Early the next morning, I went to look for the village chief.
He lived in an old mansion at the east end of the village, the largest house in Yin Village. It was said that his great-great-grandfather had been the village chief of Yin Village, and the position had been passed down for generations. His family was extremely well-established.
I knocked on the door.
No answer.
I knocked a few more times, still nothing.
The door wasn't locked. I pushed it open and stepped inside.
The courtyard was deathly quiet. The old mansion faced south, its main hall door wide open, wafting out a thick scent of sandalwood. I walked over and peeked inside.
The village chief was kneeling before a shrine in the main hall, his back to the door, motionless.
On the shrine, there were no ancestral tablets, no Buddha statues—only a black stone. It was no bigger than a fist, irregular in shape, with a surface polished smooth as silk.
In front of the stone stood three bowls of offerings: a bowl of rice, a bowl of water, and a bowl of blood.
The blood was fresh, with clots still half-coagulated at the bottom.
"Village Chief?" I called out.
His shoulders flinched. Then he slowly turned his head.
He looked terrible. Sallow-skinned, with dark rings around his eyes and cracked lips, as if he hadn't slept in days. But what disturbed me most were his eyes—his pupils were not black, but a deep, dark red.
It wasn't bloodshot. The iris itself had changed color.
"Xiao Jiu?" When he saw me, his face flickered with panic, then he forced a smile. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to ask you something." I stepped into the main hall and glanced at the black stone on the shrine. "What is that?"
"Oh, this?" He stood up and blocked the shrine from my view. "Something passed down from my ancestors, to keep the house safe. Nothing worth seeing."
He didn't want me to look at it.
But I'd already seen enough.
Carved into the black stone was a rune—exactly the same one as on the bronze coffin.
"Village Chief, what exactly is your relationship with my grandfather?" I asked.
His smile froze.
"Xiao Jiu, what are you talking about?"
"You knew about my grandfather's Yin Passage Well. You have his Yin Road copper coins. And now there's a rune in your house identical to the one on the bronze coffin." I stepped forward, staring straight into his eyes. "You're not an ordinary villager. Who are you, really?"
The village chief fell silent.
For a very long time.
At last, he let out a heavy sigh, walked to the shrine, took down the black stone, and placed it in my hand.
"Your grandfather told me not to tell you," he said. "But with how things are now, you deserve to know the truth."
"Know what?"
"I am not from Yin Village," he said. "I am from the Chen family."
"What?"
"My real name is Chen Shoutian. Your grandfather, Chen Jingxing, is my elder male cousin. We are both Yin Walkers of the Chen clan, from the same generation."
My eyes widened in shock.
The village chief—no, Chen Shoutian—shook his head with a bitter laugh. "Your grandfather never told you that the Chen family has more than just your branch. We Yin Walkers are split into two lines: one guards the coffin in the living world, the other guards the well in the underworld. Your grandfather was the coffin guardian. I am the well guardian."
"Guard the well? The Yin Passage Well?"
"Yes." Chen Shoutian said, "My line has guarded Yin Village for generations, watching over the Yin Passage Well. It was no coincidence that your grandfather brought you here thirty years ago. He came looking for me."
"What for?"
"Because whatever is inside that bronze coffin is trying to break free." Chen Shoutian lowered his voice. "Thirty years ago, your father went down the well for the last time… and never came back. Your grandfather said the thing in the bronze coffin caught your father's scent and started growing restless. He had to find a place to seal it away for good."
"So he brought the bronze coffin to Yin Village."
"Exactly. He opened a coffin shop here, pretending to be an ordinary Yin Walker, but in truth, he was guarding that coffin. And I acted as village chief, seemingly in charge of the village, but really guarding that well."
"One of you guarded the coffin, the other the well."
"Yes." Chen Shoutian said, "But your grandfather had it far worse. The thing inside that coffin grew more unruly by the day. His health was slowly drained away by it, bit by bit."
"What exactly is that thing?"
Chen Shoutian looked at me, hesitating for a long while.
"Your grandfather was right not to tell you," he said. "But you're grown now. It's time you knew."
"Inside that bronze coffin is locked the ancestor of the Chen family."