C6 The Ghost of the Moon

The fresh air from outside swept in as I dashed out the door.

Once outside the house, concern for Third Uncle gnawed at me, prompting me to glance back.

My flashlight was lost to the darkness, leaving the room pitch-black. Yet, by the light of the moon, I could make out a mist-like presence in the house, and within it, a figure materialized.

The silhouette was vague, but I instantly knew who it was—the same figure we'd seen behind the second-floor curtains before entering the house.

Before I could get a better look, the door slammed shut again.

Realizing Third Uncle was still inside, I rushed to pull open the door, only to find it locked.

Panic set in, my heart sank, and my mind went blank as I truly understood how much Third Uncle meant to me.

He had approached this haunted house with such nonchalance, as if it was just a quick way to make some cash. I hadn't given it much thought at the time.

But I never imagined we'd encounter trouble on our very first visit.

From the urgency in Third Uncle's voice, it was clear he was in danger. Having run outside, his chances inside seemed grim, and I feared the worst...

I couldn't bear to contemplate the most terrible possibilities, so I pounded and kicked at the door, shouting Third Uncle's name, hoping against hope he could hear me. Any sign from him would have been a relief.

My worry for Third Uncle now overwhelmingly eclipsed my fear of the enigmatic shadow within.

But aside from the echo of my desperate attempts, the interior remained silent.

Fortunately, the neighbors around the desolate tower were a good distance away; otherwise, my racket would surely have prompted a call to the police.

The police?

Yes, the police.

As the idea struck me, I frantically fumbled for my phone. Being new to Shenshi, I was a stranger in these parts, and calling for help was the only option that came to mind.

My hands shook as I dialed 110, just as I was about to send the call...

Out of nowhere, a hand reached out and snatched my phone away.

"Ah... Who's there?" I jumped with fright, only then realizing that someone had been standing behind me without my notice.

I instinctively turned around and, under the moonlight, saw Third Uncle standing there.

"Third Uncle, you... you're okay?" My knees buckled, nearly sending me to the ground, and I was overcome with the urge to cry.

Third Uncle managed a pained smile. "I'm fine. What about you?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, as faint as a mosquito's hum. I noticed his face was deathly pale and he was unsteady on his feet, as if he might collapse at any moment.

I quickly stepped forward to support him, helping him sit down by the roadside.

"Third Uncle, what in the world happened? How did you get out?" I asked, my concern evident.

Catching his breath, Third Uncle spoke through gritted teeth, "I realized something was wrong on the second floor. After yelling out twice, I jumped from the window. Damn near killed myself, but thankfully, my training paid off."

I couldn't contain my anger. "What? You sensed danger and just jumped out, leaving me worried sick?"

It was then that I realized how naive I had been. Third Uncle was as cunning as they come. If I could make it out of the building, how could he possibly be trapped inside?

With a grimace, Third Uncle said, "I had to conserve my strength, didn't I? If you were in trouble, I needed to be able to rescue you."

Reflecting on it, he had a point, but today's events had been a complete mess. We had charged into that desolate tower, brimming with confidence, only to scurry out, covered in dust and dirt, like a pair of rats.

"What do we do now?" I inquired.

"We head back first," Third Uncle replied, looking significantly weakened, even needing my arm to help him stand.

But as he tugged on my arm, a searing pain shot through my shoulder.

"Ah!" I winced in agony, feeling as though my arm had been severed at the shoulder.

Startled, Third Uncle quickly asked what was wrong.

Barely holding back tears, I grimaced and pointed to my shoulder, "It's hurting... really hurting..."

Third Uncle swiftly unbuttoned my shirt to reveal my shoulder, and as I turned to look, I saw a distinct palm print on my left shoulder.

The palm print was a reddish hue, barely larger than a coin. It appeared to be the size of an infant's hand. I tried to rub it off, only to discover that the print seemed to have penetrated my skin, making it impossible to erase.

"Stop rubbing it; we'll deal with it when we get back," Third Uncle said, then fell silent as he led me away from the residential area.

The location was quite secluded, and it took over ten minutes to flag down a car that took us back to the basement.

Throughout the ride, Third Uncle was lost in thought, not uttering a single word.

I had a sinking feeling that the handprint on my shoulder was a serious matter, but I was too apprehensive to ask. Reflecting on it, I remembered feeling a hand touch my shoulder just as I was about to flee the doorway. Could that have been when the handprint was left?

