Chapter 11

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Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 11 - Reason

Are there really people in this world that, no matter who you ask, no one has any information about him?

The weather forecast says that today’s temperature will go above 30 degrees for the first time this season. At noon, the white and scorching sun reflected off of the marble floor tiles outside the main building of the school. Lin Yan and Yin Zhou were sitting on the stairs relatively speechless. They spent the past three hours of phone calling around to find the address of the small Daoist priest. Lin Yan stayed up all night. The lack of sleep for many days made the world confusing and blurred around him. His senses were all fuzzy. He buried his face in the palm of his hand and he rubbed his forehead. He raised his head and exhaled.

“I’ve asked everyone. I was on the same project team with him, in the same research program, in the same dormitory before, his friends… He seems to have no friends, and he doesn’t seem to have any relatives nearby. How do we find him?” Yin Zhou put his phone down. He grabbed the balled-up piece of paper on the ground, spread it out and read it again: “He has no class this week, and they have all gone to prepare materials for the thesis topic. Do you want to go back to the small temple to ask?”

“Please, you didn’t see what happened yesterday. It was like a News Years’ celebration from hell. I’m afraid that if I go back, the monk will take the peach wood sword and smack me three times over.” Lin Yan said weakly. “You check first, I’ll watch from behind.”

“Hey,” Yin Zhou poked Lin Yan sneakily, and there was a small white flash on the edge of his glasses: “What did you do with the ghost in the end?”

Lin Yan curled his knees into a ball and replied reluctantly: “I’ve already told you eight hundred times. We watched the nightlife of Wudaokou for the rest of the night.”

“Watched the nightlife? Were you drunk?” Yin Zhou drew close to Lin Yan. “So, are you enemies turned friends? Is the fighting done? Should I expect any relationship in the future now?”

“Please watch what you’re saying. He’s watching now.” Lin Yan raised his head lazily, blinked his eyes vigorously, rubbed his temples vigorously to keep himself awake: “No kidding, he disappeared at dawn, but I could feel that he was still there. The strange thing was that he didn’t seem to understand what I was saying to him. The monk said that the ghost wouldn’t remember being a human being. He was basically… just like an animal.”

“You have to find A-Yan quickly. I’m afraid that something will happen to him.” Lin Yan said: “And he must know more than we do.”

Yin Zhou slapped his thigh vigorously: “I always hang out with the three-dimensional people and get dragged into messes like this.”

“Hack into the files of the school’s dormitory. Students are supposed to register their new address when they move out. Maybe there’s a clue there.”

At 2:30 in the afternoon, Lin Yan and Yin Zhou appeared in front of an old five-story house on Dadong Road.

This city had many similar-looking buildings. Land prices were soaring day by day. Developers couldn’t afford to dismantle them. Residents had no money to move. Over time, older houses like this one had become ugly scars in the cluster of new buildings. The old-style design had poor lighting. Even in broad daylight, it was dark and damp. The grey paint on the wall had peeled away, exposing the brown-red brick wall underneath; the dusty bicycles and broken furniture had piled up in the alleyway, never cleaned. From time to time, a mouse would hop past, staring at the intruder’s whereabouts vigilantly in the dark with its small eyes.

“Shouldn’t this place be demolished?” Yin Zhou stared at the address on the note in disbelief, and then looked up at the old residential building that seemed to be crumbling: “If you live here, you won’t be able to run away if there’s an earthquake.” Lin Yan felt a bit guilty. He had heard that the little Daoist had been in a bad family situation and had been relying on part-time work to subsidize his tuition, but he hadn’t expected it to be this bad. He shouldn’t have kept quiet when he was kicked out of the dorm. As a result, he could not live in a dormitory and pay 1,000 yuan a year, so he left to rent a house in a place with little money.

The two cautiously walked through the small alley. Lin Yan pulled away a spider web hanging above his head and asked Yin Zhou’s back: “What’s the number of A-Yan’s house?”

“0023” Yin Zhou patted the dust off his jeans and looked up at the surrounding house numbers in confusion: “But this should be the bottom floor.”

