"To be precise, it's a talisman," Li Yang said calmly, without much surprise in his tone.
"What does it say?" I asked, swallowing hard.
A doll pierced with pins, hiding a black jade tablet and a yellow talisman in its belly—everything about it screamed horror. Honestly, if Li Yang weren't here, I wouldn't dare look at it again.
He pointed to the topmost character on the talisman and read, "This is 'chi' ." Then, pointing to the next one, "Ling ."
I pointed at the third character. "Ghost ?"
"No, that's 'kui' ," he corrected. "Look, there's also a hidden 'dou' here."
The characters below were even harder to make out. Even Li Yang couldn't read them clearly—many strokes were tangled and curved, as if multiple characters were fused together, ambiguous and unclear.
"These characters are interesting," he said, pointing them out to me.
They were written at the bottom of the talisman, tiny like fly heads, yet remarkably clear and neatly written in beautiful clerical script, starkly contrasting the chaotic, talisman-like scrawl above.
I read slowly, "Filthy demons without heaven, li..."
Li Yang burst out laughing. "Old Liu, you really need to brush up on your classical Chinese. First, ancient texts aren't read like that—it's right to left, top to bottom. Also, this traditional character isn't 'li' ; it's 'chen' , as in dust. The eight characters at the top should be read like this: 'Heaven and earth without end, demonic aura taints the dust.'"
I gave an embarrassed smile. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know," Li Yang shook his head, frowning. "It feels a bit sinister." He opened a drawer and pulled out a magnifying glass.
Man, this guy's got all the tools.
I stood behind him, barely daring to breathe, as we examined the poem below character by character through the magnifying glass. I read slowly, "Dog-headed human body wielding a bow, black horse with white hooves swift as the wind. White lotus meets water, petals and dust fall, spirits follow me into the underworld palace..."
Spirits follow me into the underworld palace?! My hair stood on end.
There were four more lines below, but they were blurred, likely from water damage, and unreadable. Li Yang propped his chin, staring intently at the first four lines. I didn't dare interrupt his thoughts and only after a long pause asked, "Do you understand what these four lines mean?"
"I can't fully make sense of them, but I can make a guess."
"Tell me."
Instead of answering, he stood up and went to the bookshelf, carefully searching through the books.
"Here it is." He pulled out a book and quickly flipped to a page, then handed it to me.
I glanced at him hesitantly before taking it. The book was an old, yellowed volume, its pages brittle with age. I held it gingerly, afraid the pages would crumble with the slightest force.
On the open page was an ancient drawing in black ink with white outlines, depicting a figure. The lines were simple yet vivid, strikingly lifelike.
The figure wasn't entirely human but half-beast, with goat hooves, holding a sharp fork, draped in animal hide. Most terrifying was its head—not human, but a ferocious dog's face, its eyes rendered with such skillful brushwork that they seemed to pierce through the world with cruel, knowing intensity.
"What is this?" I was so shocked by the ancient artwork I could barely speak.
"This is an illustration of a ghost officer from the underworld, as described in Taoist texts," Li Yang said.
"Ghost officer?"
"Similar to the Ox-Head and Horse-Face or Black and White Impermanence in Chinese mythology. In Western myths, there's Cerberus guarding the gates of the underworld. Different mythologies have different origins and systems, so the depictions of these underworld figures vary."
"Old Liu, look at the first line: 'Dog-headed human body wielding a bow...'" he said. "Could it be referring to an underworld ghost officer?"
"What about the second line?" I asked.
"'Black horse with white hooves swift as the wind,'" he scratched his head. "Maybe it describes the process of a soul heading to the underworld after death. The King of Hell calls you to die at midnight, and no one dares linger past dawn. The journey to death is as swift as a galloping horse, like a wisp of smoke."
"Alright," I admitted it sounded a bit far-fetched. "And the third line? 'White lotus meets water, petals and dust fall.'"
"Old Liu, you know there was once a notorious organization in ancient China tied to the white lotus..."
I waved my hand. "Don't say it. That's one of those things we don't talk about." We exchanged a knowing smile.
This white lotus organization was like the story I told Brother Peng about the upside-down child—something unspeakable.
"And the fourth line?"
"That one's clearer," Li Yang said, holding the talisman thoughtfully. "Old Liu, the real issue isn't figuring out what these talismans and jade tablets do—it's where Lin Xia got them."
Right. I scratched my head. This voodoo doll was too mysterious, too eerie. The things hidden inside weren't something an ordinary person could get their hands on, unless they had help from someone extraordinary.
Li Yang suddenly stared straight at me, making me uneasy. I waved a hand in front of his face.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he said, "Old Liu, we need to check out Lin Xia's apartment."
