Chapter Eleven: Burning Paper to Honor the Departed

Wang Granny’s home, known as Wang’s Vegetarian House, was an immense estate. Stepping inside felt like traveling back to ancient times: carved beams and painted rafters, winding corridors and artificial hills, everything so beautiful it seemed like a painting.

The engagement gifts she’d prepared were all in the rear courtyard.

I followed her through the house, crossing courtyards until we reached the back. When she opened the door, the sight of the engagement treasures and gifts stunned me.

The first thing I saw was a white horse!

To be precise, it was a paper horse, exquisitely crafted and lifelike. Besides that, there was a large stack of spirit money on the table, yellow paper stamped with red seals, finely printed—not the crude, large-denomination “ghost money” you’d usually find in paper shops. Wang Granny called it “imprint money.” On the nearby clothing rack, several women’s long robes in ancient style were displayed.

At first glance, the garments seemed flawless and were even quite beautiful, but as I drew closer, I realized these elegant Han costumes were also made entirely of paper.

Wang Granny noticed my surprise and, with a hint of pride, explained that these robes were the most labor-intensive; she had worked through the night to finish them.

Dazed, I listened as she introduced each item. Then she picked up a red marriage contract and said, “Child, this is your marriage agreement, the most important of all! Soon, you’ll need to prick your finger and write your name in your own blood. If, when you show her the contract, she also writes her name, it means she’s agreed to the marriage. Once the engagement is set, your grandfather’s troubles will be resolved.”

I...

Well, I was speechless, and a chill crept down my spine.

Who gives paper robes and a paper horse as engagement gifts? Isn’t that a curse? If these were sent over, let alone marrying their daughter, I’d likely be beaten half to death!

Looking at the marriage contract Wang Granny handed me, I thought for a moment. I’d only ever seen paper clothes, horses, and money burned for the dead, never as engagement gifts for the living.

Unless—the bride Wang Granny had found for me wasn’t alive at all!

At that moment, Wang Granny continued her explanations, saying the paper horse needed to be “opened” with my fingertip blood before it could be burned and serve its purpose...

But I wasn’t listening anymore.

I finally understood why Wang Granny could use this marriage as leverage to save my grandfather. I’d considered the possibility that the bride might be ugly or have some defect; Er Pang had guessed she might be a nun from the White Pure Temple. But I never imagined the bride wouldn’t be human at all.

What she called a betrothal was, in fact, binding me to a ghost marriage.

The bride I would marry wasn’t a living woman, but a ghost!

From start to finish, I’d been played!

What kind of living person marries a ghost bride? I wasn’t Ning Caichen from those old tales—I didn’t have that kind of courage! Besides, I’d heard that when a living person marries a ghost, the ghost will drain the living’s vitality; once that is exhausted, their life ends. I wasn’t ready to die.

Now, in this dim room, Wang Granny’s face seemed far less kindly than before—only cold and sinister.

Considering the ghost marriage, I even wondered if Ma Limp hadn’t really died but had secretly plotted with Wang Granny to ensnare me. Though Wang Granny had a past with my grandfather, that was all gone; now, only hatred remained.

That hatred was directed not just at my grandfather, but at anyone connected to him.

I was the target of her vengeance.

“No! I won’t agree to this marriage!” I declared resolutely.

I turned to leave, intent on escaping Wang Granny’s house.

But just as I reached the door, Wang Granny spoke: “Foolish child, think carefully. Today is the deadline for the twenty-ninth. If you step out that door, the underworld will come for you, and it won’t be as simple as the peddler borrowing water from your home. When the hour arrives, your grandfather will die without question, and no one will be able to save him!”

Her words struck me like a nail hammered into my chest. I’d never mentioned the peddler to her, yet she knew.

How deep this plot ran, I couldn’t fathom. Wang Granny must have planned it all along; her delay wasn’t about matching horoscopes or choosing an auspicious day—those were just excuses. The truth was, she feared I’d back out if I learned the real story, and now, with the deadline upon us, even if I wanted to reconsider, my grandfather’s situation left no room for negotiation.

With less than a day, where else could I find someone to save my grandfather besides Wang Granny? He was my only family; I couldn’t bear to lose him, and if I wanted to save him, I had no choice but to comply.

With that realization, my feet froze—I couldn’t take another step.

I clenched my teeth.

“All right... Fine! Since you’ve calculated this so thoroughly, I accept! But regarding my grandfather, I hope you’ll keep your word. Otherwise, even if I become a ghost, I won’t let you off!” I stared at Wang Granny; the slight warmth I’d once felt toward her—mistaking her for my grandmother—was gone.

Wang Granny seemed a bit stunned by my words, then said, “Rest assured. I, Wang Qinghua, always keep my promises. I won’t be as shameless as your grandfather!”

