Chapter 49

"Stop, stop, stop." Liu Zhiyi begged off. "Tell me by daylight."

Walking a long night road was actually a bit boring.

Everything around was black, with nothing to mark distance by; after a stretch Liu Zhiyi couldn't help yawning, waving the flashlight about.

Just then a woman's voice came out of the dark.

"I can't walk much further."

Liu Zhiyi turned and shone the flashlight toward the sound.

It was the girl with rickets.

Yindi: "We're almost there. Can you hold out a bit longer?"

The girl braced her hands on her knees, her already bent back bending further.

"…Let's go."

They walked on a way; Liu Zhiyi had tired of the stars, and worried a little about the girl with rickets, turning her head her way now and then — but afraid her gaze might wound her.

No knowing how long they walked.

Liu Zhiyi heard a stream murmuring.

A little stone bridge appeared in the flashlight's beam.

And not far off, the edge of the sky glowed white, faint sounds drifting over — it sounded like the film had started.

"Aiya, the film's begun."

"Hurry, hurry."

The young people around her grew anxious, quickening their steps to run ahead.

But the girl trailing at the back sat down on the bridge railing and said, panting.

"…I really can't walk. You all go on."

Liu Zhiyi looked at her stooped back, unable to bear it, and wanted to go over and check on her.

But Yindi was clearly more interested in the film; she swept Liu Zhiyi up into her arms and ran off with the others toward it.

Liu Zhiyi was a little curious about the films of this era too, and didn't struggle, watching the girl's figure vanish from view bit by bit.

But when she got to where the film was showing, she was a touch let down.

It was just a cloth strung up on an open patch of ground, with a big crowd pressed in front of it — some sitting on the ground, some on little stools they'd brought.

A bit crude, and the film was black and white.

Liu Zhiyi watched a while; the actors were quite good, really, but the plot was old hat to her — she could guess the ending.

She yawned several times in a row and looked around.

Her gaze swept to a stooped figure standing at the back edge of the crowd.

It was the girl.

Had she come after all?

Liu Zhiyi's heart eased, and she turned back to the film.

Liu Zhiyi fell asleep; it was Yindi who shook her awake.

The young people naturally wanted to chat after the film; Liu Zhiyi looked around the crowd and followed Yindi out.

She didn't see the girl.

She was a little puzzled.

"Aren't you waiting for someone?"

Yindi: "Waiting for who?"

Liu Zhiyi: "That stooped girl."

Yindi: "You mean Chunhua? She never came over — she's still back at the bridge."

Liu Zhiyi startled.

She followed the crowd a stretch, back to the stone bridge.

Yindi: "There, look."

Chunhua sat on the bridge; she turned her head and asked, smiling.

"Was the film good?"

Liu Zhiyi was stunned.

Was Chunhua a person or a ghost?

Liu Zhiyi wanted to talk it over with Yindi — the Chunhua she'd seen where the film was showing — but with Chunhua right there she didn't dare, afraid of touching some taboo and setting off a person-turns-ghost scene.

Chunhua: "I can't walk."

Hearing this, the young people hauled her up and set her on a boy's back.

Liu Zhiyi opened her mouth to say something, then, seeing Chunhua's bent back, the words stuck in her throat.

Then the group took turns carrying Chunhua the whole way.

Liu Zhiyi watched with her heart in her mouth, afraid Chunhua would turn into a ghost.

But all the way back to the village, no change came over Chunhua.

They saw her home.

She was breathing hard, her back bent worse than before.

"Thank you." Liu Zhiyi heard Chunhua say to them. "I didn't see the film, but I'm happy all the same."

Yindi: "What's to thank? We'll watch a film together again sometime."

Chunhua tipped her head up and laughed.

Liu Zhiyi noticed the girl's face was round, with two dimples when she smiled — quite sweet.

But she said nothing more, and, panting, holding the door, turned and went inside.

Liu Zhiyi felt something was odd, and saw Yindi knit her brows.

"Did you notice something?" Liu Zhiyi asked once they were back inside.

Yindi: "Did you really see Chunhua where they were showing the film?"

Liu Zhiyi was baffled. "Yes — she was standing at the back of the crowd, watching."

Yindi let out a long sigh.

"There'll be a big commotion tonight."

Liu Zhiyi rather wanted to dig into the reason, but was afraid Yindi would tell her a ghost story.

Yindi seemed to see what was on her mind, and said no more.

With that "big commotion" on her mind, Liu Zhiyi slept lightly that night.

Half asleep, she suddenly heard a cry from outside.

"O-ho…"

Liu Zhiyi's body jerked.

—Scrape.

That was the sound of a foot on the stone path.

But not quite like their usual footsteps.

Very heavy, as if the foot were being dragged along the ground.

Then, another.

"O-ho…"

The sound was deep, flat, without the rise and fall of a person speaking.

Like breathing, but no living person could breathe that way.

"O-ho…"

This time Liu Zhiyi heard it clearly.

The sound was coming from inside the house.

Liu Zhiyi kept her sleeping pose flat on her back.

First she eased her breathing, slowly calming her heartbeat.

Then she listened hard for the sound.

It came from the direction of her feet, a bit far off.