“The basement.” Lin Yan said in a deep voice.

The old corridor was full of rubbish, and it was so dark that he could barely see the blue and gray stripes of the stand-up collar T-shirt on Yin Zhou in front of him. There was a damp and mouldy smell in the air. He didn’t know why, but Lin Yan suddenly remembered this one thing he saw in a movie. In a ghost film called “The 4th Floor”, the woman in white at the end of a creepy corridor tilted her neck, and her dark hair showed two dark eyes. Lin Yan shook her head vigorously, trying to get rid of the fantasy in his mind. He couldn’t help but laugh at himself. He must be really sick because all he could think of were ghosts all the time.

Yin Zhou stopped and pointed to what Lin Yan had said before. He saw a simple door at the end of the corridor with the number 0023 slantingly engraved on the door. Just as Lin Yan was about to knock on the door, Yin Zhou cut him off and put his ear on the door.

“Someone’s talking.” Yin Zhou frowned and adjusted his glasses: “I can’t hear what they’re saying…” He raised his finger to his lips and made a silent gesture. Seeing Lin Yan hesitate to listen, Yin Zhou grabbed him. He yanked his collar forward harshly. The soundproofing of the old house wasn’t very good. They could make out intermittent voices inside through the door panel, speaking slowly, and occasionally letting out a low laugh or two.

“There’s A-Yan’s voice. Does he have guests?” Lin Yan murmured and turned back. After thinking about it, he felt that listening through the wall wasn’t ethical, so he pulled Yin Zhou back and muttered: “Don’t listen. People will think we’re trying to rob the place.”

The door was suddenly pulled open. Yin Zhou lost his balance and tumbled forward a couple steps. He propped himself up on the door frame to stand firmly, and explained embarrassingly: “Hi, hi, hello, hello, I thought no one was coming.”

There was no response, the doorway was pitch black, and the sound of the door panel swaying slightly echoed in the empty corridor, “Squeak–”

A slender hand was holding the door frame, and a pale face flashed in the darkness. Yin Zhou came face-to-face with him, widened his eyes and cried out, “Ghost!” Then he hurriedly backed into Lin Yan. Lin Yan hadn’t expected it, and he didn’t have time to see what happened. Whatever happened, they both retreated instinctively. Yin Zhou stepped all over his feet, and the two fell into a shameful ball on the ground.

A timid male voice rang from above his head: “Brother Lin Yan?”

The light turned on, and the person standing at the door was the little Daoist A-Yan.

When he entered the house, Yin Zhou couldn’t help but anxiously mutter. He followed Lin Yan reluctantly and walked into a small spotless two-bedroom house with simple furnishings. A white candle was lit on the coffee table in front of the old sofa, the wax drops forming small bumps around the candle’s edge on the tabletop. Lin Yan and Yin Zhou sat down and looked around curiously. This wasn’t a place where they expected young people to live. There was a faint smell of traditional Chinese medicinal herbs in the air. A compass and a peach wood sword were placed on the old cabinet, and an aged portrait of a person hung on the wall. Yin Zhou asked Lin Yan who the old man in the portrait was. Lin Yan quickly motioned him to shut up, and whispered that this was Tao Hongjing, the founder of the Maoshan School of Daoism.

When he saw A-Yan’s unique appearance at school, he always thought that it was all for show. Lin Yan didn’t expect that he really had some connection with the Maoshan School, known for their effectiveness in exorcising ghosts. A-Yan was still wearing the weird blue robe as he walked in with two teacups. He leaned over to blow out the candles on the table and respectfully handed the teacups to Lin Yan and Yin Zhou. The ceramic cup had been a Buy 3 for 10 Yuan bargain at a roadside stall, but the tea was still fragrant and tasted pleasant.

“The green bamboo leaves from Mount E-Emei are a specialty of my hometown. Master gave it to me. If I ever feel homesick, I drink this.”

Yin Zhou was stunned by A-Yan’s dismissal of their meeting moments ago. He gulped and asked calmly: “Didn’t you have guests over? Why didn’t you turn on the lights? I was scared to death just now.”

