Chapter Five: The Mysterious Attic

My mind exploded with a deafening roar, and before I could make sense of anything, I heard hurried footsteps pounding up the stairs outside.

In our coffin shop, there were surveillance cameras installed everywhere, all connected to the computer right in front of me.

I wasn’t sure whether the message on the slip of paper Left Dao-yin had given me was true, but judging from this eerie atmosphere, I knew I absolutely couldn’t let my guard down.

I immediately opened the surveillance feeds on the computer. What I saw was deeply unsettling: the sound of someone running up the stairs echoed outside, but on the screen, the staircase was utterly empty—not a single figure appeared.

My heart leapt into my throat. Could it be that Left Dao-yin hadn’t deceived me after all?

Tentatively, I called out for my grandfather. To my shock, he answered from outside. That reply nearly scared the soul out of me, because there was no sign of my grandfather on the surveillance.

Suddenly, everything outside fell deathly silent. Then I heard the sound of a key turning in the door. I couldn’t fathom why a ghost would bother unlocking a door to come in, but I was certain that if whatever was outside got in, it would be the end of me.

Luckily, I’d often snuck out to use the internet at night while my grandfather slept, climbing out the window. So this locked room couldn’t keep me in.

As the door began to creak open, I wasted no time. I climbed out the window and slid down the drainpipe to the ground below.

I didn’t know if anything was chasing after me. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I ran for my life, not stopping until I’d covered nearly fifty meters. Curiosity got the better of me then, and I glanced back.

There, at my window, stood a woman in a red turtleneck sweater, her hair wild and loose. She gazed at me with glowing, white eyes, her lips curled into a chilling smile.

Terrified, I spun around—and found myself face-to-face with Left Dao-yin’s scarred, pockmarked visage. The sight startled me so much I nearly cried out, but he clapped a hand over my mouth.

“Don’t scream. Don’t look back. Come with me,” he whispered.

After saying this, he placed his hand on my shoulder and strode off, steering me toward his home.

My mind was a blank as we went. I couldn’t say how we got to Left Dao-yin’s house; I only regained some awareness as I crossed his courtyard.

Left Dao-yin was sweating profusely. Once inside, he closed the gate at once and ushered me into the main room to sit.

He poured me a glass of water. I gulped it down and then asked, “Did you already know my grandfather was an imposter? Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Why just a note?”

He answered, “Wu Dao, I know you have a grudge against me. You’ve never let go of that time I asked you to nail the coffin, have you?”

I paused, nodded, and said, “You were afraid to take responsibility, weren’t you?”

He shook his head. “No. I, Left Dao-yin, have always acted honorably. If I do something, I’ll own up to it. But that incident had nothing to do with me.”

A severe thought struck me, and I asked, “Then, last night when I came looking for you, did I not find you at all? Was it that woman, pretending to be you?”

Left Dao-yin’s expression shifted. “That’s exactly why I left you that note. You wouldn’t believe she can confuse people’s minds unless you saw it yourself! She can’t yet change her appearance, but she can make you hallucinate. Even if I’d told you to leave with me, you wouldn’t have listened.”

He was right. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d never have believed my grandfather could be that woman in disguise.

After hearing his explanation, my old resentments toward him faded away. Suddenly, I remembered what Wang Feiyang had told me: that years ago, my grandfather and Left Dao-yin had tried to drag his family into something, and now, with the curse upon us, they wanted to harm the Wang family once more. Wang Feiyang seemed to have learned something after his family was annihilated, but wouldn’t tell me. Yet I was sure Left Dao-yin knew more than he let on.

So I pressed him: what was that woman—a ghost, a demon, or something else? Why was she after me? What was the so-called curse? But before I could finish, Left Dao-yin cut me off abruptly, as if he were avoiding the subject.

“Wu Dao, now is not the time for you to know these things, so don’t ask. I can’t tell you. Besides, knowing would do you no good.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t let your grandfather’s sacrifice be in vain.”

His words struck me like a thunderclap, leaving my thoughts ringing and my face pale with disbelief. “What did you say? What happened to my grandfather?”

Left Dao-yin sighed. “Your grandfather is gone. Last night, after you spoke to him on the phone, he was killed by that female ghost on his way back.”

“That’s impossible. He can’t be dead. You must be lying!”

“There’s no need for me to lie,” Left Dao-yin said, gripping my shoulders firmly, trying to steady me. “Wu Dao, your grandfather died to shield you from this curse. Promise me—no matter what, you must go on living, and live strong.”

With that, he said no more. He fetched a black box from inside, then began tying red cords threaded with copper coins to the peach trees in the courtyard. I stood dazed in the main room, my mind full of images of my grandfather. I couldn’t accept that he was truly gone; I kept hoping this was all some cruel joke Left Dao-yin was playing on me.

I don’t know how long I stood there. When I finally returned to myself, my face was wet with tears. By then, Left Dao-yin had hung copper-coin charms on all the peach and plum trees in the yard. I’d heard my grandfather say those red cords could ward off evil spirits; Left Dao-yin must have arranged a protective formation with them.

At last, he told me to stay put in his house and not to leave until he got back. Then he slung his black box over his shoulder and set off, saying only that he was going to find a way to save me.

After he left, I remained in the main room, lost in thought. The gloom around me didn’t frighten me; my mind was consumed with memories of my grandfather.

I don’t know how long passed—an hour or two, perhaps—when suddenly I heard a loud pounding from the attic of Left Dao-yin’s house.

The noise was violent, as if someone were hammering the floor with their fists.

My heart pounded with dread. Left Dao-yin’s wife and child had been dead for more than ten years; he lived alone. Who else could be upstairs?

Could the rumors be true—that Left Dao-yin kept child spirits in his attic?

By rights, I should have fled at once, but something compelled me to investigate. Maybe the string of bizarre events had emboldened me.

Cautiously, I crept up to the attic. As soon as I reached the landing, a nauseating stench hit me, sharp and sour, like urine mixed with filthy socks. I nearly gagged.

The pounding came from the small room straight ahead. I pushed at the door, but it wouldn’t budge—it was locked.

But the door was so old and worn that with a little force, I managed to pry it open a crack. Just as I leaned forward to peer through the gap, an icy cold hand suddenly clamped down on my shoulder.