Chapter Seventeen: Completely Dead This Day, Utterly Bored to Death
Everyone knows that paper offerings are usually made from bamboo splints and paper. Skilled funeral artisans can craft these paper items so vividly that they appear lifelike, just like the exquisite and beautiful pile of offerings before us, ready to be burned.
Ordinarily, paper offerings contain nothing beyond bamboo and paper. Yet, who could explain why the severed foot of the young girl, brutally mangled by Lang Jiuchuan in a frenzy, harbors a dark, ominous object within it?
Could it be a finger bone?
Outside, the north wind howled fiercely. Suddenly, with a loud bang, a white mourning banner standing upright was blown to the ground. The youngest girl screamed in fright and cowered behind the adults, trembling.
The womenfolk were equally frightened.
Especially since the old master's coffin still rested in the ancestral hall, undedicated. From close by, they could see the pale, lifeless face beneath the fluttering mourning cloth—withered and ghostly.
Though it was their revered ancestor and no danger was expected, who among them could remain unshaken in such a grim atmosphere?
Lang Jiuchuan flung the blood-soaked finger bone toward Lang Zhengping, who instinctively caught it.
A chill crept into his hand, making him shiver. Realizing what it was, instinct urged him to discard it immediately, yet he restrained himself and said, “What is this thing doing here...?”
No one needed to be told that for a paper offering destined for the ancestors to contain such a sinister and mysterious object was a dire omen.
“A child’s finger bone, inscribed with talismans and steeped in human blood—this is an evil and malevolent object,” Lang Jiuchuan said as she sat back down before the burner. “Since nothing more is to be done, you all may return and rest. I will keep watch over the spirit.”
She was alone; the merit from this vigil wouldn’t have to be shared with the Lang family. Heh, she truly was a clever little fox!
The others watched as she tossed paper money into the burner and assumed her role as spirit guardian, their lips twitching involuntarily.
Is this really the time to be standing guard? And that finger bone—she only offered a vague explanation without details. Storytellers aren’t usually this cryptic. Was she inviting a lightning strike upon herself?
Even Lang Zhengping, the new family head, struggled to hold back and wanted to toss the bone back at her with a roar, “If you know, then speak clearly!”
“Miss Jiu, how did you know this was hidden inside the paper offering?” Lang Zhengping asked, narrowing his eyes.
Without looking up, Lang Jiuchuan replied, “A ghost told me. Do you believe that?”
“...”
What kind of answer was that?
“This is no trivial matter. Can’t you speak properly?” Lady Cui gasped, holding back her anger.
Lang Jiuchuan paused, then looked up and said, “If this is so serious, and none of you will investigate, what good does it do to ask me? What, the grand Lang estate can’t even support one little lady? And no one is left to look into how such an object came to be placed among our ancestor’s paper offerings?”
A wave of anger rippled through the assembly.
What nonsense was this? How dare she say they couldn’t support her!
Though the estate had long lost the wealth and glory of generations past and was in decline, even a sinking ship still had nails holding it together.
No one dared to retort, especially when they saw Lady Cui’s icy expression. They knew this was a veiled attack on the matron herself.
Lang Zhengping was troubled. This niece not only had a rebellious streak but also a sharp tongue, quick to jab at others.
He glanced at Lady Cui, then his wife, and finally his eldest daughter-in-law, Wu Shi, signaling her silently.
“You’re the one. You can talk some sense into her.”
Wu Shi shivered inwardly but, taking her father-in-law’s cue, stepped forward, casually picking up a piece of paper money and tossing it into the fire. She asked tremblingly, “Sister Jiu, if that evil thing remains with the paper girl, what will happen?”
Everyone strained to hear.
Lang Jiuchuan said, “What do you think? Haven’t the three of them already experienced it? Evil objects, by nature, invite malevolent spirits and bad luck. Anyone who comes into contact with such things—well, I don’t need to explain it to you village folk, you all understand, right?”
Which prominent family does not worship gods and deities? Even the least superstitious would offer prayers. The women of the household especially observed these rituals. Everyone had heard of the misfortune that befalls those who come into contact with unclean or cursed objects.
And if anyone doubted, Lang Caize’s earlier possessed state was a vivid example of being tormented by evil spirits.
Noticing their gazes, Lang Caize muttered, “...” He did not want to be the painful example.
Wu Shi swallowed hard and asked again, “Then how did you discover it...?”
“Probably the ghost possessed me!” Lang Jiuchuan sighed. “Otherwise, how could a simple village girl like me have such powers? You don’t really think I’m some all-knowing master, do you?”
Well, that was the end of the discussion—utterly dead.
Everyone was furious, their anger swelling like pufferfish.
They had never met someone whose very words made them want to punch her.
Seeing her carefree attitude, Lang Zhengping realized he wouldn’t get much more useful information. After all, she was just a young girl, not even of marriageable age. Her suspicion about the paper girl likely stemmed from having spent too much time around the estate’s strange customs.
His eyes flicked to his father’s coffin, and guilt surged. Whatever happened to the offerings meant for his father in the afterlife was his failure, as the eldest son.
“Miss Jiu, what does ‘awakening the paper doll’s spirit’ mean?” Lang Caicheng asked shakily.
Lang Jiuchuan looked at the paper girl and said, “The phrase means exactly what it says. To ‘awaken the spirit’ is to grant life to a lifeless object. The doll’s eyes are not painted casually; it’s to bring it to life.”
Everyone glanced at the row of paper dolls with their strikingly realistic eyes, as if they were staring right through them.
“No, you city-born elites don’t know that paper dolls are never drawn with eyes, never given pupils,” Lang Jiuchuan feigned surprise. “Even children in the village know this.”
Everyone was speechless.
Knowing that was one thing, but her sarcastic tone was truly infuriating.
“All right, disperse now. Third brother, you take some men to guard the vigil...” Lang Zhengping sighed, seeing the angry expressions. Disturbing the old master’s rest would be the ultimate disrespect.
Lang Jiuchuan grew anxious: “No need. I can do it. The lingering yin energy here hasn’t dissipated. If you stay, the yin energy will enter your bodies—bad luck or illness will surely follow!”
Her words only earned her scornful eye rolls.
Lang Cailing, emboldened by the crowd, pointed at her and shouted, “How can you be so cruel? Cursing strangers and family alike with such venomous words!”
Lang Jiuchuan sneered, “If kindness is taken for a dog’s lung, so be it. Stay if you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She pulled the fire basin close and fell silent.
Her attitude only deepened the unease in everyone’s hearts.
Lang Zhengping still ordered Third Brother to stay behind with two men—there had to be at least some male presence in the ancestral hall. As for Lang Jiuchuan’s warnings, he ignored them.
As the others left the hall, a gust of wind sent a chill through them.
“This isn’t right. How does she know so much about these dark arts?”
“Who knows? Maybe she’s just seen too many banquets at the estate, gotten used to it all. With such boldness, maybe she’s even burned paper money for someone before.”
Lady Cui’s cold glance swept over the whispering youths, who immediately shrank back into silence.
Lang Zhengping summoned his trusted steward to investigate the paper offerings. Seeing the white banners in the courtyard and recalling Lang Jiuchuan’s words in the hall, and her remarks to Old Zhao, a sudden chill gripped his heart.