The rolling metal shutter creaked open, spilling a beam of warm light outwards. Only then did Wang Jianhui feel a glimmer of hope for salvation. His knees buckled again not from fear this time, but from sheer exhaustion.
Chen Jiu dragged him inside as if hauling a dead weight.
“Master, my face… my face!” Wang Jianhui’s voice was raw with agony. After catching his breath for a moment, he tore the shirt from his head.
Chen Jiu stared at his face for a long moment, confused. “What’s wrong with it?”
Dazed, Wang Jianhui sat on the floor, repeatedly patting and feeling his own face.
She picked up a small mirror from the table and tossed it to him. “Take a look for yourself.”
“It’s gone… it was there just a moment ago,” he muttered in shock.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Chen Jiu frowned.
Moments later, holding a cup of hot tea, Wang Jianhui recounted everything that had happened since he woke up that morning. He finished speaking, still bewildered, and rubbed his face bitterly. “Was it all a dream? Am I losing my mind?”
“You still refuse to admit it?” Chen Jiu propped her chin on one hand, sounding bored. “If you won’t confess, I can’t help you.”
Taking several shaky breaths, Wang Jianhui finally broke down. “Fine! I killed the dogs! But is killing dogs illegal?!”
“Five newborn puppies,” Chen Jiu corrected him coldly. “And that old dog guarded your family’s gate for over a decade. Yet you threw its children into a pot to stew. Are you even human?”
Wang Jianhui was stunned speechless. “How do you know all this?!”
Chen Jiu raised an eyebrow.
“In the countryside, eating dog meat is normal!” he exclaimed, growing agitated. “Puppy meat is the most nourishing! Why did misfortune strike my family of all people? There’s no logic to this!”
“That’s a question you should ask yourself,” Chen Jiu sneered, turning to grab a paper talisman hanging on the wall. “Where is the old dog now?”
After a long silence, Wang Jianhui replied in a low voice, “It fell ill soon after that. A few days later, it kept running to the river. One day there was a huge storm. We called and called, but it never came back. It drowned itself.”
“Where is its body?” Chen Jiu pressed.
“We buried it in the cemetery on the back mountain,” his voice shrank.
“Mr. Wang, the truth might frighten you. That old dog had lived far too long it was on the verge of becoming a spirit,” Chen Jiu explained, her brush moving swiftly across the talisman paper. “But your cruelty forced its hand. It drowned itself intentionally to gather the deepest resentment, so it could return as a vengeful ghost to claim your life.”
Wang Jianhui was petrified. His legs gave out, and he clung to the table edge, trembling uncontrollably.
“However, you have one chance,” Chen Jiu finished drawing the talisman with a flourish, pinching it between two fingers to let it air-dry.
Desperate, Wang Jianhui gasped repeatedly. “I’ll take it! I’ll take the chance! I’ll pay any amount of money!”
Chen Jiu flicked the talisman lightly with her finger. It floated up on its own, drifted through the air, and gently landed in his arms. “This charm will save your life. Remember: do not get it wet. As for the price, it’s 8,888 yuan. For good luck.”
Watching the talisman move as if alive, Wang Jianhui’s eyes widened with awe. He now believed wholeheartedly in Chen Jiu’s power. The charlatans he had seen before always put on elaborate rituals, but this young girl could perform miracles with such ease. Without a shred of doubt left, he immediately scanned the code and transferred the money.
“Find a sealed bag and keep this charm close to your body,” Chen Jiu instructed, counting the days on her fingers. “Leave as soon as possible for the cemetery on your hometown’s back mountain. Find the old dog’s grave before 10 PM, then kneel and apologize before its grave for two hours.”
“Two hours?!” Wang Jianhui swallowed hard, nodding frantically.
“Go,” she said simply.
He stared at her, dumbfounded. “That’s it?”
“We’ll see what happens then,” Chen Jiu took a sip of tea, her expression enigmatic. “I don’t know how deep the old dog’s resentment runs, but doing this is better than waiting for it to come for you at home.”
Wang Jianhui’s heart swung wildly between hope and despair, but with no other choice, he had to comply.
“I can go with you if you’d like,” Chen Jiu offered casually. “But we agreed, my hourly rate is extra.”
At this point, Wang Jianhui would have knelt to beg her. Money meant nothing—he would give everything he owned.
