Li Yang was inherently petty, the kind of man who kept a tally of every slight. He had always comfortably believed that A-Lan should belong only to him, feeling that as a dignified village party secretary, he could never possibly lose out to some fresh-faced kid building a dam. But now, to think that even when he was intimate with A-Lan, they constantly had to hide from this boy, and worse, he had been beaten up, nearly skinned alive. Why should that be? Damn it, if he didn’t give that kid some trouble, he wouldn’t know that King Yama has three eyes!

So, Li Yang began to exploit his position as village party secretary to constantly make trouble for the construction team staying in the village, especially for this Zhang Deli. For example, he’d assign extra heavy labor to him, fabricating charges about undermining organizational discipline. But Zhang Deli was good-natured and incredibly patient; sometimes, it felt like the secretary was deliberately targeting him, yet he simply wouldn't get angry.

The river opposite the village branched out everywhere, serving as the lifeblood for Xiushan Village and Xiushui Village. Daily chores like cooking, washing, and basic needs all depended on it. A dam had been built a few years prior, but it collapsed during a mountain flood. Village Head Tian had filed reports upward countless times, and approval had only just come through. Back then, building the dam involved no bulldozers or mechanized equipment; it relied entirely on manpower, shoveling earth up, shovelful by shovelful—the hardest kind of physical labor. The dozen or so youths sent were all skilled workers who naturally didn’t want the assignment, so they decided by drawing lots to see who would go. Of course, Li Yang wrote the lots himself: "Go" or "Don't Go" on the slips. Whoever drew "Go" was obligated to report.

When it was Zhang Deli's turn to draw, Li Yang offered to look at the slip for him. He took the paper, glanced at it without really seeing, and swapped it for a slip he’d already hidden in his hand, one that read "Go." Just like that, Zhang Deli was inducted into the dam-building brigade.

A few days later, the boy was so exhausted he’d peeled off a layer of skin. Driven by resentment, he stopped seeking out A-Lan altogether. Li Yang, finally getting a chance to hold the weeping and miserable A-Lan and sleep soundly until morning, couldn't help but feel secretly pleased with his own masterpiece.

Building the dam was tough, but enduring it was manageable; most people could handle it. The worst part was having to stay behind at night to guard the embankment, because bulky equipment like water pumps and many scattered tools were inconvenient to transport back and forth daily, so someone had to stay to watch over them on the riverbank.

Near the river embankment lay a desolate graveyard, and rumors circulated about fox spirits, so everyone was terrified to stay the night. But someone still had to guard the site, so they took turns—one person today, another tomorrow.

That night, it was Zhang Deli’s turn to guard the dam. Zhang Deli was naturally timid, but he dared not sleep anywhere else but on the riverbank, because if anything was lost while he was on watch, he would be held responsible; he couldn't afford to pay for the loss even if it bankrupted him.

Just as dusk settled, Zhang Deli relieved himself near the embankment. While hastily pulling up his trousers, he scurried into his small tent, sealing every gap tightly. He lit his kerosene lamp, wrapped himself completely in his quilt, and the tiny glow illuminated the confined space, making him feel utterly isolated from the world.

As the sky darkened further, Zhang Deli tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He remembered the days sleeping next to A-Lan on the warm brick bed—it felt like heaven. Now, sleeping alone in this small tent, with a stretch of graves not far away, felt like absolute hell.

Lost in these wandering thoughts, Zhang Deli eventually drifted into a doze. After who knows how long, he was jolted awake by a strange sound. The kerosene lamp must have gone out without him noticing. The wind had picked up outside, making the tent flap wildly, but that sound he’d heard was definitely not the wind. Zhang Deli clearly heard something moving across the top of the tent, as if something was crawling there. Terrified, Zhang Deli pulled the quilt tighter around himself, trembling like a sieve.

Suddenly, the tent flap blew open several inches, letting a gust of wind rush in. Zhang Deli was forced to climb out of his warm bedding to close it. As he approached the opening, trembling, he looked up and saw a person hanging upside down directly above him.

