. Peculiarly, white scales shimmered on its surface in the sunlight. Curious, they rowed closer and tried hooking it to inspect. Suddenly it moved—and to their horror, they realized it wasn't a log, but a gigantic gray python. Its head was as large as a wheel, spraying mist from its mouth."
"The fishermen froze—they had never seen such a serpent. It stretched over twenty meters, as thick as a water vat, coated in silvery-white scales. Its eyes glowed red like blood, each fist-sized. Its long crimson tongue waved like a whip in the air, hissing ominously."
"They dared not move, only watched as the giant serpent drifted past—without slithering, just carried by the current. No wonder they thought it was a log."
"But as it passed, sharp-eyed fishermen noticed a line of immense dark shadows beneath it. A few braver souls followed it quietly, nearly a kilometer downstream, until the serpent began to float higher and the shadows revealed themselves."
"Those fishermen finally saw clearly: nine massive tortoises chained head-to-tail, forming a line like skewered roast. And the gray-white python lay comfortably atop their shells, carried along. To this day, scholars have no explanation."
"Some say the python wasn't ordinary, but the Dragon Prince of the Yellow River, guarded by nine giant tortoises tasked with carrying him to the river mouth. When they reach the ocean, he would ascend and transform into a dragon."
We stared at Grandpa with mouths agape—so many phenomena defied explanation. Would that serpent truly become a dragon? Nobody could say.
I retrieved a shovel and hammer from the tool kit. "Alright, let's open this coffin now!"
Gu Meidi squatted beside the shell, examining it through her magnifying glass. She tapped the coffin—dull thud echoed inside.
Her eyes lit up. "Wow! This coffin is made of ancient submerged wood!"
Submerged wood (yinchen wood) is rare: buried in anaerobic lowlands for millennia, compressed and mineralized into a substance both elegant and stone-like, it resists rot, humidity, insects—it was reserved only for royalty in ancient times. Its usage implied high status.
Gu Meidi and I exchanged glances. If the coffin was made of that precious material, the person inside must've been nobility. This trip was not in vain. What dynasty did it date to? Who was inside? We'd need to open it to find out.
I circled the coffin with my hammer—no visible seams. It was a monolithic block. I blinked, thinking perhaps it was not a coffin at all, but a single piece of wood.
"Tuoba Gu, come here!" Gu Meidi beckoned, still holding her magnifier.
I knelt beside her. She pointed at a small silver clasp embedded inside the shell's rim—hard to spot.
"What's this?" I asked, confused.
She replied, "Looks like a tiny latch mechanism. Let me pull it."
I nodded. "Be careful!"
"Don't worry, I got this," she said, rolling up her sleeve. She hooked the latch and pulled firmly.
After two seconds of silence—click click click—a faint mechanism engaged. I held the hammer ready, poised in case something sinister emerged.
"Look! Look!" Gu Meidi called excitedly.
A drawer-like inner coffin slid slowly out from the center. My jaw dropped. This design was masterful—once the latch was triggered, the hidden coffin slid out like a drawer, ingenious in its simplicity.
Inside lay a young man, peaceful in death. Even after all those years, his features remained clear, flesh intact, no signs of decay. At first glance, it looked like he was sleeping. I gently touched his skin—it still had elasticity. The coffin had preserved him remarkably.
His face was long and narrow, his nose strong, eyes deep-set. He wore a spiked steel helm and black armor; his right hand gripped a curved Cold Moon blade. Though he'd slept for centuries, an intense aura of martial prowess still radiated from him.
I paused—this wasn't the noble in dragon robes we'd expected; it was a warrior.
I said, "From his attire, this was a warrior. But not an ordinary one—otherwise, he wouldn't get such a luxurious coffin."
"Indeed," Gu Meidi nodded. "His physical features don't resemble Central Plains people—he looks more like someone from the Western regions."
We wore gloves and examined him from head to toe—there was not a single funerary item on or around him. A surprising detail.
Gu Meidi then suggested, "Let's turn him over. Some burials place valuables underneath the body."
I agreed. Grandpa fetched a grass mat. We gently moved the body onto it and turned him over.
I reached beneath the coffin; she examined his back.
Disappointingly, there was nothing—no offerings, no artifacts.
Then Gu Meidi called quietly. My heart leapt. "Found something?"
"No," she whispered. "No treasure. But pull down slightly on his armor—look here."
Under the armor, at the nape of his neck, was a tattoo: a vivid eyeball, like an actual eye growing from his flesh. The iris was a ghostly green, the pupil locked in a chilling, cold stare. I shivered uncontrollably.
Unable to look longer, I turned to her. "Do you know any culture that worships an eye symbol or has an eyeball totem?"
She shook her head. "In all my stored knowledge, no record of such a tattoo exists."
If even Gu Meidi doesn't know, this is truly beyond ordinary. I took out my phone and snapped several pictures of the corpse and tattoo, then sent them to Professor Ye—in hopes that his wisdom can shed light on this mystery.
After hours without new clues, we carefully closed the coffin and agreed to wait for Professor Ye's response before making further decisions.
The day slipped by quickly, and by dinner, Gu Meidi was once again sharing a jar of vintage huadiao wine with her grandfather. Though she looked delicate and fair-skinned, Gu Meidi proved surprisingly tolerant of alcohol. After a few cups, a soft blush crept onto her cheeks, making her porcelain skin glow even more. She appeared even more radiant, exuding an unexpected and captivating femininity.
By the time they finished dinner, it was already past ten. Full and slightly tipsy, Grandpa retired to his room for the night. Gu Meidi, still hiccupping softly from the wine, sat out in the courtyard to cool off. The Yellow River at night seemed especially deep and mysterious. Under the pale moonlight, its surface looked like a silver-gray shroud, drifting silently in the darkness.
As she gently fanned herself and hummed a quiet tune, Gu Meidi suddenly noticed faint lights flickering across the river's surface. Narrowing her eyes, she saw the lights slowly drifting toward the shore. Upon closer inspection, she counted about six or seven of them moving in eerie unison.
