Chapter Ten: The Twin Demons Bearing the Coffin

Wang Ying’s words sent a chill down my spine. Clearly, this female ghost had no particular affection for me; it was foolish to hope she might change at all. I could only pray she wouldn’t torment or bully me further. But what should I do next? This female ghost was my living nightmare.

“All right, I’ll count my blessings. It’s getting late—let’s go to sleep.” I glanced at the bed, which the ghost woman had already claimed, leaving me little chance to rest there. I resigned myself to spending the night on the sofa, hoping to muddle through till morning.

At the mention of sleep, Wang Ying’s eyes suddenly sparkled. “Perfect! Time for bed—you come up here too. We can share the bed.” She stretched out her slender arm, patting the spot beside her.

This didn’t seem wise. Who knew what could happen if a man and a ghost slept together? The main problem was that this ghost was crafty and ruthless—I truly didn’t dare share a bed with her. My waist still ached dully from her previous attack! Panicked, I hurriedly refused.

Wang Ying sat up again, her brows arching sharply. “Wang Dachuan, are you coming up or not?” Her hands made a twisting, pinching gesture as she spoke.

A wave of helplessness and sorrow washed over me. What was she up to now? I may have been a poor country boy before, but I still had my dignity—surely I couldn’t be treated so arbitrarily! Yet, my resistance was only internal; I dared not struggle in word or deed. What was the use of struggling against a ghost?

“Wife, maybe it’s better not to. You’re too beautiful, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself. If I did something I shouldn’t, that would be a problem.” That was all I could say—I certainly couldn’t admit I was afraid of her.

“Fine, you’re a man. Just remember, you’re the one refusing, so don’t say I mistreated you.” Wang Ying lay down, turning her back to me and falling silent. Looking at her slender yet graceful figure, I couldn’t help but shake my head—was this truly a ghost? She was more like a spoiled, domineering woman.

When I was a child, my father told me ghosts were formless and couldn’t remain long in the human world. Even if they appeared, it was only briefly. But Wang Ying was different; she bathed, she slept, she even argued and pinched me.

My mind swirled with questions, but exhaustion soon overtook them. I drifted into a hazy sleep. When I awoke, daylight streamed through the window, cloaking the room in a warm, orange glow. Instinctively, I checked the bed—empty, sheets rumpled as if someone had slept there, but nothing else. Not even a single strand of hair remained.

I couldn’t tell if last night was reality or a dream. Either way, I’d made up my mind—I would not carry the soul jar with me anymore. This ghost woman was nothing but trouble; keeping her around would only invite disaster.

After breakfast with Wei Qi in the third-floor cafeteria, we headed downstairs. Shang Xiaoyun had been waiting for us. Her cheeks flushed when she saw us, likely recalling the events of the previous night. Only now did I realize how wise we’d been not to go to a hotel with those two girls. Had we done so, Shang Xiaoyun would have had leverage over us, and we’d be at her mercy.

Shang Xiaoyun asked Wei Qi what to do about her husband’s grave. Wei Qi said he’d spent the night thinking it over and there was only one solution: open the grave and examine the tomb. He made all the necessary arrangements. Shang Xiaoyun, devout and trusting, agreed to do exactly as he said.

The grave lay at the foot of Fulaishan. Behind it was the Feilai Peak; in front, the Shuhe River. Tall ginkgo trees surrounded the tomb. I knew little of feng shui, yet even I could sense this was an auspicious spot. Why, then, did Wei Qi call it the “Solitary Dragon’s Lair”?

Shang Xiaoyun hired several laborers from the job market at high wages. Before the digging began, Wei Qi lit incense and burned yellow ritual paper, muttering incantations I couldn’t understand. Only then did the laborers, under a makeshift canopy, begin their work.

The purpose of the canopy was to keep sunlight from touching the dead. There’s an old belief that if a buried corpse is exposed to the sun, misfortune—or even the destruction of the family—could result. With Wei Qi supervising, the digging went smoothly. In half an hour, the coffin emerged. To everyone’s shock, water started bubbling up from beneath, quickly flooding the grave until the coffin was half submerged. Fortunately, the water stopped rising after that.

