23: The Terrifying Old Master Qin

There’s one thing I can’t figure out—if there’s a treasure, why not take it away? Then another thought came to me: was Mr. Qin staying behind in the village also because he was searching for the so-called treasure? The third person, who has killed more than once and hidden in the village for so many years, was it also for the treasure? And what, exactly, is Grandmother hiding?

I used to think she lived in the old house because her work was taboo, and she preferred quiet. But hearing from Mother that Grandmother wasn’t in the house, yet suddenly appeared from inside, made me realize there must be a secret passage in the old residence.

Originally, I’d wanted to check if Xu Buhuo had gone back to the new house to rest, but as soon as I learned about a secret exit in the old house, my curiosity about the place grew intense.

It was the perfect chance to search thoroughly while Xu Buhuo was away. I tapped walls and floors in every room, scoured the entire house, but found nothing.

Even so, I was certain there had to be a secret passage in that old house. If it were so easy to find, Xu Buhuo would’ve discovered it long ago.

Knowing now why Xu Buhuo was so diligent, my compassion waned. I took out the cloth pouch Mr. Qin had given me, planning to plant it in Xu Buhuo’s satchel when I had the chance.

When it came to the treasure, I acted as if I knew nothing. Not even Mr. Qin would I confide in. Before returning to the new house, I stopped by Mr. Qin’s home. To my surprise, the door was open, but he was nowhere to be seen.

While waiting in the courtyard, I noticed in the corner a pile of droppings—about the size of goat pellets, but longer and not quite the same. The smell was oddly familiar, as if I’d encountered it before but couldn’t recall where.

Mr. Qin only raised chickens, nothing else. I couldn’t figure out where all those droppings came from. After waiting a while and seeing no sign of Mr. Qin, sleepiness crept in and I decided to go home.

“What are you doing here?”

Xu Buhuo’s sudden voice from behind chilled me to the bone. I never expected to run into him at Mr. Qin’s doorstep.

“Mr. Qin is ill, I came to check on him. Why aren’t you asleep?” I tried to sound calm, but my anxiety was obvious. If Xu Buhuo found out Mr. Qin was secretly helping me, things would get complicated.

“Mr. Qin? What’s wrong? I know a bit of Chinese medicine, let me have a look.” Without waiting for my protest that Mr. Qin wasn’t in, Xu Buhuo strode into the yard.

As soon as he entered, Xu Buhuo closed his eyes and stood there, motionless, leaving me baffled at his odd behavior.

A minute later, he opened his eyes, smiling, and asked, “Don’t you feel it? This courtyard is much cooler than outside.”

Now that he mentioned it, I realized the courtyard was indeed much cooler. Considering Mr. Qin’s background, perhaps he’d made some arrangements here. I was about to suggest leaving, but Xu Buhuo suddenly wrinkled his nose as if catching a scent, then walked straight to the corner, bent down, and picked up one of the droppings.

He ground it between his fingers, sniffed it, then turned to me. “Didn’t you say you saw rats the size of a rabbit near that woman’s grave?”

I nodded reflexively.

“Don’t you see? These are rat droppings. But these rats are much bigger than usual—probably the same as the ones you saw.”

Rat droppings?

I stared at the pellets on the ground, stunned. That familiar yet unsettling feeling made sense now—these were like magnified versions of regular rat droppings.

Could those huge rats be raised by Mr. Qin?

“I remember you said their eyes were clouded. If my guess is right, these aren’t ordinary rats—they’re corpse rats, raised not on grain but on human flesh. They’re blind, with an acute sense of smell, trained through secret methods, more intelligent than dogs, with no blood in their bodies, and their droppings carry a stench of death.”

Xu Buhuo handed me a pellet. The moment I sniffed it, I realized the familiar odor was the same as the corpse stench I’d smelled on Auntie Wang. That explained everything.

No wonder the rats grew as big as rabbits—they were raised on human flesh, could kneel like people, and when skewered with a stick, not a drop of blood appeared.

Recalling the eight large rats around Jiang Yan’s grave, I couldn’t help but wonder—were they also Mr. Qin’s doing? Why would he use human flesh to raise corpse rats, only to have them kneel at Jiang Yan’s tomb?

Xu Buhuo then walked over to the chicken coop, squatted by the scrawny birds, watched them for over ten seconds, and snorted, “Your Mr. Qin is quite something.”

