My Wife Is No Longer Human!?

My name is Jiang Mo. In China in the 1980s, transportation wasn't very developed, but the Chinese people place great importance on the idea of "falling leaves returning to their roots" and "resting in peace in the earth." That's how our profession came to be—the corpse transporters. We traveled all over the country, carrying the dead back to their hometowns so their souls could rest in peace. Since childhood, I’d been sickly. A Taoist priest in the village said I’d been haunted by something unclean since birth and there was no cure—the ghosts would come to claim my life when I turned twenty. Naturally, I didn’t believe any of that. Today, I was already twenty. Doctors said if I received proper treatment, I could live to fifty. Whose word carried more weight, a priest’s or a doctor’s? Although this line of work was considered unlucky, the profits were considerable. At only twenty, illness had already stolen half my life. I needed money for treatment, and the best part was, customers never haggled over the price. Whenever a family dared to bargain, I would sternly tell them they were being unfilial or that they were unwilling to spend money on their departed loved one. This tactic never failed. I was introduced to this profession by Zhang Qiang, my guide into the trade and the man who changed my life. One night in 1987, deep into the darkness, the national highway was in terrible condition. Almost no vehicles were on the road, just us driving a dilapidated truck along the pothole-ridden asphalt. My very first job presented a challenge. The journey was long—from the Central Plains all the way to the western regions. Perhaps because I was inexperienced, the coffin in the back of the truck wasn’t secured very well. It bumped against the compartment with every jolt from the dirt road. Listening to the thuds, I wasn’t exactly feeling at ease. Because this particular corpse was an exception. It was a young woman who had already been buried. Her home wasn’t in the west; she had been purchased at a high price from there for a posthumous marriage. The day before, when we went to retrieve the body, the girl had already been exhumed. A black coffin sat in the field. It hadn’t been buried long; the smell of fresh paint hadn’t fully faded, mixing with a faint, lingering odor of decay. It was covered in mud. The family members stood nearby, chatting and laughing. It seemed the price offered from the west was truly substantial. In my hands, I held a red wedding dress. This was specially requested by the western client. Before setting off, the dress had to be put on the corpse. Zhang Qiang and a group of villagers stood behind the truck, cigarettes dangling from their mouths, laughing and talking as they unloaded a blood-red coffin from the compartment. That blood-red coffin was something Zhang Qiang and I had custom-ordered together from a coffin shop. It was carved with the character for "double happiness" (*). It looked less like a coffin and more like a bridal chamber prepared for the corpse. "Alright, it’ll be dark soon. Open the coffin and move the body into this one," Zhang Qiang said, walking over with a cigarette in his mouth. As he approached, he tossed me a pair of gloves. I took a deep breath and nodded. *Nothing is taboo*, I silently told myself, trying to dispel some of the fear in my heart. I knew this money wasn’t earned easily. Later, I would have to personally dress her in the wedding gown. Zhang Qiang said since we were around the same age, it would be better if I did it. If an old man like him dressed her, the young lady might not be pleased. Hearing that the coffin was to be opened, many of the onlooking villagers quickly dispersed. Zhang Qiang hired a few brave villagers with a few hundred yuan to help. I glanced at the men he hired. They were all old-timers, and judging by their builds, they probably weren’t as strong as me. As I approached the coffin—perhaps it was psychological—I felt the temperature around me drop significantly, turning chilly. That faint, rotten smell grew stronger. It was the stench of death. Zhang Qiang lit some incense and burned some paper money, muttering under his breath, "Young lady, don’t blame us for disturbing your peace. If you have grievances or debts, seek out those responsible." After his incantation, he instructed, "Alright, open it." Opening the coffin was easier than I had imagined. Indeed, you get what you pay for. The hired villagers put in extra effort. As the lid was slowly pried open, the surroundings seemed to