Previous Chapter 3
At the town clinic, their only option, Dr. Wu ran a series of tests. Aunt Shen’s vitals were stable, and aside from being unable to move her legs, her basic neural functions appeared normal. She could even still sense touch and temperature in her legs. She felt no pain anywhere and showed no other symptoms. X-rays revealed no injuries, and even the CT scan from the mobile unit that visited twice a year showed nothing unusual: no stroke, no tumor, no blood clots. The only notable finding was a slight deformation in her left elbow joint, likely from old arthritis.
"Everything appears normal," Dr. Wu said, frowning. "But sudden paralysis without a clear cause... it doesn't make sense." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Given everything you've been through lately, Shen, stress can affect the body in unexpected ways."
Aunt Shen’s fingers tightened around the wheelchair’s armrests. "Dr. Wu, are you saying this is all in my head?"
“No,” Dr. Wu replied quickly. “But the mind and body are deeply connected. Sometimes, emotional trauma can manifest physically. It’s called conversion disorder, but we can’t jump to conclusions without more tests. You should be transferred to the hospital in Jiao-He City for an MRI and further evaluation. I can arrange it tomorrow when our ambulance returns from Shannan Village.”
She exhaled sharply. "If there's no immediate danger," she said firmly, "I need to be at Zheng's Final Seven tomorrow."
The doctor’s disapproval was obvious, but she refused to budge. With the only ambulance still out on a call and her vitals stable, they finally reached a compromise. Aunt Shen would attend the ceremony under strict instructions to monitor her condition and return immediately if anything worsened. Afterward, she would go to the city hospital.
By the time we finished the paperwork and got her discharged, the first light of dawn had already crept over the mountains.
As my uncle pushed the wheelchair home, he remained silent, his brows knit in thought. Several times, he seemed about to speak but stopped himself. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Shen,” he said, keeping his voice light, almost casual. “Think carefully. Have you noticed anything… unusual lately?”
“Unusual?” Aunt Shen hesitated, troubled. “Like… a nightmare? The one I had last night, right before I woke up paralyzed? It was strange, too vivid.”
My uncle nodded, urging her to continue. Taking a steadying breath, she began.
In the dream, she was in the kitchen, sorting dishes, when Uncle Zheng appeared. He stepped inside and sat in the corner. He looked familiar, yet… wrong. His posture was unnaturally stiff, half his face swallowed in shadow. A strange unease settled over her, but habit took over. She turned to speak to him.
She saw his eyes.
They were hollow, darker than she remembered, filled with a mixture of anger and sorrow. They locked onto her, pressing against her like unseen hands tightening around her ribs.
And then she noticed the water.
Not sweat. Not tears. Something murkier. It streaked down his face in steady rivulets, pooling at his chin before dripping onto the floor. There was no source, yet it kept flowing.
His mouth twisted as if struggling to form words. Finally, in a voice that was hoarse and rasping, barely human, he forced out, “You! Look!”
A chill shot down her spine.
“Look at what you’ve done to me,” he rasped. “You’ve left me neither man nor ghost.” His voice cracked, then deepened, vibrating with something beyond grief. “You’ll pay for this.”
As he spoke, the water at his feet began to pool instead of flowing away across the flat floor. Dark, muddy, and swirling. The surface didn’t rise; the water simply collected beneath him, as if there were a deep pocket in the ground, yet the chair sat atop it as if on solid ground.
Then his face began to change, elongating, sharpening, patches of fur pushing through his skin. His eyes gleamed, now slit-pupiled.
He rose, taking a step forward. The pool of water followed, sloshing beneath his feet and leaving the floor behind dry.
She tried to scream. Nothing came out.
He took another step, reaching out his hands as if to grab her. His fingers curled into claw-like shapes, and his voice dissolved into a guttural snarl.
She tried to run. Her legs wouldn’t move, rooted to the ground. Panic clawed at her chest. She struggled, desperate to move.
Then she woke, gasping, damp with sweat. Her heart pounded, almost painfully. She pressed a hand to her chest, forcing herself to calm down.
Just a nightmare. She let out a long breath, trying to shake off the lingering fear.
But the heaviness in her legs lingered. It felt so real...too real... She tried to sit up, but her legs, heavy and lifeless, felt rooted to the bed.
She was paralyzed.
Silence fell as Aunt Shen finished recounting the nightmare. No one spoke.
Zheng Yu opened his mouth as if to say something, then hesitated.
My heart sank. I didn’t know why. A creeping unease curled in my chest, but I shoved it down, grasping for logic. It was just a dream. Nothing more.
My uncle tapped his fingers against his teacup, deep in thought. “Anything else? Any… encounters with animals?”
“How did you...?” Aunt Shen looked startled, then hesitated. “Now that you mention it… Yesterday morning, I found something. Cubs. Under the stove.”
She had been cleaning the restaurant, preparing it for sale after the funeral. While checking beneath the stove, she had found a nest of small, rat-like creatures. Without a second thought, she had swept them into the trash and tossed them outside.
