The village of Fengxi remained shrouded in darkness after that fateful wedding night. The air grew heavy with a palpable dread that seeped into every corner of the Zhang family manor, clinging to the walls and curling around the throats of its inhabitants. The death of Ying Yue had not only bound her spirit to Liang but had unleashed a curse upon the entire Zhang bloodline.
It began with nightmares. Each male member of the Zhang family, regardless of age, was plagued by horrific visions that twisted their nights into unending terror. Zhang Liang's younger brother, Zhang Wei, was the first to awaken screaming, thrashing against the confines of his bed. His dreams were filled with blood-soaked visions of Ying Yue, her face twisted in agony, her eyes wide with hatred. She chased him through dark forests, her voice echoing in his ears, begging for vengeance, until he was forced to wake, heart pounding, drenched in sweat.
As weeks passed, the dreams continued, infecting every male Zhang. Their father, Zhang Ming, was haunted as well. He could see Ying Yue in the corners of his vision, her blood-red dress flowing like a river of shadow. In his dreams, he dragged her lifeless body into the depths of the forest, her spirit calling out for help. Each time he awoke, he could feel the weight of her gaze, cold and unforgiving.
Then, one stormy night, Ming slipped in the mud while walking to the well, hitting his head on a sharp stone. He never woke again. The villagers whispered of the curse that had befallen the family, shaking their heads in disbelief, yet somehow knowing it was true.
The horrors only grew more vivid. Each male member of the Zhang family was drawn into a twisted web of fate. Zhang Liang's uncle, Zhang Dong, found himself at the center of a violent storm in his dreams, where Ying Yue's spirit twisted and turned in the wind, her anguished cries drowning out the thunder. He awoke gasping, the scent of decay filling his nostrils. That same day, he was crushed by a falling tree while attempting to chop wood, the villagers unable to reach him in time.
The Zhang family's legacy, once proud and thriving, began to rot from the inside out. Each death compounded the suffering, each lost life echoing Ying Yue's rage and grief. The curse spread like a disease, infecting the minds and bodies of all those who carried the Zhang name. It was a cycle of death that could not be broken.
Morning came, but for the Zhang family, it was as dark as the night before. Servants found Liang's body lying lifeless on the floor, his face contorted in horror, his eyes wide open in terror. No one could explain what had happened, but the rumors spread quickly through the village: the dead bride had returned.
In the days that followed, the Zhang family was gripped by fear. Servants began to leave the manor, refusing to stay in a place where the dead walked. The once-grand home felt empty, its halls echoing with the whispers of the past.
The family patriarch, Zhang Wei, dismissed the rumors at first, insisting that his son's death was a tragic accident. But as the days turned to weeks, strange things began to happen in the manor. Footsteps echoed through the halls at night, and the sound of a woman crying could be heard coming from the bridal chamber, though no one was inside.
Zhang Wei's wife, Mei, was the first to break under the strain. She had been the one to arrange the marriage, the one who had bought Ying Yue for their son without a second thought. Guilt gnawed at her, and soon she was plagued by nightmares. In her dreams, Ying Yue stood at the foot of her bed, her blood-red wedding dress soaked in the tears she had shed in life, her hollow eyes burning with rage.
The nightmares grew worse each night until one morning, Mei was found hanging from the same beam where Ying Yue had taken her own life.
The Zhang family was cursed.
Meanwhile, the Lu family, who had once prospered from selling Ying Yue, found themselves haunted by a different kind of horror. Initially, they had rejoiced at the coins received from the marriage, believing themselves free from the burdens of their daughter's life. But as the days turned into weeks, the joy began to fester into something else—an insatiable guilt that gnawed at their insides.
One evening, the villagers found the Lu family gathered in a clearing, kneeling before an empty space as if addressing an unseen presence. Their eyes were wild with fear, and their hands were caked with mud, their bodies trembling. They spoke hurriedly, apologizing to the air, their voices breaking as they begged for forgiveness from the spirit of Ying Yue. The sight was unsettling, the villagers unsure whether to intervene or observe.
The Lu family had grown gaunt and hollow-eyed, even as they clutched their remaining wealth. But money could not quell the gnawing despair they felt, nor could it sate the hunger of their souls. Their nights became consumed by visions of Ying Yue, her ghost appearing in their dreams, wreathed in shadows and whispering tales of revenge. Each of them awoke in cold sweats, their stomachs churning, as they found their dreams increasingly violent.
Despite the wealth they still possessed, the Lu family descended into madness. They began to eat dirt and mud, convinced it would cleanse them of their sins, of the blood they had spilled for profit. With each mouthful, they thought they could silence the anguished cries of the bride they had sold, the daughter they had betrayed.
Weeks passed, and the weight of their actions became unbearable. Their bodies grew frail, their minds unraveling like thread pulled from a tapestry. One by one, they succumbed to starvation, their wealth rendered useless in the face of their self-inflicted torment.
Back in the Zhang household, the curse continued its grim harvest. As more family members succumbed to their nightmares and subsequent accidents, whispers spread through the village about the fates of the men bearing the Zhang name. It became clear to all that the curse would only claim those who were male, bound to the bloodline above the age of twelve. The curse, born from an act of brutality against a young girl whose life had been stolen, would ensure that every male descendant of the Zhang family would suffer, bound to the spirit of Ying Yue and her insatiable hunger for vengeance.
As the last living male Zhang stood alone amidst the ruins of his family, he could feel the oppressive weight of Ying Yue's gaze upon him, a constant reminder of the suffering inflicted and the blood that stained their lineage. The ghosts of the past were not merely echoes—they were alive, demanding retribution, and he knew deep down that the curse would never truly die.
And so it was that the entire bloodline of the Zhang family was cursed. Each male would carry the burden of their ancestors' sins, their lives snuffed out one by one, leaving behind a legacy of darkness and despair. Ying Yue's family, now a ghost of their former selves, would wither away into nothingness, their fate sealed by their own greed, forever haunted by the spirit of the girl they had sold and the curse they had unwittingly spread.