Volume One: The Eight Coffin Corpse Yard Chapter Ten: Another Exploration of the Desolate Building

At that time, the truth was likely this: Li Ximei became pregnant, and at first, she was desperate to terminate the pregnancy. She tried every method she could think of and made every effort, but the fetus seemed to have taken root inside her, and no matter what she did, she couldn't rid herself of it. In the end, the child was born—perhaps prematurely—making survival unlikely, and the child may have already passed away. Despite her tough and fiery nature, Li Ximei, like a tigress who would not eat her cub, could not bring herself to abandon the child. Somehow, she learned of a method to prolong the child’s life.

This method involved burying the stillborn child in a copper bowl and planting a stalk of Infernal Grass on top.

At this point, I couldn’t help but interject, “Uncle, that’s a pretty wild guess. Burying a stillborn in a flowerpot—do you have any evidence for that?”

He shot me a look. “What do you think? You think I’m just making this up out of thin air?”

I scratched my head and asked, “But wait, didn’t that old man with white hair say that whatever that thing—the Mandragora—can’t survive here if brought over?”

Uncle replied, “With conventional methods, it certainly wouldn’t survive. That’s exactly why I deduced that burying the dead infant in the copper bowl is the only way to nurture the Mandragora. The copper bowl traps souls; the infant’s spirit would be bound inside. Over time, the soul and the Mandragora plant would grow together, feeding off each other…”

I pressed further, “So if we don’t go back to that cursed house and just let the Mandragora grow, what happens? Could the child really come back to life?”

Uncle shook his head. “I haven’t figured that out yet. This isn’t anything like the sorcery we have in the Central Plains—these are dark arts, and they don’t play by our rules. Now I think about it, my little fiasco there is understandable—not really embarrassing, heh, not at all.”

I waved it off. “There’s still another issue: how did Li Ximei know these dark arts? If someone taught her, who was it? The more we learn, the more tangled it gets.”

Uncle nodded, pulling out his phone. “That’s a good question. Hang on, let me make a call.”

The basement had terrible reception, so my uncle stepped outside to make the call.

I was too lazy to follow, so I lay back down and tried to sleep.

After a while, Uncle burst back in, flailing his arms excitedly, his face flushed with excitement. He grabbed me as soon as he came in. “Nephew, wake up! Come with me.”

I shook him off. “Where are we going?”

“To that haunted house.”

“What? Are you out of your mind?” I shuddered. We’d just barely escaped from there, and now he wanted to go back. The very thought of that place still made my skin crawl.

“This time I guarantee you’ll be fine. I’ve got it all figured out. We’ll be prepared.”

“Your guarantees are worthless! I’d feel more confident if you didn’t promise anything. The more you reassure me, the more anxious I get!” I tried my best to avoid him.

But Uncle was relentless, tugging at my clothes, trying to drag me outside.

“Uncle, I’m warning you, this is the most valuable thing I own. If you tear my clothes, you’re buying me a new one,” I shouted.

To my surprise, that actually worked. Uncle quickly let go, cursing, “Damn, like I have money to buy you new clothes.”

Impatient, I asked, “So what’s going on? Who did you call?”

Uncle, still excited, replied, “I called Chen Dafa to ask about Li Ximei’s background. Guess what? The woman’s actually from an ethnic minority—she’s Uyghur from Xinjiang.”

I glared at him. “What’s so exciting about being from a minority? Our country has fifty-six ethnic groups, fifty-six flowers, national unity…”

Uncle rolled his eyes and cut me off, “Stop, stop, stop. What did you even learn at university? Do you know any geography? Xinjiang is what they used to call the Western Regions.”

I hadn’t thought much about it, but his words made something click. “Ah, so you’re saying—since Li Ximei is from Xinjiang, she might know those Western Region dark arts you mentioned. That would explain the soul-locking copper bowl and the Mandragora.”

Uncle slapped his thigh. “Exactly! Of course, it’s possible she didn’t know any dark arts herself, but maybe she had some ancestral books or something she learned from. Also, do you remember when Guozi said some outsider grilling lamb skewers came looking for her? But Guozi never actually met the man—he just assumed he was a lamb skewer vendor because he looked like one, probably from Xinjiang. Most people from Xinjiang who come here open kebab shops, so Guozi just drew that conclusion. I think that Mandragora seedling was brought to Li Ximei by that outsider. Later, when Li Ximei had the baby, Old Madam Chen found out. She didn’t understand these things, just thought Li Ximei brought shame on the family—so she killed her with a shovel.”

