The Forbidden Living: Consultant to the Underworld

Remote and ancient places always breed strange and terrifying tales. And these tales unfolded around Hua Jiunan. In fact, Hua Jiunan was part of these tales himself. For instance, he was born from a corpse! --- Jiudaogou Village nestled deep within the hundred thousand mountains of the frozen North. Here, the weather was bitterly cold, shrouded in wind and snow for most of the year, leaving only the moaning wind and a deathly silence amidst a vast expanse of white. Even in the early 1980s, the villagers lived an almost completely isolated, nearly primitive existence. Matters in the village, big and small, were decided by two key figures: Grandma Long and Old Man Li. Grandma Long was a** (zhèngtǒng - orthodox) Spirit Medium (**** Chūmǎ dìzǐ). There's an old saying in China: "Southern Mao, Northern Ma" (**** Nán Máo Běi Mǎ). Southern Mao refers to the Mao Mountain Taoist exorcists; Northern Ma refers to the Northern Spirit Mediums (*** Chūmǎxiān) who work with animal spirits. A** Spirit Medium's household enshrines and works with the "Four Beams and Eight Pillars" (**** Sì liáng bā zhù) – twelve types of spirit immortals. The Four Beams are: Hu (Fox), Huang (Weasel), Chang (Snake), and Qingfeng (**, "Clear Wind" – wraiths of those who died violent or wrongful deaths). The Eight Pillars refer to the eight roles or divisions: Sao (Sweeping), Kan (Seeing), Chuan (Relaying), Hu (Guarding), Tongtian (Reaching Heaven), Guidi (Returning to Earth), Guan'ai (Passing Obstacles), and Tanbing (Scouting Soldiers). Each has its specific duties. Grandma Long wasn't actually deaf (* Lóng - deaf). Her maiden name was Zhang, and her husband's surname was Wang, so by old customs, she should be called Wang Zhang-shi. But because her primary presiding spirit immortal (***** Zhǎng táng dà jiàozhǔ) was a powerful Chang Immortal (** Shé xiān - Snake Immortal), and snake is also called "little dragon" (** Xiǎo lóng), the villagers, showing respect, called her "Long" (*, meaning dragon, homophone for * deaf) Grandma. Grandma Long's fate was tough. Her husband died early, and she lost two of her three sons young. Only the third son, Wang San, remained by her side, enduring the harsh years. Everyone in the village, young and old, called him Wang San (**). This day was the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month – the Ghost Festival (** Guǐ jié). As soon as the sun set, the Yin energy grew heavy. A bitter wind whipped snowflakes against the paper windows, making a constant pitter-patter. Grandma Long had Wang San bolt the courtyard gate early, instructing him, "This day is tainted. Don't light lamps, turn in early. The living and the dead are different paths. Clashing benefits no one." But before she could even spread out her bedding, a series of heavy thuds suddenly erupted from the main gate! BANG! BANG! BANG! The sound was huge and dull, utterly unlike a human hand knocking. It was more like something was throwing its whole body against the door panel, one blow after another, frantic and fierce, heart-stoppingly alarming in the dead silence of the snowy night. Wang San jumped in fright. Muttering, he threw on his patched, stiff, old cotton-padded jacket, shuffled into his shoes, and went out, cursing under his breath: "Coming, coming! Stop bangin'! Ya gonna break the door down!" "Are ya dyin' and need savin' or what? Callin' for souls in the middle of the night?!" He grumbled but worked deftly, pulling the bolt. As the gate cracked open, a blast of Yin wind rushed in, making Wang San shiver and squint. The figure outside seemed like a log that had been leaning against the door. As it opened,**** (shīqù yītuō - losing its support), it fell forward with a thud, stiff as a board, face-first into the courtyard, imprinting a deep, human-shaped hollow in the thick snow. "Holy mother! Did I really jinx it?!" Wang San felt a chill, hurriedly bent down, and reached out to pull the person up. Where his hands touched, it was icy cold and rigid, freezing him through his jacket sleeve. He struggled to turn the face-down figure over in the snow pit, shouting anxiously towards the house: "Ma! Ma! Come quick! Look! Trouble!" In truth, the moment the first thud sounded, Grandma Long in the side room had felt a shock in her heart! That sound carried an indescribable aura of deathly stillness and resentment, definitely not from a living person. She rushed into the side room enshrining the spirit immortal tablets, grabbed the "Immortal-Binding Rope" (*** Kǔn