Chapter Thirty-Seven: Entangled Pasts

My grandfather, on the other hand, remained rather calm. He went over to Niu Dahuang and told him there was nothing to worry about, assuring him not to be so anxious. Then, my grandfather opened our front gate wide.

As soon as the gate swung open, all the villagers, in unison, knelt before my grandfather. Even my grandfather was taken aback by the sight and said, “Ah, we’re all from the same village—what are you doing? Quickly, get up, all of you!”

Never before had I witnessed such a grand spectacle—not even the scene at the old burial slope that day compared to this. Hundreds of people knelt before my grandfather, their reverence sincere, not forced by the soul-manipulation tactics of the rat spirits.

My grandfather urged them to rise, but they remained kneeling, bowing their heads three times before finally getting to their feet, one after another. Someone must have already told them about how my grandfather had saved them; they knew the whole story, and this act of kneeling was their heartfelt gratitude for his life-saving kindness.

The children rescued last night stood behind me. Seeing the villagers restored, I told them that their families had come—they should go and find their parents. In the entire village, there were forty or fifty children of that age, but now only a dozen or so survived. Watching these youngsters rush into their parents’ arms, the happiness and excitement on their faces stirred envy in me. Once again, I thought of my own parents, wondering where they might be.

As I watched their reunions unfold, my grandfather looked at me, came over, patted my shoulder, and returned to the yard.

Of course, most of the children had perished in the rat disaster; their parents, seeing other families reunited, were moved to tears themselves.

Those were tears of regret.

They blamed their own greed, for coveting gold and signing that fateful contract. If their souls hadn’t been controlled, perhaps their children might have had a chance.

Moreover, the so-called gold they held was nothing but stone. Their eyes had been deceived.

The surviving children were mostly those whose families had initially resisted temptation and refused the merit soup. Though they eventually succumbed, fortune spared their offspring from harm at the hands of the rat spirits.

They hated the rat spirits with a burning rage.

The corpses of those rat spirits now lay in my uncle’s yard. I did not conceal this from the villagers; I told them everything. To die so easily seemed far too lenient for those creatures.

The rest was left for the villagers to handle themselves.

Afterward, the villagers made their way to my uncle’s house, while Er Pang, my grandfather, and I went to the ridge opposite the old burial slope. My uncle’s body was still there. Grandfather said that since his remains had touched the earth here, he should be laid to rest in this place. He determined the feng shui of the burial site, and Er Pang and I did the hard work to bury my uncle.

Grandfather said my uncle was a man who loved tranquility, and this place suited him better than the old burial slope. As he spoke, I could see tears glimmering in my grandfather's eyes.

Having buried my uncle, we retraced our steps. From afar, I glanced at the old burial slope and its nameless stone, remembering the marriage pact I had made with her the night before.

The wedding was set for three days hence.

She had kept her promise and saved my grandfather; I would not go back on my word—I would marry her, and for my grandfather’s sake, I had no regrets. Yet, the marriage felt more like a transaction, and a faint sense of melancholy rose within me.

Noticing that I kept looking toward the old burial slope, my grandfather said, “You saw your bride, didn’t you?”

I nodded. I didn’t wish to speak much about her.

“This girl was chosen for you when you were still a child. After all these years, your affairs with her are finally settled, and I can rest easy,” my grandfather said, a look of deep satisfaction on his face.

His words puzzled me; a sense of intrigue crept in. What did he mean, chosen when I was a child?

If she was chosen then, why did grandfather fall into a coma? Why did I have to consult Witch Wang afterward, and why did she instruct me to use such a method to rescue grandfather?

Was I caught up in some scheme of grandfather and Witch Wang?

My mind whirled with questions, and I promptly asked, “Grandfather, you said you chose her when I was a child—when was that? Why don’t I remember?”

“When you were little, you snuck off to the old burial slope and met an older girl. Do you recall?” Grandfather brought up that incident, and of course I remembered. But I had never told him about it; I thought he believed my story about catching crabs by the riverbank.

“She visited you in your dreams one night, left a red paper with your birth details. That act alone marked you as hers,” Grandfather said. I remembered that red paper with the eight characters of my birth date; when I showed it to him, he tucked it away.

Er Pang, standing nearby, chimed in, “I remember—it was the time our eldest pressed a red paper onto an old grave mound.”

Grandfather laughed, gave me a look, and said, “A red paper on a grave means a happy event; seems you two are truly destined.”

I had nothing to say in return.

Grandfather went on to explain that when he asked me that morning whether I had dreamt anything, it was to confirm if she still remembered me after all these years.

It turned out she did. That night, a beautiful female ghost entered my room, enchanted me with her ghostly arts, and tried to draw my yang energy. Later, she slapped me—and it was her. That’s why, when grandfather learned I’d been slapped, he was so pleased.

Because he knew that the old promise, despite the passage of years, was still valid.

After hearing grandfather’s explanations, I asked if he had feigned his coma to facilitate the marriage.

Grandfather denied it outright, insisting it was impossible.

But he wouldn’t meet my eyes, only saying, “If I had just pretended, how would you explain these corpse spots on my body?”

I had nothing to say, for indeed, you can’t fake those marks.

Beside me, Er Pang chuckled and added, “If Grandfather didn’t act so convincingly, how could he fool you?”

Grandfather glared at Er Pang, who quickly ducked behind me, as if grandfather’s secret had been exposed.

Of course, much of this was in jest—the truth was not as simple as I imagined. If grandfather had just feigned death, with his character, he would never have watched the children die without intervening.

When we returned home, Witch Wang had already woken up.

Her injuries were serious. As we reached the gate, Niu Dahuang stood blocking the entrance, refusing to let Witch Wang leave. He insisted she had to wait for my grandfather’s return; otherwise, he couldn’t answer to him.

Seeing us come back, Niu Dahuang sighed in relief and said, “Old Lin, Wang Dajie insists on leaving—I couldn’t stop her!”

As he spoke, Witch Wang pushed Niu Dahuang aside. He was caught off guard, stumbling back. Witch Wang had changed into her usual clothes and carried a bundle, striding toward the distance.

Watching her go, Niu Dahuang said, “Old Lin, why are you just standing there? Go after her!”

My grandfather hesitated, his gaze turbulent with conflicting emotions. At last, he remained rooted but spoke, “Qinghua, your injuries are severe. Stay a few more days to recover…”

“My affairs are none of your concern!” Witch Wang replied without turning back.

Grandfather frowned and said, “You suffered grievously for the Lin family. No matter what, I owe you a debt. Can’t you stay?”

Witch Wang stopped, turned to look at grandfather, fixing her gaze on him until he could no longer meet her eyes. Then she said, “Lin, I broke the rules this time. I shouldn’t have set foot in your Old Jieling Village—not even a step. That was my oath, and my injuries are heaven’s punishment. I deserve it!”

With that, she ignored my grandfather and walked away.

After a few steps, she suddenly clutched her chest and coughed violently. Her body trembled, as if she might collapse. My grandfather moved a half-step forward but stopped, his expression conflicted, uncertain what he feared.

Seeing this, I rushed over to steady Witch Wang. Her handkerchief was soaked in blood—I was shocked, about to call for my grandfather and Niu Dahuang, but Witch Wang shook her head.

“Child, don’t speak. I don’t need his pity,” she whispered.

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