After settling the price, Chen Jiu packed lightly, slinging a hiking bag over her shoulder. She let her black cat, Xiaoxuan, perch on her shoulder, then headed downstairs briskly.
Wang Jianhui felt uneasy at the sight of the cat. The trauma from his encounter with the ghost had left him terrified of black-furred animals.
“Are you scared?” Chen Jiu smiled, patting Xiaoxuan’s head. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t bite.”
Daring not to question her, he followed nervously outside.
They took turns driving. Xiaoxuan remained perfectly calm throughout the journey, a well-traveled cat that neither fussed nor misbehaved, simply watching the scenery lazily.
Shuangwang Village, Wang Jianhui’s hometown, was about five or six hundred kilometers away—a five-hour drive. By noon, they had reached the town on the outskirts. They ate bread and drank water in the car for a quick lunch.
“Shuangwang Village who came up with that name?” Chen Jiu muttered sarcastically.
Wang Jianhui was too frazzled to notice the tone. His mind was in chaos, focused solely on driving. “My ancestors said the founders were a husband and wife both surnamed Wang. Hence the name.”
“This place has no good fortune,” Chen Jiu commented bluntly.
They bought offerings along the way and entered the village around one in the afternoon. The streets were eerily quiet, with no loiterers in sight.
“Young people all leave for the cities,” Wang Jianhui explained. “Those who make money bring their parents with them. The village keeps shrinking.”
Chen Jiu nodded, pacing a few steps at the entrance with a compass in hand. She frowned deeply the village’s feng shui was severely flawed. The paths blocked fortune and wealth, dooming generations to struggle in poverty. She kept this observation to herself, however; such advice would cost extra.
They did not meet a single villager along the way. Children ran away in fear at their approach, while adults quickly shut their doors, eyeing them warily, suspecting they might be child traffickers.
“These are your neighbors. Don’t they know you?” Chen Jiu raised an eyebrow.
“We never kept in touch,” he replied awkwardly.
Entering the back mountain, Wang Jianhui gripped his hoe tightly, growing anxious. “Master, should we start looking now? Don’t we need to set up an altar first?”
“Do you think we have time to waste?” Chen Jiu scanned the surroundings. “The terrain is messy. With animals digging around, how can you guarantee finding the grave by 10 PM?”
He had to agree. The dog had been buried hastily, without a marker. Without careful searching, finding it would be nearly impossible.
The deeper they ventured into the mountain, the heavier the air became, thick with an ominous, unsettling energy. Wang Jianhui followed his vague memory, hacking at the overgrown underbrush. This area was traditionally used to bury stillborn infants, accident victims, and livestock that died of disease.
Chen Jiu did not offer to help. Finding the grave was part of his penance. She wandered in a circle and returned. “Did you suddenly develop a conscience back then? I thought you would have stewed the dog too.”
“My mom said old dog meat tastes terrible,” Wang Jianhui wiped sweat from his brow, speaking softly.
Chen Jiu scoffed not with amusement, but disdain.
As night fell, Wang Jianhui was exhausted and sore. Not only had he failed to find the grave, but he had unearthed several other bones, terrifying him each time. He began praying desperately with hands clasped.
Panic mounting as darkness fell, he relied solely on his phone flashlight to continue searching. His body ached beyond endurance, numbing him into mindlessly digging.
When he looked up, night had fully descended. A cold breeze jolted him awake. He checked his phone: the battery was dying, and the time was nearly ten.
He suddenly realized that Chen Jiu had not spoken in a long time.
Alone in the eerie darkness, with only his shaky flashlight illuminating the tombstones, the silence was deafening save for the rustle of dead leaves in the wind. “Master?” he called out, voice trembling. “Chen Jiu? Are you there? Don’t scare me!”
“Master?!”
Another cold gust brushed past him, and he felt a ghostly breath on the back of his neck. His body stiffened in terror, too afraid to turn around. Muttering prayers, he fumbled to call Chen Jiu.
Please answer, please answer…
Suddenly, he heard strange sounds in the darkness: rustling, like animals moving through the woods, or the faint whispers of people.
A cold electronic voice announced the battery dying, and the phone screen went black.
Wang Jianhui’s blood ran cold. He dropped the hoe, his mind going blank. The only thought was to flee.
Abandoning all the offerings and his mission, he forgot about finding the grave or apologizing by ten. He ran for his life.
But his body was too weak. His legs felt like lead, and he could barely move. He did not make it a hundred meters before collapsing from exhaustion.