Curious and slightly intrigued, Gu Meidi guessed someone might be night fishing. She rushed inside and called her grandfather to come and take a look. Grandfather stepped out, rubbing his sleepy eyes. But as soon as he saw the lights, his expression darkened. "That's… ghost fire! Not fishing boats! Get inside, now!"Gu Meidi was startled, but her curiosity outweighed her fear—she sneaked one last glance. What she saw this time nearly made her scream. The lights weren't floating on the water but eerily suspended in the air, as if held aloft by invisible hands. They bobbed gently—rising, falling—blinking in and out of sight.
"You might've just seen a ghost ship," Grandpa murmured grimly.
A Ghost Ship?!
Gu Meidi and I were startled at the same time. A chill crept up our spines like a poisonous snake, causing our bodies to shiver uncontrollably.
Grandpa said, "The ferry you mentioned, the Chaoyang, actually sank two years ago. At that time, the ferry was seriously overloaded and capsized in the middle of the river, causing many deaths!"
He paused, then continued, "Luckily you didn't board it rashly. If you had stepped on that ghost ship, it would have carried you straight to hell, and you'd never come back!"
For centuries, there have been legends about ghost ships on the ancient Yellow River. Many fishermen have claimed to see ghost ships—not only sunken vessels sailing on the water's surface but even ancient official boats with beautiful palace maidens dancing onboard. No one can explain where these ghost ships come from, and even the scientific community has no conclusion. The Yellow River ghost ship phenomena are similar to famous ghost ship events worldwide. Scientists generally believe their appearance may be related to space-time rifts or time reversal.
Gu Meidi and I are not timid people, but today's experience truly frightened us. We took a hot shower and went to bed early. The new house's second floor has several bedrooms; Gu Meidi and I each slept in one.
Before sleeping, I looked up news about the "Chaoyang ferry sinking" on my phone. The Baidu webpage instantly popped up many articles on the Chaoyang ferry disaster. Grandpa wasn't bluffing—the ferry really sank two years ago, causing many deaths and making a big impact in Henan. Many media outlets reported the incident. The news sites even had photos of the Chaoyang ferry. Looking at those photos sent a chill deep into my bones. The ferry in the pictures was exactly like the ghost ship we saw at dusk—the flag fluttering vividly in the wind left the deepest impression.
I turned off my phone and closed my eyes, but my mind swirled with countless images: the eerie turtle coffin, the mysterious eyeball tattoo, the terrifying Yellow River ghost ship, and Gu Meidi's beautiful face…
I tossed and turned in bed, unable to fall asleep. In a half-dream state, I sensed someone entering my bedroom. I sat up sharply, "Who's there?"
"It's me!" Gu Meidi's voice whispered by my ear.
I switched on the desk lamp. What I saw made my blood rush: Gu Meidi wore a translucent white nightgown, her long black hair draped over her shoulders, faintly revealing the deep cleavage in her chest and her long, pale legs exposed to the air—utterly seductive.
I was stunned, staring at her blankly, my heart racing wildly. "You… what are you doing?"
At that moment, I wondered—if Gu Meidi suddenly threw herself onto my bed, would I resist? Or submit? Or pretend to resist then happily submit?
Unfortunately, that fantasy never came true. Gu Meidi sat down on the sofa in my room. "I… can't really sleep…"
I yawned. "What? Are you still scared?"
Gu Meidi pursed her lips, as if I hit a sore spot, but denied it with her mouth: "No way! Who's scared? I'm not a coward!"
I smiled silently—what a strong-willed woman!
"You can sleep in my bed!" I said.
I only meant it kindly, but Gu Meidi looked at me warily. "What are you planning? I warn you, better get rid of those evil thoughts!"
I protested loudly, raising my right hand to swear: "Heaven and earth witness, I have no evil thoughts! I mean, you sleep in my bed, I'll sleep on the sofa!"
Gu Meidi looked at me. "Really?"
I nodded. "Really!"
"Then get off the bed already!" Gu Meidi happily rushed over and immediately shoved me off the bed.
She hid under the covers, blinking big eyes. "Hey! I still can't sleep. How about you tell me a story?"
I rolled my eyes. "Lady, I didn't sleep last night, and today's been bumpy all day. I don't have the strength to mess around with you—I want to sleep!" Saying this, I turned over, showing my full backside to Gu Meidi.
"You're no fun!" Gu Meidi snapped off the lamp.
Darkness swallowed the room again. The countryside night was silent, completely still—no sound at all.
Sleepiness crept over me, and I drifted off drowsily. In a half-dream state, I vaguely heard a strange sound: "Thump! Thump! Thump!"
At first, I thought Gu Meidi was grinding her teeth, but the sound grew clearer and didn't sound like teeth grinding. Just as I wanted to ask what she was doing at this hour, Gu Meidi beat me to it: "Tuoba Gu, what are you doing? That thumping noise is awful!"
"Huh? I thought it was you making the noise!" I felt wronged.
"You're crazy! Wasn't it you?" Gu Meidi asked.
"I really wasn't! And not you either?"
"Of course not! I was almost asleep!"
"Shh!" I made a shushing gesture and leaned on the windowsill to listen carefully.
After a while, I turned to Gu Meidi and said, "Sounds like it's coming from the old house!"
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The strange sound was especially clear in the quiet night.
Gu Meidi said, "Could Grandpa be banging something inside the old house?"
Just after she said that, we saw Grandpa put on his coat and hurried out from downstairs, heading toward the old house.
If it's not Grandpa, then who could it be inside the old house?
I couldn't sit still anymore. I threw on some clothes and headed outside.
Gu Meidi jumped out of bed after me, "Hey, don't leave me here alone! Wait for me!"
In the dark, Gu Meidi grabbed my hand tightly and hurried downstairs with me.
For safety, as we passed the kitchen, I grabbed a kitchen knife off the cutting board.
The old house was gloomy and oppressive, like a silent tomb.
We followed the sound to the backyard, where a dim yellow light glowed. Behind it was Grandpa's pale and aged face. He held a kerosene lamp in one hand and a six-pronged steel rake used for tilling the field in the other. The rake gleamed coldly in the dark.
"You're here?" Grandpa asked without turning, still sharp of hearing despite his age.
We nodded and stood behind him.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The strange noise was unmistakable. We realized it came from the turtle coffin.
