Chapter Six: The Chen Family Funeral Garment Shop

In that instant, I felt as though my entire body had turned to stone, paralyzed by uncertainty over whether the thing behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder, was human or ghost.

“What are you doing?”

Only when I heard Zuo Daoyin’s voice behind me did my nerves finally relax a little. I turned to see him glaring at me in anger, and the intensity of his wrath sent a chill down my spine.

Despite the inexplicable eeriness of the situation, I steadied myself and cleverly explained that I’d felt an urgent need to relieve myself, had searched everywhere for a restroom without success, and so had come upstairs to look.

“The restroom isn’t upstairs,” Zuo Daoyin replied, his face expressionless and his voice icy cold.

His reaction unsettled me even more, and I instinctively wanted to glance back at the room in the attic. But the strange gleam in Zuo Daoyin’s greenish eyes made me lower my gaze.

I followed him downstairs, went out to the outhouse behind his house to pretend I’d relieved myself, and then returned to the main hall. By now, all sounds from upstairs had vanished completely. Yet I couldn’t help but steal glances at the attic, convinced there was some hidden secret within that room.

Zuo Daoyin sat silently at the Eight Immortals table in the main hall, sipping water. He looked unwell, his clothes soaking wet and exuding a strong, earthy stench, like water from a foul ditch.

I asked, a little apprehensively, where he’d been and why he was in such a state.

He didn’t answer for a long time. At last, he put down his cup, wiped a drop of water from the corner of his mouth, and pulled from his breast a parcel wrapped in yellow cloth, which he pressed into my hand.

The yellow cloth was old and stained with dirt, as if it had just been unearthed. I couldn’t tell what was inside; it felt soft and yielding. I was about to unwrap it when Zuo Daoyin stopped me immediately.

“Wu Dao, take this at once to the Chen Family Shroud Shop in the county. Give it to the proprietor, Old Chen, and tell him to return to Baijie with you.”

“What’s in here?” I asked, kneading the parcel curiously.

“That’s not your concern. And under no circumstances are you to open it. Do as I say—leave immediately. Make sure you return before dawn. Remember: before the rooster crows, whether Old Chen agrees to come with you or not, you must return. If you don’t, you’ll bear the consequences yourself!”

I didn’t understand why Zuo Daoyin insisted on this, but his urgency left no room for argument. I tried to protest that it was already the middle of the night and the world outside was unnerving—couldn’t I wait until morning?

He shot me a fierce look and replied, “If you don’t go now, you won’t live to see dawn.” Then, as if to reassure me, he added, “Don’t worry, if you leave now, that woman can’t harm you. But you must return before dawn, and don’t, under any circumstances, open the yellow bundle.”

A shiver ran through me. I dared not protest further, so I took the parcel and left. Outside, I saw my family’s little truck for transporting coffins parked at Zuo Daoyin’s door—he must have fetched it from our coffin shop for me earlier.

Without further hesitation, I climbed into the truck and headed straight for the county town.

Zuo Daoyin’s warning to return before dawn echoed in my mind, so I set an alarm for an hour before five, aiming to be back in Baijie before the rooster crowed.

The county wasn’t far—half an hour’s drive—and I arrived before two in the morning, so I still had time to spare.

Only then did I realize a critical problem: I’d left in such haste, I hadn’t asked Zuo Daoyin where exactly the Chen Family Shroud Shop was. Nor did I have his phone number. What now?

I considered turning back to ask, but the round trip would take over an hour, and I worried I might not have enough time if anything went wrong. So I abandoned the idea.

Fortunately, the county wasn’t large, and I knew it fairly well. I drove around searching and finally, near three o’clock, found the Chen Family Shroud Shop.

I wasted no time and knocked on the door. After nearly a minute, the door creaked open.

Framed in the doorway stood an old woman, her face deeply lined, eyes sunken, staring at me with a strange and suspicious look.

Her gaze made my skin crawl. Before I could speak, she rasped in a hoarse, aged voice, “Who are you? What do you want?”

I hurriedly asked if the owner was in.

She replied that she was, and at first, she seemed to think I was a customer who’d recently lost a family member, come to commission burial clothes. Now and then, a faint smile flickered across her face, but it was eerie and unsettling.

But when I explained my purpose and said that Zuo Daoyin from Baijie had sent me, her expression changed instantly, darkening on the spot.

Sensing things were amiss, I quickly produced the yellow bundle Zuo Daoyin had given me.

At the sight of it, her pupils contracted sharply, and without warning, she tried to shut the door, saying I had the wrong person.

I pressed my hand against the door, certain from her reaction that she recognized the item, so I hadn’t come to the wrong place. I pleaded, “Madam, there’s a grave crisis in Baijie—lives are at stake. Grandpa Zuo sent me to fetch you!”

She sized me up and down, then asked if my name was Wu Dao.

I was surprised she knew my name, but nodded instinctively.

She said nothing further, took the yellow bundle from me, and turned back inside. She didn’t invite me in, only told me to wait outside while she packed her things; she’d leave for Baijie with me shortly.

Relieved, I returned to the truck, lit a cigarette, and waited. After several cigarettes and still no sign of her, I grew impatient. They say young women take their time dressing up before leaving the house, but it seemed this old lady took just as much care.

Still, I thought nothing of it and continued to wait—until nearly an hour passed.

As four o’clock approached, I realized something was wrong. No matter how much she primped, she couldn’t possibly be inside this long. I began to suspect she was toying with me and had no intention of coming to Baijie.

With dawn not far off, I couldn’t sit still any longer. I got out of the truck and entered the shroud shop to urge her along.

The shop, like Zuo Daoyin’s house, was suffused with a chilling gloom. The black-and-white burial garments hanging everywhere made the atmosphere even more unnerving. Fortunately, I’d grown up in a coffin shop, so I didn’t lose my nerve.

I called out to the old woman, but there was no reply. The shop was unlit, so I relied on moonlight to survey my surroundings, but apart from the shrouds, I saw nothing unusual.

Soon, I felt my way to a light switch. The moment I flicked it on, the scene before me nearly made my legs give out in terror.

Just a meter ahead of me was a rod of niobium alloy, used for hanging shrouds, with several burial garments suspended from it. And the old woman, dressed in a brand new shroud, was hanging from the rod by a rope around her neck—dead.