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The Corpse Driver's Ritual
墨書 Inktalez
The entire world was silent, the air filled with the chill of dawn.
Liu Laosan let out a long yawn, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He was one of the last night watchmen in Guan Zhuang Town, having lived in this ancient town for seventy years and served as a watchman for fifty.
“Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Keep the spirits at bay, calm the heart’s fire,” Liu Laosan shouted, gathering his energy. After this round, his work would be done for the day, and he could finally go home for a good sleep. In the afternoon, he planned to meet Zhang Laosi and the others for a game of mahjong to win back what he had lost the previous night.
Guan Zhuang Town was the eastern gateway to Xiangxi and could be considered a millennia-old town. During the 1990s, China was experiencing rapid economic development, and most of the young adults in town had gone to work along the coast, making this originally sparsely populated town feel even more desolate. After a night of rain, the usually dusty National Highway looked particularly clean, with an occasional long-distance bus roaring by, leaving behind bright tail lights that illuminated the shops along the street.
Suddenly, a black dog that had been sleeping with its ears drooping sprang up, barking a few times as if sensing something amiss before dashing off ahead.
“You damn mutt!” Liu Laosan exclaimed, startled by the dog’s sudden appearance. He kicked at it lightly, causing the dog to grunt in pain and run away.
Then came a clear ringing sound from afar. Liu Laosan quickly turned his ear to listen, his expression growing serious as he muttered, “Damn it, that sound hasn’t been heard in nearly forty or fifty years. Could it be… is someone starting that business again?”
“Pah pah pah! Good fortune and prosperity!” Liu Laosan spat. Without finishing his rounds, he wrapped his coat tighter around himself and hurried home, disappearing into the thin autumn mist.
The ringing grew closer, accompanied by an elderly voice proclaiming, “God of Joy passes through; spirits retreat!”
Gradually, three figures emerged from the mist. The leader was an old man with dark skin and a somewhat fierce expression. He wore a coarse blue robe and had a black belt tied around his waist. Despite it being deep autumn with heavy dew, he still wore only straw sandals. The second figure wore a conical hat with a light veil covering their face and was dressed in white clothes that resembled funeral garments, walking stiffly behind the old man. The last figure was an eleven or twelve-year-old child dressed in sportswear favored by most kids at that time but also wore a black belt around their waist and carried a backpack.
Strangely enough, the child held a large white bowl filled with clear water, carefully walking behind the two adults as if afraid to spill it.
The old man held a thick stack of yellow paper in his hand, with holes resembling copper coins pierced through it using a sharp tool—this was Ghost Money unique to Xiangxi. He scattered the Ghost Money into the air while shouting: “God of Joy passes through; pay your respects! Mundane people, do not approach; hurry home for peace!”
The old man stopped in front of a wooden house and stared blankly at it. “I never expected that after all these years it would have fallen into such disrepair.”
The wooden house was so dilapidated that its age was unrecognizable; it was propped up haphazardly with bamboo to prevent it from collapsing. The two large doors were tightly shut, and in front hung a lantern covered in dust that emitted a dim light. Faintly carved above the door were four characters: Fortune Inn.
“It’s been so many years; I wonder if that old brother is still around—Ning’er, go knock on the door and remember how I taught you.”
The child nodded and cautiously handed the porcelain bowl to the old man before stepping forward confidently. Clearing their throat, they called out brightly: “No collection today; no land left behind! East comes west goes; today I borrow your inn; may golden bricks fill your coffers!”
Silence echoed from within. The child looked back at the old man and called again but with less volume than before. After three attempts without any response from inside, the old man’s expression darkened slightly as he said, “It seems there really is no one here. Let’s go.”
Just as he prepared to leave after striking Yin Luo once more, a voice from inside spoke slowly: “We will collect; land must remain! East comes west goes; deceased turn into golden bricks; may golden bricks fill my coffers!”
The old man suddenly looked delighted, and the child was so happy that he clapped his hands and exclaimed, "Grandpa, there are people, there are people!"
