My grandfather drowned on the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month.
That night, the village dogs barked fiercely, as if trying to tear their throats apart. I lay on my grandfather's old, peeling wooden bed, flipping through a copy of "Dragon, Tiger, and Leopard" that I'd bought from a senior in town in exchange for three packs of cigarettes. The burning desire inside me was impossible to suppress.
Eighteen years old—the age of youthful vigor, when even a sow seemed attractive. Especially in Chenjia Village, where almost all the men had fled, the village was filled with either still-attractive aunties or young women left behind after their husbands had gone abroad. In the summer, their clothes were thin, and their swaying gait made me dizzy.
"You brat, I'm going out for a bit. Old Chen's family in the back hills wants me to go find a burial site. I'll be back late. There's food on the stove; heat it up yourself," my grandfather knocked on my door, his voice a little hoarse. He returned this afternoon from a Buddhist ritual in the next village, still smelling of paper money and incense, mixed with the faint scent of the loose rice wine he'd been drinking.
"Okay," I mumbled, quickly stuffing the magazine under my pillow.
Grandpa sighed, his footsteps fading into the distance. I knew why he sighed. I'd never been good at studying, especially in high school; my soul seemed to be lured away by those pale, white legs, and my grades plummeted. Grandpa was incredibly capable, a fortune teller, able to exorcise ghosts and demons, yet he was utterly helpless against my adolescent restlessness. He often said, "Cha Nan, if you can't control the two ounces of flesh in your crotch, you'll inevitably stumble sooner or later." He added, "But men... well, as long as you don't cheat, swindle, or harm others, it's up to you."
He had completely given up on my hopes for academic success.
I listened to Grandpa's footsteps disappear at the village entrance, then jumped up. The night was deep and still; there wasn't a single streetlamp in the village, only the pale moonlight. My burning lust intensified. I tiptoed out the door, my destination clear—Zhang Cai'e's house at the west end of the village.
Zhang Cai'e's husband had been working in Japan for three years. I heard he'd found a temporary wife there, and he was sending money back monthly. Aunt Cai'e was in her early thirties, fair-skinned and plump, a well-known "white steamed bun" in the village—soft and full. A few days ago, she came to see Grandpa, saying her stove was always emitting black smoke and asked me to take a look. I went to check; the stove was fine, but when she bent down to poke the stove hole, her neckline was so low… I almost had a nosebleed on the spot.
Grandpa said it might be the Kitchen God's dissatisfaction and told me to draw a talisman to appease him. I drew it, but that lingering desire in my heart grew wildly like weeds.
Tonight, Grandpa wasn't home; a golden opportunity presented itself.
I found my way to Aunt Cai'e's backyard wall, which was low; I easily climbed it. The yard was quiet, and a dim light still shone from her main room. My heart pounded. I leaned against the old loquat tree, my eyes wide as bells, peering through the window.
The curtains weren't fully drawn, leaving a gap.
Aunt Cai'e was sitting by a wooden basin washing her feet, her trousers rolled up to her knees, her calves white and straight. Her head was bowed, her neck forming a beautiful curve. She was alone in the room, her shadow stretched long by the lamplight, swaying on the wall.
As I watched, I suddenly felt something was amiss.
The shadow on the wall… it didn't seem to be just hers.
Beside her swaying shadow, there seemed to be an even fainter, blurrier shadow, short and plump, its outline resembling an old woman with a large belly?
I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Aunt Cai'e splashed water on her feet, humming a tuneless little tune. Her shadow on the wall moved along with it, and the blurry, plump shadow even swayed slightly, even… as if it raised a "hand" and patted her shadow's shoulder?
A chill ran down my spine!
Grandpa had taught me some basic methods of observing shadows and auras. The shadows of living people are solid, the shadows of inanimate objects are rigid, but the shadows of some things… are fleeting and elusive, even clinging to the shadows of living people!
Aunt Cai'e seemed oblivious. After washing her feet, she dried them, picked up the basin, and walked outside. She reached the door, opened it, and was about to splash the water into the yard.
Just as she opened the door—
"Splash!"
