Volume One: The Graveyard of Eight Coffins Chapter Three: The Abandoned Building on the City Outskirts

I was skeptical. "What method? If it’s the same as last time, I’d rather just put up with being unlucky..."

"Don’t worry, nephew. This method is actually about cleansing haunted houses—it’s something that kills two birds with one stone. See, haunted houses are filled with resentment because of violent deaths within. Those restless souls, if their grievances aren’t resolved, can’t even be taken away by underworld enforcers. So, a haunted house is like a world of the dead, separate from ours. Once you enter, the resentment inside suppresses your own bad luck. The stronger the resentment, the weaker your misfortune. Stay long enough, and your bad luck will naturally dissipate," Third Uncle explained.

"Come on. So, unless this bad luck is gone, I have to keep helping you sell haunted houses?"

"I can’t say for sure. The misfortune on you isn’t ordinary—you know that better than anyone. As for haunted houses, they're not as dangerous as you think. Haven’t you seen what your Third Uncle is capable of? Just help me out—a pair working together. I promise you’ll be eating and drinking well in no time."

I almost laughed out of frustration and pointed around the room. "Third Uncle, I’m not blind. You can hardly feed yourself, and you want me to eat well?"

He waved me off. "You don’t understand. I’ve finally figured it out after all these years: our fortunes only improve when we’re together. If we separate, it’s like being haunted by bad luck. So even though I haven't suffered as much as you, I’m not much better off."

I stared at him. "So this time... I should trust you?"

The truth was, I had no other options. My money had been taken, and I didn’t even have the fare to get home.

Third Uncle slapped his thigh. "That’s more like it, nephew! I’ve already set my sights on a house. If we pull this off, we’ll pay back that three hundred thousand in half a month. Stop eating—come on, let’s go check out the house."

He snatched the chopsticks from my hand, slung a bag over his shoulder, and dragged me out of the basement.

We got into a taxi. I whispered, "Third Uncle, we’re broke. Do you even have cab fare?"

He winked. "Relax."

Then he took off his shoe and pulled two hundred yuan from under the insole.

I pinched my nose. "Third Uncle, you don’t look much like a Taoist right now."

He chuckled. "No one knows if you don’t say anything."

The taxi left the outskirts and headed into the city, stopping at an area that was neither quite urban nor rural—a cluster of houses ahead. We must have passed here earlier, but I hadn’t paid attention at the time.

Third Uncle pointed to the houses. "See that? This is a village. With the city expanding every year, the land here is getting more valuable, and house prices are soaring. The house we’re dealing with is right in there."

He led me through the rows and stopped in front of a two-story building.

Dusk was falling. The setting sun cast its last glow on the gray little house, whose roof was overgrown with weeds, making it look desolate and forlorn.

I described how I felt, and Third Uncle nodded, confirming the place had been empty for a long time. Without people, it naturally looked this bleak.

After his explanation, I learned the story of the so-called haunted house.

The two-story house had been built a few years back. The owner, Chen Dafa, went out to work in his twenties—one of the first batch of migrant laborers. He spent most of his time away, leaving only his wife, Li Ximei, and his mother, Old Lady Chen, at home. Chen Dafa was clever and hardworking, made some money, and came back to build this two-story house, making the villagers envious.

After finishing the house, Chen Dafa went out to work again. Then, trouble started.

Li Ximei was attractive, almost foreign-looking, but domineering and fierce—a shrew, to put it bluntly. She treated Old Lady Chen terribly, ordering her around and sometimes even raising her hand against her. The villagers all saw this, though Chen Dafa remained oblivious. Even before the new house was built, Li Ximei often starved Old Lady Chen. After moving into the new house, things only got worse. Li Ximei had a small outbuilding constructed from leftover bricks, forcing the old woman to do all the housework and then sleep in the drafty hut, where the roof leaked and the wind whistled through the walls. The old woman suffered terribly.

Chen Dafa was away for two years, working in another province, but Li Ximei ended up pregnant.

Anyone could see that Li Ximei was promiscuous and the child couldn’t be Chen Dafa’s. Rumors spread through the village that she had secretly met with many men, with plenty of details to back it up.

