Chapter Six: Midnight Terror

“Hmm?”

His wife was startled by his sudden movement.

Le Dong forced down the rising wave of fear, staring blankly at the embroidered word on the handkerchief.

“Juan”—this was also a character from his wife Yang Lijuan’s name.

It was this coincidence that made his wife truly believe the handkerchief was a gift from Le Dong. Naturally, Le Dong dared not tell her about the villa.

“What’s wrong? Why are you staring at the handkerchief?”

Hearing her prompt, Le Dong swallowed hard and said, “N-nothing, I just suddenly thought of our son.”

“It’s nothing. Dr. Niu said that if there’s no relapse in two weeks, he can be discharged.”

His wife squeezed Le Dong’s shoulder, her tone tinged with guilt.

“You’ve worked hard these days. Don’t be too anxious. We’ll tighten our belts with the money we borrowed, and we’ll get through this.”

Le Dong nodded in agreement, forcing a smile as he gently stroked his wife’s hair. To avoid suspicion, he returned the handkerchief to her, then pretended to doze off, but his ears remained alert to every sound nearby.

He planned to wait until his wife fell asleep before throwing the handkerchief far away.

Fortunately, the fatigue of hospital life soon lulled his wife into sleep.

Le Dong quietly rose, his fingers trembling as he held the handkerchief. He closed the door softly, walked downstairs to the trash bin, and without hesitation, tossed the handkerchief inside.

“To hell with you!” Le Dong spat, and to be safe, he poked it down further with a stick before stopping.

“Hiss… phew…”

The night breeze, heavy and sultry, brushed against his cheek. Le Dong lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag.

The nicotine momentarily subdued his racing heart and cleared his mind slightly.

The ghost marriage, the corpse, the strange return gift...

The events of recent days flashed through Le Dong’s mind like a revolving lantern.

“I can’t go back there again...” He stubbed out the cigarette, resolute to stay away from that villa no matter how much money was offered.

After the smoke dissipated, Le Dong returned to his home and opened the door, only to find the living room light on and chopping sounds coming from the kitchen.

“Wife?” Le Dong called out, puzzled. Glancing at the clock, which showed four o’clock, he asked, “Why are you up?”

“Chop, chop, chop…”

The knife struck the cutting board rhythmically. His wife faced away, not turning her head as she said, “A bit hungry…” Her voice was faint and unsteady, unlike her usual tone.

Le Dong didn’t think much and was about to return to the bedroom when his wife’s voice came again from behind: “Dawei, will you eat something later?”

“Dawei”—those two words stopped Le Dong in his tracks. That name sounded familiar. Then it hit him with a shudder!

That was the name of the male corpse in the villa.

Le Dong froze, the oppressive summer heat suddenly replaced by a chilling cold. He slowly turned toward the kitchen, his voice trembling: “What did you just call me?”

Without turning, his wife mechanically continued chopping: “Dawei, what’s wrong with you?” Her voice was hollow, inhuman.

Le Dong’s breathing quickened as his eyes fell on the dining table. The fruit knife in the basket gleamed coldly under the light.

He instinctively grabbed the knife but loosened his grip the moment he saw his wife’s back—his devoted wife!

Fear and worry tore at Le Dong’s nerves. Unable to act rashly but too anxious to leave her alone, he stiffly sat on the sofa, turning on the TV as a distraction, his gaze fixed on the kitchen doorway.

The sizzling sounds of cooking continued for over ten minutes. His wife brought out two plates, her lips stretched into an unnatural smile: “Dawei, the chicken you bought smells really good today. Aren’t you going to eat?”

Le Dong’s face showed bitterness. As she stepped out of the kitchen, he caught sight of her face—skin darkened with a bluish-black tint, eyes almost all white, and her mouth stretched nearly to her ears.

More importantly, the plate held not burnt chicken but the sleeve of the clothes Le Dong wore that day, chopped and fried.

“I… I’ll watch some TV.”

Le Dong grit his teeth, his fingernails digging deep into his palms as he stared anxiously at his wife sitting at the table.

Ignoring his answer, she ravenously devoured the clothing on the plate. Le Dong tried to stop her, but she remained indifferent, focused on consuming the fabric.

The tearing and sliding of cloth against teeth filled the air, an unsettling sound.

She ate faster and faster, finally nearly shoving everything down her throat before staggering unsteadily to collapse into Le Dong’s arms.

“Dawei… husband…”

Her voice came from far away, her cold body exuding a faint scent of decay. “You smell so good… much better than chicken…”

The ordinary words froze Le Dong in place, cold sweat soaking his back.

He dared neither move nor push her away, only letting the icy body cling to him.

Just as Le Dong felt his wife grow colder, a pale light appeared in the eastern sky.

Like a beam of salvation flooding the streets, Le Dong felt his wife’s body go limp and collapse to the floor, falling into deep sleep.

If not for the strands of fabric still clinging to his lips, Le Dong would have thought he was sleepwalking.

Watching his wife’s breathing even out and her complexion return to normal, Le Dong finally exhaled, feeling as if he had survived a disaster as sunlight peeked through behind him.

He dared not imagine what she would have done if the sun had come later.

Judging by her eating the sleeve, if he smelled better than the cloth, who knew if he’d be next?

Le Dong swallowed hard, carefully carrying his wife back to bed and tucking her in.

The day was growing brighter.

Sitting by the bed, Le Dong stared at his wife’s peaceful sleep, mind racing.

He had thrown the handkerchief away, so why was it still in his pocket?

What was with his wife’s strange behavior—was she possessed?

If that were true... suddenly he thought of Cai Kun—the fellow villager who had joined him in the ghost marriage. Could he have encountered something strange too?

With that, Le Dong pulled out his phone and called Cai Kun.

“Beep… beep… beep…”

The ringtone echoed for a long time with no answer. He called over ten times with no response.

A terrible premonition swept over Le Dong.

“That fat bastard…”

He muttered, palms sweating uncontrollably.

Unlike him, Cai Kun had no one to care for him. He lived alone in an old, secluded neighborhood on the outskirts, rarely socializing except with gambling buddies.

Growing increasingly uneasy, Le Dong decided to visit him in person.

He then called his father- and mother-in-law, asking them to look after his wife. Shortly after, the elders arrived. Le Dong concealed the strange incident, only mentioning his wife’s exhaustion. After settling her in carefully, he hurried out.

Under the blazing sun, Le Dong urged the taxi driver to speed toward Cai Kun’s neighborhood...