Chapter 2

The storm subsided for a while. But I knew this was only the beginning.

From that day on, nobody dared approach our courtyard.

Even in daylight, passersby took another route, as though we carried the plague.

Anger built inside me, with nowhere to go.

At night, I tossed and turned while Shen Shuyan slept soundly.

I watched his peaceful face, tangled in conflicting feelings.

Grandmother said he could keep me alive. Now the villagers saw him as a bringer of disaster.

At midnight, a strange sound woke me.

It came from the courtyard. Like nails scratching a wooden door, over and over.

My scalp prickled.

I dared not speak. Quietly, I crept to the window and peered out by moonlight.

A dark figure with loose hair floated in the courtyard.

It had no feet.

Slowly, it turned. A swollen, deathly pale face pressed against the window.

Butcher Wang, who had drowned a few days earlier.

I clapped a hand over my mouth. My blood seemed to freeze.

Just then, Shen Shuyan sat up at the foot of the bed.

He rubbed his eyes, looking a little annoyed at being woken.

He got out of bed, walked straight to the door, and lifted the latch.

My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. I wanted to call to him, but no sound came.

The water ghost that Butcher Wang had become shrieked with laughter. Black nails clawed toward Shen Shuyan.

In despair, I shut my eyes.

But the scream I expected never came.

Only a crisp crack.

Trembling, I opened my eyes and saw something I would never forget.

Shen Shuyan stood in the doorway, one hand gripping the ghost’s head. With the slightest effort, he twisted it off as easily as separating a watermelon from its stem.

The ghost’s body dissolved into black smoke and vanished.

He tossed the head into the courtyard like rubbish.

Then he turned, shut the door, and came back toward the bed.

He looked at me, faintly aggrieved. Then he gave me that foolish smile and patted his stomach.

“Wife... hungry.”

4

I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

Again and again, I saw him twisting off the ghost’s head.

The decisive movement. The indifference with which he threw it away.

None of it belonged to the man I knew, the man who could only smile vacantly.

The next morning, watching him chase butterflies in the courtyard, I felt as though I were dreaming.

He was still himself. Old clothes washed pale, a clean, innocent smile. Sunlight fell over him, making him look too beautiful to be real.

But I knew something had changed.

The villagers said my foolish husband had been born under a lone, baleful star that could subdue ghosts.

Only I knew the ghosts weren’t being subdued.

They were afraid.

An absolute fear, the kind one feels before a creature at the very top of the food chain.

The strange events continued.

One household lost a soul. Another suffered a possession.

Yet the spirits seemed to have reached an agreement. Whenever they passed our door, they went around. Not even a cold gust dared enter.

Our courtyard became the only untainted place in the village.

Widow Li refused to believe it.

Her son, Xiaobao, developed a high fever one night. The medium said something unclean had attached itself to him. Only the strong yang energy in a male virgin’s urine could drive it out.

Widow Li thought of Shen Shuyan.

In her eyes, he might be unlucky, but his mind was simple. His yang energy must be strong.

Carrying a basket of eggs, she entered our courtyard for the first time.

“Xiaoyu, I spoke out of turn before. Don’t take it to heart.” She smiled ingratiatingly. “My boy’s ill. I wanted... to ask Shuyan for something.”

I looked at her, laughing coldly inside.

“What?”

“Just... a little virgin’s urine.”

She sounded embarrassed.

Before I could answer, Shen Shuyan rose from where he had been playing in the mud and stared at her.

His foolish smile was gone. His dark eyes made my hair stand on end.

Widow Li shuddered and stepped back.

“What... what are you staring at?”

He suddenly grinned.

There was no warmth in it.

Step by step, he approached her.

“Shuyan, come here,” I called quickly.

He ignored me. Stopping in front of her, he tilted his head as though examining something interesting.

Then he slowly raised a hand and pointed behind her.

“Behind... you... something dirty.”

Widow Li went rigid. Her face turned white.

She seemed rooted to the spot, afraid to move.

I followed his finger and saw nothing.

But she appeared to see something horrifying. She let out a piercing scream, rolled her eyes back, and collapsed.

As she fainted, I thought I caught a strong, foul stench.

Shen Shuyan lowered his hand. His foolish expression returned.

He ran to me and tugged at my clothes.

“Wife... she’s... too loud.”

I looked at the unconscious woman, then at his innocent face.

My thoughts knotted together.

What exactly was this man?

5

Her family carried Widow Li home. When she woke, she had lost her mind.

She spent her days cowering in a corner, muttering, “Don’t eat me,” and, “I was wrong.” Whenever she saw someone, she kowtowed.

This time, the villagers were truly frightened.

Their fear of me became awe.

Nobody dared stand outside our door making remarks anymore. Some even began leaving secret offerings beyond the courtyard wall: fruit, pastries, all sorts of things.

They stopped calling Shen Shuyan a jinx.

Now he was a “living god.”

Only the village head looked at me more and more strangely.

His name was Zhou Decai. He was in his fifties, shrewd and greedy.

One day, he came leaning on his cane, his eyes narrowed in a smile.

“Xiaoyu, with all the trouble in the village lately, we have Shuyan to thank,” he said without preamble. “Everyone wants to express their gratitude. We’re having a banquet at the ancestral hall tonight. We hope you’ll both honor us by coming.”

A weasel paying a New Year’s call on a hen.

Nothing good could come of it.

My first instinct was to refuse.