I had read countless accounts of corpse reanimation in my grandfather's books but had never experienced it firsthand.
Now, Uncle Three was taking me to retrieve a reanimated female corpse, and I couldn't help feeling a bit apprehensive.
Yet, the thrill of the unknown quickly washed over me. Do zombies really exist? Do they attack people? Are they truly monstrous with green faces and ferocious fangs?
Amidst this mix of nervous excitement, the car bumped along the rough road, finally reaching our destination as the sun began to dip below the horizon.
At the foot of Maiden's End Mountain, several plainly dressed villagers had been anxiously waiting. Seeing our car approach, they quickly gathered around.
Uncle Three, known for his efficiency, promptly enlisted the help of some robust villagers and instructed me to grab the briefcase from the car and follow him up the mountain.
I knew Uncle Three was concerned about the setting sun and the rising yin energy, fearing that the female corpse would become unmanageable after dark.
We followed the mountain path for over twenty minutes, and from a distance, we could see a dark silhouette swinging rhythmically from a crooked tree.
As we drew closer, whether it was the wind or some other force, the corpse eerily turned its head towards us, its purplish face breaking into a grin.
I was startled. Even though the sun was obscured by dense clouds, it was still daytime. For the corpse to boldly turn and look at us in broad daylight was a frightening display of its malign force.
And a smiling corpse? Could it be the dreaded 'smiling dead' my grandfather had spoken of?
Uncle Three, with a grave expression, ordered, "Don't just stand there. Xiao Jiu, bring the stuff."
I handed him the briefcase, and he extracted a length of rope, a pair of sharp stakes, and a bottle of potent liquor.
The rope was a 'binding corpse rope,' the stakes were 'corpse nails,' and the liquor, infused with various precious herbs and fortified under the sun through a process of triple distillation and triple sunning, was intended to shock and awe any malevolent spirits.
He wrapped the rope around his waist, pinned the stakes to his collar, and after shaking the liquor, handed it to me, saying, "This is to shock the spirits, understand?"
I nodded vigorously. The area was thick with the dead, and Uncle Three was also concerned about any lurking spirits, so he began by spraying the liquor to deter any restless ghosts.
Once prepared, he announced to the onlookers, "Bind the body to the willow, but keep away from the tree itself to avoid bewitchment."
Two villagers obediently took the rope, one on each end, and began to encircle the tree with it.
The rope, originally a piece of white silk imbued with cinnabar, was an ideal material for wrapping corpses.
With Uncle Three's presence, everyone felt emboldened. They started binding, circling the tree twice, soon securing Xiao Yan'er along with her arms to the crooked tree.
Strangely, the body, which had been swaying with the wind, began to exhibit rapid growth in its nails and teeth once bound, startling everyone into retreating.
But Uncle Three was crucial in that moment. He retrieved a corpse nail from his collar, aimed it at Xiao Yan'er's chest, and taking a hammer I passed to him, drove it into her heart without hesitation.
The nail disrupted the corpse's meridians—knowing that movement in a corpse comes from undecomposed sinews and bones. As the nail penetrated the woman's chest, she convulsed violently, emitting a ghastly, animal-like scream.
The bystanders were terrified, nearly scattering, and someone muttered in fear, "My goodness, Xiao Yan'er is really coming back to life!"
With the corpse securely bound to the tree and a nail in her heart, even as darkness fell, it seemed unlikely she would cause any more trouble. I thought Uncle Three would now remove the body, but instead, he broke a willow branch off the tree, pulled out a glass bottle from his belt, and held it to the corpse's mouth.
Then, he fiercely whipped the body with the willow branch. As the corpse opened its mouth slightly, a stream of black vapor was expelled into the bottle.
This vapor, denser than air, settled at the bottom of the bottle. Uncle Three continued this process several times, each strike coaxing another breath of dark air from her.
When no more vapor came forth, Uncle Three finally relaxed and declared, "Done."
Looking at the corpse again, it had become listless, its nails and fangs retracted.
A villager cautiously asked, "Can we collect the body now?"
"Get a coffin, take the body down and send it to the crematorium," instructed Uncle Three. "Also, bring some gasoline up here later; we're going to burn this tree."
A villager protested, "The body can be cremated, sure, but this tree is centuries old—burning it might not sit well."
Uncle Three scoffed, "This tree has lived for over a hundred years, its roots spread far and wide. Who knows how many women have died and fed it with their flesh and blood?"
"With the nourishment of their grievances, this thing is nearly sentient. Look at the patterns on the bark—don't they resemble human faces?"
I looked closely and indeed, the tree's bark seemed to depict the faces of women with closed eyes.
I suddenly remembered Xiao Yan'er's husband, who reportedly went mad and died under this tree, likely influenced by its malevolent aura.
The villagers probably realized this too, and the white-haired elder commanded, "Go get the gasoline! And two more to help take down the body!"
As the villagers busied themselves, Uncle Three lit a cigarette and waved me over, asking, "Scared?"
I shook my head, indicating no fear.
He chuckled and added, "Much braver than your worthless father."
"How much of your grandfather's skills have you learned?"
I felt a sting at his disparagement of my father and responded somewhat irritably, "I didn't learn directly from my grandfather, but I read a lot of his books."
Uncle Three's drooping eyelids lifted, his eyes brightening slightly, "How many books?"
"All of them," I replied.
In six years, I had read nearly every book in my grandfather's house, clearly remembering the strange tales and somewhat recalling the academic texts on geomancy.
Uncle Three clapped me on the shoulder and laughed heartily, "Not bad, much better than your useless father!"
This was the second time he had insulted my father, first calling him weak, then useless, which made me visibly displeased.
"Don't be upset," he said. "Before you came, your father probably called me a bastard countless times. Can't I return the favor?"
I remembered the eve of my departure, my father indeed cursing endlessly. Realizing this, I felt a sense of resignation; after all, the insults were even now.
Seeing my composure, Uncle Three patted my shoulder and continued, "Nephew, since Old Master Zhang sent you here, I won't hold back."
"I'll have Old Zhou take you back later. Watch my shop for a few days. If anyone comes to buy funeral wreaths or shrouds, tell them to get lost. If anyone comes seeking services, ignore them, no matter how much they offer. Got it?"