No one expected Old Lady Chen, always so meek, to finally snap. She confronted Li Ximei, accusing her of failing to bear a child for the Chen family and instead having an illegitimate one behind Chen Dafa’s back. Li Ximei, used to having her way, wouldn’t stand for it and claimed Chen Dafa was impotent, so she had done it to continue the family line. The argument raged on until midnight, when Li Ximei, furious, threw Old Lady Chen out.

That night, a thunderstorm raged. Many villagers saw Old Lady Chen, soaked to the bone, her white hair wild and her eyes glinting with fury. Though she’d scarcely eaten for days, she somehow found the strength to grab a shovel from the village and storm back home.

She smashed open the door with the shovel, barged in, and brought it down on Li Ximei’s head, killing her instantly. The next day, both Old Lady Chen and the unborn child were found dead; she had hanged herself in the new house. Three lives lost in one night—such a bloody history made the house a place of terror. No one dared go near it.

Some said that at midnight, you could still hear Li Ximei and Old Lady Chen arguing inside, or catch a glimpse of Old Lady Chen hanging at the door, her wild white hair and twisted grin ever present.

Anyone who saw or heard these things would fall terribly ill upon returning home. From then on, no one dared approach the deserted house, not even to speak of it.

Later, a homeless man, unaware of the rumors, moved in. A few days later, a foul smell led to the discovery of his corpse inside. His eyes were wide open, mouth agape, tongue sticking out—he looked as if he’d died from sheer terror.

Chen Dafa, the owner, tried to sell the house during a round of urban redevelopment. But with all the deaths, no one would buy it, even at a deep discount. And so, the house remained abandoned.

Listening to Third Uncle’s account made my back go cold, my scalp tingle.

Looking again at the two-story house, I noticed the upstairs windows were covered with thick curtains. Was it just my imagination, or was there a pair of resentful eyes watching us from behind the drapes?

I shivered.

Third Uncle, unconcerned, went on, "Nephew, I’ve already spoken with Chen Dafa. Land prices here are skyrocketing, and he’s desperate to sell, so his price is already low. I’m confident I can bring it down another twenty percent. Once we’ve handled the problem, we can resell the house for a big profit—more than enough to cover that three hundred thousand."

I gave a cold laugh. "Easy for you to say, Third Uncle. I just worry we’ll earn the money but not live to spend it... And anyway, you’ve barely got two hundred yuan—no matter how cheap, he’s not selling you the house for two hundred, is he?"

He shot me a look. "Ever heard of ‘matching keys’? Chen Dafa was so eager when he heard I was interested that he gave me the keys right away. We handle the issue, then find a buyer—simple as that. Don’t worry about those details. Let me tell you the plan: tonight, we need to go in and see where the real problem lies."

"Tonight? You mean, go in after dark?" I was taken aback. "Can’t we go during the day? Why does it have to be at night?"

He waved his hand. "Daytime? No good. Daylight’s too strong—it covers up a lot of things. Fixing a haunted house is like diagnosing an illness; you need to know the cause before you can prescribe a cure. We have to find out what’s wrong before we can break the curse."

My heart was pounding. I tried to negotiate: "Can’t I just stand watch outside?"

He glared. "We’re not robbing a place. What good is a lookout? Besides, even if someone had to stand watch, it’d be me—you’re the one who needs to go in."

"Why?" I was stunned.

"Ever heard of the tomb-raiding ‘Gold Touch Commanders’? The grave robbers..."

"What’s that got to do with this?"

"This is just like tomb-raiding. They always work in pairs, usually father and son. If you bring anyone else, the lookout might kill the raider for the treasure. That’s why the old rules say, if it’s a father and son, the father always stands watch outside while the son goes in—because no matter what, a father won’t harm his son. Cleansing a haunted house is the same; it requires trust. I can’t do it alone, so I brought you. We’re not father and son, but we’re as close as that—I saved your life, after all. If we work together, we’re already halfway to success. I’m your Third Uncle; I’m not going to set you up. What are you afraid of?"

I glanced at him. "You’ve tricked me plenty of times before. So all this talk boils down to you wanting me to go in there alone?"

As I spoke, I glanced again at the deserted house. To my horror, a faint shadow had appeared at the upstairs window, staring straight at us...