That pitch-black, gloomy wooden turtle coffin lay horizontally in the yard's center. Moonlight poured over it, casting a desolate, fearful glow. The moonlight seemed swallowed by the coffin, not reflecting a single gleam.
We stared at the turtle coffin, a cold dread rising in our hearts. How could such strange sounds come from inside a coffin?
I nervously said, "I'll go check it out!"
Grandpa raised the rake to block me, "Don't be impulsive. Let's wait and see."
As he finished speaking, a soft click sounded. The drawer in the middle of the turtle coffin slid out on its own. Simultaneously, a pale hand slowly reached out from the coffin.
The sight made our hair stand on end. We never imagined a scene from a horror movie could come alive in front of us. I shivered involuntarily and gripped the kitchen knife tightly.
Gu Meidi whispered, "A corpse revival! Is this the legendary 'corpse uprising'?"
At that moment, a cloud of dark green corpse aura billowed from the coffin. The ancient corpse that had slept for thousands of years suddenly 'awakened.' Its limbs stiff, it staggered as it climbed out of the coffin.
Although we had faced many corpses and tombs with Professor Ye, we had never seen an ancient corpse revive like this. The corpse stood expressionless in the yard's center, holding a cold-moon blade that gleamed menacingly.
We all gasped sharply. Despite the seven or eight meters distance, we could clearly feel the strong killing intent radiating from the corpse. It didn't seem like a corpse but a living man—a highly skilled Western warrior with a solemn and murderous expression.
Over the years, I traveled all over with Professor Ye, entering countless tombs and dealing with many corpses. I had never been scared. But this time, I had to admit I was afraid. It felt like an invisible hand reached out in the darkness, gripping my throat and slowly tightening. My breathing grew rapid.
Grandpa suddenly spat on the ground, set down the kerosene lamp, and rushed forward, wielding the six-pronged rake.
"Yah!"
Grandpa shouted, swinging the rake in a bright arc, hitting the Western warrior's head heavily.
We expected the warrior's head to burst like a watermelon. Unexpectedly, a crisp clang sounded where the rake hit. Sparks flew from the warrior's head, and the rake bounced back, forcing Grandpa to stagger three steps.
Gu Meidi gasped, "My goodness! Is this guy Iron Man?"
At this point, I stopped caring about anything else. The only thought in my mind was to protect Grandpa and Gu Meidi no matter how terrifying this Western warrior was.
I roared and charged forward with the kitchen knife in hand, feeling like a street brawler.
Later, Gu Meidi told me she thought I looked incredibly cool at that moment.
I took a few quick steps up to the Western warrior and began wildly hacking with the knife. The sound of metal clashing rang out continuously. The warrior seemed invincible; my knife was chipped, but no scratches appeared on his body.
Just as I was gasping for breath, a sudden flash of cold steel cut through the air—the Western warrior lunged toward me, swinging his Cold Moon Blade. My heart nearly stopped. I raised the kitchen knife above my head in a panic. With a sharp clang, the blade split my knife clean in two. Terrified, I tossed the broken handle aside and staggered back five meters.
The sound of slicing wind echoed around us as the warrior's blade spun in arcs of silver light, each swing cleaving through the air. My grandfather's six-pronged rake was chopped into splinters in mere seconds.
Frantic, I shouted, "If only we had some black dog blood or a donkey's hoof—heck, even glutinous rice might work right now!"
Gu Meidi frowned. "You actually believe that stuff works on reanimated corpses?"
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "But I'm out of ideas! Quick—go check the kitchen, see if there's any sticky rice!"
Gu Meidi stomped her foot and turned to run off, but just then, my grandfather bellowed, "Meidi! Grab the yellow talismans from the inner room—on the table!"
Without hesitation, Gu Meidi darted inside and returned moments later with a handful of talismans. I immediately understood—Grandpa was going to use corpse-binding charms. He had drawn them days ago before heading out on the river to fish for bodies.
The Western warrior marched forward with deadly calm, blade in hand, eyes fixed on us.
"Tuoba Gu! Meidi! Behind me—now!" Grandpa ordered.
Despite his age and hunched posture, at that moment, Grandpa stood like a mountain—solid, unyielding.
When the warrior came within three meters, Grandpa lunged forward and slapped a talisman directly onto his forehead. But to our horror, it had no effect. The warrior raised his blade and slashed downward. Fortunately, Grandpa dodged just in time, narrowly avoiding the lethal strike.
"Grandpa! Are you okay?" I rushed over and caught him.
"I don't understand… Why didn't the talisman work?" he muttered, bewildered.
BANG—
A gunshot rang out. The air reeked of gunpowder. The warrior's skull burst like a melon, bone fragments flying. He collapsed instantly.
Turning, I saw Gu Meidi holding a gleaming old hunting rifle, the barrel still smoking.
"I saw it hanging on the wall when I went for the talismans," she explained, lowering the weapon and wiping sweat from her brow.
"Well done!" Grandpa nodded, impressed. Then, with a sigh, he looked at the fallen corpse and muttered, "Damn it… I thought we'd hauled up some ancient treasure, but turns out it was a cursed relic. Sorry, Meidi, for putting you in danger."
Meidi smiled. "I study archaeology. Weird stuff like this doesn't scare me."
Grandpa bent down to pick up the kerosene lamp—and gasped. "What the hell is this?"
A bizarre insect crawled from the shattered remains of the warrior's head—unlike anything I'd ever seen. It was over an inch long, dark red, and wriggled like a chunk of raw intestine. It had no legs, just a rippling, wave-like motion. On its head were four soft tendrils that spread apart with each slither, revealing a cross-shaped mouth that dribbled thick, dark green mucus. The fluid hissed as it hit the floor, eating into the surface like acid.
I grimaced. "What the hell is that thing? That's disgusting!"
Grandpa instinctively raised his foot to squash it.
"No, wait!" Gu Meidi stopped him. "If you crush it, that acidic goo might spray everywhere. If it touches skin, we're screwed."
Grandpa paused. "Good point. So how do we deal with this nasty thing?"
"Fire," Meidi said, grabbing the kerosene lamp. She hurled it at the insect. The lamp shattered, dousing it in oil. Flames surged around the creature. It writhed and popped, burning with a foul, acrid stench that made us all cover our noses.
