Zhang Qiuyu and her husband watched blankly as Nan Zhi swung the axe, "thump-thump-thump," chopping off two branches of the locust tree.
When the branches hit the ground with a loud thud, the couple finally snapped out of it and rushed to help.
“No need. I grew up with my grandma and I'm used to farm work. This little bit of exercise won't tire me out.”
Nan Zhi brushed the dust off her clothes and piled the arm-thick branches in the corner. She greeted them with a smile:
“Look, I've already tidied up the rooms. If you think it's alright, we'll stay in the old house tonight.”
People often said trees shouldn't be planted in courtyards as they might hinder one's descendants. In Xixiang, it was even less common to plant a locust tree in a courtyard.
The character for locust, huai, was composed of 'wood' and 'ghost.' There was also a saying that this kind of tree was a 'ghost tree' that easily attracted evil spirits.
However, this large locust tree had been in the courtyard for as long as Nan Zhi could remember. It was said to have been planted by her great-grandfather—Dao Magu’s father—a Badai master who specialized in spiritual matters and exorcism.
Dao Magu had appeared in Nan Zhi’s dream and mentioned that there was something left for her under this tree.
Since there were many eyes around during the day, Nan Zhi planned to wait until dark to check what Dao Magu had left her.
Both the main room and the side rooms of the old house had been cleaned. Zhang Qiuyu led her husband inside to look around, her voice filled with both wonder and delight:
“This old house has such a great vibe! The furniture inside is all wood and bamboo. It's been so many years, yet it's still in good shape. Old things really are durable.
“By the way, is your stove still usable? We saw someone raising chickens on our way back through the village. Let's buy one later and have your husband stew it. He's from the Northeast; his authentic firewood-stove-stewed chicken is delicious!”
“Yeah, I don't think we should go out for lunch. We have a firewood stove right here. If we buy some oil, salt, and soy sauce, we can just cook at home. It's more reassuring.”
Hearing his wife praise him in front of her best friend, Zhang Qiuyu’s husband puffed out his chest with pride and promised Nan Zhi:
“Xiao Nan, I can't guarantee much else, but when it comes to cooking, I'm an expert.
“We were supposed to help, but you ended up doing everything yourself. Just leave the cooking to me.”
Seeing how enthusiastic they were, Nan Zhi didn't stand on ceremony. She took Zhang Qiuyu to the village to buy ingredients.
In Mulian Village, every household raised chickens, ducks, geese, and pigs. Regardless of wealth, every home had a vegetable patch, so buying food wasn't difficult.
In October, Xixiang was still lush and green. There were plenty of radishes and greens in the fields, and Nan Zhi easily bought a variety of natural, organic fruits and vegetables.
Some recognized her as the daughter of the eldest Nan brother. They sliced off cured meat and sausages, insisting she take them back and refusing to accept any money.
Zhang Qiuyu was absolutely thrilled. She was a typical girl from the Sichuan-Chongqing area, but she had lived in the city since childhood. Concrete and steel had created distance between people, making neighborly relationships thin.
Who would have thought that a trip to Mulian Village with Nan Zhi would let her experience such simple, pure kindness and warmth from the villagers?
“When my great-grandfather was alive, he was the village's Badai master. If someone lost a cow, was bitten by a snake, or lost their soul, the villagers would come to him for help.”
Nan Zhi carried the chicken and fish, explaining to Zhang Qiuyu as they walked:
“Even though my great-grandfather refused to teach his full set of skills to my grandma, she was very clever and learned quite a bit.
“When I was little, the villagers would occasionally come to her for help. Whether a child had a fishbone stuck in their throat or someone had persistent diarrhea, they would come to my grandma first.”
Back when Nan Zhi had fought with her Second Uncle, the villagers had actually helped her in various ways. Even her university acceptance letter had been hidden from her Second Uncle and quietly delivered to her.
“That's so mystical!”
Zhang Qiuyu’s eyes lit up, and she couldn't help but ask:
“That's such a shame you didn't learn anything. I've heard that these masters and mediums from ethnic minorities have real skills.”
“It couldn't be helped. My great-grandfather was almost targeted during the political movements, so he didn't want my grandma to learn these things. My grandma never went to school and was illiterate. After she married my grandpa, she just raised children and never left these mountains her whole life.”
Nan Zhi’s mood turned somewhat somber, but she patiently explained to her friend:
“Do you remember the guide from this morning, Shi Hongjiang? He's Miao. His grandpa is a pure Miao Badai master. If you're interested, I'm visiting him tomorrow, and you can come along.”
Zhang Qiuyu immediately agreed.
“Badai” was actually a title, similar to “Duan Gong” or “Shen Po.” However, there were distinctions among them. A pure Miao Badai like Grandpa Shi was called a “Badai Xiong.” Those who studied Han culture and used Taoist techniques or other skills were called a “Badai Zha.”
In the West Hunan region, beliefs were particularly complex. Besides the Miao Badai, there were also Gu masters, Grass Ladies, and Corpse Drivers.
When Nan Zhi was a child, she used to fall asleep listening to her grandma's stories about these things. At the time, she felt like she was listening to myths and never imagined that one day, she would become one of them.
Perhaps one really shouldn't talk about people behind their backs; speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
When Nan Zhi and Zhang Qiuyu returned, they saw Shi Hongjiang standing in the courtyard holding two quilts, giving instructions to Zhang Qiuyu’s husband on how to use the earthen stove:
“Oh, this wood isn't dry enough; it won't light. Wait a bit and put some dry leaves underneath!”
After a lot of effort, Zhang Qiuyu’s husband finally got the water boiling.
Seeing the two of them, Shi Hongjiang greeted Nan Zhi with a grin:
“My grandpa heard you were back and was so angry you didn't stop by the house that he was slamming his cane. He insisted I bring you home for dinner.
“I guessed you wouldn't go to the county seat and would stay at the old house. Here, I brought you two quilts. Our village isn't like the city; it gets very damp at night, so it's better to have thick bedding.”
Besides the quilts, he had also brought some daily necessities, which solved their immediate problems.
“Has your family been looking after my house? Thank you.”
Nan Zhi guessed the truth immediately. Hearing that Grandpa Shi wanted her to come over for dinner, she couldn't help but feel a bit guilty:
“I was planning to buy some gifts and visit him tomorrow. How is his health?”
“Good! How could he not be? He's doing wonderfully. His beard is snow-white, but he can still chase my father with his cane. He has more energy than I do!”
Shi Hongjiang went inside to drop off the quilts and then said casually:
“After Grandma Dao passed away, your Second Uncle's family moved to an apartment in the city. My grandpa told me to come by and sweep the dust every now and then so people wouldn't ruin the place. He always said you'd come back, and he was right!”
As he spoke, he showed a mouthful of white teeth to comfort Nan Zhi:
“That Second Uncle of yours is no good. He even thought about selling the old house to outsiders back then, and my grandpa almost broke his legs. My grandpa said Grandma Dao stated this house is only for you.”
“I know. This house was left to me by my grandma; no one can take it away. If Nan Fang dares to come...”
Nan Zhi spoke softly with a gentle smile on her face. Her tone was mild and steady, but when it reached the ears of the other three, they suddenly felt a sharp chill despite it being broad daylight.
Looking at the smiling Nan Zhi, the three of them scratched their heads in unison.
Must be an illusion.
Rate on N.U.
