“Spirit tablets cost 8,000, sesame oil costs 30,000. Greatly effective and slightly effective things come separately, please bring peculiar business…..”

I interrupt the old man’s skillful sales pitch and say: “I’m a family member of your client, Wen Mingcheng. I called you last time.”

There are a few seconds of silence on the phone, then the old man says with a hehe: “It’s you, ah, young sir. How have you been lately?”

“Not that great, mainly because of my husband…..”

I tell him one by one my experiences during this time and the strange things about Mingcheng.

He listens carefully and encourages me to speak with more detail.

In fact, I also have the habit of continuing to hold onto hope in a desperate situation, but once I receive encouragement, I seem to be validated and feel much more comfortable.

I feel that he is a good person.

However, when I say that I allowed Mingcheng to come in and found the black doll missing, the phone beepstwice.

He has hung up the phone.

I’m stunned for a moment, and call again.

“The phone you have dialed has been switched off.”

“The phone you have dialed has been switched off.”

“……”

No matter how long I wait and call again, I can only hear this prompt. I know that the phone has not really been switched off, but that I have been blocked.

It was not me who requested contact information. It was the golden god attendant who stopped me and asked for it. It could be seen that he was willing to provide after-sales service, so how can this situation be explained?

Did he find this issue difficult to resolve, or is he…..frightened by me?

I purse my lips and stare at the call log for a moment, then choose to call again from another phone number.

The call is answered quickly this time: “Spirit tablets are 8,000, sesame oil is 30,000…..”

I interrupt him again: “It’s me.”

He is silent for a moment.

I don’t give him a chance to hang up the phone, saying quickly: “This thing was sold to my husband by the golden god attendant. If the golden god attendant can’t help and answer my questions, I will have to find the doll and take it to you.”

These words are meant to bluff him, but he very much takes it as a threat. When he hears this, his attitude changes abruptly and he begs me for mercy over and over: “No, no, no, Young Sir, please don’t. The Black Nanjia cannot be sent away once you invite it in, and I did not sell this thing to your husband. If you want to blame someone, it shouldn’t be me. I just wanted him to buy some sesame oil. He insisted on taking that Black Nanjia away. My master gave him a sky-high price, but that didn’t dissuade him. Whatever happens to him, he can only blame his own desires.”

These sentences contain a lot of information. What is the Black Nanjia? What does it mean to be invited in but not sent away? What does that last sentence mean?

I abruptly sit up straight. My heart is so tight that it feels as if it is being grasped by a hand, and my voice seems to squeeze out my throat. In fact, this is indeed the case: “Speak clearly.”

The old man thinks for a moment, and then his old voice tells me a very ominous story.

…..It is said that about two hundred years ago, residents in a village suddenly began to worship two dolls.

These two dolls, one gold and one black, were only the size of an adult’s hand. The front of the gold one was a gilded human face, but the black side had a demonic appearance. The demon’s monstrous, fanged face looked strange and terrifying, while the pure black doll looked much more normal. Although its body was covered in totems and ancient inscriptions, its head was beautifully patterned and inlaid with pearls.

Strictly speaking, they both looked like funerary or sacrificial items from an unknown time period.

But it was unknown who was the first to make a wish to them, and who discovered that they were terrifyingly effective…..

“Later on, someone discovered that the Black Nanjia would answer almost any request. No matter what the wish was, it would eventually come true, so its followers grew and grew…..”

But the good times didn’t last long, and strange things began to occur to the villagers. Some died, some were crippled, some went crazy, and some became fools. Some people had prosperous families that were ruined overnight, and some people who had rich farmland starved on the streets. Later, more and more people had accidents, and the villagers discovered that they had something in common.

That was, they were all people who had made a wish to the Black Nanjia. 

Their wishes came true, but at a heavy cost.

“Believers later suspected that the Black Nanjia was an evil god that had descended into the world, so they sealed him up in the temple and worshiped only the Gold Nanjia. You also worshiped it, hehe.”

I think of the statue of the god that had frightened me. Like the villagers, I thought at that time that the statue of the black god looked more normal than the black and gold idol. Now that I think about it, I was also deceived by appearances.

I don’t speak. The old man continues with a smile: “I think the young sir should have figured it out by now.”

Right, what is there that I don’t understand? I’m not a fool, and can clearly understand what all of this means, although I really wish I were a fool.

“…..Golden god attendant, you insisted on exchanging phone numbers with me back then. Were you expecting this day?”

This news shocks me. Although I’ve had doubts countless times, I still didn’t think these dark and mysterious things were real.

It is difficult to control myself as I beg him: “Please tell me, what is going on with my husband right now? I feel like he has changed into a different person, as if he’s being impersonated…..”

If all of this is true…..

Actually, Pi Gao’s story is still repeating in my mind…..

If it is true……

Then I, like those believers, have been ruined.

The old man laughs softly: “This old man doesn’t know either. But Young Sir, don’t be too sad. There are more people in this world who are not afraid of dying for their desires than there are ants. Mr. Wen’s insistence on doing this shows that he was not ignorant. On the contrary, he understood all of it and could accept the price to be paid in the future.”

He could accept it?

Why could he accept it?

He is not yet thirty years old, and has a privileged background and a beautiful appearance. He is knowledgeable, young and promising, inherited the family business at a young age, and even got married just this year.

I lean back against the sofa weakly, my blank gaze moving around the room.

