Chapter 49: Main Text Chapter Forty-Nine Drought Corpse

Main Text Chapter Forty-Nine Drought Corpse

Drought Corpse (Strictly prohibited from unauthorized reprinting without permission from this site; violators, this site reserves the right to pursue legal liability).

I gave Da Jin Ya and Pangzi a look, then took Li Chunlai to a dumpling shop on the neighboring street; this mutton dumpling shop is somewhat famous nearby, the owner couple are honest and diligent businesspeople, the dumpling filling is generous and satisfying, the flavor is distinctive, not only affordable but also the environment is very clean.

It was nearly noon, soon to be mealtime, and more and more people were coming to eat; I often come here to eat, so I'm quite familiar with the owner couple. After greeting them, the dumpling shop's boss lady led us to the storage room behind the kitchen, set up a table for us, laid out chairs and utensils, then went outside to attend to business.

This place is my private room for discussing business; the storeroom contains nothing but sacks of flour. After each meal, I never let the owner give me change, treating it as payment for the room.

I said to Li Chunlai, 'Old Brother Chunlai, do you find this place quiet enough? Should you show me that little floral shoe now?'

Li Chunlai had already had his soul drawn away by the scent of boiled dumplings wafting in from outside; he paid no heed to my words, eagerly waiting to start eating.

Seeing this, I could only smile wryly and nudged his arm, saying, 'Don't rush; once the dumplings are cooked, the boss lady will bring them in. If you can sell that shoe for a good price, eating meatball mutton dumplings every day won't be a problem.'

Li Chunlai snapped out of it after my push, heard my words, and shook his head repeatedly: 'No, no; after I get the money, I still need to marry a wife and have children.'

I laughed, 'You haven't married yet? Neither have I—what's the hurry? When you have money, you can marry a woman from Mizhi. Isn't it said where you're from that a Mizhi woman makes a Suide man? Tell me, what's so good about a Mizhi woman?'

Li Chunlai was no longer as restrained with me as before; hearing my question, he replied, 'Ah, a Mizhi woman is like those red-checkered window flowers, full and lively; if you could marry a Mizhi woman, everything would be just fine.'

While we were talking, the boss lady brought over a steaming plate of dumplings and two bottles of beer; Li Chunlai didn't bother to speak further, shoving dumpling after dumpling into his mouth nonstop.

Seeing his appetite, I realized two catties of dumplings might not be enough, so I quickly asked the boss lady to boil another two catties, then poured some vinegar into a small dish in front of Li Chunlai and said, 'Old Brother Chunlai, around here there's no sour soup dumplings like you folks like; just make do with these—they have vinegar, and you can drink some beer as well.'

Li Chunlai had his mouth full of dumplings, just eating and drinking head down, not speaking anymore; after I saw he had eaten his fill, I then broached the matter of the embroidered shoe with him.

By now Li Chunlai trusted me greatly; he took the embroidered shoe out of his tattered sack and showed it to me.

During this period I've had plenty of contact with antique burial goods, practically making me a half-expert; I held the shoe in my hand to examine it: the front is less than a fist's width, the tip pointed like a bamboo shoot, a green satin base, with peonies embroidered in blue, gold, and red silk thread, the sole of sandalwood, with a sandwich layer inside that can hold spices.

Judging by its appearance and embroidery pattern, it is a Ming dynasty item; few women in Shaanxi bound their feet, and if they did, they were mostly from wealthy families, so the shoe's craftsmanship is quite exquisite.

If Da Jin Ya were here, he could tell the shoe's origin just by sniffing it; I lack such skill and can't be certain, but judging from its condition and workmanship it doesn't look like a fake—this kind of three-inch golden lotus embroidered fragrant-soled shoe is a hot commodity and has considerable collectible value.

I asked Li Chunlai where the shoe came from, and he didn't hide anything, telling the whole story in detail:

In their place, nine out of ten years are drought, and this year they've hit a major drought—no rain at all in the sky; the villagers, left with no options, resorted to sneaky, underhanded methods.