We waited until the fire died down. The thing was nothing but ash.
"What kind of monster was that?" Grandpa asked. "Why was it inside the corpse's head?"
I looked to Gu Meidi. She was our encyclopedia of the bizarre, and she'd already proven she knew how to handle the thing.
After a thoughtful pause, she said, "If I'm right, that was a long-lost species known as the Death Worm of the Western Regions."
The Death Worm?
Just the name gave me chills.
"It's been over a thousand years since it was last documented," she explained. "Once found in the deserts of the Western frontier, it could burrow into a host's brain and take control. People used to call it the Death Worm. Ancient sorcerers even used it in tomb rituals. They would implant the worm into a living person's brain. The worm would hibernate, the host would die, and years later—when certain conditions were met—the worm would reawaken… and so would the body. But it wouldn't be the person anymore. The brain would be consumed, and the corpse would become a puppet controlled entirely by the worm."
"No wonder…" Grandpa muttered. "No wonder my charms didn't work."
I asked, "What conditions would cause the worm to wake up?"
"Probably temperature," Meidi said. "It's been unusually warm lately, and that coffin sat in direct sunlight all day. The heat might've triggered the worm."
I nodded. Made sense.
"Oh, and one more thing," she added. "That was just a juvenile. Folklore says adults can grow as thick as pythons—and the largest ever described was the length of a train. The last documented encounter was in 1926, when an American professor exploring the region wrote about local legends. In the early '90s, a team went looking for it in the desert… but no one knows if they ever made it back."
I shuddered. "This thing might be some kind of mutant—or worse, an alien."
After burning the headless corpse to prevent further trouble, we finally called it a night. That one day had been terrifying enough. Two supernatural incidents in less than 24 hours—no wonder I was completely drained.
The next day, I didn't wake up until the sun was low in the sky. Outside, twilight had settled over the village, and smoke from dinner fires curled into the dusky air. I stretched, planning to enjoy a moment of peace and maybe recite some poetry—when I heard a shout from the courtyard.
"Tuoba Gu! Are you planning to sleep through the whole week?" Gu Meidi stood below, hands on her hips, looking up at my window.
I jolted and waved awkwardly. "I'm up! I'm up!"
"Dinner's ready!" she called.
My stomach growled at the mention of food. I yelled back, "Coming!" and bounded downstairs.
The courtyard table was already laid out—colorful dishes steaming in the evening air. The smell alone made my mouth water. Meidi was still bustling around the kitchen in her apron.
Grandpa puffed on his pipe and grinned at me. "You always looked like a fool, and I worried you'd never bring home a wife. But now? You've outdone yourself—this girl's smart, pretty, and can cook! Don't let her slip away. You must've done something good in your past life!"
I mumbled a reply around a bite of duck leg, too embarrassed to explain that Meidi was just my colleague.
She sat down beside me and smiled. "These are some of my best northeastern dishes. Try them!"
"They're amazing!" I gave her a thumbs-up. "You're the full package!"
"Darn right!" she said proudly. "Any guy who marries me wins the jackpot!"
Grandpa set his chopsticks down and sipped his liquor. "So Meidi, how long have you and Tuoba Gu been together?"
"Huh?" She hesitated, then said casually, "Oh, we've known each other since college—two or three years, maybe?"
Grandpa glared at me. "You little rascal! I asked you at New Year if you had a girlfriend—you said no! So you've been hiding her all this time?"
"I… I wasn't trying to hide anything!" I stammered. "I just wanted to wait until things were more… official before telling you."
"So things are official now?" Grandpa squinted at us.
Meidi and I exchanged an awkward glance. "More or less," we replied in unison.
Grandpa stood up and returned with a household registration book, placing it in front of me. "Tuoba Gu," he said seriously, "listen to your grandpa—don't let a good girl like Xiaodi slip away. Here's the registration booklet. Once you get back to the city, pick a lucky date and go register your marriage!"
I gave Gu Meidi a sheepish glance. Her face flushed red instantly.
I hurriedly responded, "Grandpa, marriage isn't something we can rush. Xiaodi and I are still working hard on our careers. We're not quite ready yet…"
"Nonsense!" Grandpa slammed the table. "You know what they say—men and women working together make things easier! Once you two get married, you'll both work harder with more heart in it!"
I said, "Grandpa, it's not just up to us. We should at least get Xiaodi's parents' blessing first, right?" While saying that, I gave Gu Meidi a gentle nudge under the table.
She caught my signal immediately and forced a bright smile. "That's right, Grandpa. Marriage is a big deal. No matter what, I should talk to my parents first!"
"Ah, you're right, you're right!" Grandpa patted his head. "Look at me, getting senile—only thinking about my own happiness. Xiaodi, my grandson is actually a fine young man. Sure, he might not be the best-looking, but he's got a good heart—smart, hardworking, and ambitious! He's definitely got potential. You won't regret picking him! Not at all! Hahaha!"
I sighed inwardly. Grandpa… were you complimenting me or roasting me just now?
Grandpa was laughing heartily now. Gu Meidi seized the chance to change the subject: "Oh, by the way, Professor Ye called me this afternoon!"
"Oh? What did he say?"
"Based on the appearance and clothing of the corpse, he suspects it might be a Xixia warrior!"
A Xixia warrior? The Western Xia dynasty existed more than a thousand years ago, founded by the Tangut people in the northwest region of ancient China. It once flourished and left a notable mark on Chinese history. Meidi had mentioned that the parasite linked to death was recorded as far back as a millennium ago, and since it was found inside the skull of an ancient corpse, the timeline matched the Western Xia era perfectly.
"What about the eyeball tattoo?" I asked.
Meidi replied, "Professor Ye didn't have an answer for that. There's no historical evidence of the Xixia people worshipping eyes. He suspects it might've just been a personal symbol of that warrior."
I nodded. "Any updates from the excavation site in Zhengzhou?"
"Only two days have passed! Why are you more anxious than the archaeologists themselves?" she laughed. "Professor Ye said this week is all routine digging, and there's nothing we need to do, so he told us to treat it like a mini-vacation—relax for a few days before heading back."
