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One year, on the sixth day of the seventh month, Wumei and Zhang Ping set out for Xuantian Temple upon Zhenwu Mountain to deliver gifts on behalf of their temple.

The temple lent them two sets of identity documents, and the two of them, dressed in Daoist robes, impersonating Daoist priests, begged for alms as they went. With the Zhongyuan Festival¹ approaching, they encountered many people performing rituals, making it easy to cadge vegetarian meals and tea. If their luck held, they could also hitch a ride, or find a roof under which to shelter for the night.

On the thirteenth day of the seventh month, Wumei and Zhang Ping reached a place called Stonybend.  

The day was uncommonly scorching. The road all but fried the soles of one’s feet. Wumei felt his exposed skin stinging in the glare, and all the water in his pores seemed to have evaporated beneath the cruel sun; he couldn’t sweat. Even flies hid in the shade. Apart from him and Zhang Ping, not a single living creature was to be found on the road.

Stonybend Village’s boundary marker was obscured by a clump of wild grass wilting in the heat of the sun. Wumei took a map from his blisteringly hot pouch to confirm their location. Suddenly, on the empty road appeared a black dog.

Wumei startled, and the dog trembled at the sight of them, stopping in his tracks and shrinking back.

Wumei worked up his nerve and whistled to him. The dog looked him over, wagged his tail hesitantly, glanced back the way he had come, then rushed towards them.

As Wumei skittered backward, Zhang Ping said, “Mei-ge², he’s not going to bite you.”

The black dog shot straight at Wumei, who gave a cry before realizing that the dog had darted behind his legs and was now shaking like a leaf. Next, a little boy came racing from up ahead, wailing as he ran: “Shadow, Shadow!”

The dog stuck his head out from behind Wumei’s legs. His tail swayed.

The child got a clear look at Wumei and Zhang Ping, stopped some distance from them, remained still for an instant, then turned and ran back.

“Grandpa, Grandpa, there’s two Daozhangs. They aren’t hurting Shadow!”

The black dog batted at Wumei’s leg with his paw and tugged on the hem of his robe with his teeth. Zhang Ping watched the child’s retreating figure without expression. “Mei-ge, something is wrong here.”

A chill went up Wumei’s spine. “A-Ping, I know you never open your mouth for anything less than a crisis, and you’re always right. Don’t jinx us!”

The boy who had come running earlier reappeared up ahead, bringing with him an old man with a pickaxe over his shoulder.

The black dog quivered again and huddled behind Wumei. Zhang Ping stepped forward and bowed to the old man.

Wumei’s legs were rigid; he dared not move but only bowed from a distance. “Boundless blessings upon you, elderly patron. My shidi and I humbly greet you.”

The old man took in the sight of the two of them with narrowed eyes. “Are you two young fellows really Daoist priests?”

“No,” said Zhang Ping.

The old man hefted the pickaxe on his shoulder. Wumei and the black dog both trembled.

Zhang Ping raised his hands in another salute. “Might we know why you want to kill this dog, sir?”

The old man rested the pickaxe on the ground and sighed. “If I do it, at least I’ll make it quick and give him a decent burial. He’s guarded our door for many a year. It’s the least I can do.”

“Has this dog bitten someone?” Wumei asked cautiously while the boy sobbed and sniffled beside them. “Offer a sincere apology and ask the injured patron not to hold a grudge against a dog. Heaven rewards those who cherish life. Sparing such a good dog will certainly bring them blessings.”

The black dog wagged his tail energetically.

The old man sighed again. “The two of you must’ve come from far away. Who told you to take this road?”

“We followed the map,” said Wumei.

The old man nodded. “I didn’t think anyone could’ve been so wicked. No one who knows what’s been going on would come this way now.”

“Did something happen in your village recently that concerns dogs?” asked Zhang Ping.

