Chapter 6: 5. Li Xiamei

5. Li Xiamei

"Three men make a tiger; a hundred mouths can melt gold.

Rumors repeated a thousand times can actually become truth..." Zhou Chang's gaze was distant and dim.

"It's like this." Zhou Sanji, hearing the words, smiled hesitantly and said, "How come my youngest grandson is talking all bookish now? It's not quite like how you used to be."

He paused, lowering his voice further: "That bride of yours who hasn't yet crossed the threshold... right now she probably isn't a Thought Demon.

If she were a Thought Demon now, this little show couldn't go on — once a Thought Demon shows its face, someone is bound to die, just like Li Xiamei... Most of the time, the living can't see them in their rational, reasonable form, just like people don't talk to a pig that's about to be slaughtered."

"Thought Demons have no reason?" Zhou Chang asked, frowning.

Zhou Sanji shook his head and said: "They say the reason those things kill is to maintain their own sanity.

But when they do have their reason, they're no different from normal things — you can't tell just by looking that they're Thought Demons."

"In other words, that 'paper face' just isn't a Thought Demon right now, but we can't completely rule out the possibility that it is one..." Zhou Chang understood Zhou Sanji's meaning. He still wanted to ask Zhou Sanji more about Li Xiamei and about Thought Demons, when suddenly a commotion broke out behind him.

He lay on Zhou Sanji's back and, as Zhou Sanji turned around with him, saw Sun Yanshun and his two disciples drop the coffin and scatter in panic, leaving only the thinner disciple standing where he was.

That disciple was gripping a long rope in his hand, head tilted back, mouth wide open as he stared up into the canopy of the great tree overhead. He was screaming, unable to force out a single complete word, his body trembling like sifted chaff, his terror laid bare!

The long rope, in the darkness, could only be seen as a faint dark red.

Some sticky liquid smeared along the rope and coated the thin youth's palm.

Zhou Sanji unhooked the horse lantern from his waist and thrust it forward, and Zhou Chang saw yellowish-white fat clinging to the rope, stretching all the way up into the canopy above the thin youth's head.

Hanging from the canopy was a 'person,' swaying gently!

That rope — that length of intestine had slid right out from that person's belly!

At that moment, dark red fresh blood was still dripping, 'plop,' 'plop,' from the hollow body cavity of the corpse hanging in the canopy, splashing all over the thin man's head and face, dyeing his whole face blood-red!

"Ah! Ah—"

"There's nothing left in his belly but intestines!"

"Something ripped out his innards!"

At the first sight of the corpse in the treetop, the crowd screamed in terror!

The thin man was still gripping the slippery intestine, utterly at a loss. His body was shaking, and the intestine in his hand trembled along with it, making the male corpse in the treetop sway ceaselessly as well.

The branches quivered, and bloodstained leaves fluttered down.

Zhou Chang looked at the male corpse with its hollow, empty belly cavity; its tangled hair covered its face, and Zhou Chang could not make out the corpse's features.

His pupils trembled. He drew a sharp breath and turned his gaze to Zhou Sanji — Zhou Sanji's body was faintly shaking; inwardly, he was far less calm than he appeared!

"Grandpa." Zhou Chang controlled his breathing, trying to keep his voice calm and even, and softly called out to Zhou Sanji.

Yet even though Zhou Sanji heard his voice, he was still dazed, giving no response at all.

"Grandpa." Zhou Chang put more weight into his tone and gently shook the banner in his hand. "Are we just going to stand here like this?"

"Hiss—"

At that moment, Zhou Sanji sucked in a sharp breath of cold air and finally came back to his senses!

A trace of blankness still lingered on the old man's face, but at least he was no longer standing there in a stupor — Zhou Chang's deliberately lowered voice drifted gradually into his ears, letting his eyes find their target: "Grandpa, that thin man has a knife tucked at his waist...

Take that knife and cut the intestine off his hand.

Put the horse lantern down...

If you can't see it, there's less to be afraid of."

Zhou Sanji mumbled an assent to Zhou Chang's words, obediently re-tucked the horse lantern at his waist, and then strode toward the thin man.

The others had not noticed what Zhou Chang and Zhou Sanji had said to each other; they only saw the old Duan Gong nod, suddenly take back the horse lantern, stride up to the thin man, yank the dagger from the thin man's waist in one motion, slash hard several times, and sever that length of intestine!

The light went dark.

The scene in the canopy became a black, indistinct blur in everyone's eyes.

