Chapter 2

Speaking of Mrs. Zhou, the eldest daughter-in-law of the Zhou family, she used to be a celebrity in our village because she could communicate with the dead. According to the elders in the village, the things she said while communicating with the dead were quite accurate.

So-called "communicating with the dead" means going to the underworld to help find the deceased relatives of others, and then letting those relatives possess her body to solve some problems for the living.

Actually, Mrs. Zhou was just an ordinary woman before her husband died. Her ability to communicate with the dead only appeared after his death. As for how she got this ability, she herself was very secretive about it, and the villagers only heard some rumors.

The rumors were told by the second daughter-in-law of the Zhou family and the Zhou family's daughter, saying that on the seventh day after the death of Zhou Da (Mrs. Zhou's husband), Mrs. Zhou somehow sneaked back into the west wing of the house.

The Zhou family hadn't divided their household, and seven people lived together. On the seventh day, the family should have avoided the west wing, but there was nowhere to go, so they had to leave that room, which was originally where Mrs. Zhou and her husband lived, empty.

But on that night, Mrs. Zhou mysteriously sneaked back into the room in the middle of the night. The family, who were already asleep, didn't know until her sister-in-law, who was sleeping next to her, got up to use the bathroom and noticed that her sister-in-law was not there.

At first, the sister-in-law didn't pay much attention, thinking that her sister-in-law might have also gotten up to use the bathroom. But when she went out of the house and was about to go to the toilet, she was terrified by a sudden burst of laughter.

It was the seventh day of her elder brother's death, and the laughter in the quiet night was particularly frightening. The sister-in-law was only 14 years old and couldn't bear such a scare. She screamed and ran back into the house.

The whole family was woken up and ran to the yard. At that time, there was no more laughter in the yard, but a woman's muffled voice could be heard, though it was unclear what she was saying. They only knew that a woman was speaking.

Zhou Da was gone, and Zhou Er, the second son, was now the mainstay of the family. Being a man, he was braver and listened carefully for a while before picking up a stick and saying, "I hear the voice coming from the west wing. I'll go see what's going on. Who's playing tricks?"

Zhou Er's wife tried to stop him, saying it was the seventh day of his elder brother's death, and she was afraid he would encounter something evil.

Just then, another burst of laughter was heard. The laughter sounded happy, but the tone was a bit eerie, making people feel cold.

"Clearly, it's my son's seventh day, why is there a female ghost in the house?" Zhou's grandfather sighed, still grieving over the loss of his son. He was very uncomfortable with the idea that his son didn't return but a female ghost did.

"But why does the voice sound like my eldest daughter-in-law?" Zhou's grandmother said, puzzled. The accent when the voice was speaking was very peculiar, and they couldn't make out what was being said, but when it laughed, she felt it was very familiar.

After Zhou's grandmother said this, the whole family listened carefully and realized it was indeed Mrs. Zhou's voice.

"Let's go see. I'm afraid my sister-in-law has gone mad," Zhou Er said, thinking that losing a husband in middle age was a great sorrow, and it was normal for Mrs. Zhou to have some mental issues.

Moreover, the family ties were very strong back then, and they couldn't just ignore it.

With that, Zhou Er tightened his grip on the stick and walked step by step toward the west wing.

It was still the familiar west wing, but the closed door looked terrifying to Zhou Er, as if opening it would lead to hell.

When he reached the door, Zhou Er took a deep breath. To boost his courage, he suddenly shouted and kicked the door hard.

A strong rural man's kick was powerful, but the door wasn't locked, just closed. Zhou Er, using too much force, fell flat on his face and tumbled into the room.

"Second son, what happened?" Zhou's grandfather asked worriedly, having lost one son, he was very concerned about this one.

"I'm fine, just tripped," Zhou Er said, his voice muffled. He was in pain but didn't want to worry the family, so he quickly answered.

Zhou's grandfather sighed with relief, but when Zhou Er looked up, his heart leaped to his throat.

The west wing was small, and one could see the whole room at a glance. Zhou Er was still kneeling and trying to stand up, but he lifted his head.