I quickly waved him off. "No way. We don't have a key, and there's no chance Sister Liu would give us one. How would we even get in? Besides, what clues could be in there? Don't be ridiculous."
"I have a way to get in quietly. If you don't want to come, I won't force you."
He sat down, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number. The conversation was brief, less than a minute. I heard him say, "Come over, bring your tools."
Who could that be? It was the middle of the night, and he could summon someone with a single call. I thought back to my experience peeking into Lin Xia's apartment through the window—that place had an indescribable gloom and deathly aura.
We waited patiently. He reclined on the bed, while I sat on the sofa, each of us with a book, smoking and reading.
His books were terrible for passing the time—full of metaphysical nonsense that could constipate a perfectly healthy person. I read for a bit, got bored, set the book aside, and looked up at the sword hanging on the wall.
"What's that sword?"
He flicked his cigarette ash, got off the bed, took down the red sword, and tossed it to me. The sword was long and thin, looking quite imposing as it pointed straight at me. I jumped. "Damn, don't mess around!" I dodged quickly.
The sword landed on the sofa, soft and limp. Only then did I see it was carved from wood.
I grabbed it and twirled it in a flourish. "How's that? Got a bit of a Taoist vibe, right?"
Li Yang sat on the bed and said, "That's a peachwood sword used by Taoists. Years ago, when my dad was sent to the countryside, a wandering master gave it to him."
"Oh? That's cool," I said.
"It's quite a story. Back then, the production team assigned a few people, including my dad, to work on a stone mountain. They were six in total, and that place supposedly didn't even have a blade of grass—just rocks everywhere. Their daily task was to break stones into various sizes, and every half month, the youth station would send a cart to haul them away. One day, while working, a guy nicknamed Fist dug up something strange. Everyone gathered to look. Between some large rocks, they saw the corner of a red quilt. It had been buried for a long time, faded and filthy. It was almost winter, and it was getting colder every day. Back then, people were taught to dismiss anything supernatural, so they thought the quilt could at least be used to keep warm."
"Then what?" I was hooked.
"The group used shovels and picks to move the rocks, revealing the quilt's full shape. It was rolled into a tube, wrapping a person inside, with long black hair spilling out..."
I gasped. "A woman?"
"Yeah," he chuckled. "A woman with long black hair, completely naked, her face looking almost alive and quite beautiful. No one knew when or why she'd been buried there. Everyone thought it was bad luck and planned to dig a new pit to rebury her. But Fist, overcome with lust, carried the corpse back to the shack, saying, 'I'm bold enough to sleep with her tonight and bury her tomorrow.' They were all young, hot-blooded guys in their twenties, and seeing a naked beauty, some were tempted and didn't object. The next morning, all six in the shack had fevers and colds, with red rashes all over their bodies. Anti-inflammatory and fever-reducing pills didn't help—they were burning up, delirious, on the verge of dying quietly in the mountains. Just then, a wandering Taoist appeared out of nowhere."
"He saved your dad and the others?" I asked.
"Yeah. Back then, Taoists and monks were harshly suppressed, but this Taoist, according to my dad, wore a clean robe, hair tied in a celestial bun, cloud-walking shoes, holding a whisk—looking every bit the transcendent master. Just wearing that robe and walking openly in that era was no small feat. The Taoist said they'd been poisoned by the corpse. He left behind some pills and this peachwood sword. Miraculously, when they hung the sword in the shack and took the pills, their fevers subsided immediately."
"What happened to the corpse?" I was more curious about that.
"The Taoist took it away, no one knows where."
I sighed. "That Taoist had some peculiar tastes."
Li Yang laughed. "Don't talk nonsense. Taoists have a compassionate nature—they wouldn't leave such an evil thing to harm the world. He probably performed a ritual and burned it."
I gently ran my hand over the sword. "Didn't expect this thing to have such a legendary history."
"When I moved in, I felt something was off about this place—too much yin energy—so I hung the sword on the wall to ward off evil," he said.
I mused, "Li Yang, have you considered this possibility? By hanging this sword to dispel evil, you might be keeping the building's secrets at bay."
"Oh? How so?"
"This building is heavy with yin energy, and I think the strongest concentration is on the top floor and rooftop. With this sword here, the yin energy avoids you, so how can you uncover anything?"
Li Yang rubbed his chin. "That makes sense." He jumped off the bed, pulled a wicker box from underneath, and locked the peachwood sword inside.
I couldn't help but laugh, about to say I was just joking, when a knock came at the door.
Li Yang checked his watch. "Right on time. He's here."
"Who?" I asked.
"Someone who can get us into Lin Xia's apartment without a sound," Li Yang said with a sly grin.