The intestine still swayed in midair, but at last it was no longer clutched in the thin man's hand.

The crowd was still standing dumbfounded, only vaguely hearing a youth's low voice: "Grandpa, wake him up a bit..."

"How do I wake him up?" The old man's voice was full of the blankness of someone who hadn't yet recovered his wits.

"Slap him a few times."

"Right!"

Zhou Sanji suddenly raised his voice, one hand supporting Zhou Chang's body, the other raised high — 'slap!' — a hard slap across the thin man's face, all the while cursing: "F*ck your ghost mother!

You dogs, haven't you seen enough dead people?! Putting on an act here!

Scooping out two scoops of earwax to wake your turtle-son up!"

The thin man, slapped back and forth by Zhou Sanji, swayed unsteadily and dropped onto his backside on the ground.

But at last, the garbled syllables in his throat finally strung together into broken words: "Heavens — oh Lord of Heaven — I, I don't even know what happened, my foot tripped, and I just grabbed the vine beside me — I thought, I thought it was a vine—

Ah!

Ah — I can't catch my breath—"

"If you can't catch your breath, go lie down in your ancestors' coffin-slab.

It's cool there, you can breathe easy!" Zhou Sanji cursed the thin man some more.

Such blunt cursing actually stirred up a little living warmth in the darkness.

The crowd, trembling, gathered around the grandfather-grandson pair.

"Someone come and help him up and walk him off!" Zhou Sanji barked at the crowd.

But several people, looking at the blood all over the thin man's hands and face, didn't dare touch him.

Seeing this, Zhou Chang spoke, his tone deep: "Right now you're escorting the bride for Lord Master Zhong Kui Kui, and here you are dawdling — trying to delay Lord Master Zhong Kui Kui's family wedding? You really think Lord Master Zhong Kui Kui is kind-hearted and will lend a hand no matter when?!"

The moment his words fell, two youths hurried off to carry the bride's 'bridal sedan.'

Only Sun Yanshun was left; he sighed helplessly and had no choice but to reach out and help the thin disciple, who had collapsed onto the ground, back to his feet.

The thin man staggered to his feet, and a reek of urine wafted off him.

The back of his clothes were soaked through with a large patch of urine, and now streams of it were still running down his trouser legs.

"I-I held it in the whole way, I just couldn't hold it any longer…" the thin man said haltingly.

Everyone stared at him in silence.

The atmosphere was as heavy as iron.

Zhou Sanji had warned the group over and over not to relieve themselves on the road—even passing wind had to be held in—but the thin man, terrified by the corpse hanging in the tree, had finally lost control and wet himself on the spot.

……

The group set off again.

Because of what had just happened, none of them felt like talking. They trudged along behind the grandfather-and-grandson pair, the mood unusually grim and silent.

Before they had gone much farther, the group emerged from the wild grove along a long, gentle slope.

At the bottom of the slope, the outline of a fenced yard flickered into view through the mist.

In the mist, other houses seemed to loom in faint shadows, lined up in rows along the road.

Zhou Chang, carried on Zhou Sanji's back, passed by that fenced yard.

He felt that the Zhou Sanji who had carried him so easily all this way was now trembling slightly, looking as though his strength was failing him.

This frail old man had only managed to carry him this far by borrowing Master Zhong Kui Kui's power.

Now that Zhou Sanji had suddenly run out of strength, an ominous premonition rose in Zhou Chang's heart.

Before he could open his mouth to ask, Zhou Sanji lowered his voice and spoke first: "Little grandson, my eyes can't see clearly anymore. That bastard got so scared he pissed himself—Uncle Zhong must think it's filthy. He's probably about to leave…"

Hearing this, Zhou Chang's gaze snapped to Zhou Sanji's pair of 'Ink Eyes.' The red glow that had stained the eyes brushed on with the writing brush was now growing murky and blurred, the black ink base gradually showing through.

The red glow was fading.

He looked again at the white banner in his hand. The painted-face mask on it had also become a smear of blurred colors, and was slowly losing its pigment from the cloth.

"Get ready to run…" Zhou Sanji warned him quietly.

"Got it." Zhou Chang gripped the banner pole tighter.

And the group behind them were no fools either—they crowded around the grandfather and grandson, not giving the two of them any chance to slip out of their sight.

The painted face on the banner grew blurrier still.

Zhou Chang could feel the old man beneath him trembling with every step.

He pressed his lips tight. Translucent threads wrapped and protected his whole body. Zhou Chang used his own consciousness to manipulate those threads, able to control this body of his like a marionette—but he didn't know how long his consciousness could keep up this control over his flesh.

