The thunder that night was so loud it not only woke my grandparents, but also my two cousins who were staying over at my third uncle's house. One was five years old, the other three. Both of them burst into tears when they looked out the window. The five-year-old cousin pointed outside with a trembling voice and cried, "Grandpa, there are so many black shadows flying around outside. They want to come into the house. I'm scared."
My grandmother's heart tightened at those words. She looked out the window, but saw nothing. Yet unease crept up in her chest. In folk belief, children under six years old have not fully closed their fontanelles, and their souls are unstable—meaning they can sometimes see ghosts.
"Daniu, did you really see them?" Grandma asked anxiously.
"I saw them. They're flying in circles outside."
Her words made my grandmother suddenly recall what the Taoist priest had said. Without another word, she jumped off the kang and rushed to the door. The wind outside was so strong it made it hard to keep one's eyes open, and standing upright was almost impossible. But despite the wind, the yellow talisman stuck to the door frame remained perfectly in place—not even wet from the torrential rain.
Grandma returned to the house and quickly recounted what had happened that day with the priest. Grandpa took a long drag from his pipe, looked at me, and said, "Tie Taiping up."
Grandma froze for a moment before understanding what he meant. She wrapped me in a bedsheet and was about to bind me when I suddenly struggled violently, baring my teeth with a ferocious expression and trying to break free. I let out strange, animal-like growls no one could understand.
Grandma said that my strength was terrifying. She and Grandpa together almost couldn't hold me down.
That entire night, chaos ruled our home. The wind outside wailed like the cries of ghosts. I kept struggling while my grandparents held me down with all their strength. My two cousins curled into the corner, sobbing.
Not until dawn, when the rooster crowed, did the storm die down. I stopped struggling and slipped into an unconscious sleep.
Grandpa stepped out into the courtyard and was shaken by what he saw. The entire yard was soaked in blood. The cattle in the pen lay motionless, their heads bloodied and battered. The black dog cowered in a corner, its body trembling violently.
He stood silently in the courtyard, smoking one pipe after another. Grandma looked at me asleep and sighed repeatedly.
Just as they were at their wits' end, the Taoist returned—with an older Taoist with white hair.
When Grandma saw the younger priest, her eyes lit up with hope. She shuffled out quickly, crying, "Master, thank goodness you're back. If you'd been even a little later, our whole family would've been finished."
Grandpa stuffed his pipe into his belt, walked over, hesitated for a moment, then dropped to his knees in front of them. "Master, please save my grandson. If you can save him, I'll give my life with no complaints."
Grandpa had always been proud. In his whole life, he'd only ever knelt before his parents. That day, he knelt to the Taoists for my sake.
The priest helped him up and said they should talk inside.
Once inside, he glanced at me lying on the kang and introduced himself as Zhang Daoxuan. The white-haired elder was his senior brother, Zhang Daoling.
Zhang Daoxuan explained that the land Grandpa had built our house on wasn't just any burial ground. A powerful master had once placed a seal there to prevent something buried below from wreaking havoc in the world. By leveling the graves and building our house on top, Grandpa had damaged the seal, and the thing beneath was now stirring. Especially in the past two years, it had begun to push upward.
"Your grandson," Zhang said, "was tainted by yin energy even before he was born. As he grew in the womb, that thing inside him attacked his mother, drowning her in a shallow puddle."
"The entity intended to turn your grandson into a ghost infant. Once born, the ghost infant would merge with the sealed being underground, releasing it into the world. But his mother, driven by her love, used all her strength to give birth to him alive, even after death. If not for that, your entire family—and perhaps even everyone in the surrounding villages—would have died."
Zhang Daoxuan sighed. "This child's life wasn't meant to end yet. But even so, haven't you noticed the disasters in your family? All the adult men who stayed home had something happen to them. Only the father, who left, escaped unscathed."
He said it was fortunate they had come before my first birthday—otherwise, last night would have been catastrophic.
Upon hearing this, Grandpa wanted to tear the house down right away. He hadn't known that his decision to build here had nearly destroyed everything.
But Zhang Daoxuan stopped him. "It's too late. Dismantling the house now won't help. Tonight, my brother and I will reseal what's below. As for the boy, we'll deal with him afterward."
Relieved to hear this, Grandma quickly called over the uncles and their wives. They prepared a large meal.
At midnight, Zhang Daoxuan instructed everyone to stay inside. "No matter what you hear, don't step outside. Especially, watch the child closely."
Then the two Taoists went out.
Not long after, dark clouds rapidly rolled in. A sudden crack of thunder split the air, followed by a flash of lightning that struck the water jar in the courtyard. The jar, thick as a man's arm, exploded on impact. A shrill, piercing scream erupted, sharp enough to make everyone inside clutch their ears. The children cried in terror.
Held tightly in Grandpa's arms, I suddenly let out a monstrous roar and sank my teeth into his arm. No matter how they tried to pry me off, I wouldn't let go. Even when my eldest uncle pinched my cheeks hard, I didn't loosen my grip. Though I only had four baby teeth, I tore out a chunk of flesh.
Then, just as quickly as it had begun, everything fell silent again. I returned to normal.
Villagers were awoken by the thunder. Some braver souls looked out and saw the storm had vanished, the dark clouds dispersed—everything was calm again.
As Grandpa was wrapping his wounded arm, the Taoists returned. Their robes were torn, and they looked exhausted.
Zhang Daoxuan said the thing beneath the house had been sealed—for now. But it wasn't a permanent fix.
"To truly resolve this," he said, "we need the child. He must come with us."
Grandpa was stunned. "What do you mean?"
Zhang Daoxuan explained, "The creature is stronger than we imagined. Even with all our strength, we couldn't completely subdue it. This child must come with us to train. One day, when he is strong enough, he'll be the one to deal with it."
Grandma's eyes instantly reddened. Her youngest son and now her only grandson—her whole heart was bound to us. Though she had once called me a cursed child, I was still the eldest grandson of the Chen family—and now the only one.
She begged the Taoists to find another way.
But it was Zhang Daoling, silent until now, who finally spoke. "This is fate. The child is destined to enter the Dao. Only then can the karma be resolved."
Everyone fell silent. They'd seen what had happened with their own eyes and knew there was no denying it. All eyes turned to Grandpa—the head of the family. The decision was his.
He stood silent for a long time before finally saying, "If this is how it must be, then we will do as the masters say."
Since I was too young to live at the temple right away, they arranged to return for me when I turned six. Before they left, Zhang Daoling used a silver needle to inscribe a Tai Chi symbol on my back to temporarily suppress the thing inside me.
After that, peace returned to our home. I grew up like any normal child, and no more strange incidents occurred. During those years, my father never once came back. He wrote a single letter after being gone for a year, then vanished like a stone sinking into the sea. Grandpa searched everywhere for news, but found nothing. Grandma often wiped away tears in secret.
On my sixth birthday, Zhang Daoxuan returned. He told Grandpa, "We must take the child today. If not, that thing beneath the ground might stir again."
Though my grandparents were reluctant, they knew what was at stake. For my life, and for the lives of the entire village, they let me go.
That day, I will never forget—I was carried away on Zhang Daoxuan's shoulder, crying, as I left home.