Zhang Deli fumbled to close the tent flap, shaking uncontrollably from cold or fear. As he reached the entrance, he sensed something above him. He looked up... Oh, heavens! Not far above his head hung a figure upside down. This wasn't a person! It was clearly a vengeful ghost crawled out of the underworld! It wore a Judge’s cap, its face was blue and fierce, and it stared at him with large, dead-fish eyes. Zhang Deli screamed once, then with a "splat," he soiled himself, followed by a "thud" as he collapsed onto the ground.

Zhang Deli convulsed on the ground for a moment, then lay still. A dark shadow then softly entered the tent. It turned on a flashlight and illuminated Zhang Deli from head to toe. He lay there, face ashen, mouth agape, eyes wide open. The shadow placed a hand on Zhang Deli’s nose, shuddered violently, and the flashlight clattered to the ground. Zhang Deli was long dead; he had been scared to death.

The shadow was Li Yang. He had a drinking buddy in town who was an exceptionally skilled paper craftsman, known as 'Ghost Bodhisattva.' Li Yang treated the Ghost Bodhisattva to drinks and asked him to fashion a Judge figure, instructing him to make it as terrifying as possible. In his drunken state, the Ghost Bodhisattva agreed without asking the purpose.

That evening, Li Yang knew it was Zhang Deli’s night to guard the dam. Several days had passed, and the paper figure should be ready. As soon as it got dark, Li Yang took his donkey cart to town. The Ghost Bodhisattva showed him the finished paper figure—indeed, it was frightening enough, especially with the face painted fierce and blue. Delighted, Li Yang dragged the Ghost Bodhisattva to the tavern, feasting and drinking rowdily. Full and satisfied, Li Yang loaded the paper figure onto his cart and raced back to Xiushui Village. He didn't go home but headed straight for the embankment. It was already midnight; the wind howled across the deserted riverbank. From a distance, he spotted the small tent used for guarding, knowing Zhang Deli was asleep inside.

Li Yang first ran to a nearby patch of woods and chopped down a sapling about ten feet long, then untied a rope used for binding hay from his cart. He dragged the paper figure behind the tent. He fastened the flashlight under the paper figure’s chin, tied its feet with the rope, and hung it upside down from the tip of the sapling. He switched on the light, extended the sapling and the figure from behind the tent, positioning the sapling diagonally across the tent so the figure hung suspended directly above the entrance. Li Yang propped up the base of the sapling, and once everything was set, he picked up a stick and began rustling loudly against the top of the tent.

Sure enough, Zhang Deli woke up to the noise. Li Yang intended to rattle the tent door to lure him out, but a sudden gust of wind blew the door open instead. Li Yang slipped into the shadows nearby. Not long after, he heard Zhang Deli's piercing scream, followed by a "thud" from inside the tent, and then silence. After waiting a few more minutes, Li Yang took down the paper figure, retrieved the flashlight, and tiptoed into the tent.

Li Yang was slightly frightened now. He had only meant to scare Zhang Deli—ideally enough to drive him insane. But he never expected Zhang Deli to be so fragile that he was scared to death! Trembling, Li Yang gathered the paper figure, the sapling, and everything else, carried it to a distant ditch, and burned it. Then he got onto his donkey cart and drove off toward home like the wind.

The next morning, the workers returning to continue the dam saw Zhang Deli dead in his tent, his face blue, eyes wide open and unclosed in death, and his trousers soiled. He must have seen something terrifying that scared him to death. Everyone felt uneasy, wondering what kind of thing could scare a man to death. They immediately reported it to the highest authority present: Secretary Li Yang. Li Yang went to the embankment, feigning calmness, but when he saw Zhang Deli’s face, he nearly soiled his own pants. Anyone would be horrified by Zhang Deli's expression, but Li Yang appeared more frightened than anyone else. The others inwardly cursed him as cowardly and useless, not looking any deeper.

The night after Zhang Deli died, Li Yang did not seek out A-Lan. He lay on his own bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Zhang Deli's contorted face. He finally drifted into a light sleep around midnight.

A-Lan was heartbroken over Zhang Deli’s death; he was the first man she had truly loved. Lying on her bed, she thought of the unforgettable nights they had spent together, missing him dearly. In contrast, Li Yang was so rough and vulgar, only using her to violently vent his own desire, never once considering her feelings. A-Lan drifted off to sleep, thinking these thoughts and murmuring Zhang Deli’s name.