"This yard… why is it still here?!"

At that moment, Sun Yanshun's voice, tinged with horror, suddenly rang out in the dead silence.

Hearing it, everyone in the mist stopped in their tracks.

Zhou Chang followed Sun Yanshun's gaze and looked to the left of the dirt road.

There stood a fenced yard with walls woven from branches and a gatehouse built high with thatch.

Inside the yard were three or five thatched cottages.

The wooden doors of the cottages were some ajar, some tightly shut.

In a muddy corner of the yard grew a large jujube tree, its branches now bare and gnarled for the season, not a single leaf to be seen.

Beneath the jujube tree sat a vat.

Two large wooden basins were set beside the vat.

One basin was filled with water, steam rising and drifting in the air;

the other basin was stacked with chunks of meat, each piece cut neatly and methodically.

The scene in the yard looked as if the owner had been butchering livestock and cutting up meat just moments ago, then suddenly encountered something and hurriedly left.

Even the yard gate hadn't been closed.

Zhou Chang stared at the hearts, lungs, stomachs, and kidneys hanging from the jujube's branches—but not a single intestine among them. His pupils trembled violently, and some answer was already on the verge of bursting from his heart—

At that moment, the thin man suddenly shrieked: "The head! The head! The head!

That heartless dead man—his head!"

Along with the thin man's scream, Zhou Chang's gaze swept over—and sure enough, among that pile of meat chunks, he saw the head of the corpse that had been hanging in the tree, split clean in two—

A chill shot up from his tailbone, pierced straight through his spine, and nearly blew off the top of his skull!

"Wooo—"

"Hiss—howl—hiss—"

"Woof! Woof! Woof!"

A fierce burst of barking erupted from that yard just as the thin man screamed at the top of his lungs!

But in the fenced yard Zhou Chang saw with his own eyes, there wasn't the slightest trace of a dog!

Yet the moment the barking broke out, a woman with wild, tangled hair suddenly appeared among the crowd—her waist-length disheveled hair completely hid her face. She wore a black satin jacket embroidered with the character for longevity, and her belly was swollen.

She was standing right behind the thin man, and suddenly raised her hand—

A sharp blade pierced through the back of the thin man's neck, the tip poking out at his Adam's apple!

A line of blood sprayed forward along the blade tip!

That cold, gleaming knife slid down along the thin man's neck, slicing his torso open cleanly from front to back—gushing fresh blood mingled with all manner of bodily fluids, staining the ragged cotton jacket on his body!

"Cack-cack-cack-cack-cack!"

A night-owl-like laughter burst from 'Li Xiamei's' mouth.

It drew out the blade and threw its head back in laughter.

A foul wind blew its long hair across its face, briefly revealing its mouth—within a pair of purplish-black lips, rows of a carnivore's fangs had already grown in!

Thud!

The blood-soaked thin man collapsed onto the ground.

Li Xiamei's figure swayed in the mist, then vanished in a flash.

The next instant, she stepped past that thin-skinned coffin — the 'palanquin-bearer' standing dumbly before the coffin suddenly had streams of black blood pouring from his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose; he gaped his mouth wide, letting out a 'he-he' sound.

A straight trail of blood ran all the way down from his neck!

The intense terror Li Xiamei brought had transformed into an invisible blade, truly slicing open his chest!

"Aaaaaaaah — I'll fight you to the death!"

The other palanquin-bearer behind the coffin screamed wildly, gripping a crude pole-saber, and brought it down in a head-on slash at Li Xiamei!

Li Xiamei didn't dodge at all!

The crude pole-saber cleaved straight down past her head, yet it only sliced through empty air and flowing wind — Li Xiamei was completely unharmed; she stretched out a chicken-claw-like bluish-black hand and ripped out the coffin-bearer's guts!

'She' walked past the coffin, her form drifting without a shadow.

The bride sitting peacefully inside the coffin never earned so much as a second glance from Li Xiamei.

The 'paper face' pasted on the bride's countenance shifted its gaze; it gently exhaled a breath, and the two sedan-bearers, their hollowed-out torsos fallen and unmoving, suddenly sat upright.

Their sunken torsos were filled by that breath, their pale skin reflecting the sheen of paper.

The 'sedan-bearers' lifted the coffin once more, drifting forward through the black fog.

Zhou Chang and the others, along with Sun Yanshun, had already vanished without a trace the moment Li Xiamei appeared.