Die Schönheiten der Song-Dynastie

Kapitel 7

“You have it! I’ve been searching for over eighty years, and I know you must have it.”

This is Bian Jizhong's ghost!

The old man remained silent for a while.

"What are you still doing in this world after being dead for so many years?"

"I also want to be reincarnated as a human, and I don't want to be a ghost anymore, but I can't do it."

What in this world is still worth cherishing?

"There's nothing to hold me back; my existence is nothing but endless suffering!"

"Why?"

"because......"

Suddenly, a chilling voice came from the other side of the wall: "Because I disagree!"

From inside the wall emerged a gaunt ghost, dressed in a tattered robe, with a headscarf adorned with feathers, a dark complexion, small but bright eyes, and a black scar extending from its neck to the corner of its mouth.

"He is my servant. I can only allow him to be reincarnated if I command him to!"

He walked straight to the old man and stopped a few meters in front of the shrine.

"You old codger, you were lucky to escape yesterday."

"Hmph, if it weren't for the ambush yesterday, you wouldn't have gotten away with it either," the old man said calmly, maintaining his meditative posture.

"If it weren't for this lackey ruining my plans!" Ghost looked at Bian Jizhong and suddenly revealed a wicked smile.

"Kneel down!" he shouted sternly.

Bian Jizhong's face turned deathly pale, his muscles twitching. He hesitated as he looked at Mr. Sun, then suddenly trembled as if electrocuted, collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony. After a while, he stopped groaning and struggled to get up.

The ghost stretched out its foot and said arrogantly, "Lick my foot, just once, and bark like a dog."

Bian Jizhong hesitated for a moment, then heard a ghostly groan, and with a shrill scream, he fell to the ground.

It's unclear what method the ghost used to firmly control Bian Jizhong's ghost.

Bian Jizhong had probably endured such torture countless times. Just moments ago he was struggling for the last shred of dignity, but now he had completely surrendered.

He lay on the ground like a dog, picked up the ghost's feet and kissed them, then raised his head and howled. He was tall and strong, lying on the ground as lowly as a dog, while the ghost was short and thin, yet stood as noble as a king.

The scene was both comical and heartbreaking, and tears welled up in Mr. Bian's grief-stricken eyes. Meanwhile, the Tian mother and daughter had fallen into a deep sleep again.

My body was slightly tilted towards the shrine, and I could only see that Jiang Ping was still awake. I didn't know if the driver was still conscious.

Mr. Sun stared coldly for a while and said, "He certainly wronged you when he was alive, but after so many years of torment and the bloodshed of several generations, can't he erase your hatred?"

"Hahaha," the ghost laughed menacingly, "Deep-frying and roasting him every day couldn't quell the hatred in my heart! I once begged for survival like a dog, but he slaughtered me like a sheep, drawing scar after scar on my body."

So, before I died, I uttered a curse, vowing to take revenge on him in the same way, making him and his descendants pay the price!

He kicked Bian Jizhong's ghost away, and the latter silently got up, his head bowed and eyes filled with no resentment. Presumably, more than eighty years of torment had made him dare not cause any trouble.

"He lived a life worse than a pig or a dog, and he deserved it. But are you happy to remain in this world as a wandering ghost? Let it go, let me help you reincarnate. The karma has been dealt with, it's time to understand!"

"Hahaha, who says I'm not happy! I'm incredibly happy, I'll show you a few good shows!"

The ghost laughed wildly, its voice terrifying. Suddenly, it said viciously, "I haven't had enough of this game yet! I always look forward to the grand celebration every twenty-one years. Time just keeps passing by so slowly!"

Bian Jizhong clenched his fists tightly, his eyes filled with pain.

The old man watched the ghost quietly without moving, letting him vent his anger to his heart's content.

The ghost stomped up to Mr. Bian. "Hmph, you want to end my game by cutting off your lineage? I should have killed you twenty-one years ago. Fine, I'll grant your wish soon! Haha!"