In the middle of the night, A-Lan was awakened by the cold. A fierce wind had begun to blow outside. She drowsily opened her eyes and saw a figure standing by the bedside.

"Who is it?!" A-Lan asked, slightly frightened. The figure didn't speak, just stood there motionless.

"Is that the Secretary?"

The person still said nothing. A-Lan looked toward the door; it was tightly shut. How had this person gotten in?

As she puzzled over this, the figure, previously still, suddenly lunged, tackling her onto the bed.

The figure tore at A-Lan’s clothes. In the darkness, she couldn't see his face or hear his breathing. Soon, she felt a chilling body press down on her, and she smelled the scent of damp earth.

Li Yang, dozing fitfully, thought he heard a voice calling his name. He scrambled upright in his bed, thinking it was A-Lan calling him. He stumbled out of his house and headed straight for A-Lan’s dwelling. The road was pitch black, the wind kicked up dust that stung his eyes and neck. Li Yang pulled his collar tighter, feeling disoriented, as if he hadn't woken up yet. He didn’t question how he could hear A-Lan’s voice from so far away; he just kept walking with his head down.

In a short while, he reached A-Lan’s small house at the east end of the village. As he got close, he heard gasping sounds coming from inside. The sounds were so familiar that Li Yang instantly recognized them as A-Lan’s. Li Yang felt furious. He had finally gotten rid of Zhang Deli, only for another one to appear? Damn it, sleeping with multiple partners!

Li Yang managed to control himself. He quietly approached the window and pushed; it wasn't latched and slid open with a slight gap. Li Yang pressed his face to it and peered inside. The room was dark, so he shouldn't have been able to see anything, yet inexplicably, Li Yang could see everything inside with perfect clarity. Before he could process why he could see in the dark, the scene before him froze him stiff.

He saw A-Lan on the bed, breathing heavily, yet there was no one else in the room with her. But the sensation was as if a person was vigorously thrusting against her. A-Lan’s arms were raised, seemingly clinging tightly to someone. She shifted from lying flat to lying on her stomach, then into a half-crouch, moving up and down faster and faster. Following a series of muffled cries, her body shuddered violently before slowly relaxing and falling still.

Suddenly, she sat up, got off the bed, and rummaged through drawers until she found a set of red clothes. She dressed with her back to Li Yang. From a distance, the crimson color looked strikingly like the traditional wedding dress worn in the village. Just as A-Lan finished dressing, there was a "thud," and a rope flew from somewhere, instantly tightening around her neck. The rope then wrapped around a beam overhead. A-Lan struggled desperately, kicking her feet wildly, but found no purchase. Soon, her tongue lolled out, and in a moment, she went stiff, perfectly motionless.

Everything was too sudden, too unbelievable. Li Yang was completely stunned, unable to think of saving her. His legs felt like they no longer belonged to him; he stood there rigidly, his mind a blank slate.

Just as Li Yang finally snapped out of his trance and moved to help, the door burst open with a "clatter," and a strange gust of wind rushed out of the room, straight towards him.

Just as the strange wind was about to hit him, Li Yang cried out and woke up. He looked around: he was in his own bed. A real gust of wind was blowing now, making his teeth chatter violently from the cold. He looked up and saw that the door was open, though he distinctly remembered latching it before going to sleep. How could it be open?

Trembling, Li Yang climbed out of the covers, rushed downstairs to shut the door, and sullenly climbed back into bed. Recalling the dream, which felt as real as if he had lived it, a wave of anxiety washed over him. He desperately wanted to go to A-Lan’s place at the east end of the village, but it was too dark outside, and he lacked the nerve. Li Yang tossed and turned, unable to sleep, gripped by an unsettling feeling. Finally, when the roosters crowed and the sky began to lighten, Li Yang threw on a coat and hurried to the head of the village.

He soon arrived at A-Lan’s house. As he approached, Li Yang noticed the door was ajar, the wind whistling straight inside. Confused, he hesitated for a moment before stepping cautiously inside. Less than a minute later, a pig-like shriek erupted: "Ah!" Li Yang bolted out, clutching his head, because everything he saw was exactly as it had been in his dream: A-Lan’s body was rigid, hanging from the beam overhead, dead for a long time.