I looked at Grandpa's weathered face, a wave of guilt and sadness rising in my chest. Maybe staying a few extra days with him wasn't such a bad idea. I'd been studying and working away from home for so long, constantly rushing about. Life had made me forget many things I shouldn't have forgotten.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and raised my cup. "Come on, Grandpa, let's drink together—just us two!"
We stayed in the countryside for a week. During those days, Meidi and I were practically inseparable. The neighbors kept praising her, saying I had found myself a beautiful, virtuous wife. Even though she wasn't really my wife—at least not yet—I couldn't help but feel proud. Men are vain like that. When others praise your woman, it's like you've grown wings.
Half-joking, Meidi said, "Look at that smug face of yours. Next time you come back, if the girl by your side isn't as pretty as me, be prepared for a scolding!"
I laughed, "Then I'll just bring you back again."
She smiled slyly. "Dream on! You want me to keep playing your fake girlfriend? Fine, impress me with your performance."
Watching her graceful figure walk ahead, I silently made a promise: Next time I return to this village, I'll make sure she comes back as my real fiancée.
Suddenly, the phone rang from the back room. Grandpa stood up to answer it, and when he came out, his face had turned grim.
"Grandpa? Who was it?" I noticed his change in expression right away.
He sighed, took a sip of his wine, then set the cup down heavily. "Old Kui passed away. Tomorrow morning, you're coming with me to Panshi Village."
"Old Kui? That name rings a bell… who was he?"
"A veteran Yellow River worker," Grandpa said plainly.
"Oh! That's right—he was the one! He died? How?" I suddenly remembered—his real name was Liu Kui, an old hand who had spent his whole life working on the Yellow River. He'd even led the team during the infamous blue-scaled fish incident in '98. I couldn't believe that enigmatic river craftsman had died.
"How? Of old age, what else?" Grandpa murmured, taking another sip. His cloudy eyes seemed distant, as if lost in memory.
I recalled that even though Grandpa and Old Kui were both Yellow River craftsmen, they rarely interacted. Villagers used to say they had some kind of falling out. But after all these years, and now that Old Kui was gone, it seemed any grudges had faded too. No wonder Grandpa agreed to visit his funeral.
The next morning, we left for Panshi Village, located several miles upriver from Hezi Village. We hitched a ride on a local's tractor, bouncing all the way there. As we neared the village, we saw tall white mourning banners with bold black characters fluttering at the entrance.
Old Kui was well-known in Panshi. He'd exorcised many strange things from the Yellow River and was deeply respected. His passing brought nearly the whole village out to mourn.
"He sure went out with style," Grandpa said with a faint smile, puffing on his dry tobacco pipe.
There was quite a crowd—not just locals, but people from surrounding villages too. We were warmly welcomed when they heard we had come to pay our respects.
Old Kui's house sat behind a grove of bamboo, surrounded by a picket fence. Inside was a traditional courtyard home with a yard out front for drying grains and bedding. The gate was lined with wreaths stretching dozens of meters. White paper decorations fluttered in the wind, while the courtyard was scattered with yellow paper resembling ancient coins, swirling through the air like golden leaves.
In the central hall stood a black lacquered coffin, polished and gleaming, set upon two wooden benches. Before it was a framed black-and-white portrait of Old Kui, flanked by tall white candles and a brass brazier. Family members knelt beside it, dressed in mourning garb, burning joss paper through their tears.
Grandpa lit a stick of incense, circled the coffin once, then gently patted it and sighed deeply. He left the hall without saying a word.
As we left the village, I asked, "Were you close with Old Kui?"
Grandpa paused. "Close? I suppose… and not close, too."
He wasn't being clear, but I could sense they had shared something deep. Something personal. Whatever their history was, Grandpa wasn't ready to talk about it, and I didn't push. When he's ready, he'll tell me.
By the time we returned to Hezi Village, the sun was already setting. Grandpa remained mostly silent the entire way, gazing up at the sky, as if weighed down by old memories.
That night, exhausted from the journey, we ate a simple meal and went to bed early. I hadn't slept properly for days and hoped to finally get a peaceful night's rest.
The countryside was silent. Soon, sleep took me. But sometime in the middle of the night, I heard a voice calling me.
"Xiao Gu… Xiao Gu…"（The Xiang Gu is his nickname.)
The voice was hoarse and distant, echoing as though it came from both near and far. It called me several times before I finally opened my eyes—and saw a shadowy figure standing at the foot of my bed.
Sleep fled me in an instant. I tried to scream, but my throat was blocked, no sound came out. I couldn't move either—my arms and legs were paralyzed, as if I'd become a corpse.
The moonlight slanted in through the window, faintly illuminating the room. I saw an old man with wrinkled features and white hair fluttering in the wind.
But… I was sure I had closed the window before bed. There shouldn't be any wind.
At first, I thought it was Grandpa. But no—the figure was broader, stockier, and shorter than Grandpa.
My heart trembled.
Who was this old man standing beside my bed?
At that moment, the slanting moonlight crept closer to the bed, and the old man's face slowly became clearer.
It was a stranger—an old man I had never met before. Yet somehow, he seemed vaguely familiar, like someone I'd glimpsed somewhere long ago.
He wore all black—black clothes, black pants, black cloth shoes—and stood silently at my bedside like some ghost rising from the earth. I stared at him for a moment, and then my whole body began to tremble uncontrollably. That was when I noticed… the old man was dressed in burial clothes—the kind meant for the dead.
I was so terrified I nearly pissed myself. But I couldn't move, couldn't even make a sound. The fear choked me, pressing against my chest like a weight.
"Xiao Gu," the old man in burial robes suddenly spoke. "Do you still remember me?"
Still remember him? That implied we knew each other. But how?
The old man grinned faintly. His face was pale—so pale it looked powdered—and his smile carried a cold, ghostly chill.
"Think carefully, Xiao Gu," he said. "We met just earlier today, remember?"
Earlier today?
Suddenly, like a lightning bolt flashing through my mind, it hit me—I knew who this was! This was Lao Kui, the one who died. I had seen his photo today at the funeral. No wonder he seemed familiar.
The realization nearly made me faint. Lao Kui should be in a coffin—why was he standing at my bedside? How did he get into my house?
This must be a dream!
Yes, a nightmare!