It wasn't the sound of splashing water, but a strange noise suddenly coming from the tree, like something snapping a dry branch.
Aunt Cai'e and I looked up simultaneously!
In the moonlight, my old black cat, whom I'd had for seven or eight years, was perched on the wall, its bright green eyes fixed intently on Aunt Cai'e… no, on the floor of the main room behind her! Its back was arched high, its fur bristled, and it let out a low growl, a reaction of "ha-ha-ha," the sound of something extremely dangerous.
Aunt Cai'e cried out in fright, dropping the basin of water, which crashed to the ground with a thud, splashing water all over her.
At the same time, I clearly saw, in the shimmering reflection on the floor behind her, besides herself, the eerie silhouette of a fat old man in an old-fashioned jacket and a melon-shaped hat, grinning greedily at her wet trousers!
"The Kitchen God…?" My mind went blank for a moment, remembering what Grandpa had occasionally mentioned—those "household gods" who, having received offerings, gained a little sentience but whose hearts were not pure.
Aunt Cai'e's husband wasn't home, and her yang energy was low. This thing might have tasted some "sweetness" and didn't want to leave, perhaps even wanting to cause trouble?
The black cat let out a piercing scream, darted down the wall, and disappeared without a trace.
Aunt Cai'e's face turned pale. She looked in the direction the black cat had disappeared, then looked back at the empty main room, hugged her arms, shivered, quickly closed the door, and locked it.
I clung to the tree, my back soaked with cold sweat. Those romantic thoughts had long since vanished. Grandpa wasn't here, and I felt... I couldn't handle this thing?
I slunk down the tree and walked home, dejected. As I passed the large pond at the village entrance, the moon was obscured by a dark cloud, and everything suddenly darkened. The pond was pitch black, like a gaping maw. For some reason, a sense of unease crept into my heart; I had a feeling something bad was going to happen tonight.
Back home, Grandpa wasn't back yet. I lay on the cold, empty bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the fat, ghostly figure behind Aunt Cai'e and the black cat with its mane bristling. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that I finally drifted off to sleep.
Then, I had that strange dream.
Aunt Cai'e wasn't in the dream, nor was the fat Kitchen God. I was standing on a cliff by the sea, unlike any I'd ever seen before, with crashing waves below. And in the distance, above the sea, shrouded in mist, stood a colossal mountain.
The mountain's outline was extremely eerie—clearly, it was a woman lying on her back! The undulating curves were mountain ranges, and the towering peak resembled a ripe cherry. Deep valleys, shrouded in mist, and waves constantly washed over a fan-shaped shallow beach…
The entire mountain exuded an indescribable aura, both sacred and eerie, both alluring and dangerous.
I was reading so intently, my mouth dry and my mind racing, when suddenly, the "Woman Mountain" seemed to move! Then, right in the center of the mountain, in the deepest part of the misty "canyon," a huge, emotionless, scarlet eye abruptly opened!
It stared straight at me!
"Ah!" I jumped up from the bed in fright, drenched in cold sweat, my heart pounding.
Outside the window, dawn was just breaking. A distorted cry of alarm came from the village: "Something terrible has happened! The pond… someone has drowned in the pond!"
My head spun. Without even putting on my shoes, I rushed out barefoot.
Several elderly people who had gotten up early were already gathered by the pond. Lying on the muddy ground beside the pond was a person, soaking wet, his face pale—it was my grandfather.
His body was stiff, his hand still tightly clutching the compass that had been with him for decades. The compass needle pointed fixedly towards the deep mountains behind the village, unmoving.
The village doctor who arrived shook his head.
Grandpa is dead. He returned home late at night, slipped and fell into the water, and no one knew.
I knelt in the mud, looking at Grandpa's face, calm yet tinged with worry. I remembered the strange shadow on Zhang Cai'e's wall last night, the ruffled old cat, the "Woman Mountain" with its gaping, scarlet eyes in my dream, and the deep mountain Grandpa's compass pointed to…
A chill ran down my spine.
Did Grandpa really slip and fall into the water?