At this moment, Young Master Liu suspected that the reason Xiu Shui Village hadn't seen rain might be due to the presence of a ‘Hanba’ here. Otherwise, why would the surrounding areas receive rain while only Xiu Shui Village remained dry? By all logic, such a situation defied common sense.

Despite his suspicions, Young Master Liu couldn't quite believe in the existence of flying zombies. Let alone flying ones, he had never even seen a regular zombie with his own eyes. However, he did know of one true incident involving a corpse reanimating—a sight his own father, Old Man Liu, had witnessed firsthand. Not just him, but many people had seen it.

When Young Master Liu was young, there was a boastful neighbor nicknamed Zhao Chuiniu (Zhao the Braggart). His real name was probably Zhao Geming (Zhao the Revolutionary). (For the sake of narrative flow, we shall stick to his nickname!) This fellow, Zhao Tietou (Zhao Iron-Head), shunned honest work, spending his days drinking and bragging incessantly. To use the crude local vernacular, the man was completely useless, dense as wood, and thoroughly irritating. Because he lacked any proper occupation, he was well over forty and still unmarried. Old Man Liu once judged him, saying that Zhao Chuiniu had reached the highest realm of bragging—and what was that highest realm? It was bragging so much that the braggart himself began to believe his own lies.

Yet, he wasn't entirely without merit; he possessed one particular skill: he knew how to dress the deceased in their burial clothes. This task sounded simple, but it was not something just anyone could undertake. Even if one were brave enough to approach a corpse for dressing, it required specific technique, lest one’s own life be easily forfeited. Some might scoff at this, saying, “What nonsense! Putting clothes on a dead person costs you your life? What’s the big deal?”

To explain this, the narrator must elaborate. As everyone knows, when a person dies, they exhale their last breath—what people commonly call “giving up the ghost.” This final breath, once exhaled and settling within the corpse, will, in a short time, transform into Yang Qi—Miasma.

Yang Qi, also known as baleful air, is dangerous. If this breath is exhaled onto a plant, the plant will immediately wither. If it is sprayed onto a person’s face, that person will suffer a sudden, fatal illness. (Note: Suppress your curiosity and absolutely do not test this; I take no responsibility for any consequences!)

Thus, dressing the dead requires great skill; otherwise, one risks catching this Yang Qi. The lucky ones contract a serious illness; the unlucky ones die suddenly.

One day, Zhao Chuiniu had spent the day helping someone build a house. Upon completion, he stayed to drink at the owner’s home. After downing more than a full measure of wine, his words became boundless.

He boasted that in a previous life, he had been the Jade Emperor, that Wu Zetian had served as his minor secretary, and that his manhood—if placed in the Four Great Oceans—would be the Monkey King’s Ruyi Jingu Bang (this was just a small segment; the man had countless more outlandish tales!). In short, he spun tales that spanned heaven and earth, utterly clouding reality, until he downed another half jin of wine and finally headed home.

Zhao Chuiniu was thoroughly pickled, staggering along the street and alley. Before he could even reach his door, he heard someone calling his name. He knew immediately it must be someone seeking his services to dress a corpse. After all, almost nobody sought him out for any other reason.

Zhao Chuiniu’s tongue was numb from the alcohol. He slurred to the person, “You... you... look how drunk I am, can I... can I... still go?” The family whose relative had passed was desperate. They pleaded, “Everything is prepared now; we are just waiting for you to dress the elder. Please hurry. Otherwise, usually this job pays ten yuan, but I’ll give you twenty right now. If you can, come; if not, I’ll find someone else.”

There is an old saying: money makes the mill turn, even if it has to be turned by a ghost. If the money offered is substantial, even making a ghost turn the millstone becomes possible. Especially back in the 1950s, money had real value; one yuan back then was worth hundreds of modern yuan. An ordinary worker earned only about ten yuan a month. Receiving twenty yuan instantly was undeniably tempting for Zhao Chuiniu, who had no steady income.

