Liu, it seemed, had an ulterior motive for aiding us.
She believed, correctly, that the powerful entity residing within me would one day awaken, becoming a valuable ally.
She was farsighted, that old woman. I would indeed save her life later on, but as I've said before, that's a story for another time.
For now, she focused her attention on the more immediate threat—Ma's wife.
We recounted that fateful day—the beating, the curses hurled at our doorstep, the gruesome discovery on the hillside the very next morning.
"Ah," Liu nodded, puffing on her pipe. "The animals…they are bound to him, you see. To harm him is to harm their master. They were merely exacting revenge. "
It was my father who voiced the question that had been plaguing us: Why the nightly visits? The cryptic messages? Her chilling laughter?
"She is freshly departed," Liu explained, "her power weak. But with each passing day, she grows stronger. On the seventh day…she will reach her full potential." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "She could kill us all."
"But…why target us? Why not harm the animals?"
"She holds onto resentment," she continued, "A darkness festering within. And the animal spirits…their bites have tainted her. She is ripe for transformation. She will become a terrifying thing…a *corpse spirit*."
We shivered. A corpse spirit – half-corpse, half-ghost – was the stuff of nightmares.
"Her body was not stolen," she said grimly. "*She* escaped. She hides even now, gathering her strength. On the seventh day… she will return for vengeance. Her soul and her body—reunited. As a monster. "
The blood drained from our faces.
"What can we do?!"
"We must act before the seventh day," she declared. "Destroy her, body and soul. Only then will she be truly at peace…and we, safe."
"But how?!" my father cried, his voice strained. "She comes and goes as she pleases!"
"She visits you at night," my grandfather reasoned. "Granny Liu will deal with her." He unsheathed his cleaver. "Let her come."
Liu considered this. "We'll need a few things. A black dog. A mature one, purebred. And three roosters. At least three years old, with strong plumage."
My father nodded, relieved that he could at least do *something.* "And what of the child?"
"A shroud," she said pointed to me, "for protection, should the worst happen."
Finding a suitable dog and roosters in our rural community was easy enough.
A shroud for a three-year-old, however, proved more challenging.
In the end, my father had to place a rush order with the shroud maker in the next town.
It would be a day, at least.
Liu reassured us. "Her spirit alone… I can handle that. The shroud… is merely a precaution. "
And so, preparations were made. The dog and roosters were procured. We waited.
Night fell, and with it, an unbearable tension settled over our home.
We huddled together, even Liu's usual bravado shaken.
The hours crawled by. Midnight came and went. The rooster, impatient, crowed its greeting to the pre-dawn light.
The black dog, borrowed for a purpose it didn't understand, curled up and slept.
Ma's wife never came.
"I don't understand…" my grandfather said wearily. "Where was she?"
Liu, puzzled, tapped her pipe. "Perhaps…she sensed my presence. A spirit medium… not to be trifled with. Or perhaps… " She paused. "Perhaps she bide her time. The day after tomorrow…"
A chill ran down my spine. The seventh day.
"And when she returns…she'll be at full strength?" My father could barely contain his fear.
"There is no other way," Liu sighed. "But do not worry. I have given my word. This child will be protected, even if it costs this old woman her life."
And so, Liu remained under our roof, a watchful presence against the looming threat.
Another day passed. Still no sign of Ma's wife. But the fear in the air was thick and suffocating.
My grandfather, unable to bear the inactivity, took his cleaver, the one he had used against the enemy, and honed its edge to a razor sharpness.
Even Liu seemed on edge, her usual aloofness cracking under the strain.
Nightfall. We ate our meal in silence, the weight of impending doom heavy on our hearts.
For all we knew, it might be our last.
As darkness descended, Liu issued her instructions.
"Take the dog," she told my father, "And wait. Beyond the edge of the village. Do not return until the hour of the ox."
My father, confused but obedient, disappeared into the night.
At nine o'clock, an unnatural silence fell over the village.
No crickets chirped. No dogs barked. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Time crept toward eleven. The appointed hour.
My mother, her fear almost unbearable, nevertheless tucked me into bed, holding me close.
My grandfather dragged a heavy bench to the center of the courtyard, taking his position.
His cleaver, a splash of blood-red cloth tied to the hilt, glinted in the moonlight.
"Demons and ghosts… fear a blade that has tasted life," Liu had explained, her voice low and urgent. "A weapon of war. A tool of death."
He was prepared to fight, to die if necessary, to protect the grandson who was his namesake.
Liu stood beside him, her face illuminated by her pipe's glowing ember.
Eleven o'clock passed.
And then, a chill wind whipped through the courtyard, swirling faster, coalescing into a funnel of darkness.
Across the village, dogs erupted in a cacophony of barking.
It was short-lived, ending as abruptly as it began, leaving behind an unnerving quiet.
The air grew frigid. My grandfather, his hand gripping the cleaver's hilt, felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
Footsteps approached. Heavy. Deliberate.
*Thump. Thump.*
A wave of putrid stench washed over us.
Liu straightened, her eyes fixed on the courtyard entrance.
"She is here!"