Ni Jiu Luo’s itinerary for the day was quite dull.
The three temples were grand and majestic, but two of them required an entrance fee. The sculptures were all brand new and the craftsmanship was conventional—essentially, they were mass-produced, lacking any distinctive features.
By around four in the afternoon, she had finished visiting the last temple and went out to find her car.
Old Qian was sitting at a small stall eating barbecue, engrossed in gossiping with people from various groups. When he spotted her, he quickly paid the bill, ran to the car, and enthusiastically opened the door for her.
Ni Jiu Luo got into the back seat and said, “Let’s go back.”
She felt quite tired: if a busy day was filled with fruitful results, she wouldn’t feel as exhausted. What was most exhausting was being busy without any gain, a busy day with nothing to show for it, which was mentally draining.
On the highway, Old Qian was a bit anxious: there was a group for the travel agency where Sun Zhou had complained a few days ago that Miss Ni seemed to look at the sculptures endlessly—why had she finished early today and looked so displeased? Was she dissatisfied with his service?
He decided he needed to make up for it and improve customer satisfaction. The saying went, “If the sights are lacking, add some culture; if the culture is lacking, add some legends; if the legends are lacking, just chat.”
Fortunately, he had just heard some gossip in the group, so he had plenty to talk about. Old Qian cleared his throat and said, “Miss Ni, didn’t you go to Xingbazi Township the day before yesterday?”
Ni Jiu Luo replied, “Yes, we went the day before yesterday and yesterday.”
“Did you know,” Old Qian continued, “that a woman went missing in Xingbazi Township the day before yesterday?”
Ni Jiu Luo was taken aback for a moment, immediately recalling the gossip she heard from the old ladies playing cards under the big locust tree in Xingbazi Township.
She hadn’t expected there would be a follow-up to the story. That’s one of the benefits of small places—everyone talks about the same things.
“Has the missing woman been found?”
Old Qian shook his head, “No, not yet. But supposedly, she was attacked by wolves.”
It turned out that the woman’s husband, after failing to catch her in the act of infidelity, reported her missing to the police the previous evening.
Old Qian wasn’t sure how far the police had gotten with their investigation, but he had an aunt who lived in Xingbazi Township and was very aware of local happenings.
The news of the woman’s disappearance spread quickly, and the townsfolk were very concerned. After breakfast that morning, they organized a search, with everyone from the elderly to the children participating. They even searched the west side of the township, which they usually avoided.
Ni Jiu Luo picked up on a key detail from Old Qian’s story: “Why don’t they go to the west side of the township?”
In retrospect, it was indeed unusually quiet in the decrepit temple those two days. The eastern and western parts of the township were not very far apart, but she had never seen people from the east go to the west.
Old Qian explained, “Oh, it’s a habit. The locals are superstitious and believe the west side of the township is unclean… Anyway, they found something strange on the west side.”
There were scattered dried bloodstains and broken, twisted straws. Following these traces, they eventually found a cave near the mountainside.
Old Qian was scrolling through his phone, trying to find photos of the cave but couldn’t locate them. Ni Jiu Luo told him not to show her the photos and to focus on driving.
He described the cave as best as he could: The entrance was dug open, the cave sloped down underground, about two or three meters deep, and smelled awful.
Ni Jiu Luo was confused, “But if it was wolves, wouldn’t there be wolves inside the cave?”
Old Qian’s answer made her both amused and exasperated: “They didn’t find the person or the wolves. But the cave looked like it was dug by wolves—wolves like to dig their dens, and their claws are strong.”
The conclusion was that since there was no one around and the cave looked like it had been dug by wolves, the speculation was that wolves were responsible.
Ni Jiu Luo was at a loss, but she still shared her opinion: “I think it’s unlikely that wolves were involved. Even if wolves did eat the person, there would probably be bones left behind.”
Old Qian nodded vigorously, “My aunt also said it wasn’t wolves. She said it was… well, she’s almost ninety and tends to say odd things.”
Ni Jiu Luo was intrigued, “What did your aunt say it was?”
