I woke up at dusk the next day.
The setting sun shone through the hole in the wooden door, warm on my face. I was still lying in the yard, my whole body sore as if beaten inside a sack. The bruise on my chest throbbed painfully at the slightest touch.
The bronze coffin in the corner remained, lid tightly sealed, as if never opened. But I could not forget that drop of blood, nor the character on the ground: Run.
Was Grandpa telling me to flee? Flee where? From what?
I struggled to my feet and walked to the coffin. The runes glowed dim green in the sunset. Touching it, I still felt the bone-deep cold—but the sense of a living presence inside was gone.
Soon footsteps approached. The village chief entered with a bowl of hot porridge. He sighed in relief when he saw me standing.
"Xiao Jiu, you're awake at last. After you fainted, none of us dared come near. It was terrifying… was your grandfather really possessed?"
I said nothing, taking the porridge and sipping slowly. It was thick, but when I swallowed, my throat tasted only iron—my own blood, not yet fully spat out.
"Chief, did Grandpa ever say anything strange to you before he died?"He thought for a moment, his face uneasy.
"Your grandpa was always a bit mystical. But three days before he passed, he did seek me out."
"What did he say?"
"He said if he died, hold no funeral, no wake. Cremate him the same day. And he told me to pass a message to you: leave Yin Village at once, and never come back."
I squeezed the bowl until my knuckles whitened.
Grandpa told me to run. The blood in the coffin told me to run. Yet the evil thing said I was more useful alive. Who was telling the truth?
"Chief… Grandpa wasn't from here, was he? How did he come to Yin Village?"
After a long hesitation, he spoke.
"He moved here thirty years ago. When he arrived, he carried that bronze coffin on his back and a newborn baby in his arms—that was you."
I froze.
"He said your parents were dead and he was your grandfather. He wouldn't say anything else. The villagers took pity on him and let him stay. Later he opened this coffin shop, helped many people with yin affairs, so everyone respected him. No one pressed for his past."
Thirty years.
Grandpa had brought me to Yin Village since I was born. Then who were my parents? Were they really gone?
Or was the thing trapped in the bronze coffin not some ancient evil, but something closely tied to my own origins?
It had said Grandpa guarded it for thirty years. Thirty years was exactly how long I had lived.
I dared not think further. My mind was in chaos.
"Chief, which way did that thing go?"
"North. Into the Ghost Howl Ridge behind the mountain."
Ghost Howl Ridge was a place villagers feared to speak of, shrouded in year-round mist. Those who entered rarely returned. Even the few who did were driven mad. Grandpa had strictly forbidden me from stepping foot there in my entire life.
But now, I had no choice.
Grandpa was still inside that coffin. I could not leave him there.
I finished the porridge, wiped my mouth, and said:
"Please watch the shop for a day. I have something to do."
"You're going to Ghost Howl Ridge?" The chief turned pale and grabbed me. "Xiao Jiu, are you insane? Even your grandfather fell to that thing. You'll die in there!"
"I know," I cut him off firmly. "But my grandfather is still in that coffin. I can't leave him alone."
The chief opened his mouth, then sighed. He pulled a crumpled yellow talisman from his pocket and pressed it into my hand.
"This was given to me by your grandpa years ago. He said it could save my life in danger. I don't need it. Take it."
I glanced at the talisman, and my heart sank.
It was no ordinary exorcism charm. It was the Chen family's ancestral guide talisman, used by yin walkers to find their way back from the underworld. By giving it to the chief, Grandpa had known he would never return.
He had planned everything. He had gone willingly to his death.
No—he was not dying. He was trading. Trading his life to release whatever was inside the bronze coffin.
I tucked the talisman into my clothes, then pulled out a wooden box from under the counter. It had no lock. Grandpa had taught me: smear blood on the yin-yang fish carving, turn left three times, right three times, and it would open.
Inside lay three items.
A rusted copper coin sword, palm-sized, strung with seven darkened coins. Grandpa called it the Seven-Coin Soul-Severing Sword, an heirloom of the Chen yin walkers.
A yellowed handwritten book titled Yin Walking Records, filled with strange incidents Grandpa had encountered over the years, along with rules and taboos of the craft.
And an old photograph, edges curled. It showed a younger Grandpa in a Zhongshan suit, standing beside a woman in a floral qipao, holding a newborn baby, smiling gently.
On the back was written:
Jiu'er, one hundred days old. Photo taken at Chen family old residence with parents.
My hands trembled. Grandpa's Yin Walking Records never once mentioned my parents, as if they had never existed—as if I had simply appeared in his arms.
A secret lay hidden here. Grandpa had been lying to me all along.
I put the three items away, slung the box over my back, and prepared to leave.
Passing the bronze coffin, I paused. I could clearly feel something inside watching me—not malicious, almost worried.
I placed a hand on the lid and whispered:
"Grandpa, no matter what's trapped in here, I will save you."
No response came from inside. But I knew he had heard.I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Night had fallen. The path to Ghost Howl Ridge stretched like a deep wound into the dark mountains.
I did not know what waited ahead. I only knew Grandpa was waiting for me.
I gripped the Seven-Coin Sword and stepped onto the path of no return.
I had not gone far when the chief's shout came from behind.
"Xiao Jiu! Come back!"
I turned. The chief stood at the village entrance holding an oil lamp, flame flickering in the wind, his face ashen and panicked.
"What's wrong?" I called.
He ran toward me, voice shaking.
"After you left, I checked the bronze coffin again. There are… words on it!"
My heart jolted. I sprinted back. Inside the shop, I saw the characters at once.
Somehow, bright red words had appeared on the coffin lid, written as if with a finger dipped in blood:
Do not go. It has been waiting for you.
I recognized the handwriting. It was Grandpa's.