Chapter Twenty: The Fat Man’s Ritual

As dusk approached, the place where the fool of the Luo River and Old Lady Wang had fallen into the water was already surrounded by a crowd. There were more onlookers than when a film was screened in someone’s house during our childhood. After dinner, Chen Qingshan summoned me to join him in finding the fat man. This fat man had a caustic tongue, and Chen Qingshan truly couldn’t handle him alone. When we arrived at the village committee, we found the fat man just sitting down to his meal. Both Chen Qingshan and I were astounded by his appetite: seven dishes and a soup, all plates licked clean, accompanied by more than half a bucket of bamboo-tube rice. Once finished, the fat man let out a satisfied belch and said, “Let’s go.”

Chen Qingshan looked at the fat man’s getup and asked, “Don’t you need to make any preparations, Master Fat?”

“What’s the big deal? Preparation? Not necessary. Come on, tonight I’ll show you what Fat Master can do,” he replied.

I said nothing, merely feeling that this fat man was quite unlike the Daoist practitioners I had imagined. In my mind, such people should have the ethereal air of the fraudster from the Tai Chi temple, at least appearing otherworldly and equipped with the various talismans of the Daoist arts—in short, like the Taoist priests in Lam Ching-ying’s vampire movies. But this fat man, with his sharp tongue and utter lack of celestial bearing—what immortal would weigh over two hundred jin?

When we reached the riverbank, the villagers, seeing us accompany the fat man, began to jeer and banter. Despite his roguish appearance, the fat man was clearly no stranger to attention; he faced the crowd with the poise of a superstar. He strode to the river, dipped his hand into the water, tasted a wet finger, and announced, “Seems whatever’s in this water has been waiting for Fat Master. Village chief, have the folks step back a bit.”

Chen Qingshan nodded. “Alright.”

“Qingshan, and this is?” At that moment, Third Grandpa hobbled over with his cane, eyeing the fat man.

“Uncle, this is Master Fat from the city, come to help us with our problem. I forgot to mention before, that Tai Chi priest was a fraud, just a money-grubber. He didn’t solve a thing,” Chen Qingshan explained.

“I suspected as much, but if this is about the fool, why the river? Yet I hear folks saying this young man is here to deal with Old Lady Wang’s death?” Third Grandpa asked.

“That’s a long story, Uncle. It’s hard to explain in a few words,” Chen Qingshan scratched his head.

Third Grandpa waved him off and addressed the fat man, “Young man, since Qingshan and Xiao Ye trust you, you must be capable. I’m too old to meddle in young people’s business, but let me warn you: there’s a river god in Luo River. Do not disturb its peace, or calamity will befall us all.”

“Sir, with all due respect, if there really is a river god, would it be so petty? The laws of the immortals are strict—would it casually bring disaster upon the people? Rest assured, perhaps tonight I’ll show you the true face of this so-called river god,” the fat man said.

Third Grandpa glanced at him but said nothing more. The fat man sat alone by the water, while Chen Qingshan and Third Grandpa kept order among the villagers. That was when I noticed Han Xue had arrived, and joined her to one side. By the time all was ready, darkness had fallen. Flashlights flickered everywhere. Amid the crowd, I suddenly felt someone watching me. Following the gaze, I saw Uncle Zhuzi, cigarette dangling from his lips, his face weathered as always.

I smiled at him. As my mother aged, even if there was nothing between them, I didn’t want her to lose such a friend. For nearly twenty years, Uncle Zhuzi had cared for our family in every possible way. My college tuition came from the bricks he hauled, one by one, on the construction site. I never wanted our relationship to grow distant.

“Alright, everyone quiet down! I’m sure you all know what Fat Master is here for tonight. Watch closely, but no shouting. What’s about to happen may be uncanny, but don’t panic—nothing will go wrong with me here!” the fat man proclaimed.

To my surprise, his words were met with applause and whistles. He waved for silence, and the crowd instantly hushed, the air suddenly charged—he truly had the aura of an international celebrity. Once the crowd quieted, the fat man placed Old Lady Wang’s silver bracelet on the ground. He took out the yellow talisman paper and cinnabar he’d gotten from Lady He and began drawing symbols on the earth. He drew three talismans in all, then tossed them into the air above the river.

He called out, “No need for recitations—you surely know what I’m here for. As a monster you’ve harmed mortals, even detained the souls of the earthly kings. Best surrender now, don’t force my hand.”

As soon as he spoke, the three talismans he’d tossed landed on the water. Strangely, instead of dissolving, they caught fire atop the surface. This feat alone awed many villagers, who stared wide-eyed at both the fat man and the river, scarcely daring to breathe.

The talismans burned quickly to ash, and as they vanished, three streaks of red light shot into the water. We could see with the naked eye—three beams, like swords of light, darted deeper into the river, fading from view.

Just as I thought it was over, three thunderous explosions sounded from Sanlitun downstream, not far from us. It was like someone was blasting fish.

I glanced at Uncle Zhuzi and saw his face taut with anxiety, eyes wide—but he was staring at the sky, not the water.

Looking up where he gazed, I instinctively gripped Han Xue’s hand. The night had been starry, the sky brimming with light, but after those three explosions, a mass of black cloud suddenly billowed over the Luo River at Sanlitun—right above the Twelve Ghost Grottos—darkening the sky, the cloud moving as if to blanket the whole night.

“Xue’er, maybe you should go home?” I said softly.

“Go home for what?” Han Xue blinked in surprise.

“Look at the sky. On TV, whenever this happens, it means some great demon is about to appear!” I replied.

“Like the Tianshan Child Elder or the Ghost of the Village? This fat guy seems amazing—it's the first time I’ve seen a real master at work. I’m not leaving,” Han Xue said, pouting.

Left speechless, I could only hope the fat man truly could control the situation. My brother said he was here to stir things up, and the more chaotic, the better for us. I couldn’t see how chaos would help us, but if this unexpected fat man could answer even a few riddles, perhaps he could untangle the knots in my own heart.

More villagers noticed the black cloud, excitement mounting for some, while the timid turned away; half the crowd vanished in an instant. The fat man stood at the riverbank, hands behind his back, gazing skyward with an air of absolute control.

The black cloud soon crept over the sky above Fudigou, blotting out the stars. Suddenly, the surface of the Luo River began to churn, the turbulence approaching fast. I glanced again at Uncle Zhuzi, remembering his words—that it was as if a giant fish lurked in the river.

It was just so now, as if some monstrous beast was racing from the direction of Sanlitun’s Twelve Ghost Grottos toward Fudigou.

“The river god is coming!” someone shouted, and most of the crowd scattered in panic.

Han Xue clung to my arm, her face alight with nervous excitement and curiosity. Third Grandpa and Chen Qingshan watched the water, grave and silent.

The commotion reached the shore. I heard a bubbling from the depths. The fat man remained where he was but now began drawing a fourth talisman. His hand moved swiftly, conjuring a complex sigil in the blink of an eye. He tossed it upward, and at its peak, it burst into dazzling light.

The glowing charm hung there like a miniature sun. Though it couldn’t dispel the black cloud, it shone brightly on the water at the fat man’s feet.

Then I saw it—a coffin slowly surfaced on the river. A stone coffin, adorned with strange carvings, floating atop the water.