Chapter Sixteen: The Video Footage

By now, it was already deep into the night, yet with the phone and the camcorder in our possession, Han Xue and I felt no trace of sleepiness. After returning to the room, Han Xue first began to play the footage recorded on her phone. The phone had clearly been placed atop the dormitory door long before, so the initial part of the video was nothing but a still frame. Han Xue fast-forwarded to just a few minutes before midnight, and the two of us stared unblinkingly at the screen.

Exactly at twelve o’clock, the image of a woman dressed in white suddenly drifted into view, as if she had floated into the frame out of nowhere. She then glided to the window beneath Han Xue’s room and stopped, standing motionless, gazing up at Han Xue’s window the entire time.

Even though we had just experienced such a terrifying scene in person, seeing that pale, wavering figure on the screen still sent chills down our backs. What followed was the footage of me leaving the room. It showed me kneeling on the ground, and then the ghostly figure rapidly drifted away and vanished. Only then did the recording come to an end.

Han Xue turned off the phone and switched on the camcorder. She again rewound to a few minutes before the apparition’s arrival. This device, however, was aimed at the main road outside the school. Though the angle was different, the apparition’s entrance was almost identical—she simply floated suddenly into view, then drifted toward the school, disappearing from the camera’s frame.

I exhaled, thinking that since the figure had vanished from the footage, we’d seen everything. Han Xue seemed to think so too; she was clearly frightened, her small face a little pale. But just then, out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly noticed someone appear on the camcorder’s screen.

I quickly nudged Han Xue. “Look, there’s someone on the screen!”

We both turned our heads and saw, standing on the main road beneath Han Xue’s camera, a person dressed all in white, motionless, staring into the school grounds.

He appeared less than half a minute after the apparition drifted onto the school campus.

Thanks to a streetlamp at the school gate, the image was dim but clear enough. At that moment, the man suddenly lifted his head and looked straight at the camera. That instant was so terrifying Han Xue nearly burrowed into my arms, for the camera captured his entire face.

It was a face painted with a Sichuan opera mask.

In the yellow-tinged footage, the sight of a man in white with a masked face was deeply unsettling.

Then, he smiled at the camera—a twisted, eerie grin—and turned to leave, slowly walking out of the frame.

The next few moments were predictable: the ghostly figure floated out again, and only when Han Xue’s face appeared in the shot did the footage freeze.

Han Xue turned off the playback and pulled herself out of my arms. Our breaths were both heavy. For some reason, the man with the painted mask who appeared at the end struck me as even more frightening than the apparition, especially that cold, sinister smile he gave the camera.

If I hadn’t seen the ghost with my own eyes, I might have thought this was some perverse prank targeting Han Xue. But now, I couldn’t make sense of any of it. It was just as baffling as it had always been: why was the apparition looking for Han Xue? There was no reason, no possible explanation I could imagine.

“Could it be this man controlling the apparition to find you?” I whispered to Han Xue.

“Who knows?” Han Xue replied with a bitter smile.

Looking at Han Xue’s face, I felt another pang of sorrow. I gently put my arm around her shoulders. “No matter what, you don’t need to be afraid. With me here, I won’t let you get hurt, not even a little.”

—The next morning, I left school early and returned home. I collapsed into bed the moment I arrived, exhausted from two sleepless nights. But I hadn’t slept long before I was startled awake by my ringing phone. Groggy, I saw Chen Qingshan had already called me six or seven times. I was about to call him back when I heard his voice shouting in the courtyard, “It’s already noon and you’re still sleeping—were you out thieving last night?”

I got up and opened the door. “What’s up, Chief? Is there an emergency?”

“Come to my house,” Chen Qingshan said. “I’ve found another expert. Let’s go talk.”

“Which temple charlatan have you brought in this time?” I asked, still half asleep.

“This one’s the real deal. You know Tang Renjie, right? He recommended him—there’s no way he’d send a fraud,” Chen Qingshan replied.

At the mention of Tang Renjie’s name, I was instantly wide awake. My brother and I had cut off contact with Tang Renjie after that incident, and knowing his temperament, someone like him would surely hold a grudge after being humiliated by my brother. So when Chen Qingshan brought him up, I immediately grew wary. “How did you get mixed up with Tang Renjie?”

