Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Drought Demon

In the end, I backed down and let Han Xue down. No sooner had I done so than she gloated, “I knew you didn’t have the guts.” Her words reminded me of an old joke—one everyone’s probably heard—about a man and a woman sharing a bed. The woman puts a bowl of water in the middle and says, “If you cross over, you’re a beast.” Thinking she’s unwilling, the man sleeps soundly through the night. The next morning, the woman slaps him and scolds, “I didn’t expect you to be worse than a beast!”

I rubbed my hands together, grinning lecherously at Han Xue. “So, what? Do I have to actually do something with you to prove I’m not a coward?”

She stuck out her tongue. “Alright, enough joking. Now be honest—where did you go in the middle of the night?”

“I didn’t go anywhere,” I answered.

“I said be honest! I know you went out. Not only were you up in the dead of night, but you also had the nerve to ask me that question. You must have gone through something. Confess, and I’ll go easy; resist, and I’ll be harsh,” Han Xue said.

Women’s intuition is truly uncanny. They say a woman’s sixth sense is never wrong, and I couldn’t agree more. I was already thinking of discussing my confusion with Han Xue, so I pulled her to sit on the sofa. “Come here, let me tell you. I’ll confess everything, but you absolutely can’t get mad.”

“Don’t worry. As long as you’re honest, I won’t be angry,” Han Xue replied.

So I told her why I’d gone out at midnight and what happened with Uncle Zhuzi. And then I paid the price for my lack of intelligence. It’s true what they say: never believe a woman when she says she won’t get angry. As soon as I finished, Han Xue pinched my waist. “That woman was naked, and you saw everything?”

“No, no! I barely glanced!” I quickly raised my hands.

“So how much did you see? Was she pretty?” Han Xue sneered.

“Come on, my dear, we’re both teachers. Can’t you focus on what’s important? Was the main point that I saw her body? Didn’t I righteously refuse?” I protested.

“The main point? An old pervert leading a young one astray—what else could it be! Your brother was right to beat you—should’ve beaten you both! Why didn’t he just finish you off together?” Han Xue huffed, cheeks puffed with anger.

Seeing that she was really mad, I felt a secret sweetness inside. When people are in love, their intelligence truly plummets. I took Han Xue’s hand. “Don’t be mad. It wasn’t what I wanted. Honestly, Uncle Zhuzi raised me since I was a child. I know his character well. And from his talk with my brother, it seems the people who killed my father are powerful, and—more importantly—I’m in real danger.”

In my eyes, Han Xue was usually sensible, even if she could be a bit willful and cute at times. I thought she’d understand what I was saying. Clearly, I underestimated the power of a jealous woman. She couldn’t let it go. “Suppose what your Uncle Zhuzi said is true. If your only chance to survive is to sleep with that woman, which would you choose?”

This time I was smart and answered firmly, “What’s there to consider? I’d rather die loyal to you. Death means nothing!”

“That’s more like it,” Han Xue snorted, finally appeased.

“So, my dear, help me figure out what Uncle Zhuzi really meant,” I asked.

“How should I know? Maybe you should ask Fatty tomorrow. He seems pretty sharp,” Han Xue suggested.

I felt like Han Xue and I were completely out of sync tonight. We weren’t getting anywhere with this discussion, so we went to bed separately.

Even though we’d slept late, I woke up early the next morning. I wanted to go check on Grandpa Three at the school—I was desperate to know if the fool had gone to him last night. Just as I finished washing up, I heard my mother scream. Han Xue and I rushed out at the same time to find my mother collapsed on the ground, weak and trembling. In front of her was a jar—an old, rustic-looking clay pot.

The jar looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it. I helped my mother up. She was shaking so hard she couldn’t speak, just pointing at the jar in terror. Han Xue, clueless, stepped forward to examine it.

That jar’s familiarity, combined with my mother’s fear, triggered a memory. “Don’t touch it!” I yelled at Han Xue.

Her hand had just reached the jar. She froze and looked back at me, confusion on her face.

I remembered the night when Chen Stone kidnapped me as a child. Right before my eyes, he’d cut open the fool’s belly, took out the baby inside, and sealed it in a jar just like this one. Yes, I was almost certain—this was that child.

I sat my mother down on the steps, then strode over and kicked the jar aside. The villagers, who all rose early, had come running at the commotion. Just as they arrived, the jar rolled and two small, green feet slipped out of its mouth.

Everyone recoiled in shock. Han Xue took several steps back, staring at me. One of the braver villagers fetched a stick and poked inside, pulling out what lay within.

At this point, some people started retching.

Inside the jar was a green, unformed child, its body curled up. Oddly, its eyes were wide open and clear, and a yellow talisman was stuck to its forehead.

“Where did this dead child come from?!” people whispered, while others ran home in terror.

My expression shifted constantly. Of everyone present, only Han Xue and I knew who this dead child really was. Seeing the crowd grow, I forced myself to stay calm. “Everyone, step back. There’s a talisman on its forehead—likely a little zombie, suppressed by a Taoist. Even if not, it could carry all sorts of diseases.”

Sure enough, when I said that, everyone retreated. Turning to the pale Han Xue, I said, “Han Xue, go to the village office and bring Fatty here.”

She nodded and hurried off. Soon, Fatty arrived with Chen Qingshan. As soon as Fatty saw the thing, he understood. “Well, well! Where did this little drought demon come from?”

Many in the crowd had seen Fatty’s skills before; his arrival reassured them. Chen Qingshan asked, “Fatty, what’s a drought demon?”

“It’s a type of zombie. Wherever one appears, drought follows—it’s said to bring disaster. Who’d have thought we’d see one in a place like this? Thank goodness some master suppressed it, or else a hundred miles around would be struck by drought,” Fatty explained.

“So what do we do with it?” Chen Qingshan asked.

“That’s easy. The ancients would stake it down with wooden pegs or toss it in a latrine. Since this one’s already suppressed, anything goes—let’s just burn it,” Fatty said.

Hearing this, I blinked furiously at Fatty. How could we burn it? If it really were a drought demon, fine—but this was the fool’s child. The fool came back again and again just to find it; how could we burn it? Fatty wasn’t stupid. He caught my signal and addressed the villagers, “Easy as it may be, there’s a catch—killing it releases corpse poison. Even breathing it is fatal; not even the gods could save you. Go home, don’t linger, or you’ll be sorry!”

Fatty’s tactic worked. The crowd quickly dispersed. I sent my mother home with Han Xue to look after her. Fatty, ever bold, picked up the child, stuffed it back in the jar, and carried it to the village office. Chen Qingshan and I followed.

Once there, I asked, “Fatty, wasn’t this thing supposed to be buried under Han Xue’s dorm? How did it end up at my house?”

“You’re asking me? I was about to ask you! If you ask me, someone knew we’d dig it up and, unable to stop us, just delivered it directly. I’d bet my money it was that old man,” Fatty replied.

Before he finished, I’d already thought of Uncle Zhuzi. He most wanted to see this matter settled—his actions last night made that clear. But if Fatty said it was Grandpa Three, that was possible too, since Grandpa Three had guarded the feng shui spot all night.