“You...”

I left my words unsaid, frustration burning within. I needed her now—she alone had the power to save my grandfather.

The day passed in silence.

As dusk faded into darkness, Wang Granny instructed me to carry the paper horse to the crossroads outside. There, I was to use my fingertip blood to “open” its eyes and then burn it.

Whatever the paper horse was made of, when it burned, there was no ash—only a wisp of green smoke that spiraled and sank into the earth.

It was strange, and I couldn’t help but be amazed.

Afterward, I wrote my name in blood on the marriage contract. Wang Granny said the time was nearly up. She led the way, and I followed, carrying the paper gifts and marriage contract, heading to the home of the bride she’d found for me.

I asked where my “bride’s” home was, but Wang Granny kept her secret, saying I’d know when we arrived.

But when we finally reached it, I was shocked once again.

She didn’t take me to a nearby village, but led me over the hill behind our village, stopping at the blank tombstone on the old burial slope.

She surveyed the nameless stone and said, “Right here!”

“What? Here... You can’t be serious!” I was stunned, cold sweat breaking out on my back.

“No joke. This is the place!” she replied.

I never dreamed Wang Granny’s so-called bride would be buried on the old burial slope. And stopping before this enormous general’s tomb—what did that mean?

I steeled myself and asked, “Which grave?”

I knew that the living have homes, but the dead’s home is a grave.

“The largest one—this blank stone is her tombstone,” Wang Granny said, even bowing to it.

My grandfather had told me the largest tomb was the General’s Grave, the ancestral tomb of the Lin family. Their ancestor was a high official in the Qing dynasty.

Wang Granny bringing me here for a ghost marriage—this was madness!

I was full of doubts and questioned her. Wang Granny smiled and said, “Your grandfather was full of nonsense. If one out of ten things he told you was true, you’d be lucky. But, to be honest, the tomb holds a tremendous secret, and it’s not something I can reveal just like that!”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” I retorted. It was just a grave—what huge secret could it possibly hold? I didn’t believe it.

“Believe it or not!” she replied.

Before I could say more, she changed the subject, saying the hour was near and I should follow her instructions.

“Where are you going?” I asked. Though I now disliked Wang Granny, she was a shaman after all; she’d saved me from He Xiaojing’s spell, so she must have some skill. With her around, even on the old burial slope at night, I didn’t feel particularly afraid. But if she left me alone here, it didn’t seem right!

“Don’t worry, I won’t go far!” she said.

After that, she stopped speaking to me and disappeared into the depths of the night.

She said she wouldn’t go far, but soon enough, she vanished completely into the distant darkness.

I arranged the offerings as Wang Granny instructed and lit incense. She had told me that ghosts are not gods, their forms unstable and unable to carry gold ingots, so for ghosts, imprint money must be burned. The old burial slope was thick with yin energy, and strange things could happen at night; she told me not to look around, and if I saw anything, to pretend I didn’t.

Before my “bride” arrived, I had to find a way to hold on. Once she came, I’d be safe.

On this night, the wind was biting cold, and there was no moon; I could only rely on an old flashlight for a semblance of security.

I tried to comfort myself: after all, the mountain was full of Lin family ancestral graves; surely, they wouldn’t trouble their descendant?

Rustling...

From somewhere, sounds arose—like cold wind stirring leaves, or something crawling in the grass.

The sudden noise made my heart clench.

In rural burials, it’s customary to plant two cypress trees on either side of a grave, symbolizing the descendants’ longevity, so the old burial slope was full of cypresses. Following the direction of the sound, I spotted something under a cypress below. Instinctively, I wanted to shine my flashlight, but thinking better, I switched it off. Once my eyes adjusted, I could see something crawling in the darkness under the cypress.

It crept from the base of the tree to another grave, muttering as it went. Then, another dark mass crawled out from the grave mound.

Rustling—the sounds were eerily unsettling in the silence.

Unconsciously, cold sweat drenched me.

I swallowed, recalling Wang Granny’s warning: right, just pretend I hadn’t heard or seen anything!

That was all I could do—what else?

But soon, sounds came from other directions as well, rustling in the darkness. My heart leapt into my throat.

I looked up cautiously, and to my horror, locked eyes with a dozen old men.

Each had deep-set eyes, faces sunken and bluish-black, some blurred and rotten. They wore black burial robes, lifeless and grim, with white paper shoes and hemp soles, their toes hovering two inches above the ground as they approached, growing ever closer.

There was no way these could be living people!

I wanted to run, but my legs felt as heavy as lead.

Wang Granny had said that when in trouble, burn spirit money. That money wasn’t meant for my “bride”—she didn’t lack money. The spirit money was for moments like this. Realizing that, I quickly struck a match and set a bundle alight.