Both flinched, their gazes trembling toward the source of the sound.

“No need to fear ghosts, it’s nothing but a Ye Huazi,” Tian Cunzhang let out a long, shuddering breath, steadying his heaving chest. “Ai-yo, that nearly scared the life out of me. I truly thought a real ghost was crying out! Turns out it was that eerie thing calling from the tree.” He then pointed toward a tree within the graveyard.

Liu Dashao followed the direction of his finger and, to his relief, also let out a sigh of respite. There, perched on a branch, stood a large bird with the face of a cat, its gaze sharp as a blade, watching them both.

In the countryside during the Liberation era, owls were commonly called Ye Huazi or Ye Maozi. There was a saying: “When the night cat enters a home, nothing good follows.” These birds were regarded as ominous and unlucky, grouped with crows and the Zhu Shi Niao (a bird fond of rolling in pig excrement) as harbingers of ill news. In the village, upon hearing any of these three birds call, people would immediately rush to drive them away; no one wanted them hooting continuously atop their roofs.

It was recalled that one year, an owl perched on the roof of a villager’s house and began to call. The family initially paid it little mind, thinking, What’s the big deal? It’s just a bird! What disaster could it possibly cause? Yet, that very night, a massive fire erupted in that home. The blaze raged all night, painting the sky a furious red. Fortunately, the family members escaped swiftly, avoiding being consumed by the inferno, but the fire left their house utterly gutted, nothing remaining. Afterward, the owner beat his chest and stamped his feet, lamenting, “I knew it, I knew something terrible would happen; the bird already told me!”

From then on, the villagers of Xiushui Village would chase away any owl they heard calling, believing they brought only calamity and misfortune.

Having both survived a false alarm, the two men glanced up at the fast-descending sunset and continued walking forward.

“Uncle Tian, do you believe in ghosts?” Liu Dashao suddenly asked as they walked.

For those walking the night road, the word “ghost” was the most taboo utterance. Though a sliver of sunlight remained, it was merely the dying ember of the day’s warmth. The chilling essence of the ravine was rising imperceptibly, like a desiccated giant hand reaching to grasp all living things into the embrace of the darkness.

Village Head Tian turned and shot Liu Dashao a look, thinking, Why bring up what’s best left unmentioned? People hear what they fear only when it’s spoken. Tian Cunzhang grumbled impatiently at Liu Dashao, “Don’t try to frighten me, alright? Where are the ghosts in this world? Unless… is that another Ye Huazi?”

Passing through a mass grave late at night was inherently frightening, especially when strange, inexplicable sounds arose from the burial grounds, sounds that chilled one to the bone.

The two men had been thoroughly rattled by that Ye Huazi, sweating profusely, their hairs and neck prickles standing on end. The Ye Huazi was already considered a bad omen here, and hearing it call while traveling at night was the utmost taboo. If one heard it, the proper response was to shout “Bang!” at it to drive it away. This sound mimicked the blast of a sand-shotgun, serving a dual purpose: scaring the bird off and bolstering one’s own courage.

“I do!” Liu Dashao raised his voice slightly. “I heard from Bai Tuzi at the edge of the village that there was once a pig butcher whose courage was exceptional. He called himself ‘Cold Daring,’ and he always enjoyed coming home very late.”

“One day, he was drinking at someone’s house, and it got so late that the host urged him to stay the night. But he refused, insisting on leaving. The host could do nothing but let him go. Before he left, the host earnestly advised him, ‘Caution sails a ship ten thousand years; you must be careful. On your night journey, never look behind you. If someone calls your name, do not answer, for if you do, they will come to snatch your soul.’ The butcher scoffed at this advice. He lifted his thick, coarse hands, covered in black hair, and slapped his chest, telling the host, ‘You can rest assured! What is my nickname again? Cold Daring! In this lifetime, I’ve butchered countless pigs without ever flinching.’ He then patted the gleaming pig-slaughtering knife at his waist and added, ‘Even Yama fears this knife; he gives me a wide berth.’ With that, he stumbled out, reeking of alcohol.”

“As the butcher left, he was weighed down by too many things strapped to his back. There was no room for the scale beam. The butcher frowned, an idea struck him: he simply hefted the entire weighing apparatus—beam and weights—onto his shoulder and set off. By now, it was dark; there were no stars, only a pale, hazy moon hanging in the sky. The butcher used his alcohol-fueled bravery to stride purposefully through the graveyard. At first, nothing happened once he entered the grounds, but when he reached the center, the strange occurrences began! The butcher suddenly felt a hard thump on his back, as if someone had struck him. Initially, he paid it no mind, thinking his nerves were simply playing tricks. But after a few more steps, the exact same strange sensation recurred. The butcher’s drunkenness cleared significantly, and he suddenly recalled the host’s warning before he left: walking at night too often means encountering ghosts. Could it be that tonight he had truly met one?”