The old man half closed his eyes. “It happened in the neighboring village, and we’ve been drawn in too. Young fellows, go back the way you came before it gets too late. There’s a tea stall at the boundary marker of Xitan Hamlet. Go under the awning to ask the way. To the north, south, and east are side roads that’ll take you around our villages. If you hand over a few coins and drink a bowl of tea, the stall keeper can give you directions.”

“Oh!” said Wumei. Yesterday he and Zhang Ping had been dragged off to a certain home in a certain village to make up the numbers in a ceremony. They’d eaten well and slept well, and in the morning a lumber cart had taken them by a side lane straight to the main road. They must have missed Xitan Hamlet.

He bowed. “Thank you for the instructions, elderly patron.” He stepped forward to tug on Zhang Ping’s sleeve. Zhang Ping was motionless, but the dog followed close after Wumei, still pressed to the backs of his legs.

“What is it that makes people want to avoid this place?” Zhang Ping asked solemnly.

The old man looked them over again. “Are you two Daoist priests or not?”

Wumei got his answer out first: “We are!”

“We aren’t,” said Zhang Ping, firmly.

The old man stared at them, then heaved a long sigh. “It doesn’t matter. Have you heard of jiangshi?”

Wumei gave a start. “You mean corpses that climb out of their coffins and hop around?”

“Tales of jiangshi are nothing but fabrications,” said Zhang Ping. “Sometimes a person appears to be dead but in fact is only unconscious, and will wake after a few days. Similarly, if a corpse is exposed to extreme heat or certain other external forces, it will move.”

The old man stared at Zhang Ping, a trace of helplessness stealing into his expression. Wumei, striving for an appearance of legitimacy, hastily recited a couple of snatches of scripture. “My shidi is young, he misspoke. Do not hold it against him, elderly patron.”

The old man laughed bitterly. “When I was your age, I didn’t believe in such things either. I thought it was all made-up gibberish. Many’s the thing you must see with your own eyes before you’ll believe it’s real.”

“And have you seen such things?” Wumei asked accordingly.

The old man nodded. “Just lately.”

What popped into Wumei’s head was a rather Zhang Ping-like thought—it must have been fake. In a society of law and order, even with the Zhongyuan Festival a few days away, how could you just stumble upon a thing like that in broad daylight!

Then he quickly recited Boundless heavenly deity preserve me in his mind. It was all this time he’d been spending with a-Ping; he’d end up just like him if he wasn’t careful.

Gods protect me, let no evil approach me!

Zhang Ping saluted again. “Might I ask for the details, sir?”

Without a word, the old man headed into the shade of some nearby trees.

Wumei pulled himself together and noticed an ever stronger aroma of well-done meat wafting off himself. He hurried into the shade after Zhang Ping with the black dog following closely, tail between his legs.

When the three of them were seated on the ground, Wumei said earnestly, “Elderly patron, jiangshi are extremely fiendish creatures! Only a master of great merit can subdue one! The fengshui here appears excellent to me, and I read a promise of good fortune in your features. How could you have had such an evil encounter?”

Zhang Ping produced a water skin, removed the stopper, and offered it to the old man, who waved it away.

“I’m a simple old peasant, still working the land at my age. Some good fortune! This evil business now, that came about a few days ago, on the night of the ninth. Three traveling merchants had come to the county seat for the Qixi Festival to sell love tokens. They’d sold all their wares and were planning to leave. They found a place to stay the night in Bridgehead Village, which is next to our Stonybend. A family in the village had an old man, nearly eighty, who’d passed that very day. His body was laid out in the hall of his house. Early the next morning, the inn found the three traveling merchants missing, and that family found the old man’s body missing as well. They looked everywhere. Meanwhile, an early riser went down to the river and saw those men at the boundary between Bridgehead Village and Stonybend. But…”

The old man stopped and patted the shoulder of the little boy, who had been staring anxiously at the black dog.

“There’s a mosquito bite on my leg, go over there and pick some herbs.”

The boy agreed and looked imploringly at Wumei. “Daozhang, don’t let my grandpa hurt Shadow!” He bounded away.