In the hall?

—Thud.

Something was bumped into.

A chair?

Liu Zhiyi thought.

Then —

—Slap.

—Scrape.

It sounded like footsteps, but a little strange — the slap should be a foot landing, but the scrape that followed wasn't a sound a normal person's walking would make.

Liu Zhiyi listened, head tilted, for a while.

—Thunk.

The sound of bumping into something again.

But not quite like the earlier bump; this one Liu Zhiyi found rather familiar.

Because she'd bumped it too.

The brick houses of the countryside always loved to set the door thresholds very high; as a child, watching zombie films, she'd heard it said this was so the zombies couldn't hop over the threshold.

Whether it stopped zombies, Liu Zhiyi didn't know.

She'd tripped over it plenty of times, not being used to it, her foot catching on it with a "thunk" each time.

Just like now.

Liu Zhiyi knew: the thing that had been pacing the hall had come into the room.

She clenched her fist and reached toward the head of the bed.

Liu Zhiyi had secretly hidden away a pair of Yindi's scissors.

Though she knew the thing might not work on a ghost, a weapon in hand beat nothing at all.

Her arm had barely straightened, before she'd even touched the scissors, when something gripped her elbow and yanked it down hard.

Liu Zhiyi jumped, and was about to struggle.

A warm arm reached over from her side and patted her arm gently.

It was Yindi.

Yindi was telling her not to move.

Liu Zhiyi went still.

Though she didn't know why Yindi did this, she must have her reasons.

"…O-ho."

Liu Zhiyi didn't move, and swept the source of the sound with the corner of her eye.

For some reason the moon was especially bright that night, silver-white moonlight coming in through the window.

It was like a shaft of light cast in, falling right in the middle of the room, right on that black shape.

It moved.

—Slap.

It seemed to lift a foot.

—Scrape.

Liu Zhiyi understood now why there was that scraping sound.

Because its legs were deformed, the knees bent outward, the foot unable to leave the ground fully; dragged along the floor, it made that scrape.

It came closer.

Out of the shaft of moonlight and into the dark.

Liu Zhiyi could no longer see it, only hear the slap-scrape echoing on and on by the bed.

Nearer and nearer, nearer and nearer.

—Creak.

She heard another sound at the foot of the bed — the wooden bed shuddering — and at the same time felt the foot of the bed sink down.

Something had sat down.

Liu Zhiyi's body went rigid, trembling on its own from the strain.

Yindi's hand bore down on her arm, telling her not to move.

It was torture.

The first two dungeons had trained a reflex into Liu Zhiyi: either flee, or hide.

Lying completely exposed before a ghost without moving a muscle —

sent her heart rate shooting up.

"…O-ho."

A current of air brushed past her face.

Liu Zhiyi's body gave a hard shudder, and then she felt Yindi's hand press on her arm, tugging her to the right.

So she rolled with the pull, turning to the inside of the bed.

—Creak.

A weight settled behind her.

It had sat down behind her.

No knowing how much time passed.

Liu Zhiyi found she'd actually lost consciousness in that taut, strained state.

When she opened her eyes again, it was light.

Yindi lay at her side; she'd been awake a long time.

"How'd you sleep last night?"

Liu Zhiyi's forehead throbbed; that was what came of nerves drawn tight and a bad night's rest.

"Terribly… what was that last night?"

Yindi: "It was Chunhua."

Liu Zhiyi: "…She's dead?"

Yindi said nothing, pulling her up to wash, eat, and change.

When they'd tidied up and gone out, Liu Zhiyi saw the threshing ground already packed with people.

Yindi lifted Liu Zhiyi up, and only at that height did she see, through the gaps in the crowd, what they were all looking at.

It was Chunhua.

She lay on the ground, already covered with a red quilt.

Someone in the crowd said softly to Yindi, "Died last night — came back from the film, lay down on the bed, and that was it."

Yindi sighed.

Liu Zhiyi had roughly guessed Chunhua was dead, but hadn't expected it at this point, and was struck blank for a moment.

Yindi: "A person has a presentiment when they're about to die — the soul leaves a step ahead. While you were watching the film, Chunhua's soul had already left her body."

So that was it…

Yindi: "And when a young person dies like this, the commotion in the village is especially big."

As her words fell, the villagers gathered round began, in a babble of voices, to tell of last night's uncanny sights and sounds.

"Aiya, really — the o-ho went on outside my house all night."

"You've got it easy. My place is near Chunhua's — I heard her crying the whole time."

The villagers chattered a round of it, and it all came down to one thing.

"Pitiful."

Liu Zhiyi thought so too.

Yindi carried her out of the crowd, but she looked terribly sad.

Was she close to Chunhua?

Though Liu Zhiyi felt Chunhua was pitiful, she hadn't spent long with her, so the pity that rose in her was quite limited; but seeing Yindi so grieved, she comforted her.

"Don't be too sad. Chunhua looked happy enough yesterday."

Yindi: "Leaving no regret before death — that's a good thing too."

Liu Zhiyi nodded and nodded, watching Yindi's face all the while, trying to talk her round.

"There's too much regret in a person's life. To be able to go without carrying any is a fine thing, really."