At that moment, someone from the back room asked, "Is it Mr. Tooth who has come?"
The child quickly replied, "It is not Mr. Tooth."
The person in the back room continued, "Is it Footman?"
The child answered, "It is not Footman."
"Is it Boat Master?"
"It is not Boat Master."
"Is it Mr. Car?"
"It is indeed Mr. Car."
"Can we drink Underworld Forgetfulness Soup?"
"We only drink a pot of tea from Underworld."
After a moment of silence, the person in the back room said, "I didn't expect that Mr. Car would visit now. Please wait a moment while I go to welcome the God of Joy."
There was a rustling sound from the back room as the person began to prepare. Soon, an elderly man with graying hair opened two large wooden doors. He took out a yellow paper talisman from his pocket and removed the hood from the white-clad figure's head, revealing a pale face devoid of color. The eyes were tightly shut, but the lips were as red as blood, enveloping the entire scene in a terrifying aura; this was indeed a corpse.
The old man took another piece of yellow paper and placed it on the corpse's forehead. With his right hand forming a sword gesture in front of its face, he shouted, "I summon God of Joy to enter!"
To everyone's astonishment, the corpse actually moved!
Its hands stretched straight out in front of it, eyes still closed, moving as if in a dreamlike state. However, its movements were much stiffer than those of a living person as it slowly walked forward. The sound of its bones creaking was peculiar and sharp, like a knife scraping against porcelain, echoing eerily as it stepped over the threshold and stood directly behind the door.
Fortunately, aside from the three of them, there were no other people around; otherwise, anyone witnessing this scene would surely faint on the spot.
It turned out that these two individuals were long-lost Gravekeepers from Xiangxi, and the figure in white was naturally the "God of Joy." This place had not seen a visit from the God of Joy for many years; it was none other than the "Corpse Driver Inn."
At this moment, dawn had just broken.
The Corpse Driver Inn was not much different from most farms in Guan Zhuang. The farmers here preferred to close their doors with wooden planks, inserting several pieces of wood into the doorframe and securing them with sticks. It was rare for a farmer to have two large wooden doors. Inside the inn stood an old table, once painted black but now mostly peeling away. The surface shone with grease, and the four long benches had rounded corners, worn smooth over countless years. The entire room was dark, exuding an unsettling atmosphere.
The innkeeper, bald-headed, opened the door. Perhaps due to spending too much time indoors, his complexion had taken on an unhealthy bluish hue, and his lips were slightly purplish. He looked at the God of Joy as he entered, his face briefly showing surprise before settling into calmness. After giving a deep glance at the grandfather and grandson, he turned without a word and walked inside.
Ning, who had been holding a large bowl all night, felt her arms aching terribly. She hurried forward to sit down but was called back by her grandfather: “Ning, what did I teach you?”
Pouting slightly, Ning took an antique oil lamp from her backpack and went to the southeast corner of the inn. There hung a bamboo basket from the beams above, and she placed the oil lamp inside it. The old man pulled out a piece of yellow paper from his pocket. With a pinch of his fingers, it surprisingly ignited in flames. Ning stared in astonishment as the old man chanted: “Life entrusted to me, my life entrusted to you; if you betray me, life shall not allow it. Light this shadow lamp to illuminate your path; if you do not betray me, do not blow out the flame.”
Once finished, he used the yellow paper to light the lamp, which emitted a blue-violet glow. The flame remained steady despite the wind.
“Ning, pay attention! You must not let the lamp go out; if it does, it will be disastrous.”
Ning pouted again and said, “I’ve been tired all night! If I had known this journey would be so exhausting, I wouldn’t have come out.”
The old man gently patted Ning’s head and smiled: “You were the one who insisted on coming out; now you want to quit? Be good. After we send the God of Joy off tonight, we’ll go home. I promise you that when we get back, I’ll teach you that method of lighting an oil lamp without fire.”
Ning jumped up three feet high and clapped her hands in delight: “Grandpa keeps his promises!”
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