grow even colder. A pallid whiteness gradually came into view. When the lid was fully removed, I could see everything inside the coffin. The moment I saw the corpse, I almost couldn’t hold back the urge to vomit. It was my first time seeing a dead body. She lay peacefully in the coffin, completely n***d, her face deathly pale. The body was swollen beyond recognition. The ghastly white skin looked as if it might burst open at any moment. It was decomposing all over, oozing foul, yellowish pus. Yet, strangely, while the woman’s body was rotting, her face remained perfectly intact. Apart from being completely bloodless, she looked as if she were merely asleep. And at the corner of her mouth was an eerie, unsettling smile. The villagers and Zhang Qiang were also startled. "Old Li, am I seeing things? Is that corpse… smiling?" "Oh no, we must have disturbed her. This body shouldn’t be moved!" "This girl had a hard life. She drowned while washing clothes by the river. Buried only a few days, dug up before her first-week memorial, now headed thousands of kilometers away… She can’t even rest in death!" Zhang Qiang’s face darkened. "Nonsense about not resting! She’s happy!" "Look, she’s seen her groom. Wouldn’t you smile?" With that, he patted my shoulder. "What are you standing around for? Hurry up and put the wedding dress on your little bride." "Screw you!" I swore, brushing his hand away. "I’m not doing it. You put it on her yourself." "Hey, hey, don’t be like that!" Seeing I was about to leave, Zhang Qiang quickly grabbed me. "Just kidding, why so serious?" "Let’s not waste time. It’ll be dark soon." Reluctantly, I steeled myself and dressed her in the wedding gown. Throughout, I didn’t dare look up at the smile on the corpse’s face. The dress had to be put on according to tradition, step by step. Only when I finally placed the red veil over her head did I let out a heavy sigh of relief. Dressing her and moving the coffin went surprisingly smoothly. Together, we loaded the blood-red coffin into the truck’s compartment. It was my first time seeing the inside of the compartment. It was very cold, covered in frost—it must have been specially modified. The walls were hung with all sorts of items: unfathomable talismans, statues of Guanyin (the Goddess of Mercy), even foreign crosses. It was somewhat eerie. According to Zhang Qiang, if one thing didn’t work, you just gathered more from different traditions. These things were cheap anyway—surely one of them would have an effect. After receiving the deposit, we set off into the night. Inside the truck cab, the radio crackled with a woman’s screams, as if she were experiencing some immense agony. With no visual, it was unsettling to listen to. "Xiao Jiang, someone as young as you is rare in this line of work!" Zhang Qiang’s voice, cigarette in mouth, pulled me out of my thoughts about retrieving the body. Coming back to the present, I forced a bitter smile. "No choice. This work pays." Zhang Qiang chuckled. "That’s right! Our profession has a very promising future! A few years, and you can retire." I glanced at him, puzzled. "Then why haven’t you retired yet?" Zhang Qiang’s smile stiffened. He seemed unwilling to discuss the topic and silently lit another cigarette, offering me one as well. I took it and lit up, but immediately lost the desire to smoke. A foul smell lingered on my fingertips, refusing to fade. It was the stench of death from dressing the corpse. It wouldn’t wash off. **Thud!** Perhaps distracted by our conversation, Zhang Qiang failed to avoid a deep pothole ahead. The coffin slammed against the compartment with a loud crash. "Damn this shitty road!" Zhang Qiang cursed. I rubbed my head, which had been knocked dazed against the window. My ears were ringing from the impact. When my hearing cleared, I realized the radio—which Zhang Qiang used to play pornographic tapes when he was sleepy—had gone silent. In its place was an extremely festive tune. *"On the horse-running mountain, there’s a cloud so fine…"* It was clearly sung by a young woman. But at night, the music didn’t sound celebratory—instead, it felt eerie. It made one inexplicably nervous, sending chills down the spine. I turned to look at Zhang Qiang, thinking he had played the music. But when I saw his expression, I froze instantly. Zhang Qiang was sitting bolt upright, his face grim, staring intently out the window. Without me noticing, outside had turned pitch black. The moon was shrouded by dark clouds. A misty drizzle pattered against our windows, worsening the visibility.