I reacted quickly and caught the woman's limp body.
The skin on the back of her neck felt as cold as raw iron when my palm touched it.
The black blood flowing from her seven orifices congealed on the ground into purplish-black patches, with fine bubbles around the edges.
What's even more surprising is that as the blood flowed out, a burnt rubber-like odor filled the air.
"Wake up! Girl, wake up!"
I pinched her philtrum and used my other hand to tear open her clothes.
A bluish-gray palm print appeared on her chest at some unknown time, with five finger marks so clear it looked like it had just been pressed on.
I found the sachet for warding off evil spirits left by Yingniang in the drawer.
Crushed mugwort mixed with cinnabar was sprinkled on the palm print, and black blood actually crawled up the lines to the wrist.
The woman suddenly convulsed violently, making gurgling sounds in her throat.
I grabbed the barley tea from the table and poured it into her mouth. The warm tea made her eyelids flutter.
"Don't panic, you've been possessed by something evil."
I pulled out a paperweight and pressed it against her wrist, the string of five ancient coins casting a distorted shadow under her skin: "Is there something you haven't told me?"
She stared at Yingniang's portrait on the shrine, her fingers unconsciously stroking the red cloth bundle.
"No, it's nothing... It's just that my family has been acting a bit strange lately..."
Before he could finish speaking, he coughed violently again, and a few wood chips fell out from under his fingernails. Upon closer inspection, they turned out to be the lacquer from an old-fashioned carved cabinet.
"How is it strange?"
I poured her a glass of warm water and handed it to her.
Her hands were still trembling as she took the cup.
"My husband, Tiger Cub, used to be a teetotaler, but now he drinks baijiu (Chinese liquor) in front of the mirror in the middle of the night."
"His mother suddenly stopped putting salt in the dishes, saying, 'Too much salt will attract bad luck...'"
She suddenly shuddered: "The scariest thing is my father-in-law. He used to not even know how to play chess, but now he sets up a chessboard in the living room in the middle of the night, with all the pieces upside down."
I noticed the wood shavings stuck to her cuffs and the badly worn edges of the talisman paper peeking out from the red cloth bag, clearly old items that she had carried close to her body for a long time.
When did this change begin?
She frowned as she recalled, her fingernails unconsciously digging into the rim of the cup.
"It seems like it was last month... No, it should be earlier..."
Suddenly, he slapped his thigh, splashing water from his cup onto the shrine. "That's it! It's that cabinet!"
"What cabinet?"
I took out my compass, and the needle was slowly turning toward her red cloth bag.
“My father-in-law always loves to browse flea markets. About two weeks ago, he brought back an old wardrobe, saying it was a carved cabinet from the Republic of China era.”
She lowered her voice and glanced toward the door.
"As soon as that cabinet came in, the house started to get damp, large pieces of paint started falling off the walls, and Tiger kept saying he saw shadowy figures moving inside the cabinet at night..."
I opened her red cloth bag, and inside, besides the yellowed talisman paper, there was also a piece of carved lacquer the size of a fingernail.
It is precisely the northwest direction indicated by the compass.
The candlelight on the shrine suddenly burst into flames, making the bluish-gray handprint on her face even more prominent.
"Did you touch that cabinet?"
I picked up the broken lacquer, and a slight tremor came from my palm, as if a very faint sob was swirling in my ear canal.
She nodded, her fingers twisting the ribbon of the red cloth bag.
"When I was cleaning the house yesterday, I opened the cabinet door and there was a musty smell inside, and... and something else that terrified me, but the cabinet was empty."
As soon as she finished speaking, the compass suddenly beeped, and the pointer pointed directly at the palm print on her heart.
"Is that cabinet still at home?" I put the broken paint into the tin box.
"Yes, it's in the corner of the master bedroom."
She gestured to show the dimensions: "It's about three feet wide and five feet high. The top of the cabinet is carved with a lotus scroll pattern, and the peony flowers on the cabinet doors have peeled paint... My father-in-law said he found it at the secondhand market for eighty yuan, at 'Old Zhou's Woodware Shop' at the west alley entrance."
My heart sank.
I know this place.
There are always some customers who are greedy for bargains and end up spending tens of dollars to bring home items they resent.
When an elderly person passes away, their descendants are in a hurry to make room, so they sell their wardrobes and dressing tables on a whim. After the shopkeeper applies a fresh coat of paint, they become "retro antique items."
If someone dies of old age, that's fine, but those who die violently or unjustly, the resentment clinging to their belongings can haunt them for half their lives.
But listening to her description of the symptoms, the chessboard turned upside down in the middle of the night, and the bluish-gray palm print...
This cabinet is probably more than just tainted with resentment.
There's probably some evil spirit that's made this carved cabinet its nest, possessing the body and turning people into puppets.
I glanced at her clenched, red fingertips, but ultimately didn't say those words.
I blew out the candles in front of the shrine and said, "Take me to see it."
"Okay, okay!"
The woman seemed very excited when I told her I was willing to go see for myself.
...
During our conversation, I also learned the woman's name: Li Xiulan.
The September sun scorched the red brick wall, but the shade of the ivy provided a cool respite.
Several elderly people sat in the pavilion, fanning themselves with palm-leaf fans, chatting about something.
"The man in the gray shirt in front is my father-in-law."
Li Xiulan suddenly lowered her voice and pointed to an old man in front of her, speaking softly.
Following her fingertip, I saw a hunchbacked old man sitting on a stone bench.
He was fiddling with a faded birdcage in his hand; the cage door was ajar, but there was no sign of a bird.
"Go say hello."
I gently nudged her shoulder and retreated to the wisteria trellis two meters away.
Li Xiulan took a deep breath, tugged at the hem of her clothes, and walked towards the pavilion with unsteady steps.
"Dad, why are you sitting here again? I made your favorite mung bean porridge for lunch."
The old man's cloudy eyes darted around, and his calloused hands patted the birdcage, producing a hollow sound.
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