He looked at Tian Juan and said regretfully, "I wish she were your daughter."

He turned around and saw Mr. Bian breathe a sigh of relief, his eyes blinking rapidly: "But it doesn't matter, she's no different from your own daughter! Excellent, that's wonderful!"

"Are you so happy to see other people's families torn apart?" The old man was slightly angry.

"Be happy! Why aren't you happy?!"

He turned to look at Bian Jizhong, and after seeing the latter's pained expression, he nodded in satisfaction.

"I know you're eager to show off your mediocre skills, I'll give you a chance! But don't miss the chance to watch the show, because once you're dead you won't get another chance."

He turned and walked over to us, his eyes sweeping over Jiang Ping's face.

When he saw me and the driver, he exclaimed in surprise, then suddenly burst into laughter. He then smiled maliciously at Bian Jizhong's ghost: "You really went to great lengths! How interesting, tonight will be the most interesting night of my life."

I looked at him with disgust and confusion, as if he were a madman.

"Alright, please close your eyes, you are about to see something you will never forget!"

I forced my eyes open, unwilling to close them, but the ghost waved its hand, and my eyelids felt as heavy as lead. Unconsciously, they closed, and my consciousness slowly began to blur.

......

......

The sky was dark and the clouds were heavy. Endless rain washed over the wilderness, and the wind howled in the distant open fields, sometimes near and sometimes far, like a wild beast trapped in a snare roaring in despair.

A tall man, wearing a long robe, holding a paper umbrella in one hand and a small glass lantern in the other, walked unhurriedly in the darkness, humming a little tune.

In the dim light, his face was greasy, and he looked like he had just finished a hearty meal. He crossed the small bridge, the river rushing by. Thunder rumbled faintly in the sky, and he cursed at the heavens before quickening his pace.

He walked along the ridge towards the mountain and suddenly noticed a short, dark shadow in front of him. He probably thought it was a tree, but after taking a few steps, he stopped. He probably felt something was wrong. He had walked through this desolate mountain tens of thousands of times and had never seen a tree before.

He sneered and shouted, "Haha, you want to rob your grandfather? You're tired of living! I'm the ancestor of all robbers!"

The shadow in front of him didn't move. He took a few steps closer and saw a person standing with their back to him, wearing a long robe and a headscarf.

He had a vague feeling that something was wrong, and then he suddenly realized that the man's clothes were dry!

"Who are you? What do you want?!" he shouted, seemingly to intimidate, but more importantly to bolster his own courage.

A thunderclap echoed across the sky, followed by several flashes of lightning. The dark figure suddenly turned around, revealing a face so white it was almost translucent, scars so black they gleamed, and small, triangular eyes that shone brightly in the lightning, all clearly visible in the flashes.

"Who...who are you?"

The chilling laughter, "Hahaha," sent shivers down one's spine.

"Ah, it's you! Are you a human or a ghost?"

The dark figure pointed his withered hand at the small lantern, causing the lantern's flame to surge and illuminate the surroundings brightly. He threw away his umbrella, drew a gleaming dagger from his waist, and stabbed at the dark figure.

An astonishing scene unfolded.

The man changed direction with the dagger he had thrust out, slowly stabbing it towards his own chest. He lowered his head, his eyes wide open as he watched the dagger pierce his chest, his forehead dripping with a mixture of sweat and rain.

The dagger was very sharp; with a soft thud, it pierced his chest as if it were made of tofu. He screamed in agony, his facial muscles contorted in a grotesque grimace from the intense pain.

His hand no longer obeyed his commands; gripping the dagger, he swiftly and cleanly plunged it into his side, smoothly slicing it across his chest, pulling it out from the other side, and then plunging it in again...

This situation is terrifying!

He raised his head, his eyes bloodshot and bleeding, his face covered in blood from the rain.