I tried desperately to convince myself, but deep down, I knew I was lying. Because I could smell him. A foul, overwhelming stench of rot clung to his body—the unmistakable stench of a corpse. If this were truly a dream, how could that smell be so vivid?
"Don't be afraid, Xiao Gu," Lao Kui rasped. "I'm not here to harm you. I came to ask a favor."
I stared at him, stunned. We were complete strangers. What could he possibly want from me?
"Go to the grove of locust trees on the west side of Pankou Village," he said softly. "Find the seventh tree. There's something buried beneath it. Dig it up."
The seventh tree in the locust grove? Dig something up? I glared at him, cursing silently: What the hell? Why not ask your own family to do it? Why me? I don't even know you!
As if he heard my thoughts, Lao Kui said calmly, "I had no children. And whatever you dig up—you may keep it. It will serve you well one day."
I was confused. Was this dead man trying to gift me something from beyond the grave? Something so hidden, it had to be buried under a tree? What could it be—an antique? A family heirloom? Why me?
"You'll know what it is once you retrieve it," Lao Kui added. "But believe me—I mean you no harm. In fact, that thing should have been yours from the beginning. But remember—tell no one. No one must know about it. It's your fate. It's your destiny."
His words grew stranger and more cryptic. But oddly, I believed he meant no ill. If he'd wanted to harm me, he could have done so already. Still, that last phrase—this is your fate—chilled me. What fate?
Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "That girl who was with you today—is she your girlfriend?"
I knew he meant Gu Meidi. I rolled my eyes inwardly—so the old man was a gossip even in death? What business was it of his?
Naturally, Lao Kui heard my thoughts again. He said flatly, "Heed my warning—be careful of that girl."
What the hell? Now he wanted to sabotage my love life? If I wasn't paralyzed with fear, I would've smacked him. What's wrong with Gu Meidi? Why should I be careful of her? Jealous old ghost!
"I'm not jealous," Lao Kui said calmly. "I have plenty of beauties waiting for me in the underworld. Just remember what I said—watch that girl. Now I must go. Yama is waiting for me."
And just like that, his form began to dissolve under the moonlight—turning into a black mist that drifted through the closed window.
A sudden wave of exhaustion hit me. My eyelids grew heavy, and at some point, I slipped into unconsciousness again.
When I woke, the sky outside had begun to brighten. Roosters crowed in the distance.
My whole body felt drained, drenched in cold sweat. I sat blankly for a while until the memories of the night before rushed back—and I jolted upright.
I checked the room. The window was still shut tight. Was it really all a dream? But why had it felt so real?
Just then, a knock startled me.
I opened the door to see Gu Meidi standing there, holding a tray. "Here—try the fried dough I made!"
Two golden sticks of youtiao sat on the tray, along with a steaming cup of soy milk. The smell made my stomach growl instantly.
Then Lao Kui's warning echoed in my mind: Be careful of that girl. I stole a glance at Gu Meidi—she was smiling warmly. How could someone like her be dangerous?
"Why are you staring?" she asked playfully. "Take it already. I'm tired from all the cooking!"
I gave an awkward smile and took the tray. My hunger took over—I grabbed a youtiao and chomped down. "Wow, this is amazing! Even better than the ones they sold outside our school!"
"Of course," she said proudly. "Those street vendors use gutter oil. I used fresh-pressed vegetable oil from your village—way healthier!"
As I devoured the food, warmth spread through me. For a moment, Lao Kui's eerie warning faded to the back of my mind.
Gu Meidi stood by the bed and sniffed. "Tuoba Gu, why does your room smell so gross? Is that your feet—or a dead rat?"
Smell?
The word hit me like a slap. I remembered the stench clinging to Lao Kui. Could it be… the smell hadn't disappeared because he had really been here?
Good God.
Just thinking about it gave me chills. Imagine—waking in the dead of night to find a ghost in funeral clothes standing silently at your bedside. Even with daylight streaming in now, a cold sweat clung to my back.
Lao Kui's last words echoed again: Pankou Village. Locust grove. The seventh tree…
I thought it over and made up my mind. I had to go see for myself. If something was really buried under that tree, then everything from last night had truly happened. But why me? Why did Lao Kui come to me? And what did he mean by "this is your fate"?
Guessing wouldn't help. I had to find out.
"I'm heading out for a bit," I told Gu Meidi. "Can you stay here and keep Grandpa company?"
"Where are you going?" she asked.
I quickly made up an excuse. "Just remembered I have a distant relative nearby I haven't visited in years. Figured I'd drop by."
She didn't insist on coming. "Okay, just don't take too long. I'll keep Grandpa company."
As she turned to leave, a strange feeling stirred inside me. Gu Meidi—beautiful, kind, smart. Why would anyone tell me to be wary of her? Nonsense! Lao Kui was just a ghost—his words were literally ghost talk. Why should I believe him?
After breakfast and a quick wash, I left home and made my way upriver toward Pankou Village.
It was still early. The village was quiet, shrouded in a light mist hovering over the rice fields.
Two hours later, I arrived again at Pankou. From afar, I heard the wail of suona flutes, followed by bursts of firecrackers and steady drumbeats. A funeral procession was making its way from the village gate.
Dozens of people marched in mourning clothes. Some wore white headbands, others black armbands. Their cries echoed through the fields.
Eight strong men carried a massive black coffin, wobbling slightly as they walked. A bright red rooster was tied atop the coffin—a rural custom meant to ward off evil spirits.
Leading the group was a hunched old woman clutching a framed portrait, tears streaming down her cheeks.
As I got closer, I saw the photo clearly. It was Lao Kui.
So this was his burial. I shivered at the sight of the coffin. My heart pounded, but I didn't stop—I kept walking toward the western locust grove.
Toward the seventh tree.
Not long after setting off, I arrived at the locust grove.
The grove here was enormous. The locust trees thrived unusually well, with thick branches and lush leaves, tall and robust. Even in broad daylight, the place felt dim and shadowed. Sunlight could only barely squeeze through the gaps between the branches, casting patchy reflections on the forest floor.
I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself. It was a bright and sunny day outside, but here, the air was chilling and strangely cold.
This locust grove was infamous in the area—not just well-known, but known for being haunted.
