Don’t worry — I’m here
I asked because I could feel it: my soul hovering loose, the only thing that still seemed to have any control over this trembling body. My legs were shaking so hard I was certain I might collapse to my knees.
“Gu Yuan, are you there? Please—answer me.”
My voice came out choked, each word threaded with sobs. Being a lone girl in a place like this wasn’t just frightening — it felt like my heart had already dropped into my boots. The terror was so thick I dared not draw a full breath. I stood in the dim light of the wooden inn, turning slowly to take everything in. I wanted to run, but my limbs felt like dead weights.
The paper talismans over the hopping corpses’ brows had fallen off, but Gu Yuan had cloaked me somehow. They couldn’t see me. Still, they seemed to sense life. The corpses weren’t content to stand tucked in their coffins any longer; they were bursting out with jerking, flailing hops, searching for any scent of the living.
Several times a corpse in Qing-dynasty garb came so close I could have smelled its breath, then, as if distracted by something else, it veered away at the last second.
Only after one of them left did I risk shifting my gaze toward the door. Honestly, without Gu Yuan here I didn’t know if I could make it. I had to get out of there. I started to drag my trembling legs forward when suddenly my spine straightened and his voice filled my head.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”
“Ah — so you were here the whole time? Why didn’t you say something?” Hearing him didn’t erase the fear, but it steadied me. I felt like crying — right then, of all times, he decides to tease me.
“The four corpses had an issue. I just finished dealing with them. Don’t worry. If you’re in danger, I’ll be there first.”
Those words warmed something cold and raw inside me.
Maybe it was our exchange that drew the corpses’ attention again. They were hopping closer, and although Gu Yuan’s spirit was within me and he could see them, I still felt panic like a living thing gnawing at my bones.
“Let’s go. This place creeps me out.” I couldn’t have exaggerated if I tried. The inn was a nightmare; had Gu Yuan stayed silent any longer I might have wet myself right there. Dozens of corpses circled a single, trembling girl. Even a braver man would have been scared to death.
Gu Yuan stepped out of my body like a shadow shifting free. His tall figure blotted out what little light there was; then he pulled me hard into his arms.
“Still scared?” he asked.
Stupid. This wasn’t some playground hug between lovers, where one embrace solved everything. And yet, the instant I leaned against him I felt a steadiness I couldn’t explain — a leash on the terror.
“A little,” I confessed, letting myself be small in his hold.
“Don’t be. Wait a bit—we’re waiting for someone. They’ll be here soon.” He stroked my hair as if calming a child, softening my edges.
Not long after, someone pushed through the ragged wooden door.
Gu Yuan gripped my hand and we melted back against a support beam. I nestled against him and, careful as a cat, peeked around to see who'd come.
An old man in a faded yellow robe shuffled in. His face was sharp and contorted like a monkey’s; his teeth stuck out a little. His scraggly sideburns stuck out like tufts of straw. He brandished a small copper bell and moved with surprising agility among the hopping corpses, intoning a chant under his breath. The corpses, oddly obedient, fell into a straight line at his direction.
Working down the line, the man pressed yellow talismans to each corpse’s forehead. A shake of the bell, and each corpse jumped once as if startled, then kept in motion until they were all back in their coffins. The corpse-herder — that’s what he was — looked up and croaked in a harsh voice, “Don’t worry. You’ll be going home soon.”
Outside, footsteps crunched on the snow. “It’s blowing out there. Come in!” the corpse-herder called.
Two men in black pushed through the door. They froze at the sight of the room full of corpses, then the corpse-herder waved them off. “They won’t hurt anyone without my command.”
The men in black tipped down their caps. “The lady’s people — where are they?”
The corpse-herder wasn’t in any hurry. He took a long drag on a pipe, slammed it down, and rapped the lid of a coffin nearby. “Four. Pay up and they’ll go with you.” He counted the corpses, then leaned over the coffin by my aunt and gunned it once with his foot.
The four bodies toppled out as if pushed and shuffled along behind the corpse-herder. The men in black handed over two crates of old banknotes. He flicked through them, satisfied, and nudged the four corpses back under the boards. “They’re ready,” he said, and the bodies sprang out, joining the procession as if called.
Only after they’d gone did I wrench myself from Gu Yuan’s embrace. “Hurry,” I hissed. I hadn’t wanted to stay another second.
I bolted, pushing through the door into the night.
Outside, under the old pear tree, snow flakes swirled and the ground reflected the same gray light as the sky. For the first time since the inn, I felt the truth of my pulse: I was still alive.
I tracked their footprints across the packed snow, following Gu Yuan’s silhouette. The four moved fast; keeping up was a struggle, but I forced my legs until we reached our destination.
It was the burial mound where my cousin was laid to rest.
Even in the dead of night, a funeral pyre burned at the grave, sparks leaping into the cold. It was eerie enough to make your skin crawl.
“Madam, we’ve brought them,” one of the men in black announced as they approached the fire.
I huddled behind a tree, watching through the rip of flame. The woman by the pyre was unmistakable — the same face as my cousin, as if cast from the same mold, but sharper, smarter. She wore a white mink coat and held a stick, shuffling the burning paper on the grave. Her skin was the color of old porcelain; her eyes were rimmed red, as if they’d been wept raw.
“Bring them over,” she said, dropping the stick. She rose and sat on a wooden stump near the headstone, an implacable chill curling from her like frost. Everything about her said: don’t cross me.
The corpse-herder rang his bell, and the four corpses were herded before the grave. “Madam Ma, here are the people you asked for.”
He gave each one a hard kick in the knee. They folded with heavy thuds and knelt before the headstone, a grotesque mirror of supplication.
Madam Ma looked them over with thin contempt. No hint of fear touched her expression. Her voice was cold and hard as a blade. “Only four? I needed eight.”
Eight? That would include my parents and Wang Bao. Who was the fourth? My skin went cold at the thought. Could she be talking about me?