Not just dew and woodsmoke—but full-on, sweaty, hormonal betrayal.
Shun (a.k.a. Zhong Zhiqiang, former husband, current undead question mark) tiptoed out of the creaky house before sunrise, careful not to wake Mei, who he thought was sleeping. The cold bit his skin, but his heart was already colder. He took a morning walk.
In Mei's half-asleep mind, it made sense.
"He must be chopping wood," she thought. "Zhong always did that at this hour."
So she went back to sleep.
After some hour Shun returned to his house but instead of going inside he circled the house, probably to shake off a bad feeling or maybe to walk off the trauma of sleeping under the same roof as a possible backstabbing bedroom bandit. That's when he noticed a small, fresh hole in the wooden wall—just big enough for a sinful eyeball.
He peered through.
And boy, did he regret being born with vision.
Inside, Mei was locked in a holy embrace. But not with him. No no no. With the priest. The village priest. The man who baptized goats and blessed cabbage seeds. The man who gave sermons about "purity of spirit" while apparently pollinating other people's wives behind holy walls.
Shun's left eye twitched. His right eye twitched. Then they both twitched in perfect sync like he was disgusted from his bottom of his heart.
"Did you kill him?" Mei asked, trembling—not with fear, but with anticipation, as if murder was a flirty secret.
"Yes," the priest purred. "Zhong was a problem. Now you're mine. And soon, this village will follow. I am the vessel of divine order."
Vessel? The only vessel Shun saw was the bucket he was about to vomit in.
He backed away slowly. Like a haunted crab. His mind buzzed with thoughts—some of them intelligent, most of them homicidal.
"So they killed me.
Then they left me hanging.
And now they're cuddling like nothing happened.
Oh ho ho.
You want drama? I'll give you theatre."
After some minutes, the trap was set.
Shun gathered Zhong's old friends. The real ones. Not the ones who dipped out the moment their "beloved brother" caught a mysterious case of dead.
Liang, the farmer who could bench-press cows.
Wen, who once flirted with a tree because he thought it was a dryad.
And some other each weirder than another.
Liang frowned. "You've been acting like a haunted pumpkin since you came back."
Shun smiled. A dangerous, "I know something you don't" smile.
"I found a magician,"
Wen's eyes lit up with curiosity. "A magician? Really? Where?"
Shun gestured for them to follow. "You'll see. But first, we need to gather the villagers. Trust me, you won't want to miss this."
Wen perked up. "Can he pull rabbits out of pants?"
"No, but he can pull sacred lies out of his trousers."
Word spread quickly, and soon a crowd of villagers had gathered near the back of Zhong's house. Wen led them to the wall with the tiny hole, where he had written a message in charcoal:
"Peek here to see magic for free!"
They obeyed, of course. Because if there's one thing villagers love, it's drama they don't have to pay for.
Gasps. Muffled shrieks. Someone fainted. A baby somewhere began to cry despite not being present.
"What... what's he doing?" someone whispered.
"That's the priest!" another villager hissed. "That's Sister Mei! That's not how blessings work!"
Just then, the back door creaked open. Mei came out, pale and panic-stricken. She looked first at the hole in the wall, then at the group of villagers.
The priest emerged behind her. His face turned even blacker as he surveyed the scene. "What is the meaning of this?" he thundered, his voice ringing with authority.
Cue Granny Zhao.
She emerged like a boss fight.
Wrinkled. Slow. Armed with a cane and the authority of seven decades of village gossip.
"Priest," she said coldly. "Why are the villagers whispering about your… holy wand?"
The priest stumbled; his composure was shaken. Mei clung tighter to his arm, twisting her face into a mask of guilt and fear.
The priest's face hardened. "Enough of this foolishness!" he snapped. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Oh, I'm just getting started!" Shun grinned, his eyes sparked with a strange energy. He turned to the crowd and pointed at the priest. "You see, my dear priest, I've been doing some very interesting research—because I'm a man of mystery, you know?
The priest faltered, but tried to maintain his composure. "I do not need to explain myself to you, Zhong Zhiqiang! You should be grateful I purified you parents dead corpse."
Shun's grin twisted into something more sinister. "Grateful?" he asked, his voice suddenly low and chilling. "Oh, I'm so grateful that you've been fuckin my sweet wife. Really, it's the best kind of gratitude, don't you think?"
Shun remained in the shadows, a smile of satisfaction spreading across his face. This is only the beginning, he thought.
The crowd stared in confusion, unsure whether to be worried or amused. Granny Zhao raised an eyebrow at Shun. Shun turned to her, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Oh, come on! I'm just doing my part, you know?"
"You've accused him of cheating," Granny said. "That's between you and your wife. You can just leave your wife and one who cheated on you was your wife. So what's his crime…"
Shun's eyes gleamed.
Shun in his mind thinking "Damm! I didn't knew my acting skills were this good."
Shun replied with a smile "What if I say they tried to kill me"
He knew he had upper hand in this fight.
He yanked the mask from his robe with dramatic flair, holding it up for all to see. The villagers recoiled, gasping, but Shun simply winked at them.
Gasps.
"Ta-da!" he exclaimed, as if revealing a prize-winning rabbit. "Behold the legendary mask of truth!" He held it up like a theatrical prop. "Don't worry, folks.
"You dare bring that cursed relic here?" he growled. "That's the creation of the Goddess!"
Shun's voice dropped low. "Then may watch closely."
He turned to the villagers.
"I almost died. And I came back."
"He's lying," the priest barked.
Granny Zhao raised an eyebrow.
"Then prove it," she said.
Shun grinned wider. "Easy. Just . Oh wait."
The villagers collectively gasped so hard the wind changed direction.
And in that silence, the priest said nothing.
Because there was nothing left to say.