She thought that even if a nearly ninety-year-old person’s claims were fanciful, they were worth listening to.
Old Qian initially hesitated but then thought that since Miss Ni seemed a bit superstitious, she might be interested.
He said proudly, “Miss Ni, my aunt is quite old and knows these things. If you ask others, even those who have lived there all their lives, they might not have heard of it. My aunt said it was because the temple was in disrepair, and the Earth Goddess was unhappy and causing trouble.”
“What temple in disrepair?”
“That broken-down temple in the cornfield.”
“A temple in disrepair? Why would the Earth Goddess be unhappy?”
“It’s her temple, her home, you see.”
This was an unexpected delight for Ni Jiu Luo, “So it’s a temple to the Earth Goddess? It didn’t seem like it at all. I didn’t see any statue of the Earth Goddess in the temple.”
Old Qian chuckled, “Miss Ni, you think it’s a real Earth Goddess? It’s just an imp (demon or sprite) with a pretty name.”
Old Qian told Nie Jiuluo a ghost story from the mountain village.
He said that many years ago, back in the late Qing Dynasty, Xingbazi Village was still an unnamed small mountain village. At that time, there was no distinction between the eastern and western parts of the village. About ten miles from the village, there was a large swamp, like a seasonal skin rash: frozen hard in winter, and muddy and impassable in summer. It had swallowed countless unfortunate chickens, ducks, pigs, and even people. With the slightest increase in temperature, it would become unbearably foul.
There was a household in the village with an old woman and two brothers. One autumn, around this time of year, the eldest brother carried mountain goods to the city for market day.
To get to the city, he had to pass through a large swamp. Normally, people would avoid it, but the eldest brother, seeking convenience, thought that since it was September, the swamp wouldn’t be as soft and might be passable.
He crossed it and never returned.
People couldn’t just disappear like that. After comforting their mother, the second brother followed the route his elder brother had taken to search for him.
He searched the swamp for three days and nights without finding his elder brother but encountered a young girl in tattered clothes, with unkempt hair and bare feet. The girl claimed she had come with her family to visit relatives but was scattered by bandits and had been wandering in the mountains for days without food.
Feeling pity for the girl, the second brother took her home.
Country folks are hospitable. Even though the old woman was still grieving the disappearance of her eldest son, she forced herself to prepare a bath for the girl and wash her dirty clothes. While washing, she suddenly noticed something odd.
The girl’s clothes were a mix of sizes, some too big and others too small, mostly old and tattered. The only somewhat decent item was a pair of black cloth trousers, and these trousers were men’s.
The old woman remembered that her eldest son wore just such a pair of trousers when he left.
In those days, country people’s clothing was simple, and black cloth trousers were very common. The old woman feared she might be mistaken and checked the stitching on the trousers. Her son’s clothes were all sewn by her, and she knew her stitching well.
These were indeed the eldest son’s trousers. When immersed in water, a layer of blood red with a fishy odor floated to the surface.
Hearing this, Nie Jiuluo couldn’t help but compliment, “That was detailed; you could write a book.”
She had thought that someone like Old Qian, who seemed rough, would clumsily tell stories. She didn’t expect him to narrate so vividly, with such strong imagery.
Old Qian responded, “Because I remember it well. I lived in Xingbazi Village when I was young, and my great-aunt used to tell this story as a bedtime story… Oh my, back then, the countryside often had power outages, it was pitch black. Just imagine, telling such stories with candlelight, I used to lie awake all night.”
Nie Jiuluo laughed, “Your great-aunt had a big heart, telling such stories to children.”
Old Qian agreed, “Back then, children were raised tough. One moment they’d hear ghost stories, the next moment it was about wolves. Now we don’t tell such things; today’s children are precious, afraid of having… childhood traumas.”
The old woman asked the girl, who said that she had picked up the trousers in the mountains. Not far from where she found the trousers, there was also a pair of broken straw sandals, which were also covered in scattered blood. Since she couldn’t find the other sandal and couldn’t make a matching pair, she didn’t pick them up.
