Chapter Thirty-Five: The Water Demon 2

“When a person dies in the water, after a few days, the gases in the body will build up, causing the corpse to float to the surface. Usually, when you see a body in the water, men float face down and women face up. If the head is above the water, it’s generally a woman; the opposite indicates a man. But there’s one situation most corpse fishers would never dare approach—the upright corpse. That is, a body standing vertically in the water. In this case, all you’d see at the surface is a lock of hair. Fishermen who double as corpse fishers will immediately turn back if they see such a corpse, never daring to retrieve it,” Fatty explained.

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Because those part-time corpse fishers only fetch the dead—they don’t meddle in the grievances of ghosts. If someone dies with their feet down and head up, that’s no ordinary corpse. In the eyes of the fishermen, that’s a fiend. To retrieve such a body, you need a different kind of person—a River Ghost. Now, there are three main professions that deal with corpses: corpse fishers on the Yellow River, corpse herders in Xiangxi, and sky burial masters in Tibet. River Ghosts, like corpse herders, are a specialized group. Unlike the fishermen, who are amateurs, River Ghosts tend to pass their craft down through families, more like artisans than members of a rigid sect. Back in the old days, there were many River Ghosts along the Yellow River. Though their skills varied, the basics were similar. All of them used a secret potion to wash their eyes and spent long hours watching the water, so they could spot the walking dead at a glance. This skill is called the Corpse-Gazing Technique, and it takes decades to master,” Fatty said.

“That long?” I exclaimed in surprise.

“Yes, and that’s not even the hardest part. Many people stumble at this hurdle. If you can’t see the walking dead in the water, you can’t become a true River Ghost. Once you succeed, you’re only at the entrance of the craft. Since River Ghosts deal with corpses, especially fiends with heavy malevolent energy, once they’ve mastered the Corpse-Gazing Technique, they’ll leave their families to live alone by the river. If you want to find a River Ghost, look for a solitary house by the Yellow River, with a black dog in the yard and a bamboo pole hanging on the wall. At the top of the pole is an octagonal mirror. That’s your River Ghost. The black dog and the mirror both ward off evil. After encountering an upright corpse, people will seek out the River Ghost. The River Ghost judges if the corpse can be retrieved by first calling the black dog, then looking into the octagonal mirror. If the dog remains calm and the mirror shows nothing unusual, the corpse can be fished out. But if the dog goes wild or the mirror reveals blood, or instead of the River Ghost’s own face, the reflection shows a vengeful ghost, then not even the River Ghost can help. The grudge is too strong; the body becomes a masterless walking corpse in the Yellow River, a sacrifice to the Dragon King,” Fatty said.

“What if, despite the dog barking and the mirror bleeding, the River Ghost still tries to retrieve the corpse?” I asked.

“Within three days, the River Ghost will surely die,” Fatty replied.

“Damn!” I was startled. Fatty’s words felt truly ominous. And the way he described the River Ghosts—their mysterious and bizarre rules—reminded me so much of my brother. The only difference was the rules themselves.

“Even if my brother were a River Ghost, you can’t claim he grew up eating the flesh of water corpses!” I protested.

“Don’t jump to conclusions. Those are ordinary River Ghosts. There’s a legend about a certain kind of man—born with an extremely yin horoscope, naturally drawn to water, destined to deal with it. Such people are fed water corpse flesh from a young age. Water corpse flesh is mostly rotten—even beasts can’t stomach decayed meat, let alone human flesh. Many die from poisoning. But those who survive become the elite among River Ghosts, the kings of their kind. Any corpse in the water, even a corpse king, would avoid them. But having eaten human flesh—especially water corpse flesh—they’re often eccentric and withdrawn. Even with their unique abilities, they rarely benefit others. Worse yet, eating human flesh disrupts the natural order, barring them from the three realms and the cycle of reincarnation. After death, they’re relentlessly pursued by the souls whose flesh they consumed, dying in utter misery. It’s been many years since anyone’s heard of a River Ghost King emerging,” Fatty said.