The dark figure stood quietly to one side, hands clenched, eyes gleaming, a cruel and satisfied smile on its lips.

The out-of-control hand powerfully and calmly slashed wound after wound on the chest, and then on the back, slashing again and again.

The man spat out a mist of blood, mixed with blood clots—he had even chewed up his own tongue; this was truly a rare form of torture!

Before long, the wound on his back was finished, and blood kept spurting out of his body. The dagger then deftly spun around in front of his chest a few times, cutting the button and bringing the blood-stained clothes to a close.

The man collapsed. The lights went out, and darkness returned.

......

Inside the thatched house, the lamplight was dim.

"Dad, the rain outside has stopped!" A little boy with a topknot ran excitedly into the kitchen.

A middle-aged man was tending a fire in front of the stove, while his two sons were helping their mother prepare offerings for their ancestors.

"Alright, boss, you start the fire. Xiao Bao and I will go out to burn paper money to appease the wandering ghosts." The man stood up; he was a burly, strong man with a happy smile on his bronze face. His eyebrows vaguely resembled his father's, but he lacked the domineering and fierce air of his father, appearing honest yet shrewd.

"Come back early for dinner! We still need to pay respects to our ancestors after dinner!" His wife, a gentle and beautiful woman, tenderly instructed him.

The second son muttered, "Dad, I want to go too!"

The man lightly slapped him on the head: "Why did you go with so many people? Stay home and help your mother with the chores. Don't be lazy, or I'll beat you to a pulp!"

The man went out the door with a pipe in his mouth, and the little boy followed quickly behind, carrying a small basket of paper money and incense.

Like many rural areas in southern China, the Ghost Festival involves ancestor worship. However, to ensure that the wandering ghosts, having lost their descendants, can also celebrate and not harm people out of jealousy or loneliness, farmers have children burn paper money on the main road, so that even lonely ghosts can have some money to spend.

The two walked along the foot of the mountain by the river for a while, and the little boy said, "Dad, I'm scared!"

The man stopped and said, "Okay, we'll burn it here."

He struck a match and lit the paper money in the little boy's hand. The little boy had been there before and was familiar with the process. As he burned the paper money, he said in his childish voice, "The blind man and the lame man are getting money!"

The man lit incense and candles and offered prayers devoutly.

After the paper was burned, the little boy imitated his father, sticking out his little bottom and bowing in a very proper manner.

"Alright, Xiaobao, you go back first! Tell your mother I'm going to check on the fields, I'll be right back!" The man gently patted his son's head. "Are you brave enough to go back alone?"

"I dare!" The little boy picked up the empty basket and ran back quickly.

Not far away, two dark figures, one tall and one short, one strong and one thin, stood silently watching the father and son perform the ritual to appease the wandering spirits. Their expressions were obscured, but two faint white lights shone from the taller man's face, then transformed into two narrow strips.

The man stood in front of the incense and candles for a while, finished his cigarette, and was about to leave when he suddenly saw two dark figures walking towards him.

The middle-aged man in front was tall and strong, with a fierce face, but also looked tired and haggard, with tears streaming down his face; behind him was a short and thin man, also around forty years old, with dark and bright eyes and a mocking smile on his lips.

The man glanced at it and was about to walk away, but he quickly turned back and said in surprise, "Father, is that you?"

The tall man nodded, sobbing and unable to speak.

The man said bitterly, "Where have you been all these years? My mother worked herself to death to support us!"

"Ah, you're dead!" Suddenly he remembered, took a step back, and said tremblingly, "Father, do you... do you still have any worries? It wasn't Li Dagen who killed you?"

The tall man was about to speak when the short man gave a sinister laugh.

The piercing laughter sent a chill down the middle-aged man's spine, and he looked at the short man with fear.

"Kill him, and you two can talk your way out in the underworld!"

"No!" the tall man cried out in anguish, "Please, I'll do anything you ask! Please!"