Chapter Twenty: Formulating a Plan

The village chief was clearly up to something, coming to burn paper offerings for me and deliberately choosing to do it under a tree. Burning paper beside a tree is an old trick—if a vengeful ghost comes by and taps you on the shoulder, at least the tree gives a bit of comfort, a sense of protection. But it also gave me an opportunity.

Silent as a shadow, I climbed the tree behind the chief, crouched among the branches and leaves, and shook the limbs hard. The chief, bent over to burn the offerings, was startled out of his wits. After a long moment, he finally mustered the courage to raise his head.

I let only my head poke through the leaves. From the chief’s point of view, all he could see was a human head staring at him.

With a terrified shriek, he stumbled and crawled back toward the village. I slid down the tree as quickly as I could, pricked my finger with a knife, and let blood drip onto the still-burning yellow paper.

The elders always said: if you cut your hand, wrap it up before going near fire—never let blood fall into the flames. If your blood is burned, it can attract things nearby that crave human blood.

I had concealed my presence, but as I made my way down the mountain, I left drops of blood along the route. The purpose was to lure Qiu Shuang down from the hills.

Monsters are not only fierce, but vengeful. I fought Qiu Shuang last night; she would never let it go. She’d follow my blood trail without fail.

This time, I let my blood fall into the fire to draw Qiu Shuang into the village.

But I didn’t know who would arrive first: the villagers, or Qiu Shuang.

The chief was burning paper right at the village entrance. It would take him a moment to gather people, but if Qiu Shuang arrived first, my plan would be ruined.

Soon enough, I heard a rustling from the mountain—the sound of footsteps through grass, quick and growing closer. Something was approaching at great speed.

At the same time, a dozen torches flared from the village; the chief hadn’t brought flashlights, only firebrands. It seemed they knew something about Qiu Shuang, or at least knew she feared fire.

Without looking at the villagers, I ducked into a nearby thicket.

Just then, the villagers saw Qiu Shuang coming down from the mountain.

She was draped in a bloodied wolf pelt, her face pale as paper, blood still at the corner of her mouth—as if she’d just devoured a wild wolf and skinned it to wear.

The chief shouted, “Bang the gong, quick—fire the guns!”

His followers frantically pounded the brass gong, some fired warning shots into the sky, others waved torches and howled incoherently, making as much noise as they could.

They were treating Qiu Shuang like a wild beast.

Although the rural northeast is full of mountains and forests, most villagers make their living from farming. Families who truly depend on hunting or foraging are rare.

Some villagers with guns might shoot at pheasants or rabbits, but few would dare hunt wolves or bears. If a wild animal comes into the village, the usual method is to bang gongs and set off firecrackers to scare it away. Even if they have guns, they seldom shoot at the beasts.

Because if you miss or only wound the animal, it will go berserk and pose even more danger. If you injure a vengeful creature like a wolf, it may return for revenge, and that’s a threat you can’t guard against.

So scaring them away is the best option.

But monsters aren’t wild animals—a commotion won’t frighten her off.

Qiu Shuang let out a low, wolfish howl, then vanished into the grass in a flash.

The chief yelled, “Quick—she’s in the village! Hurry back!”

But the villagers couldn’t outrun a monster. Before they reached the entrance, chaos had already erupted inside.

Qiu Shuang rushed into the village, looking for me. But the villagers didn’t know that. Some fired at her, and a violent clash broke out.

By the time the chief and his men returned, three or four villagers lay dead. The returning villagers didn’t care whether it was really Qiu Shuang or not—they fired at her on sight.

Five or six old hunting rifles fired in turn, and finally, Qiu Shuang turned and fled back into the mountains.

The chief rasped, “See if anyone’s missing from each family! Get the doctor to check the wounded. You with the guns—come with me to the village entrance!”

While the chief was giving his orders, I called out from afar, “Uncle!”

The chief shuddered. “Are you human or ghost?”

“I’m human! Old Mr. Guo was eaten by the ghost—I barely escaped!” I replied quickly.

The chief grabbed a gun from some