In that moment, he saw the whole room clearly. The only table in the room had a dim oil lamp lit, and his sister-in-law, Mrs. Zhou, was facing away from him, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

This scene wouldn't have scared Zhou Er, but what made his heart leap to his throat was the strange posture of his sister-in-law. Her head was tilted, her body leaning, as if she was leaning on something! Even stranger, there were two benches in front of the table, and she was sitting on the edge of one, perfectly still.

Zhou Er's throat tightened, and he forgot to stand up. He wanted to leave, but the scene was too eerie. However, it was his sister-in-law, and her husband had just died, so he couldn't just leave her.

Swallowing hard, Zhou Er mustered the courage to call out, "Sis... Sister-in-law..."

His voice was stuttering and trembling, but he didn't notice.

When he called out, Mrs. Zhou turned around, still smiling. In the dim light of the oil lamp, her smile was eerie, her mouth corners turned up, her eyes squinted, but her face was stiff.

It felt like a clay statue!

"Look, the second son is here..." Mrs. Zhou said, staring at Zhou Er. Her eyes were very focused, like a cat staring at a statue at night.

In that instant, Zhou Er's eyes welled up with tears. He wasn't a fool; he clearly heard his sister-in-law say "look." Look? For whom?

Moreover, her voice was strange. Zhou Er couldn't describe it, but a human voice, no matter how calm, always had some life in it, some emotion. But his sister-in-law's voice was just a voice, devoid of any emotion. If there were computers back then, Zhou Er would have said it sounded like a synthesized voice.

Zhou Er didn't know whether to stand up or stay kneeling, move forward or backward. He just felt a chill run down his spine.

Suddenly, Mrs. Zhou stopped laughing, her expression becoming eerily calm, but her eyes were fierce. She said, "Go out, don't disturb us. You can't enter this room."

Zhou Er didn't respond, not because he didn't want to, but because he was too scared to speak. When people are extremely afraid, they either become hysterical and scream or fall into a silence, a subconscious desire to hide.

Zhou Er, facing his sister-in-law, couldn't become hysterical, so he remained silent.

He stood up, turned around, and walked out of the west wing, trying to stay calm. But his back itched, as if something was watching him. He didn't dare look back and stumbled forward. As he stepped out of the room, he heard the door close with a creak.

"Mom..." Zhou Er immediately called out to his mother, tears streaming down his face. He then ran quickly, but his legs were weak, and he fell after a few steps. However, he didn't dare stop and crawled toward his family, who were standing nearby, looking as pitiful as could be.

Hearing his son's cry, Zhou's grandmother, with her bound feet, ran over and supported him, "My son, what happened?"

"Mom, I think... I think my brother has come back," Zhou Er said, tears still streaming. What else could explain the situation except that his brother's soul had returned on the seventh day?

"My Zhou Da..." Hearing this, Zhou's grandfather suddenly started wailing, perhaps moved by the thought of his son's soul returning.

That night, the seventh day of Zhou Da's death, the whole family was restless. Though they thought it was Zhou Da's return, they were too afraid to enter the west wing again after Mrs. Zhou said not to disturb them.

This is the story of Mrs. Zhou that the Zhou family passed down. It's quite mysterious, but in the villages of China, which village doesn't have a few eerie legends? There are even more inexplicable and bizarre stories. People talked about it for a while, but then forgot about it.

Not long after this incident, the Zhou family spread the word that Mrs. Zhou had the ability to communicate with the dead. Some people went to see her out of curiosity, and to their surprise, she was indeed quite amazing. Her ability to communicate with the dead was reliable. After two years, not only did the nearby villages know about Mrs. Zhou, but people from the town also came to seek her help.

There are three noteworthy points about this incident.

First, Mrs. Zhou returned to normal after the seventh day. She came out of the west wing in the morning and prepared breakfast for the whole family. The only change was that she developed a habit of hiccupping, about eight or nine times a minute, which was strange and often scared people who met her for the first time.

Second, Mrs. Zhou strongly requested that the family seal the window of the west wing. The window faced the yard and provided good lighting, making the room bright. No one would have agreed to this request, but after that night, the family had a strange respect for Mrs. Zhou and did as she asked. They not only sealed the window but also covered the door with a thick black curtain.