They said that during the War of Resistance, a group of Japanese soldiers came through here and slaughtered over a thousand villagers from nearby towns. They forced the villagers into lines, used them as human targets, and then swept them down with heavy machine guns. The bodies piled high, blood soaked the ground, and the horror was beyond words. After the massacre, the soldiers buried the corpses in shallow pits right here. Since then, the grove turned into a mass grave, and even homeless drifters who died were dumped here.
Some claimed that the locust trees grew so thick and strong because they were rooted in corpses, absorbing nutrients from the dead.
I cursed Old Kui under my breath. Why the hell did he hide something in such a creepy place?
I hovered at the edge of the grove, hesitant. If Old Kui chose this as a hiding spot, whatever he left behind probably wasn't anything good. Maybe I should just leave. What if I stirred up something unclean?
But just as I turned to go, I stopped. I'd come all this way. Was I really going to turn back now? What if Old Kui came to haunt me in a dream again? I didn't want a dead old man in a burial robe standing by my bed every night. Just the thought of it gave me goosebumps.
It's strange how fear brings back memories of eerie things you've experienced or heard. One incident surfaced clearly in my mind—something that happened right here in this very grove. It had shocked the entire region and even caught the attention of the provincial police.
I was sixteen then, in high school. I was in Class 2. The incident involved two students from Class 3. They were secretly dating. I don't remember the boy's name, but the girl was Luo Li—Class 3's cultural committee member. She was pretty. Even boys from my class had passed her love notes. Both were from a village called Pankou, and every weekend they traveled home together.
One weekend, they never came back.
Their teacher had known about their relationship and suspected they had run away together. He called their families. Everyone panicked and searched for them. A child said they'd seen the couple heading toward the locust grove. Probably to meet in secret.
Their families followed the lead—and what they found were two lifeless, decaying bodies. The couple was dead, half-naked, hanging from one of the largest locust trees. Their eyes bulged grotesquely, tongues stuck out, expressions twisted and unnatural.
The forensic report found no physical wounds. Cause of death: heart and liver failure. They'd been literally scared to death.
Even stranger, though the bodies had only been missing for two or three days and it was late autumn—when decay should've been slow—the corpses were rotting rapidly, emitting a strong stench. Witnesses described countless white maggots crawling in and out of the bodies. Some of the officers on the scene fainted from nausea.
The official cause was ruled as a lovers' suicide, but everyone knew that was just a cover. Rumors spread like wildfire. Some said they were bitten by a zombie rising from underground. Of course, storytellers added dramatic, romanticized details about their secret rendezvous, which drew the most attention.
The school eventually had to respond. They held an emergency assembly, used the incident as a warning, and launched a campaign against early romance.
Now, standing at the grove's edge, that story came back to me. My legs trembled.
As I debated whether to go in, a female voice rang out behind me: "Hey, handsome. What are you staring at so blankly?"
Startled, I turned. A young woman stood behind me—twenty-seven, twenty-eight at most—not much older than me. She had long black hair and delicate features. But her face was ghostly pale, maybe from heavy powder, maybe the lighting. She wore a bright red qipao, its vintage style reminiscent of the Republic era. Her long legs, pale and smooth, peeked through the slit, and her heels clicked softly in the dirt. She was alluring, seductive even.
I was confused. I hadn't seen a soul around this whole time. Where had she come from? Had she emerged from the grove? What was she doing here, dressed like this in broad daylight?
She smiled as I stared silently, covered her mouth, and giggled. Then she patted my shoulder and said sweetly, "Hey, stop staring at my chest like that, you perv. You here to explore the grove? Come on, come have a drink at my place."
Her every gesture oozed charm. If I weren't so grounded, I might've fallen for it. But my eyes still drifted to her chest—round, full, probably a size bigger than Gu Meidi's.
Seeing my dazed expression, she reached for my hand.
That's when I noticed something was wrong—her hand was icy cold. Not the kind of cold you get from weather, but a bone-deep chill… like the hand of a corpse.
I jerked back and quickly shook her off. My heart pounded wildly. Something about her wasn't right. I avoided looking at her again, muttered "No thanks," and turned to leave.
But after walking for a while with my head down, something felt off. I looked up—and found myself surrounded by thick locust trees. My scalp prickled with cold sweat.
I'd just left the grove. I should've been heading toward Pankou Village. How had I ended up deeper in the woods? The thick canopy blotted out the sky, and the shadows stretched endlessly. The air was heavy and still. An eerie breeze whispered through the trees.
Had I taken the wrong path?
I looked behind me—and nearly screamed.
The woman in the qipao was gone.
Where was her home, again? Did she say it was here? In the grove? No one lived in this place. It was a cursed land. Who would settle in a haunted forest?
The more I thought about it, the colder I felt, like I'd been dunked in ice water.
I licked my dry lips, tried to calm my nerves, and pushed away the terrifying thoughts.
After a few deep breaths, my heartbeat started to slow.
I was a top archaeology student—a firm atheist. It was broad daylight. I couldn't let myself get spooked.
Maybe she really did live nearby. Maybe she was just lonely and found me attractive.
That made me chuckle. Even now, I could joke to myself.
The trees had blocked out the sun, and I couldn't tell east from west. It would be hard to find a way out like this.
Wait!
I smacked my forehead. I had my phone! If things got worse, I could always call for help.
I pulled out my phone—no signal.
What the hell?
Not even emergency calls? I tried 911 anyway.
All I got was static.
What kind of place blocks emergency calls?
Cold sweat soaked my forehead again. My panic surged.
Then, a gust of wind rushed through the grove, nearly blinding me with dust. A thick black fog rolled in from all sides—fast, like waves, reeking of rot. Strange noises echoed everywhere, like countless ghosts and monsters rising from underground.
"Handsome! Come have some water at my place! Hehe… Come with me, won't you?"
Her voice echoed around me again—playful, seductive, irresistible. But I couldn't see her through the dark.
In a daze, I smiled faintly and said, "Sure! I'm coming! I'm coming!"
"Tuoba Gu, stop right there!"
A woman's sharp voice cut through the mist, startling me to a halt. My body froze, and my mind suddenly cleared.
Gu Meidi! That was Gu Meidi's voice!
But what was she doing here?