The laborers, frightened by the water, refused to dig further. Even Shang Xiaoyun furrowed her brow, asking Wei Qi in alarm what was happening—the ground had been dry when they chose the burial site.

Wei Qi observed for a while, then spoke ominously: “There is injustice here.” He pulled Shang Xiaoyun aside. “How did your husband really die?”

Shang Xiaoyun once more insisted her husband had died suddenly, during sex with his mistress. If we didn’t believe her, she could take us to the girl.

Wei Qi scratched his head. “He died filled with resentment. At first, I thought this was a Solitary Dragon’s Lair; now it seems your husband’s corpse has been bound.”

This was the first time I’d heard the term “bound corpse,” let alone Shang Xiaoyun.

“Master Wei, what is a bound corpse?” Shang Xiaoyun’s voice trembled as her body did.

“It means the corpse has been controlled by others—his spirit cannot drink Forgetfulness Soup nor cross the Bridge of No Return. He is trapped in the coffin, resentment rising skyward. Soon, he’ll become a vengeful ghost and harm those closest to him—meaning you and your family,” Wei Qi explained.

His words sent a shiver through me. I’d only been a bystander before, never imagining all this would happen. With Wang Ying’s appearance, it seemed ghosts were indeed real, and now this new term—no wonder my second uncle had sent me to find Wei Qi. Beneath his shabby exterior, he clearly possessed true skill.

Shang Xiaoyun was so terrified she collapsed, squatting on the ground. “Master Wei, is all this true? What should I do?”

Wei Qi helped her up, assuring her there was no need to worry—as long as he was here, everything could be resolved. But now was not the time to open the coffin: its interior was full of sinister energy, and with day and night intersecting, disaster could strike.

Shang Xiaoyun, thoroughly rattled, left everything to Wei Qi, willing to spend whatever it took. He placed several talismans on the coffin, then led us back to Juxian town.

Instead of returning to the hotel, we went to Shang Xiaoyun’s home to prepare a soul-summoning banner, along with more incense and ritual paper, under Wei Qi’s direction. Once preparations were done, Wei Qi pulled me aside. “Dachuan, tonight you’ll need to bring your Three-foot Longyuan. Once we open the coffin, the two little ghosts binding Shang Xiaoyun’s husband’s corpse will try to escape. We have to capture them.”

“Three-foot Longyuan? What’s that?”

Wei Qi sighed. “Your second uncle really is something—he gave you such a treasure without even telling you what it is. It’s that peachwood sword from your house.”

“That sword can do this? It can kill ghosts?”

“Of course. That peachwood sword is a renowned demon-slaying weapon, famous in the spiritual world. It’s called the Three-foot Longyuan. And you had no idea!”

I truly didn’t. My second uncle rarely let me see it—he only gave it to me when he sent me away. I’d thought it was just a toy. Kill ghosts? Suddenly, I felt a surge of hope. Damn! If I carried this sword, would Wang Ying stop bullying me? I’d have to try it back at the hotel.

As night fell, Wei Qi instructed Shang Xiaoyun to send the laborers away and found two helpers instead: a man in his forties named Long Yu, and a young woman of eighteen or nineteen named Ye Zi. Each carried ritual tools on their back—they were clearly experienced in the ways of spirits.

When we reached the grave, Wei Qi personally removed the talismans he’d placed on the coffin at noon. The moment they were lifted, a gust of gloomy wind roared out from the tomb, making the water inside ripple.

As the chill wind swept past, Wei Qi quickly leapt out of the pit. The rest of us gripped our ritual tools tightly. It was my first time witnessing such a scene; my legs nearly gave out from fear. If not for the others, I’d have fled already.

“Twin ghosts carry the coffin,” Ye Zi murmured, her sharp gaze fixed on the pit, ready for anything.

“Yes, I thought as much. I just can’t believe anyone in Juxian would be so malicious as to do such a thing,” Wei Qi replied.

I was even more confused now. First “bound corpse,” now “twin ghosts carry the coffin”—what did it all mean?

“Everyone, get ready. I’m going to open the coffin,” Wei Qi said, handing a talisman to Shang Xiaoyun before jumping back into the grave.