Chapter Five: Lighting the Lamp to Ask the Ghost (Part Two)
Since the widow had instructed my mother to wait, she had no choice but to comply. After all, she had come seeking help, and despite the urgency gnawing at her heart, she had to show the utmost patience and sincerity.
After uttering the command to wait, the widow fell silent once more, closing her eyes. Her whole body shuddered, and she collapsed onto the table, remaining in that position for quite some time before she could regain her composure.
Once she had rested for a few minutes, the widow approached the bed. Ignoring my mother's surprised gaze, she grabbed a blanket and wrapped herself in it, sitting on the bed, her body still trembling slightly.
"Xiuyun..." she stuttered, her teeth chattering. "Could you... please make... a bowl of ginger soup... and bring it to me?"
My mother, without hesitation, agreed and immediately went out to prepare the ginger soup, asking no further questions.
Such was the kindness and simplicity characteristic of people from the mountains. Though she was deeply concerned for her own child, my mother could not bear to see the widow in such a state, and besides, the widow was merely trying to help them in return.
Entering the kitchen, my mother was startled to see someone sitting there. The unexpected sight almost made her jump out of her skin, still on edge from the events.
But as her eyes adjusted, she recognized that it was none other than Zhou's second daughter-in-law sitting by the large stove.
"What are you doing here? With the cold, why aren't you in bed?" Seeing who it was, my mother breathed a sigh of relief and greeted her warmly.
"I'm just tending to the stove, preparing some water to make ginger soup," Zhou's second daughter-in-law replied casually, adding more firewood to the stove.
"Ginger soup? What a coincidence, I'm making some for your sister-in-law as well," my mother said, surprised, as she helped add firewood to the stove alongside her.
"It's for my sister-in-law. She often drinks a bowl after finishing her work, so I thought she would need some this time too," Zhou's second daughter-in-law explained.
"Ah, you two must have a close bond," my mother remarked sincerely, thinking that, if that was truly the case, Zhou's second daughter-in-law must have a great deal of affection for the widow.
"My sister-in-law has had a hard life. I feel sorry for her," Zhou's second daughter-in-law said as she rose to scoop a ladle of water from the large water jar and poured it into the already boiling pot with a 'whoosh'.
My mother wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she simply stood up, grabbed the kitchen knife, and began chopping the ginger laid out on the chopping board.
In the silence of the kitchen, the two women worked together. Before long, a steaming bowl of ginger soup was ready.
Carrying the rough ceramic bowl carefully, my mother left the kitchen. Zhou's second daughter-in-law followed close behind. As my mother stepped out, the second daughter-in-law let out a long, wistful sigh from behind her.
"Xiuyun, my sister-in-law has suffered terribly."
Once again, those words were spoken, and my mother, at a loss for how to respond, stood frozen in silence. However, the next statement from Zhou's second daughter-in-law startled her so badly that she nearly spilled the ginger soup she was holding.
"Sometimes, I feel like if my elder brother hadn't passed away, I wonder if it would have been better or worse for my sister-in-law... her health is deteriorating rapidly."
After speaking these words, Zhou's second daughter-in-law turned and walked back to her room. It seemed she had grown accustomed to such things, and now felt it was simply a way to release some pent-up emotions.
As for my mother, though, after managing to steady her hands, she stood still for a long while, struggling to regain her composure. Her thoughts drifted back to the widow's behavior in the west wing, and then to Zhou's second daughter-in-law's words. At that moment, she was almost convinced, her heart heavy with doubt.
Women, being more emotional than men, often find such matters terrifying yet profoundly moving. It struck a tender chord deep within them. After all, if a couple wasn't deeply devoted to each other, how could they endure the divide between life and death and still long to be together?
With these thoughts, my mother found herself growing more sympathetic towards the widow, and even her gaze softened. As she returned to the dimly lit west wing with the ginger soup, her fear had somewhat subsided.
Holding the ginger soup, my mother fed it to the widow, her actions gentler than before. After the last sip, my mother, unable to resist, reached for the widow's hand in an attempt to warm it. But as soon as she touched it, she was struck by how chillingly cold it was.
The widow pulled her hand away, shaking her head, her eyes clearly indicating that it didn't matter to her—that she was willing.
Something dawned on my mother. The widow was aware of the situation, and it was clear that in this sudden turn of events, the widow had no choice but to act swiftly. She had no time to follow old patterns. In the past, when she conducted her "business," she always entered the room alone, after all.
If my mother hadn't sensed something was amiss, the widow herself would have been incredulous.
In that moment, the two women silently exchanged a mutual understanding.
Pointing to a stool, the widow gestured for my mother to sit. She turned her head, and began muttering again in that strange, rapid manner, likely discussing something important. Her expressions were vivid, her words quick, and she even used some gestures.
My mother waited patiently, reflecting on Zhou's second daughter-in-law's earlier words. The scene before her felt like an intimate conversation between two spouses. Sadly, though, their bond seemed more distant than the vast expanse of the world itself.