I wagged my finger. “But still—what was Li Ximei’s purpose in all this?”

Uncle replied, “I think she had two goals. First, she wanted to use dark arts to preserve the child’s soul, or at least keep it alive. Second, she wanted to cultivate that Mandragora plant. She just didn’t expect to be killed by Old Madam Chen.”

Cold sweat broke out on my forehead as I listened. “Using such a vicious method to grow a plant… that’s just—”

Uncle patted my shoulder. “Nephew, the world is full of strange things. I bet that Mandragora seedling was incredibly valuable to them. We’re outsiders—if we try to get to the bottom of this, we’ll never be able to explain it all. Right now, I only want to deal with that haunted house and get the money. I know how to handle the postpartum ghost now. So, are you coming with me or not?”

I hesitated. “Uncle, this isn’t a small matter. Be honest—do you really have a solution, or are you just talking big?”

Uncle glared at me. “If I’m lying, I’m your grandson.”

I waved him off. “Here we go again. Fine, I’ll trust you this time. After all that’s happened, how could I not go?”

“Exactly! This time, I’ll show you something new. If all goes well, we’ll get rid of that little ghost tonight. The postpartum ghost is powerful because of the baby spirit. Once we deal with the baby, the other wandering souls in the house won’t be a threat. And that baby came from that ghostly plant—the Mandragora. So the plant is the baby’s anchor. Destroy the Mandragora, and the baby’s soul will scatter.”

He seemed so confident that I was half convinced, half doubtful. I knew tonight’s trip wouldn’t be as easy as Uncle claimed, but there was no backing out now. They say, “Knowing there are tigers on the mountain, you still venture in”—it sounds impressive, but to me, it felt more tragic than glorious.

Uncle had packed a big bundle for me to carry. We flagged down a cab and headed to the abandoned building. It was late—later than last time—and there was barely any moonlight. From a distance, the building looked even more sinister.

We got out far from the building and walked closer until Uncle stopped. He handed me a pair of binoculars. “I finally figured out why you can see those ghosts. You’re missing your soul lamp—you lack yang energy, so you can see things thick with yin energy. Take a look—see if you spot any ghosts.”

I peered through the binoculars at the abandoned building for a while.

This time, at the main entrance and the window where I had seen the ghostly figure before, there was nothing unusual. I told Uncle, who nodded, opened the bundle, and pulled out two sets of gaudy clothes.

“Here, put these on,” he said, handing me a set.

“I’m not cold,” I replied offhandedly.

“Just put it on,” Uncle snapped.

I had no choice. I unfolded the clothes, intending to put them on, but in the faint moonlight, I realized with a jolt that I was holding a funeral shroud.

Startled, I threw it back at Uncle. “Are you crazy? I’m your own nephew! First, you want me in a coffin, now you want me in a shroud? How unlucky can you get?”

Uncle was exasperated. “You’re so much trouble—I’m not only making you wear it, I’m wearing one too!”

Sure enough, he was already pulling his own shroud over his head. The sight of him made my skin crawl.

Seeing my expression, Uncle had to explain. “This time, our main goal is to destroy that ghostly plant. If we don’t take precautions, the baby ghost will spot us as soon as we go in, and we’re both done for.”

I pointed at the shroud. “Wearing this will stop the baby ghost from noticing us?”

Uncle nodded. “When people die, their souls go to the underworld, dressed in a shroud. This will temporarily mask our yang energy. If we also use a little trick to distract the spirits inside, we’ll be able to enter safely.”

Reluctantly, I pulled the shroud on. It felt horribly uncomfortable.

We walked toward the building, dressed in shrouds, looking for all the world like a pair of lost ghosts. Luckily, it was late and the streets were empty. Otherwise, anyone who saw us would have died of fright.

We reached the entrance again, and Uncle motioned for me to crouch down.

I had no idea what he was up to this time, but he rummaged in the bag and pulled out two bundles of incense sticks.