That morning, the entire village, men and women, young and old, gathered at A-Lan’s house, murmuring about the scene. A few brave men went in, hastily cutting the rope and bringing A-Lan down. No one understood why a healthy young woman would suddenly hang herself, nor why she was wearing that red wedding dress before she died. Of course, no one knew about the entanglement between her, Zhang Deli, and Li Yang.

Li Yang showed some shred of conscience. He allocated some money from the village committee and added some of his own to buy A-Lan a sturdy coffin, burying her near the river embankment west of the village, just like Zhang Deli. He couldn't comprehend why he’d had such a vivid dream, or if perhaps he had actually gone to A-Lan’s place that night instead of just dreaming. The thought terrified him, and the realization that he had scared Zhang Deli to death made him even more afraid. Regarding A-Lan’s death, beneath the terror was a profound sense of loss; her fair skin had given him countless nights of soul-stirring pleasure. Now that she was gone, he would return to the lonely, dry existence of an unmarried man.

Because Xiushui Village was remote and poor, and because it was an era with more men than women, bachelors were numerous. Li Yang wasn't even the most notorious bachelor; the most famous was a man named Chen the Cripple.

Chen the Cripple—I don't need to introduce him; his name alone suggests his condition. Indeed, Chen the Cripple had difficulty using his legs, walking with one leg higher than the other. Furthermore, his face was infamous throughout the region: covered entirely in strange, bizarre pimples, some as large as mung beans and others as small as sesame seeds. He had a face packed with them. Elders frowned upon seeing him, and children dared not even dream of him. He was universally detested by young and old alike.

Chen the Cripple’s father died when he was young, and his mother remarried shortly after. Even his own mother disliked him. Before remarrying, she would often stare in the mirror at her own swollen figure, sighing and lamenting why she, a beauty, had given birth to a monster like Chen the Cripple. So, after his father died, his mother abandoned him and married far away.

Chen the Cripple was short and had made a living scavenging junk since childhood, doing odd jobs in the production commune just to scrounge leftovers for a meal. He lived in a dilapidated thatched hut inherited from his grandfather, then his father. Given his circumstances and his naturally grotesque appearance, if he hadn't remained a bachelor, the other bachelors would have had reason to hang themselves.

Chen the Cripple was nearing forty and had never even touched a woman’s hand; his desires were intense. He was capable of any vile act. He often sneaked around to watch women breastfeed their babies, and he would drool over mating dogs to the point of losing his appetite. Rumor had it he had once been seen with a female donkey, though whether that was true or not remained unknown.

That day, after A-Lan died, all the villagers went to look at the spectacle, including Chen the Cripple. Usually, everyone shunned him, but when they saw A-Lan hanging from the beam, no one dared to touch her to bring her down at first. At that moment, they thought of Chen the Cripple. They said that even ghosts feared ugly people, so they called him over before anyone else dared to cut A-Lan's body down.

Chen the Cripple had truly dark tastes. The first moment he saw A-Lan’s corpse, his eyes glazed over. Even though her tongue was hanging out long and horribly ugly from hanging, her body remained unchanged. Chen the Cripple stared at A-Lan's fair, tender body, unwilling to blink, swallowing hard, his soul apparently having wandered off somewhere. He didn't know how she ended up dressed, placed in the coffin, or carried to the embankment; he only followed blankly behind until the moment A-Lan was buried. Only then did he snap back to reality.

At that instant, a thought, a violation of human decency that shook heaven and earth and frightened ghosts, suddenly ignited within him. It burned through his body like a raging fire, turning his eyes red: He would dig up the grave under the cover of a dark, windy night.

As night fell, most of Xiushui Village had gone to bed after dinner. In a dilapidated thatched hut on the west side of the village, Chen the Cripple sat on his worn-out cot, picking at his toes. As he scratched, he pictured A-Lan’s pale body, drooling and restless. But he had patience. He waited until around the third watch before getting off the cot. He threw on a filthy, patched-up overcoat, tucked half a catty of Shaodaozi liquor—earned from half a month of scavenging—into his pocket, grabbed an iron shovel, and headed straight for the river embankment.