As she observed this couple, my mother couldn't help but think of the deep affection she shared with my father. She wondered, if one of them were to depart first, would they also make such a choice? Lost in her thoughts, my mother found herself shedding tears.
This was something only my mother could feel; had it been my father, with his coarse sensibilities, he would have likely been overcome by nothing but a sense of eerie dread.
Just as my mother sank into a melancholic reverie, the widow abruptly stopped her muttering. Her body shook once more, and she opened her eyes. Tossing aside the blanket, she sat across from my mother at the table.
This time, there were no pleasantries. The widow spoke plainly: "I am Zhou Da."
Though my mother had mentally prepared herself for the presence of Zhou Da, hearing the widow declare herself as such sent a chill through her. She sprang to her feet, then, after a long pause, slowly sank back down.
Could this truly be possession? My mother, who had never ventured far from the village, might not know much, but she had certainly heard stories of ghosts and spirits. The notion of "possession" was not beyond her understanding.
But the woman sitting before her, or rather, Zhou Da, seemed uninterested in engaging in small talk. Without delay, she got straight to the point: "I don't know what happened to your child, but as soon as you brought him in, I saw a whole group of fierce, like-minded beings with him. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Upon hearing these words, my mother's face turned ashen. One entity was frightening enough, but a whole group? How could she possibly cope with such a thing?
The thought that I am constantly surrounded day and night by a horde of restless spirits, that my home is filled with them, drove my mother to the brink of madness. She lost all clarity in that moment, trembling with fear, and in a panicked voice, she began to call out, "Old Chen, Old Chen..."
At that moment, she desperately needed the guidance of a man in the family.
However, before her voice had even faded, Zhou Da loudly interjected, "Do not shout. The male body is imbued with too much Yang energy; I cannot withstand such an assault."
Fortunately, my father was in Zhou Er's room at the time, and likely did not hear my mother's faint cry, which was made all the more quivering by her fear.
Yet, Zhou Da's words brought a modicum of calm back to my mother. With that revelation, she was no longer so terrified by him; the fact that the ghost could not withstand the clash of Yang energy was a reminder that even ghosts have their limits.
In other words, her son might still have hope.
Not waiting for my mother to ask, Zhou Da continued speaking, "Do not hold it against me. I have lingered too long in the mortal realm, and I am quite weakened. The moment you entered with your son, I knew this was no simple matter. I never intended to stir trouble, but I could not refuse my wife's request."
He sighed heavily, muttering under his breath, "Praying for merit is useless… No matter how much merit I or Yuehong accumulate, it's of no use."
Zhou Da's words were undeniably sorrowful, but my mother, having heard of the spirits surrounding her son, had no mind to dwell on Zhou Da and his wife's troubles. All she cared about was for Zhou Da to explain further and clarify the situation.
She was certain that if there were truly no solution, the couple would not have spent so long muttering, nor would they have appeared as if they had something to say.
At this moment, my mother had fully regained her composure, allowing her to think more clearly. This was a testament to the sharp intellect women possess and their greater adaptability to adversity compared to men.
As expected, Zhou Da, pleased by my mother's calm demeanor, continued speaking, "They threatened me. I originally wanted to check your son's crown to see if there was any death energy, but as soon as I looked, they bared their teeth and threatened me. They are vengeful spirits—wild and full of resentment, lingering in the mortal realm. They are unlike me, and no matter how small, I must avoid even one of them, let alone a whole group. Therefore, I am helpless."
"Then, what should we do?" My mother finally asked, her voice trembling as the terror of what Zhou Da described—these malicious beings clinging to her son—was too much to bear.
"Let me finish," Zhou Da raised his hand, signaling her to wait, and continued, "The eyes of ghosts are different from those of humans. I don't have great powers, but I can still discern a person's luck. For example, if someone is destined for good fortune, there will be a red glow on their crown, and I would avoid them from afar. If a person has no fortune or misfortune, their crown will be empty. But if there's misfortune, there will be gray energy, and if black energy appears, it means death is near, or at the very least, serious illness. I intended to do my duty and help your son, checking for death energy, and informing you of what clings to him. But when I looked, it felt unclear. I wanted you to bring him closer for a better look, but I was threatened. When I managed to peer at him, I saw a faint yellow glow on his crown. And that... I truly don't understand."
Having spoken so much in one breath, Zhou Da finally gave my mother some clarity. But from his words, it was evident he had no real solution. My mother's question seemed to have been in vain.
"Is that really all there is for my son?" My mother's heart broke as she asked, once full of hope that Zhou Da could help, but now realizing the harsh truth that such hope might be futile.
Yet, a fierce unwillingness burned within her. The pain of helplessness drove her to ask again, desperately seeking a solution.
"Well..." Zhou Da's face flickered with hesitation, and it was clear that he himself was uncertain.
Upon seeing this hesitation, my mother's eyes filled with both pleading and hope as she turned her gaze towards him.