“What, can’t I have friends? I am the village chief after all,” Chen Qingshan said.

“Tell me the truth,” I pressed.

“Alright, alright, I’ll be honest. He came to me a while ago, asking your brother for a favor. I tried to help but couldn’t persuade your brother. Tang didn’t hold it against me, and we ended up friends. Last night he called, asking about your brother, and somehow we got talking about the village. He said he had a friend who’s a real master, happened to be nearby. Tang’s always efficient—just mentioned it last night, and the man’s already here. Enough dawdling, let’s go, the master is waiting at my place,” Chen Qingshan explained.

I splashed some water on my face to wake up, still uneasy about Tang Renjie’s involvement. But I followed Chen Qingshan to his house anyway, thinking I’d at least take a look. When we arrived, I saw a huge, burly man lounging in a chair. He was easily six feet tall, with a build nearly twice my own. As we entered, he tossed a whole peeled tangerine into his mouth, and the floor was already strewn with peels and scraps.

“This is the expert?” I whispered to Chen Qingshan.

“That’s him. Don’t cause trouble—appearances can be deceiving. If we don’t solve this soon and Han Xue gets scared off, you’d better go back to school,” Chen Qingshan muttered.

Then, with a forced smile, he introduced us. “Brother Tianci, let me introduce you. This is our village official, Ye Jihuan. Everybody calls him Yezi.”

“Ye Jihuan? The King of Thieves from Hong Kong?” The fat man swallowed his tangerine and looked me up and down.

“What?” Chen Qingshan was confused.

I understood at once. I shared a name with a notorious Hong Kong thief, though Chen Qingshan, who wasn’t much for the internet, wouldn’t know that.

“Just a namesake, Chief—it’s nothing. The gentleman was only joking,” I replied with a smile.

The big man laughed heartily and invited us to sit, acting as if this was his own home. In my mind, a true master should exude an otherworldly aura, or at least possess the unshakable poise of someone like my brother, steadfast amidst storms. But this man’s appearance made me suspect he was only pretending.

“Brother Tianci, let me explain the situation in the village,” Chen Qingshan began.

But before he could finish, the fat man interrupted, “No need for formalities—just call me Fatty. Or, if you must, Fatty Master. It’s friendlier that way.”

Chen Qingshan looked a little embarrassed, but scratched his head and said, “Alright, Fatty—no, Fatty Master, here’s the situation…”

But again, the fat man cut him off. “Chief, hold on. King of Thieves, does your left shoulder hurt often?”

He was talking to me. I was caught off guard, but then nodded. My left shoulder had ached since childhood. My mother always thought it was poor posture, but I later realized that wasn’t the case. Compared to others, I stood and sat properly. Doctors had done X-rays and found nothing, and medication did no good. It only got a bit better after I finished university. Even now, when it flares up, I just endure it for a few days.

“Medicine doesn’t help, and the doctors can’t figure it out, right?” Fatty continued.

I nodded. “Right, Fatty Master—are you trained in traditional medicine, able to diagnose by observation?”

“Traditional medicine, my ass,” Fatty spat out a tangerine seed.

“Then how did you know?” I was stunned.

“Your heavenly lamp on the left shoulder has been extinguished. You’re still young, but give it a few years and you won’t be able to lift your left arm at all,” Fatty replied.

“Heavenly lamp?” Chen Qingshan and I spoke in unison.

“Everyone has three lamps—one on each shoulder, one at the philtrum. These are invisible to you, but some call them heavenly lamps, or soul lamps, or fate lamps. The old monks call it the Samadhi True Fire. I’m sure you’ve heard the elders say: if you’re out walking at night, especially somewhere deserted, and someone calls your name, never turn around. If you turn, the corresponding soul lamp goes out, and when the lamp is out, ghosts can slip in. It’s true—‘Ghost Blows Out the Lamp’ comes from this saying. But unless all three lamps are snuffed out, the sunrise will relight them. What’s odd about you, King of Thieves, is that your left lamp’s been out for twenty years, hasn’t it?” Fatty finished, his words peculiar yet spoken with utter calm.