“That’s enough!” I interrupted him. At first, the idea of the River Ghost King eating water corpse flesh merely chilled me, but when he mentioned being cast out of the three realms and doomed, hunted by a hundred ghosts, I was truly terrified. And listening to Fatty, with the solitary nature and respect from all water spirits, it matched my brother to an uncanny degree. I dared not imagine the life my brother endured after he was sent away as a child, nor the wretched fate that might await him after death. The mere thought ached in my heart.

“Feeling sorry for him?” Fatty asked.

“I’m alright. Even if what you say matches my brother’s traits, it doesn’t mean he’s a River Ghost King,” I replied.

I truly had no wish to discuss this with Fatty any further. I changed the subject, “So what do we do next? No matter what, it was the two of us who released the drought demon. If Tang Renjie really set us up and disrupted my brother’s plans, shouldn’t we try to fix it as soon as possible?”

“Of course we have to fix it. But if Tang Renjie tricked me, I can’t just let it go. Brother King of Thieves, I count you as a friend—first, because we get along, and second, because in this mess, we’re both complete idiots. There are clearly three factions at play here: the hidden figures from your village, your brother’s camp, and Tang Renjie’s. Whatever they’re up to, they at least know their own goals and the lay of the land. But us? Aren’t we just a pair of fools? We know nothing, used by everyone as tools. If you’re being used, fine, but even I, Fatty, got played. Is that reasonable? Can I accept that?” Fatty complained.

“What do you mean, ‘if I’m being used, fine’?” I glared at Fatty. Sure, I’m not as skilled as you, but I’ve been carrying you, this deadweight, on my back. Isn’t that hard enough?

“I’m just saying. I can’t deal with your brother’s trouble, and I don’t know who’s behind your village’s faction. But Tang Renjie playing me like this—I have to settle the score,” Fatty said.

Hearing this, I was tempted too. As my thoughts churned, an idea slowly formed. I said to Fatty, “How about this: don’t confront Tang Renjie directly. I know you’re not afraid of him, but he might not be scared of you either, right? Since he sent you here, he must want something from you. So, pretend you want to cooperate with him—see if you can get him to talk.”

Fatty, sharp as ever, understood immediately. Once we returned to the village committee office, he was impatient and immediately called Tang Renjie, putting the phone on speaker. After a pause, Tang Renjie picked up, sounding as if he had just woken up, but he didn’t snap at Fatty. Instead, he chuckled sleepily, “Calling so early—does that mean things over there have been handled, Fatty?”

Fatty held the phone with a stern face, saying nothing at first.

After a while, Tang Renjie asked, “Fatty?”

“Tang Renjie, do you really think you’re the only smart one in the world, and that everyone else is an idiot?” Fatty snorted coldly.

Tang Renjie laughed, “What do you mean by that, Fatty? I’m not sure I understand.”

“You know full well how complicated things are in Fudigou. Is it really just a simple case of a foolish woman’s spirit returning? Don’t you want the things in the Twelve Ghost Caves? And the little drought demon—did you deliberately send it to me?” Fatty was blunt.

Tang Renjie replied, “What? I really don’t get it. Is it not just a ghost woman coming back?”

“Tang Renjie, I owe you a favor. If it were just an ordinary haunting, I’d handle it and call it even. But you threw me into this muddy water with no warning—isn’t that a bit too shrewd? I don’t want to beat around the bush. Now that I’m involved, you know my temper—I won’t rest until I get to the bottom of things. But are you really treating me, Fatty, as some kind of saint? Or a beggar? Is one old book worth my life? I nearly lost a leg last night!” Fatty said.

This was our agreed approach—pressing Tang Renjie wouldn’t get answers, but acting as if we cared only for the money would make him less guarded. Men like Tang Renjie are arrogant, used to people risking everything for their money. They believe anything money can buy isn’t a real problem, and they look down on those who work for them. Only when he underestimates you will he lower his guard.

As expected, Tang Renjie paused, then said, “If you want to see this through, Fatty, name your price.”

“Whatever you think I’m worth, you decide. But you know the saying: know yourself and your enemy, and you’ll never be defeated. Are you really sending me in blind? Not even giving me a clue?” Fatty replied.

“Is Ye Jihuan with you?” To our surprise, Tang Renjie suddenly changed the topic and asked this question.