Chapter 10: Do Not Eat Random Things at Midnight

Grandpa Gu’s full name was Gu Dongfeng. Decades ago, he was a figure of legendary renown. The number of enemy soldiers who died by his hand was at least eighty, if not a hundred. It wasn’t until much later that I learned Grandpa Gu had lost his left eye to a knife while saving my own grandfather. Despite the agonizing pain, he dragged my grandfather out from a pile of corpses, the ordeal forging a life-and-death bond between them. For years amid the chaos, my grandfather stayed by his side.

As Grandpa Gu put it, my grandfather was still young back then, not much older than I am now, but his mind was always off in strange places. Scaring young women by sneaking around the latrines was the least of his antics. Once, he smeared a whole basin of cow dung on their captain’s face. The captain was so furious he nearly beat him to death with a horsewhip, but my grandfather insisted it was to save him.

Mischief and trouble were my grandfather’s trademarks, but he did save a fair number of lives and settled his share of supernatural disturbances. After the war ended, my grandfather left Grandpa Gu his address—Three-Foot Alley in the Jianghuai region—then departed to pursue his own life.

Decades passed in a flash; I’m now eighteen. This was the first time Gu Dongfeng had come searching for my grandfather.

“Jiang Huai, go make a pot of tea, Longjing if you know how!”

Grandpa was so used to ordering me around that I barely had time to settle in before he called for me again. I had no choice; after all, he was my grandfather.

Once the tea was ready and brought out, instead of sending me away, Grandpa pulled me by the hand and stood me before Grandpa Gu. With a beaming, proud smile, Grandpa looked at his old friend. “Old Gu, that task you wanted me for—look at me, I’m too old for running around like a monkey. You’d like to eat at my funeral, wouldn’t you?”

He patted my hand and said, “Find him. My eldest grandson isn’t much for book learning—just got dismissed from school a few days ago—but in my eyes, he’s the best!”

Grandpa raised his thumb proudly. “The student surpasses the master—he’s even better than I was!”

“Little Jiang, look at you! He’s just a child! Why aren’t you letting him go to school?” Grandpa Gu, full of concern, pulled me to sit beside him. “Son, is your grandpa bullying you? Tell me, I’ll give him a good beating.”

“All right, enough of that. No one’s bullying the boy. Old Gu, whatever you need, Jiang Huai will handle it for you. Come, let’s eat first, then talk after.”

Grandpa Gu tried to decline, but my grandfather caught his hand, speaking with rare solemnity. “Old Gu, how many more times do we old men have left? Life is short. I’ve waited decades for this meal. Who knows—next time we eat, it may be at one of our funerals.”

Such words left no room for refusal, not even for Grandpa Gu, who was clearly burdened with worry.

At the table, the two old men reminisced about the past and gradually revealed to me the trouble that had brought Grandpa Gu here. More precisely, it was his grandson who was in trouble.

His grandson, Gu Yu, is ten years my senior. Honest and good-natured, like Grandpa Gu, a farmer who just started his own family this year. But a month ago, while drinking at his father-in-law’s house in the neighboring village, Gu Yu got rather drunk. Late at night, hoping to take a shortcut home, he cut through the grave-mound between the two villages.

Halfway across, the liquor muddled his vision—he saw two moons in the sky. He sat down to rest on a white tombstone. When a man’s drunk, there’s little he won’t do. With the drink emboldening him and a sudden urge to relieve himself, his legs too weak to stand, he simply undid his trousers and urinated right there on the stone.

Feeling much better, he pulled up his pants, leaned back against the tombstone, and promptly fell asleep.

How long he slept, he couldn’t say. In a daze, he caught the scent of roast chicken, rich and tantalizing. The aroma grew ever stronger until, as he opened his eyes, a glistening, fragrant roast chicken appeared before him.

He saw, half-awake, a shifty-eyed, rat-faced middle-aged man holding the chicken, grinning oddly as he waved it in front of him. The man said if Gu Yu wanted to eat, he could buy it. No money? No matter—his own skin would do as payment.

Entranced by hunger and that intoxicating aroma, Gu Yu agreed without hesitation. The man handed him the chicken, chuckled, and promised to return within seven days to collect what was his.

Gu Yu feasted happily, eating his fill before dozing off again. When he finally woke, daylight had broken—and a foul stench filled his mouth. Looking down, he saw he was sprawled atop a grave marker, with the long-dead body of a rooster beside him. His mouth and clothes were smeared with feathers and blood.

Terrified by the sight, Gu Yu raced home and told Grandpa Gu and his wife everything.

That night, he developed a fever and his mind began to cloud.

He was taken to the hospital, given injections to bring down the fever, but nothing helped. On the seventh day, Gu Yu awoke, but he was a changed man. He glared fiercely at everyone, demanding chicken—prepared every way imaginable—whenever he saw Grandpa Gu.

Days passed, and his condition only worsened. He prowled the yard at night, catching live chickens to devour raw, and even knelt and bowed to the moon.

When the barefoot village doctor returned and heard the story, he slapped his thigh in certainty: Gu Yu had been possessed by an evil spirit. The doctor tried to help but ended up half-dead himself. He dared not get involved any further, advising Grandpa Gu to seek a real master, or else Gu Yu would be lost for good after forty-nine days.

Desperate and at a loss, Grandpa Gu chanced upon the old slip of paper with my grandfather’s address. The memories, long buried, came flooding back. Without explaining to his family, he traveled alone for three days until he reached Three-Foot Alley in Jianghuai.

Grandpa, sighing, picked food for Grandpa Gu as he chided him, “Old Gu, you’re as tough as ever! At your age, you walked three days on foot! Why didn’t you just send a young man with a message? I would have come myself!”

His tone held a mix of reproach and worry.

“This braised pork is just right—I remember you used to love it above all else.”

“Good, good…” Grandpa Gu ate, tears slipping down his cheeks.

After patting his old friend on the shoulder, Grandpa turned to me. “Boy, do this well for me. Don’t let your grandfather down, understand?”

Before I could reply, he added, “If you handle this properly, I won’t make you pay for the hemp rope.”

I looked at Grandpa in surprise, but for whatever reason, as long as I didn’t have to pay for the rope, I’d do anything.

I rose to my feet, raised three fingers of my right hand to the sky, and declared, “Don’t worry, Grandpa. If I fail, I’ll crawl back here on my knees!”