Third, five months after Zhou Da's death, Mrs. Zhou gave birth to a son. The villagers didn't gossip about this, knowing it was definitely Zhou Da's posthumous child. Some elders even said that it was no wonder Zhou Da caused such a commotion on the seventh day; he must have known he had a son and couldn't bear to leave his widow and child. Regardless, Mrs. Zhou, with her ability to communicate with the dead, lived well in the village, and her family also benefited from her.

If it weren't for the start of the movement, Mrs. Zhou might have continued her practice until old age, using the income to support her son's education, work, and marriage. But history doesn't change for individuals. The Zhou family was now under strict surveillance, especially Mrs. Zhou, who was watched by several people and dared not mention her ability to communicate with the dead.

Regardless of how the Zhou family was doing, my family was indeed in a state of distress, all because of me.

My health didn't improve. On the third day after my birth, my father wrapped me tightly and borrowed a donkey cart to take me to the rural health clinic early in the morning, but the doctor there couldn't diagnose my illness.

In the end, the doctor only told my father, "The child is probably malnourished. Feed him well, and he'll be fine." He didn't even prescribe any medicine.

On the way back, my father was quite depressed. The doctor said the child was malnourished, but that couldn't be true. My mother, though not the best-fed pregnant woman in the village, was better off than most. How could her child be malnourished, looking weaker than the weakest baby in the village?

My father couldn't understand but chose to trust the doctor. After all, consulting Mrs. Zhou was a last resort, and it could harm both our family and the Zhou family.

After returning home, my father tried to supplement my diet. My mother had no milk, so my father went to a neighboring village every day to get milk from a dairy cow, exchanging it for our grain. Not only milk, but my father also went to the town's supply cooperative to get some nutritional supplements, trying everything to supplement my diet.

At that time, children's conditions couldn't compare to those of children today. My treatment was unique in the village. Not to mention nutritional supplements, even daily milk was a luxury for many children. In those days, if a child didn't have their mother's milk, they were usually fed with rice porridge.

Because of my supplements, our family's life was tight, but my parents had no complaints. What was even more touching was that my two sisters had no complaints either.

My elder sister even said, "Dad, give my brother more milk. He's so small, he can't even cry properly."

The two girls, seeing the white milk, were clearly tempted, but they didn't complain and were very understanding, which deeply moved my father.

To be honest, my family wasn't particularly sexist. Over the years, except for a short period in my childhood, my treatment was the same as my two sisters. But in the rural areas at that time, not having a son was a big issue because a son represented the main labor force, and without a labor force, how could a family survive?

So, my father supplemented my diet for a month. On the day of my full moon, my father's firm belief finally broke. According to tradition, a child should be weighed on the full moon to see how much they had grown.

That day, my father weighed me with a sense of almost devout hope, but the reality was a blow. By the full moon, I had only gained two ounces!

My father had been persisting, thinking that maybe I was growing internally. But after a month, to get such a result, how could he not be devastated?

"Xiu Yun, I think we need to take the child to see Mrs. Zhou," my father said to my mother after a long silence. It was the last resort.

My mother's heart tightened. A child weighing only a little over three pounds at the full moon was rare in those days. Despite such careful care, the child still looked so weak, which was definitely abnormal.

If it was a physical illness, it would be one thing, but the doctor said there was no problem, and I only showed signs of weakness, with no colds or other illnesses. What else could it be if not something supernatural?

"Old Chen, what if we try supplementing for another week? I've heard that some children don't grow well before the full moon but grow quickly afterward. Besides..." my mother hesitated, not wanting to say more.

"Besides what?" my father asked, his frustration mounting.

"Besides, Mrs. Zhou communicates with the dead. Can she really help with our child's problem? It doesn't seem to fit," my mother said, hesitant to break my father's last hope.

"I know, but in the surrounding villages, she's the most effective. Who else can we turn to? Besides, Liu Wen, the midwife, suggested we see her," my father said, his voice muffled. After a moment of thought, he brightened up, full of hope, "Do you remember Wang Gou's child? The one I played with as a child. His son, Wang Zhu, wasn't possessed by an evil spirit at two years old? He was cold all over, acting like a fool, and drooling. Wasn't he cured by Mrs. Zhou?"

"Then let's go see Mrs. Zhou, but you must be careful. If you're caught, our family will be ruined," my mother sighed, and for my sake, my parents finally decided to take a big risk.