Once in the basement, Third Uncle began rummaging through his collection of odds and ends.

I shared my thoughts about the possible origin of the handprint on the ride over. He nodded in acknowledgment and eventually unearthed a clay pot from a heap of wine bottles.

Third Uncle filled the pot with water, added a mix of rice, and began to cook it.

The rice was multicolored, similar to what Third Uncle had used before.

"This mix is made of five grains: glutinous rice, millet, sorghum, mung beans, and black beans," he explained. "Their colors—white, yellow, red, green, and black—symbolize the five elements. These grains, nurtured by the earth and blessed by the heavens, have the power to ward off evil and protect the home."

I listened to Third Uncle's rambling explanation, absorbing little, but understanding that he often used these grains and that they were quite potent.

He cooked the grains until they were half-done, then scooped them up with a spoon and instructed me to bare my shoulder.

That's when I noticed the palm print had darkened significantly, shifting from a light pink to a deep black.

Third Uncle's face tensed as he murmured, "How has it progressed so quickly?"

Without another word, he flipped the spoon and pressed the hot mixture of half-cooked grains against my shoulder.

I was taken by surprise; the concoction had just come off the stove and nearly burned off a layer of my skin, prompting an instinctive cry from me.

"What are you yelling about?" Third Uncle snapped.

"Ah..." My cry was cut short, as I didn't feel any pain.

The grains on my shoulder, except for the black beans, were visibly darkening.

Soon, the distinctly colored grains turned into a black mush.

Third Uncle, wearing a leather glove, scraped off the grains and applied a fresh spoonful to my shoulder. After repeating this process several times, the grains no longer changed color, and he finally stopped.

The palm print on my shoulder was less noticeable, fading to a faint dark red spot that was hardly visible unless you looked closely.

Third Uncle finally breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily.

I noticed that even after all this time, Third Uncle's face was still deathly pale, with beads of sweat on his forehead.

I finally got a chance to ask, "Third Uncle, what's really going on? What did you see on the second floor?"

Third Uncle gestured dismissively, "Damn it, let's not talk about that. I made a mistake, a complete misjudgment... Thank goodness you're okay, or how could I face your dad?"

"Let's not dwell on that. I'm alright, aren't I? What did you misjudge?"

Third Uncle rummaged through the shattered bottles until he found one still half-full of wine. He took a swig and said, "Lee Ximei and Old Lady Chen died in that room, right? Ghosts, like people, can't easily let go of their fears even after death. Lee Ximei, having been killed by Old Lady Chen, would surely harbor deep resentment towards her. To cleanse the place, we had to deal with Lee Ximei first. I thought Lee Ximei had become a bloody ghost."

I blinked in confusion, "A bloody ghost? What is that?"

Third Uncle clarified, "A bloody ghost typically refers to the spirit of a woman who died in childbirth. Such ghosts are full of resentment and notoriously difficult to handle. They're considered quite powerful among malevolent spirits, and even those with spiritual abilities tend to steer clear of them."

I squinted at Third Uncle and asked, "You really think you can handle such a formidable female ghost?"

Third Uncle perked up at my question, straightening his posture. "Lee Yang, I get it, you don't trust me. But I didn't earn the name Lee Dongbin for nothing..."

Impatiently, I gestured for him to stop. "Cut the crap about Lee Dongbin. Have you already forgotten how we barely escaped with our lives?"

A blush crept onto Third Uncle's face as he fidgeted, "Didn't I just admit it? I made an error in judgment."

"An error? Wasn't that a blood-soaked ghost?"

Third Uncle nodded. "The stories I've heard about the desolate tower are just hearsay. Based on those, I assumed that Lee Ximei's child was stillborn. Meaning, Old Lady Chen killed the child with a shovel before it was even born. But I might've been wrong; the child might have actually been born."

I threw up my hands. "Does it make a difference?"

Third Uncle looked down, disheartened. "The difference is massive. There's another type of ghost called the Lunar Ghost. To be fair, it's an easy mistake to make; many of us in the field mix up Lunar Ghosts with blood-soaked ghosts. While the latter is vicious, it pales in comparison to the Lunar Ghost. The Ghost Infant of a blood-soaked ghost is one that hasn't been born, making it a dual entity of sorts. But a Lunar Ghost? They're the ones where the child is born dead, followed by the mother's death, or the mother dies and then the Ghost Infant is born. So while they're both referred to as Lunar Ghosts, they're actually split into the mother ghost and the child ghost."