Chapter 98: The Gray Old Lady

I was taken aback—could Weiyang truly bring trouble? I asked Grandfather why, but he only said this could not be spoken of and that, in time, I would understand.

When we parted, Weiyang sent me off herself. She had packed my bundle neatly, and when I opened it I found a jade flute tucked inside. Seeing the odd look on her face, I told her there was no need to carry it. She replied that the jade flute was a cold, spiritually potent object: when one’s thoughts grew chaotic, it could steady the mind. I had never known it had such a virtue. I looked to my grandfather; he merely nodded. The whole farewell felt strange from the beginning.

A lone traveler has little else to do on the road but think.
After crossing Shanhai Pass, the land was dotted with villages of every size. Most of the adults had left to seek work beyond their homes, so nearly every place was full of children and old people.

Grandfather had never said what would happen after this point, so I went to the nearest village and asked the locals whether anything uncanny had occurred recently. One old woman told me every family worshipped the Home-Protector Immortals and that the Fairy of the Spirit-Response Palace on Mount Changbai protected them. “What strange thing could possibly happen here?” she asked.

I know those Home-Protector beings—fox, yellow, white, willow, and gray of that sort. To serve them brings both blessing and risk: sometimes it brings safety, but if one offends them, they can answer with vengeance. Yet I had never heard of the spirit she called the Spirit-Response Palace Fairy. I asked her about it, and she whispered sharply: “Do not ask. If the fairy hears your questions, she will have eyes gouged out and tongues cut.”

“Is that fairy truly so terrifying?” I asked.

“Keep still, young man,” she snapped. “How can you speak so lightly? You are ill-bred indeed. What with meeting you today, I’m unlucky enough already. I’ll have to burn incense tonight and make amends to her!”

With that she hurried home and shut her door.

These villages were small; there were no inns. With dusk coming, I had meant to spend the night wherever I could. But I had already offended that old woman, and then every house turned away from me. By the time the sun slipped down, each home had closed tight; no one answered my knocks. In some houses the light was still on, but the instant I passed, it was snuffed out.

It was still only a little past seven, and people in rural places did not normally sleep so early. Near the hills, I finally found one house with an open door. In its yard an elderly woman was grinding beans with a small stone mill. I asked, “Grandmother, sunset has barely come. Why are all the lamps put out?”

She paused the mill and looked up at me. Her face was strange, especially the eyes—small and dark, like black soybeans.

“Things are unsettled,” she said. “Everyone sleeps early now. They fear bad things roaming at night.”

“Are you not afraid?”

With a crooked smile she said, “At my age my life is already forfeit. What is there left to fear?”
Then I noticed several odd masks nailed to the wall, the kind spirit mediums use when dancing in trance. This old woman was clearly a medium-disciple, a village shamaness, and that explained her lack of fear.

I sat and asked about the village rumors. If there were Household Guardians and the Spirit-Response Fairy watching, how could anything bad happen?

She stopped and gave me a strange look. “People say the heavens are changing. Even the fox, yellow, white, willow, and gray ones must look to their own survival. Why should they worry over old folk and children?”

“And the Spirit-Response Palace Fairy?” I asked again.

“She roams under heaven seeking a husband,” she said with impatience. “She is not in Changbai beyond the pass. How could she be tending these village people?”

“The Fairy choosing a husband,” I said. “That is strange indeed.”

She eyed me again and said, “You have good air and face, young man. Why not try your luck at Changbai Mountain?”

“Grandmother, you joke.”

She looked out once more. “You seem without a place to rest. If you do not mind, stay in my house tonight. Leave early in the morning. The mountains are not peaceful; you could lose your life here if you linger.”

I had been worrying over where to stay, so I thanked her at once.

Inside, I saw another adjoining room. Three children were there—two girls and a boy—huddled in bed, looking at me in fear and silence. She assigned me the room opposite theirs and ladled me a bowl of millet porridge. “Drink, and sleep,” she said. “I’ll go check the outside. Nights in this mountain are unsafe. If any child is out in the dark, good fortune is unlikely.”

I asked who those three were. She said they were her three grandsons.

Then, with a scrape, the outer gate shut behind me from the outside and was locked.

I lay down and felt a chill at what I had just sensed in the woman, yet her house itself could never truly keep me from waking if I wished to move. I went into the side room and lay there. From the door crack I saw her truly leave.

Then the children began to cry from the next room, but in whispers, as if terrified to be heard.

I stood at once and opened that door. They tucked themselves beneath their blankets, terrified. In a low voice I said, “It’s me. Why are you crying?”

When they recognized my voice, the three crawled out. The older girl was shaking so badly she could scarcely stand, and pointed at a wooden tub by the bed.

I looked, and I shuddered. The tub was full of white bones—skeletons, arms, legs—every one of them a child’s bones.

No wonder they were so frightened. I looked again at the little mill and then toward the yard. What had I seen as grain in that stone grinder was no grain at all: it was fresh, bloodied flesh. A wave of cold ran through me.

She looked like one of those country shamans in body and gesture, but I had only guessed she was a medium-disciple. I had not imagined she ate human flesh. She could not have been human.

I asked the children how they had been kept there. The eldest said they had gone into the mountain to play the day before and lost their way. Then they met this Gray Grandmother, who said she knew the way home. She brought them here and locked them up.

“Are you from this village?” I asked.

They all shook their heads and wept, saying they would never run into the hills again.

The woman who called herself Gray Grandmother was clearly the Gray Spirit among the fox-yellow-white-willow-gray kind—the rat demon indeed. No wonder her eyes looked like black beans and her face seemed not truly human.

At that point I told the three children, “Do not be afraid. Hide in my room. I will stay and wait for her.”

The older girl whispered, “Big brother, are you not afraid of her?”

“No. I came here to deal with her. I’ll find a way to save you.”

After I spoke, I sent the three into the room where I had first slept. Then I asked each for one strand of hair, made a paper figure for each, fixed the hair to it, and covered it with the quilt.

I had learned this paper-effigy method partly from Master Li. Rat-spirits are short-sighted and keyed to breath and aura; it is enough to deceive this Gray woman.

With the effigies ready and set down, I saw a nearby cupboard and crouched beside it. The whole yard was filled with implements used by spirit mediums. I concluded she had likely killed one and taken his place, posing as a true medium to feed there.

After some half-hour, I heard the fence gate open. Then came a whisper from outside:

“Elder Sister Huang, Elder Brother Liu, the boy I locked in the room may be the one called Lin Yi. He destroyed our Gray lineage at the Laojieling side, dozens of our mouths. Come help me put this Lin Yi down.”

So the old woman was undeniably a rat spirit, and the rat demons that had plagued and beguiled Old Jieling Village came from the Gray clan line beyond the northeastern pass.

One male voice answered, “Grandmother Gray, do not worry. The fox, yellow, white, and willow are one family with gray; we all share the incense of the Taiyin Temple. His enemies are our enemies as well.”

I had already instructed the children: when you hear motion at the gate, turn over and make some noise.

Soon the gate to the yard opened. The Gray old woman entered, went straight to my door, listened inside, and signaled the other two to keep silent.
Then she led those two into this room and whispered, “Elder Sister Huang, Elder Brother Liu, you are doing service for our Gray house today, so I will not cheat you. Let the boy named Lin sleep soundly, then we strike before he can react. There are a few tender ones in here as well. Shall we taste them first?”