“Did you look closely at them?” my uncle asked carefully.
Aunt Shen hesitated. "They were cubs...three, no, four. Fast asleep, all curled up. Grey, like rats, but much larger, about this big." She gestured, her hands showing about twenty centimeters, a rather large size even for an adult rat. "I was disgusted and a little frightened. I just threw them away at the dumping site."
“Do you know what they were? Weasels? Foxes? Something else?”
She hesitated. “I can recognize adult weasels and foxes, but not when they’re that young.”
My uncle’s expression darkened. “Shen,” he said, “I suspect something else is at play here. If you trust me, let me look into it. I’ll explain later.”
Aunt Shen studied him for a long moment. “Zheng always said you were capable. He trusted you… so do I.”
My uncle nodded and pulled a stick of green incense and a small copper burner from his bag. He lit the incense and set the burner on the table near Aunt Shen.
The smoke didn't rise as it should have. Instead, it stretched horizontally, a thin, greenish-gray thread drifting toward Aunt Shen. It lingered, then curled around her like a shroud, as though marking her.
I stared, transfixed. On impulse, I blew at the smoke. It wavered, dispersed briefly, then re-formed, once again pointing directly at Aunt Shen.
My uncle shot me a sharp look and extinguished the incense without a word.
“What… what is that?” Zheng Yu’s voice cracked. “How…?” His eyes darted around the room, searching for something, anything, that could explain away what we had just seen.
My uncle turned to me. “Do you know what that was?”
I swallowed hard. “Trace Incense.” The knowledge my uncle had drilled into me surfaced unbidden. “It reveals the presence of spirits, whether one has latched onto someone or where it lingers.”
My mind raced with questions I had never seriously considered: Had she angered something? Which spirit? Was this actually happening?
“I know it’s hard to believe,” my uncle said, lifting a hand to forestall any protests. Seeing the uneasy glances between Aunt Shen and Zheng Yu, he added, “I know you have questions, but now isn’t the time. I’ll explain everything later. For now, I need you to stay quiet.”
Zheng Yu looked as though he wanted to argue, but Aunt Shen placed a firm hand on his arm.
My uncle nodded. "Trust me. I'll handle it."
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Neighbors, friends, distant relatives, even familiar faces from the restaurant came to pay their respects, but I barely registered them. My mind was a whirlwind.
The smoke… it couldn’t have done that on its own. Aunt Shen’s paralysis… coincidence? Maybe… and Uncle Zheng’s death… just an accident. Wasn’t it?
I didn’t know what to think anymore.
At some point, my uncle patted my shoulder, his smile faint but knowing. “I know how it feels,” he murmured. “I was where you are once. Just wait, you’ll see.”
The ceremony concluded, and the guests departed. Late that afternoon, Dr. Wu called. The ambulance had returned, but since Aunt Shen’s condition remained stable, with her vitals steady and no new symptoms, he decided to delay her transfer until next morning, allowing the crew to rest after their long drive.
Dinner was quiet, almost somber. The faint clink of chopsticks against bowls was the only sound breaking the uneasy silence. Zheng Yu barely touched his food, his gaze distant. Aunt Shen kept glancing at the clock as if counting down to an invisible deadline.
After dinner, my uncle handed Aunt Shen and Zheng Yu each a stick of calming incense and a protection talisman. “This will help you rest and keep you safe,” he said. “No matter what you hear, don’t come out.”
Then, he turned to me. “Prepare the items.”
I gathered everything he’d listed: an assortment of incense, a bag of cinnabar powder mixed with incense ash, a piece of lightning-struck wood, a coil of red rope, a handful of talismans, two shaman masks, and a few other odds and ends.
When I picked up the lightning-struck wood, a strange warmth pulsed against my palm. Skeptical, I gripped it tighter. The warmth remained. Startled, I looked up at my uncle, who gave a small nod. “Feel that? Remember it. Fakes don’t feel the same.”
After explaining what we would do later, my uncle sat down to meditate. “Rest,” he instructed. “You’ll need it.”
I tried. Closed my eyes. Slowed my breathing. But my thoughts raced, my heart pounded. The house was too still. Each tick of the clock stretched unbearably long. After what felt like an eternity, I cracked my eyes open. Only five minutes had passed.
Time crawled.
At 11:30, my uncle finally stirred. “Ready?”
I nodded, though my throat was tight. I swallowed hard to steady myself.
“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice calm and grounding. “Just follow the plan. You’ve learned the formations and the spells. Pay attention. I’ll test you afterward.”
Something in his tone steadied me. He handed me the mask, my sixteenth birthday gift, the one I swore I’d never wear. “Use this for now,” he said. “One day, you’ll make your own.”
I hesitated, then put it on. And in that moment, I knew something had changed forever.
The mask filled me with a strange certainty, as if nothing could harm me. The nerves were still there, but for the first time all night, I felt ready.
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