"Striking the Drought Bone Pile" is also known in folk as "Striking the Drought Demon"; before liberation, many people in the central plains used it, and this custom exists in the remote areas of Henan, Shandong, and Shaanxi provinces.

Li Chunlai's village, in hopes of rain, had tried every trick; there was a blind fortune-teller in the village who said this was the Drought Demon causing trouble, and that striking the Drought Demon was necessary to bring rain.

Everyone asked him where the Drought Demon could be; the blind man calculated for a long time but came up empty. Just then, a shepherd boy said that while herding sheep, he saw in the abandoned graves east of the village a fully green-bodied child run into an ownerless coffin—no one knew whose coffin it was, as nobody had buried anyone in that graveyard for a long time, and moreover, this broken coffin had inexplicably not yet been buried.

Upon hearing this, the blind fortune-teller immediately declared that the Drought Demon was hiding in that coffin; the villagers discussed it and prepared to open the coffin to see if there really was a Drought Demon inside.

When the village head heard this, he disagreed, saying the blind man was talking nonsense; the blind man got angry and made a bet with the village head: if they couldn't find a Drought Demon in that ownerless broken coffin, thereafter the blind man's son would tend the village head's sheep for a year.

As a result, the villagers all went together to the eastern wasteland graves; no one could say where that coffin came from, and the graveyard sees few visitors. Since it was ownerless, they saved themselves a lot of trouble, saying 'let's just do it,' and they lifted the coffin lid.

As soon as the coffin lid was opened, only a foul stench met the nose, like the smell produced when a heap of rotten fish is left to bake in the sun—the worse the stench, the worse it gets.

A few bold and fearless individuals pinched their noses and leaned in; upon looking inside, they all jumped in shock—a female corpse lay there, her clothing and ornaments remarkably well preserved, as good as new, but the attire was definitely not of modern times; this was an ancient corpse.

Although the clothing was intact as new, the corpse was desiccated, its muscles and skin like dried bark.

Right atop the female corpse's head crouched a small creature completely covered in green fur, naked, barely over seven inches long; moreover, this green-furred little monkey was still alive, curled up asleep in a ball.

After hearing the villagers' account, the blind man declared outright that this green-furred little monster was the Drought Demon; it must be killed immediately, then whipped, and done quickly, for otherwise by night it would vanish without a trace, making it hard to find again.

Several brave villagers seized the all-green-furred monster and took it outside the coffin, smashing it with a hammer, then whipping it; strangely, the creature didn't bleed—each lash caused black vapor to erupt from its body, and after being whipped to a ruin, no more black vapor emerged; only then did they set it on fire, reducing it to ash.

By then it was already dusk; the villagers asked the blind man how to deal with the female corpse in the coffin. He said that if left, it would surely become a disaster sooner or later, so it should be burned together right away, and nobody should take anything from inside.

At first everyone hesitated a bit, after all the corpse in the coffin wasn't from modern times and there were many gold and silver ornaments; burning it would be a shame.

While the villagers were still undecided, dark clouds gathered overhead and faint thunder rumbled; it looked like a heavy rain was coming soon, and the crowd cheered excitedly, their attitude toward the blind man's words shifting from doubtful to reverent as if divine.

Since the blind man said the coffin must be burned, it had to be done; finally the village head decided to let Li Chunlai stay behind to light the fire. Li Chunlai was a timid fellow—normally the village head told him what to do and he did it; although he was afraid now, he had no choice but to grit his teeth and remain.

To burn the coffin before the rain arrived, he hurriedly gathered several bundles of dry firewood, haphazardly piled them under the coffin, lit a match, and the fire started.

Li Chunlai crouched nearby, staring; he was a poor bachelor nearing forty without money to marry. Seeing the gold and silver in the coffin, he couldn't help feeling tempted, but he hadn't dared to take any earlier; now the fire was already burning, he couldn't retrieve anything, and he wondered whether the melted goods were still worth anything.

Li Chunlai was feeling immense regret when suddenly a white flash flared, followed by three or four successive thunderclaps in the sky; a torrential downpour poured out, instantly extinguishing the half-burned fire.

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