The little Daoist’s expression suddenly changed. He whispered a ‘no’. Yin Zhou raised his eyebrows and glanced at him. The little Daoist couldn’t stand sitting under his stare. He turned around and took out a tray from the cabinet, placing it on the coffee table carefully. “I was only talking to them,” A-Yan said. On the tray were some boxwood carvings of different figures and animals. The carvings were lifelike, their eyebrows, beards, and even the folds in their clothes were clearly visible. Lin Yan picked up one and studied it. He was stunned: “Isn’t this your master?”

A-Yan lowered his head and replied: “Yes. It can be boring living by myself sometimes. I sculpt some small things to pass the time and tell them my thoughts. Talking to them makes me feel better.” He pointed to the woodcarvings on the tray and said: “These are my parents, sister, and our family cat.”

The wood carving was covered with a thick layer of grout, soaked in oil; it looked very well-used. Except for the monk set off to the side, the remaining sculptures made up a set; there was a boxwood table, an exquisite miniature chair and the smiling family of three with their ball-shaped cat. Lin Yan touched the cat’s head and couldn’t help but admire the work. He said: “These carvings are really good, they’re very heartfelt. A-Yan, if you’re homesick, don’t forget to book tickets with me if you want to go back home for the Mid-Autumn Festival. The school will give us a group discount.”

A-Yan froze: “No I won’t. My parents passed away long ago. I want to work and send money to my sister to study.”

Lin Yan hadn’t meant to touch a soft spot when he commented. He put down the woodcarving and apologized. A-Yan didn’t care: “It’s okay, I– I’m used to it. I don’t have any friends. When I carve these and talk to them, it feels like they’re still here.”

“I’m your friend.” Lin Yan comforted him: “Carve one for me when you get the chance. Your craftsmanship is really amazing.”

“Okay, I’ll show it to you once I finish it.” The little Daoist smiled, his eyes sparkling: “By the way, you– you guys were looking for me because of the ghost thing that followed you?”

Lin Yan nodded. He sat upright and took a deep breath. He sorted out the things that had happened since encountering ghosts and said, “I heard you say that ghost resentment is too powerful and there is no way to overcome it. I wanted to know if there is another way to send him away without dispersing his spirit. He almost choked to death three times.” A-Yan frowned and shook his head, “That’s not it. Al– Although I can’t see him in places with heavy yang energy, I can feel that he’s very sad.” After that, he pondered for a while: “He didn’t mean to harm you.”

“Evil ghosts have no human consciousness, and those who die suddenly have resentment. Only when they wander in between the worlds of the living and the dead and find something to kill can they calm their hostility. My master said that they are so powerful that they have to be eliminated. I have the ability to look into the eyes of a ghost and understand their emotions, so I can’t always disperse their spirits. Think about it, a murdered ghost who has waited for hundreds of years in a dark and cold grave; what else can you feel except profound sympathy?”

“Loneliness. Unbearable loneliness.” A-Yan stared at the wooden carvings on the plate, his eyes suddenly distant: “On July 15th, the gates to the ghost realm will be open. He wants to take you to his world. It’s too unbearable to be alone.” The last sentence was hushed, almost self-deprecating.

Lin Yan picked up the cat woodcarving and fiddled with it. To be honest, he did sympathize with the ghost. He even closed his eyes to try and imagine himself in the ghost’s shoes. The closed, silent, unknown horror of death, a blackened skeleton in the faint light of a miner’s lamp sleeping quietly. First, he is hidden in the coffin, then under a layer encrustation, and then inside an airtight tomb room, with a heavy bluestone tomb door, layer upon layer locking the soul away to keep it from rising again. No matter how magnificent the mausoleum is, and how rare it was to be buried in one, what’s the use of it? Only the sound of his heartbeat could be heard in the eternal darkness. No, there isn’t even a heartbeat.

Death is the loneliest thing. A deadly but lonely ghost, after hundreds of years of silence, waiting for someone to finally sense its presence.

How tragic yet oddly optimistic.