xiān shéng) kept beneath the incense altar, and hurried out. This Immortal-Binding Rope wasn't a mythical treasure. It was made by the medium from hundred-year willow branches, mixed with their own hair, and ancient copper coins, woven together. It was then soaked for three full years in pine resin mixed with century-old incense ash, retrieved, washed clean, and placed beneath the spirit immortal's seat for daily** (gòngfèng - veneration). The rope, six feet six inches long, was pitch black with a subtle glow, excellent for repelling evil and binding ghosts. Clutching the rope, Grandma Long thought bitterly, "Ghost knocking on the Ghost Festival, and so fierce at that! Great ill omen! Great trouble!" At the same time, a light thump came from the next yard's wall. A lean, tough figure vaulted over nimbly – it was Old Man Li. He was an outsider who moved to the village just three years ago, a man of few words but immense integrity. Rumor said he was a veteran who had been to the front lines and fought Japanese invaders hand-to-hand. The villagers held him in great respect. Old Man Li had clearly heard the commotion. His voice arrived before he did, low and steady: "Grandma Long, Third Son, what's happening?" The two elders peered by the faint snow-light at the figure Wang San was holding up. It was a woman, dressed in thin, old clothes unsuitable for the season, covered in a layer of white frost, her face deathly pale without a trace of living blood. Her body was stiff, so much so that Wang San only needed to hold her shoulders to keep her standing upright, motionless. This eerie rigidity made her prominently swollen belly even more startling – clearly a woman on the verge of childbirth! Grandma Long's pupils constricted. She stepped forward, slightly shielding Wang San, raising the Immortal-Binding Rope slightly, her voice sharp and severe: "Whatever you are, listen up!" "This house has Lord Chang Ba presiding! This old woman doesn't survive on vegetarian prayers either! Be sensible and leave now! Or don't blame me for asking the Immortals to bind you and scatter your soul to the winds!" The woman's head jerked violently, like a rusty mechanism, turning her neck extremely slowly and haltingly, cervical bones emitting an unnerving creak... groan... grinding sound. Her eyes were hollow and dull, deathly grey, staring blankly forward. A grating sound squeezed from her throat, word by word, painfully sluggish: "Pleeease... I... beg... you..." "Saave... my... child... inside... me..." Wang San, thick-nerved, though creeped out, saw a pregnant woman in distress, his helpful nature overriding his fear. He interjected: "Whoa, you need a midwife? Ma here deals with spirits, can't do that!" "You need Granny Zhang's daughter-in-law at the east end... Ah, forget it, seein' how you can barely walk, I'll run and fetch her for ya!" He actually seemed ready to take on the task, lifting his foot to head out the gate. Grandma Long urgently grabbed him, her voice strained: "San! Stop! Don't go! She's not alive! She's a corpse!!" Wang San, startled by his mother's shrill cry, jumped back in front of her, spreading his arms protectively, voice trembling: "Ma! Don't scare me! It's the middle of the night!" Old Man Li's brows furrowed deeply. He stepped forward silently, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Wang San, his lean frame radiating a steadiness forged in blood and fire. He scrutinized the woman and asked gravely, "Grandma Long, sure?" Grandma Long stared fixedly at the woman, her tone iron-clad: "This old woman isn't deaf or blind, backed by Immortals, how could I be wrong?!" "Look closely! That thing... it has no breath!" Old Man Li focused intently, and a chill ran down his spine— He was right! In this freezing weather, the three of them stood in the yard, every breath sending out long plumes of white steam. But the woman opposite them hadn't let out the slightest wisp of heat from her nose or mouth since she appeared; a thin layer of ice even crusted her deathly pale face! Hearing Grandma Long's words, the woman seemed enraged or utterly desperate, suddenly becoming agitated! Her deathly grey eyes rolled back fiercely until only the terrifying whites showed! A horrible rasping sound, like a broken bellows struggling, came from her throat. Hss... hss... She stopped pleading. Dragging her stiff legs, like a puppet controlled by invisible strings, she advanced towards the three of them, step by rigid step! "I'm not dead! I'm really not dead!" "Save the child! Save my child now!!!"