Chapter Ten: The Final Night

My heart clenched violently as I realized that the five characters Luo Xiu wrote on the ground were warning us to beware of Zuo Daoyin. Could it be that she meant Zuo Daoyin was behind this string of bizarre events, orchestrating everything from the shadows?

Until this moment, I had always harbored a measure of trust toward Zuo Daoyin. With my grandfather’s fate uncertain, it was Zuo Daoyin who had guided me through every ordeal I’d faced. If not for his help last night, I would have long been murdered by that ghostly woman. Yet now, Luo Xiu had directed suspicion straight at him. I found it hard to accept at first, but the more I considered it, the more I realized Zuo Daoyin himself was riddled with suspicion. The way he treated his own wife alone revealed the darkness and cruelty lurking in his heart.

At the same time, I recalled how Zuo Daoyin had sent me to Wang Feiyang’s house to set up the paper coffin. He’d claimed the female ghost had taken his form—but what about the incident with Madam Chen at the shroud shop? It was Zuo Daoyin who had instructed me to deliver the yellow cloth bundle filled with dead hair to her. After seeing it, Madam Chen hanged herself. In every event, Zuo Daoyin played a part; when I retraced my steps, I found that, time and again, his presence seemed to fan the flames.

The more I thought about it, the more fear gripped my heart. Eventually, I dared not pursue the thought further, for I was afraid that, in the end, Zuo Daoyin’s image would shatter completely in my mind. He was the one my grandfather had sent me to find. My grandfather would never wish me harm. Because of this, I could not bring myself to fully accept that Zuo Daoyin was truly the mastermind behind it all.

I looked at Wang Feiyang, bewildered, and asked him what he thought.

Wang Feiyang shook his head, saying that Luo Xiu had likely wanted to tell him more. But at the critical moment, she realized Zuo Daoyin was returning, so she urged us to flee.

I asked Wang Feiyang why Luo Xiu communicated with him using funerary script. Was she afraid I’d see what she wrote?

He said he didn’t know either; perhaps it was simply because Luo Xiu was illiterate, and as the most renowned medium on Baijie Street, she only knew funerary script.

I nodded, then asked what he planned to do next.

He replied that we should wait here a bit longer. If Zuo Daoyin left, he wanted to see Luo Xiu again.

I agreed with Wang Feiyang’s idea. At present, Luo Xiu was our only lead; there was no one else who might help us.

Thus, Wang Feiyang and I hid there, quietly watching every move at Zuo Daoyin’s house. We kept watch the entire day, but Zuo Daoyin never emerged. Even without these recent events, he seldom left home. Clearly, it was impossible to wait for him to leave in a short time. Dusk fell, and we were forced to give up.

We decided to go eat. After leaving the alley, Wang Feiyang pulled up his hoodie again, as if terrified of being recognized.

During the meal, I asked him why he was hiding himself. Also, after Zuo Daoyin burned his family’s corpses at the grain depot today, the police must have handed the ashes to the funeral home—shouldn’t he retrieve his family’s ashes for a proper burial?

Wang Feiyang suddenly set down his chopsticks and glared at me, his gaze cold and sharp as ice. I immediately fell silent, not daring to press further. I was certain that witnessing his family's massacre the previous night had become his greatest sore spot—he would not tolerate anyone bringing it up. As for what he saw or knew, I would never find out.

Wang Feiyang had become a different person, almost frighteningly so. It dawned on me that he was hiding because he feared the police. If they found him, they would surely question him about the massacre—a forbidden subject for him. If he refused to answer, it would only bring more trouble.

After we finished eating, I asked where he planned to go next.

He said he was going home.

I frowned. "You really dare to go back?"

He turned to me, puzzled, and replied, "Why wouldn’t I?"

I hesitated, suggesting we go to an internet café or rent a hotel room instead.

He shot me a cold look. "Are you scared? Are you afraid that woman is still waiting for you in your family’s coffin shop?"

His words struck a nerve. I didn’t bother hiding it and nodded. "Yes. Last night that ghost appeared in my grandfather’s guise and waited in my shop. I can’t bring myself to go back."

Wang Feiyang snorted. "If that ghost really wanted to harm you, do you think hiding in a café or hotel would make any difference?"

I paused, realizing he was right. Images from my previous ordeal in the internet café flashed through my mind. Not only that ghost—even Madam Chen from the shroud shop could have found me anywhere.

"If tonight is truly your last, wouldn’t you rather die in your own home than outside? At least your soul would have a resting place, and you wouldn’t wander the earth as a lost ghost."

With those words, Wang Feiyang walked off toward his family’s paper effigy shop without looking back.

I wanted to follow him, but in the end, I held back. He was deeply sensitive about his family’s tragedy—if I went with him and stirred up painful memories, I feared he might try to slash me again with his bamboo knife.

Lighting a cigarette, I took a deep drag. Ultimately, I realized Wang Feiyang had a point. If the ghost was truly coming for me tonight, death was inevitable; better to die at home, just in case my grandfather returned.

So I headed back to my family’s coffin shop. At first, I was tense, fearing the woman would be waiting for me. Fortunately, she was gone.

To bolster my courage, I turned on every light in the shop. Only in that bright, blazing glow did my nerves finally settle. I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. Drowsiness swept over me, and I yawned, heading straight to my room.

I lay down, closed my eyes, and quickly drifted off. My sleep was shallow, haunted by strange, disturbing images. I had no idea how long I slept—perhaps until midnight—when suddenly, clarity pierced my dreams.

I opened my eyes abruptly. Sitting at the foot of my bed was a woman, her hair loose, dressed in tight flared pants and a red turtleneck sweater.

The ghost had returned—just as Wang Feiyang had warned. Tonight would be my last; there was no escaping my fate.

At that moment, a car horn blared outside, jerking me awake. Only then did I realize I’d been having a nightmare. Yet something was amiss: I clearly remembered leaving the lights on before I slept, but now everything was shrouded in darkness—not even moonlight seeped in from the window.

Instinctively, I tried to turn on the bedside lamp, but as I sat up, my head struck something hard, forcing me back down. My outstretched hand hit an unyielding wall. In that instant, my heart seized with dread.

It felt as though I had been locked inside a cabinet—one just big enough to hold me, so cramped that I could barely breathe. There was no air inside at all.

Panic overwhelmed me. I began pounding on the walls with both hands, shouting for help. But outside, there was only a deathly silence. No one answered.