But she couldn’t specify where exactly in the mountains she had been; she was lost and couldn’t remember the way.
It was certain that wild animals were involved, and the old woman cried a lot.
There was nothing else to do but cry. In the mountains, people relied on the mountains, and sometimes the mountains took back. It wasn’t unusual.
The family was soon supplemented: the girl, with nowhere else to go, stayed on and became the second brother’s wife.
However, the old woman wasn’t very happy. Her second son was clumsy, and the girl was too delicate and beautiful—based on her experience, such unions rarely lasted. She suspected the girl might be like Pan Jinlian (a character from Chinese literature known for her infidelity).
The villagers also said that the young wife seemed restless and might steal the man one day.
Yet, contrary to everyone’s expectations, the young wife and the second brother lived a happy life. Those who tried to flirt with her were rejected, and those who had offended her family soon faced misfortune: either a chicken was found with its neck broken, or a cooking pot was found with its bottom broken.
Rumors began that the young wife was a mountain spirit with mysterious powers.
At first, the old woman was a bit scared, but she eventually came to terms with it. She figured that as long as the young wife protected her family and didn’t harm them, it was fine with her.
So life went on for a year or two without incident, except for the minor regret that the young wife never became pregnant.
However, disaster struck unexpectedly. One day, the village suffered two calamities: first, an earthquake caused buildings to collapse, and then lightning struck the mountains, igniting a large fire that swept across the village like a moving fire blanket.
On that fateful day, the old woman and the second brother went to work in the fields, leaving the young wife alone at home to cook. She was first crushed by a falling beam and then watched helplessly as the fire engulfed her.
By the time she was rescued, she was nearly burnt into a charred husk, with her body blackened and oozing yellow pus. Her eyes were still bright, and she could still shed tears.
The old woman and the second brother cried loudly, but the young wife remained calm. With a weak voice, she expressed her regret at dying without leaving an heir and wished to see the second brother remarry and have children before she could rest in peace.
For a time, the young wife’s “virtue” was praised throughout the surrounding villages. Some even proposed reporting to the county to erect a memorial archway for her—though this was beside the point. In any case, the second brother quickly rebuilt the house and soon remarried. [Nie Jiuluo: “Heh, men…”]
The new wife wasn’t beautiful, but she was strong and capable in both household chores and farm work. She became pregnant within a year. During this time, the charred remains of the young wife lay in a side room, silent and barely eating, waiting quietly for the end.
When she gave birth to a healthy baby boy, the family was overjoyed. The old woman busily cared for the new wife while the second brother went to share the good news with the young wife.
But like the eldest brother, he never returned.
The old woman grew anxious and went to the side room to search. To her shock, the room was empty, the wooden window was propped open, and the darkened window frame was dripping with blood.
At this point, Old Qian asked, “Miss Nie, what do you think happened?”
Nie Jiuluo thought for a moment. On a snowy night in the mountain village, wolves might venture into the village if food was scarce in the mountains—similar to how Ah Mao was taken by wolves in Lu Xun’s famous work.
She said, “I don’t think it was wolves.”
Old Qian was surprised, “Why not? When my great-aunt asked us to guess, all the children thought it was wolves.”
Nie Jiuluo smiled, “Because everyone guesses it’s wolves, it’s too easy. What’s the point in guessing something so predictable?”
This was a bit convoluted, and Old Qian didn’t immediately grasp it.
However, Nie Jiuluo was right. The great-aunt had also said, “I knew you would guess wolves. Your little minds… There are much scarier things than wolves in this world.”
The old woman also suspected wolves.
She hurriedly grabbed a sickle and a blazing torch from the stove and searched behind the house.
The snow on the ground was still thin, but she could vaguely make out tracks leading to an old locust tree not far behind the house. The locust tree had been burned to a charred black last year, but it had started to sprout new branches a few months ago. Now, the branches still had blossoms.
Locust trees rarely bloom in winter, and the villagers considered it a good omen. The old woman believed it, but now she thought it might be an evil sign.
From behind the tree came the crunching sound of gnawing.