“The butcher grew increasingly fearful the more he thought about it, so he quickened his pace. But the striking against his back accelerated in tandem. The butcher fell into utter despair. In those desolate wilds, there was no one to call out to, no place for aid. It seemed he was truly being pursued by a ghost tonight! Alas, he didn't heed his friend’s advice, and now the consequence was upon him! Was he fated to die right here tonight?”

“Finally, the butcher could bear it no longer, his shame turning to fury. He cursed loudly, ‘Don’t think you can take advantage just because your grandpa is scared! I’m telling you now, your grandpa isn't afraid tonight! I still have my slaughtering knife; if necessary, I’ll fight you to the death!’ After yelling, the butcher drew the knife from his waist and glanced behind him.”

At this point, Liu Dashao leaned in conspiratorially toward Village Head Tian and asked, “Uncle Tian, guess what he saw?”

Village Head Tian’s curiosity was thoroughly piqued, and he quickly asked, “What did he see?”

But Liu Dashao shook his head and spread his hands. “He saw nothing at all. Isn’t that strange?”

Village Head Tian scoffed skeptically. “Impossible! Not even a shadow of a ghost, so what could have been hitting his back?”

Liu Dashao smiled and said, “Don’t be impatient, Uncle Tian! Let me finish telling you.”

“So, after Cold Daring looked behind him, he became even more frightened. Now he couldn’t even tell if the thing was man or spirit. Cold Daring dared not look back again; he endured the striking all the way home. He was afraid that if he turned around, he would see some grotesque thing staring back at him. He was chased by the ghost right to his door. As soon as he arrived, Cold Daring knocked on his neighbor’s door and recounted the entire strange ordeal from beginning to end. Then he took off his clothes, turned around, and showed his back to the neighbor. The area where the ghost had struck was terribly bruised.”

“The neighbor looked and burst into roaring laughter, doubled over with mirth. Cold Daring looked miserable and said to his neighbor, ‘Brother, my back is beaten like this, and you can still laugh?’ Only then did the neighbor manage to stifle his laughter and say, ‘You fool! You had the scale beam on your back, and the weights hanging from it too. As you walked, it swung back and forth, and naturally, the weights were slamming against your back. When you looked back, of course, you couldn’t see anything, and even if you had, it would have only been the weight. How could you think it was the weight playing tricks on you all along?’ Cold Daring slapped his forehead upon hearing this, finally enlightened, ‘I knew it! Why wouldn’t it leave me alone? No matter how fast I walked, it struck just as fast—it was that damned weight causing the trouble!’ From that day forward, Cold Daring never dared boast to others about his bravery again, nor did he ever dare to walk through the graveyard alone at night. After all, a serpent’s bite makes one fearful of ropes for ten years!”

Village Head Tian looked utterly disappointed upon hearing the tale. “Alas, I thought there truly were ghosts in this world, but it was just a weighing scale causing the ruckus.” However, he immediately nodded with conviction. “Hmm, upon careful reflection, your story is well-told and hits the mark. The Master said nothing of strange tales, supernatural powers, or spiritual beings. In the face of science, all feudal superstitions, just like reactionaries, are paper tigers!”

Liu Dashao saw that his elaborate effort had been misunderstood by Village Head Tian. He quickly brought forth the material stored in his mind to defend himself. “This is all what the old folks in the village told me. The elders also said that when walking at night, you must never look back. If you look back, you are very likely to see something unclean. If you don’t look back, even if a ghost follows you, it won’t dare to do anything to you. If someone calls your name while you walk at night, never answer them, because it is likely a ghost sent by Yama to collect souls. If you answer, they will immediately come to claim your soul, and you will die, or at least become severely mentally dull. Also, when walking at night, you must never slap another person’s back, because humans carry the Three Flames of Vitality (San Wei Huo), and ghosts burn three sticks of incense; one of the human’s true vital flames resides on the back. If a living person brushes it off, the ghost will come to harm them. If you encounter a ghost, wipe your hand across your head a few times; this will keep the ghost away, because the ghost is also afraid that you will smudge out its three incense sticks. Although I haven’t encountered ghosts more than a few times in my life, these are things passed down by the previous generations. The words of our ancestors are very potent.”