Chapter Twenty-Two: The Barn (Part Three) – The Journey

As dawn broke in the east, Xiao Shao slowly opened his eyes. After the bizarre incident with the shadow, he hadn’t slept a wink all night. His damp trousers had gradually dried.

“Xiao Shao, get up.” The voice of his elder cousin sounded beside him.

Xiao Shao sat up on the bed, sighed, and slowly turned his head. He saw his cousin standing at the bedside.

He was startled—something was wrong. His cousin’s stature had shrunk significantly, at least by more than ten centimeters. His appearance seemed to have changed as well, almost as if he were a different person, yet there were still faint traces of the cousin he knew.

“Did you see anything last night?” his cousin asked hesitantly, his expression strange.

Xiao Shao was surprised, hesitated for a moment, and stammered, “N-no, I didn’t.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his cousin’s usual façade of affable business demeanor vanished, replaced by a cold, sinister gaze that sent chills through Xiao Shao.

“C-cousin, what’s wrong?”

“You really didn’t see anything?!” His cousin’s voice exploded in fury, his face twisted with horror and menace.

Xiao Shao was so frightened by the sudden transformation that cold sweat broke out all over him. He wiped his brow, staring in shock at his cousin’s rage, trembling as he stammered, “N-no, I swear, I didn’t see anything.”

His cousin listened, expressionless and silent, like a petrified sculpture. After a long pause, he sighed deeply and returned to his own bed without a word.

At half past nine, Xiao Shao, carrying his luggage, accompanied his cousin to the outskirts of Hangzhou train station. The terror still lingered in his heart. He kept stealing glances at his cousin’s face, which was gloomy and unfamiliar, as if he were looking at a stranger.

Outside the station, his cousin took out his phone.

“Yes, all right…”

He made a call to someone unknown. After five or six minutes, Xiao Shao and his cousin climbed into a van.

His cousin gestured for Xiao Shao to sit in the back, while he took the passenger seat. As soon as the door closed, a strange chill enveloped Xiao Shao, as if he had entered another world.

The van started up slowly. The three people inside remained silent, the atmosphere icy, making Xiao Shao feel as if he were sitting on needles. He peered through the rearview mirror at his cousin and the driver; his cousin’s face was still dark and brooding, staring ahead as if in a trance. The driver was even more bizarre, his lifeless, fish-like eyes wide open, arms moving mechanically like the slow frames of a video, a wind-up automaton.

Xiao Shao watched the two odd figures through the mirror. Suddenly, his cousin’s eyes met his through the glass, cold and dead, casting a pall of dread over him.

Xiao Shao hurriedly averted his gaze from the mirror. His cousin in the front passenger seat slowly turned his head, his face twisted into a menacing expression, a faintly resentful smile tugging at his lips as he whispered, “Are you sure you saw nothing?”

“N—”

“Then what were you looking at?” His cousin’s voice suddenly boomed, startling Xiao Shao so much he nearly fainted, rendered speechless.

After a long, tense stare, his cousin burst into a few abrupt, wild laughs. When his laughter faded, his twisted face smoothed back into calm, and he turned away.

Xiao Shao was nearly suffocating with fear. He longed to leap from the van, return home, and escape this eerie nightmare.

“Screech—!”

The van suddenly braked hard and stopped.

“Get out,” his cousin said coldly.

Xiao Shao, still shaken, took a few deep breaths before stepping out of the van. They had arrived outside an old, dilapidated courtyard; the driver sat motionless at the wheel, like a statue.

The old house looked as if it hadn’t been repaired in decades, so rickety it seemed a gust of wind could blow it apart. The rain-soaked walls were pale and thickly overgrown with moss. Red-brown spots dotted the iron knocker on the wooden door.

His cousin stood before the ancient house, closed his eyes inexplicably, and muttered something unintelligible. After a while, he walked up and knocked on the iron knocker.

“Who’s there?” came a raspy voice from inside.

“Sir, we’re tourists. It’s getting dark, and we’d like to spend the night at your place.”

The wooden door creaked open, and an elderly man shuffled out. He was extremely odd-looking: his face sagged with deep wrinkles, his left eye bulged like a grape, while his right was tiny, a snail’s eye. His head was shaped like an inverted triangle, almost deformed. His yellow teeth were uneven, seven pointing up, eight down, as if a corn cob had grown all wrong. He wore simple blue clothes from the eighties.

“Come in,” the old man rasped.

Xiao Shao stepped in, eyeing the strange elder, feeling uneasy. He thought this old man was even uglier than the caretaker in the horror film “Cursed Park.” He sighed—if only he’d known, he would never have come. It was only the first day, and already so many odd things had happened. Who knew what else awaited?

Inside the courtyard, it was as dilapidated as the exterior, the ground strewn with filth. Rotten eggs, wilted leaves, and animal entrails were scattered everywhere, flies buzzing back and forth, white maggots squirming in the abandoned trash, filling the place with a stench so foul that Xiao Shao nearly vomited.

The old man opened the central room, the door squealing as it moved. He grinned oddly. “You’ll stay in this room.”

Xiao Shao and his cousin stepped inside, surprised. The room was spotlessly clean, the cement floor polished smooth, the wooden table gleaming. The walls were pristine, as if freshly painted, with only a few small insects resting upon them. In the corner stood a single bed, covered in white linen, as new as if it had never been used—a world apart from the filth outside.

“Gentlemen, there’s only one bed here—just one can stay,” the old man croaked.

“Xiao Shao, you’ll sleep here,” his cousin said.

Xiao Shao hesitated, then nodded and set his bag by the bed. The old man and his cousin left without another word, closing the door behind them.

All along the way, Xiao Shao felt utterly bewildered. He wondered what ill luck had befallen him, to encounter so many strange events.

Just then, his eyes caught sight of several bottle-shaped objects on the small table by the wooden window. His heart skipped a beat. Were those granaries? Three granaries from the Warring States period? Could these be the three granaries his cousin had mentioned?

“Xiao Shao…”

A long voice echoed by his ear.

“Who’s there?” Xiao Shao called out.

There was no answer from inside or outside. He looked around; nothing capable of producing a human voice.

He wondered—could it be the three granaries from the Warring States? That couldn’t be; there were tales in the trade of burial objects possessing spirits, but those were stories told by grave robbers. Still, he cautiously approached the three granaries for a closer look.

They were entirely green, cylindrical vessels supported by three bear-shaped legs. Unlike his cousin’s description, they were not celadon but green-glazed, the glaze applied in a thin layer, covered with earth stains and crackles, with patches flaking off and shimmering with iridescent hues. The three granaries were almost identical—a trio of ordinary Han Dynasty bear-footed granaries, nothing remarkable.

Just then, Xiao Shao suddenly felt the urge to urinate. He hurriedly opened the door and saw that night had already fallen.

As the saying goes, don’t look up when relieving yourself; there are thatched huts everywhere. He hurried to the corner, unbuttoned his trousers, and let nature take its course.

When finished, Xiao Shao fastened his pants and turned, ready to return to the room and rest. But as he looked up, the sight before him drained all color from his face.

Up on the roof, three or four meters above, sat an enormous, pitch-black shadowy creature. Its round body was over two meters wide, stubby legs dangling below the eaves, thick arms chewing on something with a crunching sound.