“What do you mean?” I looked at the coop, sensing something was off about the chickens too.

“See how skinny they are? These are soul-devouring chickens—they drink blood, not eat meat, and only human blood at that. That’s why they’re so thin. Don’t believe me? Try feeding them a bug—they won’t touch it.”

Though I trusted Xu Buhuo’s words, I found a bug by the wall and tossed it in. The seven chickens inside remained motionless.

Then Xu Buhuo pricked his finger with a knife, brought it close to the coop. In an instant, the chickens rushed over, stretching their necks, scrambling to peck at the blood.

Defiant, I held the bug next to Xu Buhuo’s bleeding finger. The chickens only cared for the blood, ignoring the bug completely.

Looking closely, I noticed their eyes were golden, sending chills down my spine.

My throat was parched, not a drop of saliva to swallow. I’d read enough of Grandmother’s books to know that things raised this way were never normal, and those who used such methods were seldom right in the head.

I’d once sworn to trust Mr. Qin, ready to entrust everything to him, but now it seemed he too had secrets. His kindness and benevolence—a façade.

Xu Buhuo had his issues, Mr. Qin seemed to have his as well, and there was still the unknown third person. I felt a wave of fear.

Leaving Mr. Qin’s courtyard, Xu Buhuo suddenly asked, “The one who tampered with the jade pendant I gave you—was it him?”

At this point, all I could do was nod. I expected Xu Buhuo to be angry, but he only gave a nonchalant smile and walked on, leaving me dumbfounded. But I quickly realized, as I’d suspected—he didn’t really care about the jade pendant. His questioning was just a formality.

The anxiety of the unknown was suffocating, making it hard for me to breathe. I debated whether to come clean with Xu Buhuo, or to follow Mr. Qin’s instructions and slip the pouch into Xu Buhuo’s bag, thus breaking the formation in Grandmother’s spirit hall.

I fell into a muddled sleep, and by dusk, as I returned to the old residence, Mother hurried out to meet me. “Something’s happened to Liu the Scab,” she said.

Liu the Scab was already dead—what could have happened now? Mother’s next words were hard to believe, yet they rang true.

His body had been placed in his father’s old house, with a few of the village committee watching over the wake. Bored and hot, they were playing cards under a tree in the yard. Near dusk, one of them went inside and saw blood seeping from the coffin. Alarmed, they pried open the lid—and nearly lost their wits.

Liu the Scab hadn’t vanished, but only his skin remained in the coffin. His flesh and bones were gone.

What baffled everyone was that after the burial, the coffin had been sealed tight. Yet, without a sound, his body was reduced to nothing but a shell of skin.

The story swept through the whole village. With the recent incident of Auntie Wang appearing in Jiang Yan’s grave, panic spread. People began to say it was Jiang Yan’s doing, that when she was alive, Liu the Scab often harassed her, trying to take advantage.

Hearing the rumors, I wanted to scold them all—how could they always blame Jiang Yan for everything?

After all that had happened, I began to think Jiang Yan might not have been as I’d imagined. Perhaps, seeing the evil around me, she’d only wanted to take me away to protect me.

Recalling her gentle gaze, I felt she truly wanted to shield me.

Only the skin remained; the flesh was gone.

When Xu Buhuo heard what had happened, he had me take him to see for himself.

Those keeping vigil had already fled to the courtyard. Seeing Xu Buhuo and me arrive, they scrambled to greet us with cigarettes, but Xu Buhuo, eyes sharp as ever, walked straight inside.

A whole corpse, now reduced to a skin in the blink of an eye—the coffin lid still lay on the ground, abandoned by the terrified watchers.

A complete human skin lay at the coffin’s bottom, the black handprint on the chest making me more anxious with every glance.

“Do you know where the body went?” I forced myself to ask, suppressing my nausea.

Xu Buhuo said nothing, lighting a candle to continue his inspection. With nothing else to do, I wandered around.

As I walked, a small red bug on the ground caught my attention—about the size of a melon seed. At first, I thought it was a cockroach, but as I peered closer, I saw a pattern on its back—like a skull. The more I stared, the more it looked like a skull.

Out of curiosity, I instinctively reached out to grab the strange insect for a better look.

“Don’t touch that bug!”

The shout from behind made every hair on my body stand on end.