Mingcheng bought this house when we married. It is in the best location, and worth 1.3 million yuan.

The crystal inlaid on the chandelier above my head was the dowry of an Italian queen in the 15th century. He spent a lot of money on it at an auction in a European country on the eve of our wedding.

In the coffee drawer in front of me, there are many financial magazines featuring Wen Mingting. There are so many of them that they aren’t worth treasuring, and I stuffed them everywhere at will.

What a brilliant future he has, and what a glorious background.

What other desires could he have that are difficult to satisfy?

What could make him accept such a heavy price?

Wen Mingcheng.

Even at this time, the image of him in my mind is still gentle and smiling. He is still my affectionate lover who blushes easily.

If he could accept it, what about me?

Why was I abandoned by him in this house?

I can’t accept it, ah.

I really hope this old man is tricking me. I really hope that the next thing he tells me is that I can spend tens of thousands to buy an amulet to solve the current dilemma. I would transfer the money to him without hesitation, even if he was lying to me.

But he doesn’t.

I cover my face, tears streaming silently through my fingers. I am just a vulnerable, sickly, ordinary person. I’m afraid of these things, afraid of big changes in my life, and afraid of something happening to my family.

I am afraid of the person who has been sleeping with me for days, and he may not be human at all.

Maybe the person on the other end of the phone notices that something is wrong with me, or maybe the old man is just easily soft-hearted. I don’t speak for a long time, and he doesn’t hang up.

After about ten minutes, he says to me hoarsely: “If you want to protect yourself, I am willing to help you.”

I find that all my tears in this life have either been shed in front of Wen Mingting or shed for him. 

I wipe all the wetness from my face with the back of my hand. My skin feels hot, and the corners of my eyes hurt.

. . . . . . .

I make a lot of phone calls this day.

After the call to the golden god attendant, I attempt to call many people, including my mother, my eldest brother, Mingcheng’s sister, and Mingcheng’s parents.

I want to tell everyone about this. I need to tell them the truth, and I also need their help. Help to investigate what is wrong with Mingcheng, and help to condemn the harm his actions have caused to both of us.

But I fail.

That call to the golden god attendant was the last call I could make.

After I learn what seems to be the truth about all of this, my phone loses signal. In fact, it is not just my mobile phone that fails, but all the tools I use to communicate with the outside world.

I don’t want to dwell on why.

I choose to escape from here.

I want to escape from this place and find someone who can help me.

Just as I walk toward the door, there is the crisp sound of an object falling to the floor and smashing.

Startled, I look back and find a glass decoration that I had placed very well before.

This handicraft was something that Mingcheng liked very much, and I had placed it deep in the shelf. It is impossible for it to fall without external force.

Now it has fallen to the ground and shattered to pieces.

My heart begins to beat faster, but after looking around the room, I still take out the door key.

The dark vermillion door stands there silently. As soon as I open it, I can walk out into the courtyard, and my neighbors are a welcoming couple who will help me.

I watch this door as I get closer and closer to it. I just need to stick the key in.

Click! The loud sound of a door closing comes from the study behind me.

Although the windows aren’t open, I hear the sound of pages being blown around, as well as the sound of books falling to the ground.

Then the loud sound of a bookcase falling.

During a July summer, I stand indoors and feel goosebumps all over my body, personally experiencing what it means to have one’s hair stand on end.

I forced myself to walk to the door, but now I don’t dare to open it easily.

I look around warily at the surroundings that have once again become as silent as death, and finally make a masochistic move.

I look through the peephole.

At this time, the sky is bright and the peephole installed in reverse is completely dark. 

I’m really afraid.

Almost instantly, I take several steps back, staggering to the coffee table. I randomly grab some magazines and tape, and block the peephole.

My former home now makes me tremble and treat everything as an enemy.

Time passes minute by second. I want to hide under the quilt and cover my head, but that is called sitting still and waiting for death, and I can’t sit still or wait for death.

So in the remaining time, I first go to the garden tool room to find a pair of scissors for snipping flowers. I cut the wire of the coded lock from a distance, find an old-fashioned iron lock, and install locks on both sides of the door.

After that, I go to the kitchen to get a glass bowl, fill it with cold water, and head to the closet to find a piece of Mingcheng’s intimate clothes and cut off the collar.

Taking these two things, I walk to the door, place the glass bowl on the ground, and then ignite the collar directly above the bowl.

The ash from the burnt fabric falls into the water, then I bite my middle finger open and squeeze three drops of blood into it. After the blood completely dissolves into the cold water, I take off the bright pixiu pendant from around my neck and place it into the water.

This is the Golden God Attendant’s method.

He told me that although he doesn’t know if Mingcheng is still there or what Mingcheng is now, no matter how powerful something is, it will be subject to various constraints once it has borrowed a person’s body.

This method may be able to block him out.

After all this, I wait quietly for time to pass.

5:15 p.m.

It is time for Mingcheng to get off work, but I don’t hear footsteps or attempts to open the door.

5:25. Still no movement.

At 5:30, the surroundings are still silent.

But I still ask the empty air: “Mingcheng……are you home?”

……

The atmosphere is silent for nearly a minute.

“A-Zhen.”

An elegant, mature voice breaks the silence.

The man’s voice comes from outside the door. He speaks slowly and unhurriedly, his emotions indiscernible: “Yes, I’m back.”

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Chapter 9 << Table of Contents >> Chapter 11