Panic surged through me. This place was dangerous. No one who entered the locust forest ever came back. I was about to warn her, but before I could call out, a flash of golden light cut through the air. Gu Meidi shouted, "Begone!"
Instantly, the thick fog surrounding me dissipated like mist in the sun, revealing the forest in its dense, green gloom once again.
Not far from me—no more than twenty meters away—stood the woman in the red qipao, staring at me with cold, venomous eyes. Even at that distance, I could feel the hatred radiating from her gaze. My insides twisted.
Gu Meidi stepped forward beside me. Her long black hair flew in the wind, her face stern and commanding.
"You little troublemaker," I said, half-joking and half-panicked. "Why did you come here? That woman is dangerous—we need to leave right now!" I reached out to pull her away.
But my hand stopped midair.
I was stunned.
Because in her hands, Gu Meidi was holding a bow.
Yes—a bow.
But not just any bow.
It glowed with a golden aura. The bow's shape resembled a coiled dragon; its raised head formed the grip, and a blood-red gem sparkled where the dragon's eye should be. The entire bow was etched with mysterious, glowing symbols, exuding an overwhelming presence that made the air seem heavier.
"You… what is that?" I asked, wide-eyed, unable to find my voice.
With the divine bow in her hands, Gu Meidi looked like a completely different person—radiating a lethal, sacred energy.
"You wretched ghost," she shouted at the woman in red. "Daring to show yourself in daylight—leave now, or be struck down by my Dragon God Bow!"
Ghost?
A shiver ran down my spine.
Why would she call the woman a ghost? But as I recalled everything that had happened—the eerie mist, the unnatural cold, her outdated clothes—it began to make sense. That woman… she wasn't human.
Though I had always called myself a rational atheist, deep down I knew—there are things in this world beyond science. Today, I'd come face to face with one.
And it was a ghost in red. Full of rage.
Her laughter broke through the silence.
"Hehehe… hehehe…"
That strange, sharp giggle pierced the air like needles.
Wind howled through the trees. Leaves spun around us in a frenzied storm.
Gu Meidi narrowed her eyes. "So you're not going to leave peacefully, huh?"
"Bury you all! You will all die with me!"
The woman's body began to rise, as light as paper, floating into the air. Black smoke seeped from the ground, coiling like phantoms, wailing in ghostly tones.
The dark fog swelled and surged from all directions, swallowing the forest in an instant.
I stood frozen. My legs refused to move.
"With your pitiful skills, you court death!" Gu Meidi growled. Her face darkened. Holding the bow in her left hand, she drew the string back with her right, as though pulling from thin air.
A golden arrow formed instantly.
Over a meter long, glowing with a crimson hue at its tip. It shimmered with carved symbols of ancient spells.
She drew, aimed—and fired.
Even though the red-clad ghost was hidden in the thick fog, Gu Meidi turned sharply, releasing the arrow toward the five o'clock direction.
SWOOSH!
The arrow tore through the black mist, the air shattering in its wake.
The symbols on the Dragon God Bow lit up in unison, and the arrow's own carvings danced around it like fireflies.
A piercing scream followed—inhuman, anguished.
The earth trembled.
Then, just like that, the fog disappeared. Sunlight broke through the canopy.
I realized I was drenched in sweat, like someone dragged from a river.
"Is she… is she gone?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"No," Gu Meidi said calmly, lowering the bow. "I let her live."
She flipped her wrist, and a streak of gold flashed. The bow vanished.
"Where… where did it go?" I rubbed my eyes, speechless.
"The Dragon God Bow is bound to my bloodline," she replied. "It rests in my palm until I summon it."
I stared at her palm. Sure enough, the lines on her left hand formed the shape of a bow. So that's why I'd never seen her carry one—she'd had it hidden in plain sight.
"You really are something else," I whispered. I'd always heard rumors at school that Gu Meidi had a "ghost eye"—now I knew it was true. And not just that—she was trained in Daoist arts!
She smiled slightly. "I was born with the yin-yang eye. When I was little, a Daoist priest saw potential in me and taught me his ways."
"How did you know I was here?" I asked, still overwhelmed.
"This morning when I brought you breakfast, I sensed something foul in your room," she said. "You looked unsettled too, and wouldn't tell me anything. So I followed you."
"Something foul? Like what?" I remembered the smell, but nothing else.
"Don't forget I have ghost sight," she said. "I saw footprints by your bed—ones you couldn't see. Ghost prints. That means you had… a visitor last night."
She said it so casually. But I recalled the strange dream I'd had—and now I realized it wasn't a dream.
"That red-dressed ghost was filled with rage. If I hadn't arrived in time, you'd be dead now."
I shuddered. She was right. Without her, I might have ended up dangling from the old locust tree like the others… my body crawling with maggots.
"Who was she? Why did she want to hurt me?"
"Spirits who die in red, filled with hatred, often become vengeful ghosts. This one—her name is Ruo Lan—was a famous opera singer in the Republic era. She became a concubine to a local warlord. But when the Japanese invaded, the warlord fled, abandoning her. She was caught by soldiers, dragged into this forest, violated, then stabbed to death and hanged from the locust tree. She died wearing that red qipao."
I was stunned. "How do you know all that?"
Gu Meidi smiled. "My ghost eye doesn't just let me see spirits. I can see their past lives. Their memories appear to me like films playing in my mind."
"I've worked with you so long," I muttered, "and I never knew you had… powers like that."
"They're not powers, just some skills in the mystical arts." She paused, then asked, "Now, it's your turn. Why did you sneak off here alone? Avoiding both me and your grandfather? Does it have anything to do with your… 'visitor' last night?"
I sighed. I couldn't keep it hidden any longer.
"You'll never believe it. That ghost last night—it was Lao Kuizi. The one we held a funeral for just yesterday!"
"Lao Kuizi?" Her eyebrows arched. "What did he want?"
"He didn't try to hurt me. He said I needed to come here—to retrieve something buried under the seventh locust tree. Said it was… my fate. Honestly, he was rambling. I didn't understand most of it."
"Retrieve what, exactly?"
"I don't know. I didn't even start looking yet before the red ghost showed up."
Gu Meidi tilted her chin. "Let's find out together. I want to see what's buried here too."