Some might ask: Wasn’t Zhao Chuiniu drunk? How could he still gauge if the money offered was a lot or a little? To those who ask this, I say they have never truly been drunk. As the saying goes, the body may be drunk, but the heart remains sober; drunkenness only loosens the tongue, the mind remains perfectly clear. Seeing the generous offer, Zhao Chuiniu agreed and went with the person.

The deceased was an old man surnamed Zheng, over seventy years old. His wife had passed away three years prior. He had three sons and two daughters, all reasonably filial; they had taken good care of the old man during his life. After his death, they purchased everything required and arranged everything necessary—nothing was missing, nothing was neglected. The only thing remaining was getting someone to dress the elder in his burial attire.

Zhao Chuiniu, muddled with drink, came for the twenty yuan and immediately began dressing Old Man Zheng without a word of greeting. He was intimately familiar with the procedure, having dressed no fewer than ninety, if not a hundred, deceased elders. But that day, he truly had drunk too much; his movements were sluggish. It took him a long time just to get one sleeve onto Old Man Zheng. As he lifted Old Man Zheng’s head to guide the other sleeve, the full force of the alcohol hit him; he felt the urge to vomit, and a gust of his alcoholic breath sprayed directly onto Old Man Zheng’s face!

The instant Zhao Chuiniu’s breath hit Old Man Zheng’s face, suddenly! Both of the elder’s eyes and mouth snapped open! A blast of intensely foul Yang Qi erupted and sprayed onto Zhao Chuiniu’s face!

Zhao Chuiniu felt his mind turn to mush, like a lump of paste, and he instantly pitched backward onto the heated brick bed (kang). As for Old Man Zheng, he immediately sat bolt upright!

Zhao Chuiniu collapsing and Old Man Zheng sitting up happened in the span of a single moment. The people inside the room hadn't processed what had occurred. By the time they saw the scene clearly, Old Man Zheng was already climbing off the kang!

The room instantly erupted into chaos. Terrified, the onlookers scrambled out like mad, some losing their shoes in their haste. At that moment, Old Man Liu was also attending the funeral, waiting outside because the room was too crowded, smoking and chatting with acquaintances. Seeing everyone pour out into the courtyard, Old Man Liu, not knowing what was happening, asked one of the first men out: “What happened? Why are you all running?” The man’s face was ash-grey with terror. He stammered, “Elder... Elder... Elder Zheng, he... he... he’s risen from the dead!”

Old Man Liu didn't quite believe it at first, thinking perhaps Old Man Zheng hadn't died completely and had merely regained consciousness. He moved to step inside to check. Just then, he saw Old Man Zheng slowly inching his way out, step by painstaking step!

Old Man Liu was terrified speechless. He observed that Old Man Zheng’s eyes were vacant, his face was pale blue, and green slime trickled from the corners of his mouth. Moreover, his legs seemed unable to bend properly; he could only shuffle outward in tiny increments. This bore no resemblance to a living person!

After shuffling into the courtyard, Old Man Zheng did not immediately attack anyone. He slowly walked toward the poplar tree in the center of the yard. When he reached the tree, he spread his arms and grasped it tightly. Many people saw that the old man’s fingers had dug deep into the bark. If he had managed to embrace a person like that, the consequences would have been unthinkable.

Old Man Liu and the other funeral attendees dared not touch Old Man Zheng. After a long pause, seeing that the elder hadn't moved, a few of the braver men cautiously approached and managed to pry his corpse away from the tree. Without further delay, Old Man Zheng’s children burned his body that very day.

But the story didn’t end there. Zhao Chuiniu, the braggart who had reached the apex of boasting, fell gravely ill a few days after being sent home and kicked the bucket, going down to the underworld to continue his bragging sessions with the ghosts. And the poplar tree in Old Man Zheng’s yard withered and died overnight.

Having recounted these true events, alas! Old Ninth has strayed again. Now, let us return to the main subject.