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Ye Chenfeng was startled awake, and the first thing he did was look for his grandmother. As he walked into the living room, the sound of water splashing under his feet caught his attention. He looked down to see water all over the floor. The fish tank had shattered, leaving a puddle of water and the goldfish staring lifelessly.
Seeing the dead goldfish made his heart skip a beat. He felt a surge of anxiety and quickly hurried forward, calling out, "Grandma." Having visited Grandma's house countless times, Ye Chenfeng had never felt it so empty before. The vastness of the space made him feel small, and his voice came out weak and pale. When there was no response from his grandmother, panic set in, and tears streamed down his face as he cried out, "Grandma..."
Something was wrong; at the entrance to his grandmother's bedroom hung a long, thick black object that dangled down. Ye Chenfeng trembled as he turned on the light to take a closer look—oh no, it was just a cat's tail. But why was it hanging straight down at the door? It seemed to be dripping as well, and without needing to get closer, a pungent smell hit him.
As he focused again, he noticed the ground was covered in something crimson—was that blood?
He reached out to touch it and recoiled in shock; the cat's tail was wet and sticky with blood. It hung down from the doorframe while his grandmother's door wouldn’t budge.
Feeling increasingly uneasy, Ye Chenfeng yanked at the cat's tail.
With an indifferent tug, the tail fell lightly to the ground. He gasped in horror; all that remained of the cat was its skin. Its flesh and bones had been hollowed out, leaving behind only a complete pelt.
Ye Chenfeng nervously dropped the cat skin. A wave of fear and oppression made his throat dry; he couldn't scream and could only helplessly hug his head as he crouched on the floor.
Creak—he jumped again as the door opened slightly, revealing an elderly face before him.
"Grandma." He was baffled; he had pushed against that door with all his strength earlier, yet now it opened easily, and there she stood, seemingly unharmed.
He should have felt relieved that his grandmother was okay, but for some reason, he couldn't muster any joy.
"The cat is dead. Well... if it's dead, then it's dead! You go back to sleep; I'll bury it in the backyard."
His grandmother said this as she picked up the dead cat skin without paying any mind to Ye Chenfeng’s pale face. She turned without looking back and headed toward the back door.
Behind Grandma's house was a path leading straight to the riverbank.
On either side of the narrow path were Mallow Trees. In summer, it was quite cool there, but one still had to watch out for bugs in the trees.
The Mallow Trees were infested with those grayish-brown caterpillars with soft antennae known as Mao Mao worms.
Ye Chenfeng was terrified of the Mao Mao worms on the Mallow Tree.
Just a glance at those things could send chills down his spine. The color of the Mao Mao worms was very similar to that of the Mallow Tree's bark, making them nearly invisible if one wasn't paying attention. When Ye Chenfeng was a child, he loved climbing trees, especially the Mallow Tree. One day, he found himself covered in Mao Mao worms and fell from the tree in fright. Although he wasn't hurt, he developed a phobia of those worms.
His grandmother was going to bury the skin of a dead cat, and Ye Chenfeng followed her for a few steps. Watching her unsteady gait disappear into the darkness, he hesitated for a moment before quickly retreating to grab a flashlight and ran towards the back door.
It was pitch black, with a ground covered in decaying leaves that crunched softly underfoot. The wind rustled through the branches, and his heart pounded loudly in his chest. The beam of the flashlight danced erratically as he ran, but he couldn't see his grandmother.
He stood frozen in place as the light illuminated a nearby Mallow Tree, revealing a mass of Mao Mao worms that made his skin crawl with goosebumps. It felt unbearably uncomfortable.
Instinctively, Ye Chenfeng stepped back and turned to run inside.
Inside, his grandmother was mopping up blood stains from the floor with a rag.
Ye Chenfeng was taken aback, staring at her as if she were a stranger. An elderly woman nearing seventy shouldn't be able to move so swiftly from the back door to inside without him noticing.
Noticing his unusual gaze, his grandmother paused her work and spoke in a calm tone, devoid of her usual affectionate smile. She frowned and asked, "Ye Chenfeng, why aren't you in bed? What are you wandering around for?"
Ye Chenfeng looked at the few remaining bloodstains on the floor and the rag that had turned slightly red and said seriously, "Grandma, your beloved cat has died. Why aren't you angry? Why didn't you find out how it died? And how did you come back so quickly after going to bury it?"
"Children shouldn't ask so many questions. Go to bed."
Ye Chenfeng wanted to ask why only the cat's skin remained but was cut off by his grandmother. Disheartened, he walked back into the room but turned to look at her again; she stood with her hunched back straightened.
He found it strange that his grandmother had severe rheumatism. He remembered applying rheumatism ointment on her lower back for the first time. Now she seemed perfectly fine as she brushed away bloodstains that had seeped into the floorboards.
Entering his room, Ye Chenfeng recalled the book his grandmother had given him earlier. Since he wasn't feeling sleepy anyway, he leaned against the headboard and opened the worn-out book.
What is "The Ghost-Quaking Scripture"? Ye Chenfeng muttered quietly; the title sounded odd, and its contents were even more bizarre.
It consisted of five main sections: the first focused on ghost-catching techniques filled with incantations and symbols. The following sections covered topics like feng shui, burial practices, and physiognomy—none of which made any sense to him. His mind was still occupied with images of that dead cat—a lifeless skin without flesh or bones.
Where could one possibly read such a highbrow book, the Mystical Secret Manual?
Unable to comprehend it, he stuffed the book under his pillow. Initially, he thought about tossing it into the trash but hesitated. When his grandmother had presented the book, she seemed to cherish it dearly, wrapping it in layers of precious silk. He couldn't just carelessly dispose of his grandmother's hard work.
He couldn't make sense of this terrible book, nor could he understand how that cat had been skinned so brutally, or why that little girl, drenched and shivering, seemed so frightened, hiding away from people.
His grandmother's words echoed like a drumbeat in Ye Chenfeng's heart.
After a while of daydreaming, he felt as if his grandmother was somehow different from an hour ago. He tiptoed around, deciding not to go outside just yet, and pressed himself against the door to listen. It was quiet outside; there were no sounds of brushes sweeping or footsteps from his grandmother.
Ye Chenfeng quietly opened the door. The outside was dark and unlit. His grandmother must be asleep. Feeling restless, he nervously swallowed and took careful steps toward his grandmother's bedroom.
After cleaning up the bloodstains, it seemed she had sprayed air freshener.
The water stains on the floor had been mopped up; the bloody scent was gone, replaced by an eerie atmosphere that was invisible to the eye.
The shadows cast by the window startled Ye Chenfeng. It felt like a shadowy monster was about to pounce on him.
After calming himself from the scare, he walked to the entrance of his grandmother's bedroom, trying to steady his racing heart as he listened intently.
The night was dark. In that darkness, a pair of large eyes blinked steadily at the expressionless door. He stood still like a wooden statue, fixated on it as if he could see what was happening inside through the door.
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