Zhang Ping waited until the boy was out of earshot, then said, “The traveling merchants were dead?”

Amid the deafening shrieks of the cicadas, Wumei felt a chill wind slip into his collar and down his back.

“Yes,” said the old man, staring at the ground. “The three of them had all died out there, with toothmarks on their bodies, ghastly pale. It was as if something had bitten them and drained all their blood. That old man’s corpse was under an old tree not far from them, teeth sunk into a chicken, blood smeared all over his mouth.”

Wumei shuddered repeatedly.

“Might we know how old the traveling merchants were?” said Zhang Ping seriously. “And of what build?”

“I only had a glimpse from the crowd,” the old man said. "I don’t think any of them were especially fat. With their blood all spilled, they looked pale. I heard one even knew some boxing. They were in their forties or thereabouts.”

As Wumei felt the chill run up and down his body, the old man looked up towards a spot off at an angle up ahead. “The place where the traveling merchants spent the night was a dozen li from where they were found. The old man, whose surname was Xiao, lived on the other end of the village, far from the merchants’ lodgings and even farther from where they died. When this Old Xiao was alive, he had trouble walking, needed someone to help him over the threshold going in and out. Forget about running a dozen li in the middle of the night.”

“You’re very brave,” said Wumei admiringly. “If it were me, I wouldn’t even have dared to look.”

The old man sighed. “We’d been repairing the riverbank, and I was standing the night watch by the river. I went over when I heard something had happened. Though at my age I shouldn’t be afraid of anything, and though the headman said he’d pay me extra, I still haven’t dared to stand watch there again.”

“Was the place where you stood watch very close to where the bodies were found, sir?” asked Zhang Ping. “Did you hear anything in the middle of the night?”

The old man considered this. “No, it was pretty quiet that night. A little windy.”

Wumei inwardly called upon all the gods of the heavenly court.

Great Jade Emperor, Divine Origin of the Universe, this is too sinister!

Here’s an old fellow who rises from the dead and chases several men in their prime over a dozen li, then bites them and drinks their blood. The day after tomorrow is the Zhongyuan Festival. I really can’t bear to hear about this!

A-Ping, stop talking, let’s turn around and go back while the sun is high and Yang energy is plentiful!

Zhang Ping heard nothing of the clamor in Wumei’s heart and continued his conversation with the old man. “Apart from those three traveling merchants, has anything else unusual happened?”

“Yes,” the old man said slowly. “The next morning, a youngster who had helped carry Old Xiao’s body died. The village got up early and found the road covered in dead chickens and ducks, all of them with their necks snapped. They followed the trail of dead poultry and blood and found that youngster lying where Old Xiao had been before, mouth smeared with blood, teeth sunk into a chicken, just the same.”

Wumei was about to cry.

Queen Mother! Lord of the Dao! Great Cihang!

A-Ping and I are young and ignorant, we had no choice but to impersonate Daoist priests. I beg you not to abandon us because of this! Please preserve us from being attacked by evil creatures. I’ll burn incense and worship every day!

“Is it…that your village thinks something that likes snatching chickens has been going around making mischief? Is that why you want to kill this dog, sir?”

The black dog whimpered.

Wumei felt it was particularly imperative to accumulate merit at this crucial moment, so he added at once, “Black dogs are protection against evil. If there really is some evil spirit, he can guard your home.”

The old man laughed bitterly. “I don’t have any trouble understanding that. If this dog really were some kind of demon, it wouldn’t have been Old Xiao lying there.”

“Eternal blessings,” said Wumei quickly, “you mustn’t say such things, elderly patron.”

The old man waved a hand. “When it comes to supernatural things, the government doesn’t believe in them either, won’t let you speak of them. But many years ago, there was a strange illness in our two villages. Many people died. People got infected, and so did the cats and dogs and farm animals, and even the bats that ate mosquitoes as they flew. The government’s doctor said it was a type of rabies, and it started with the dogs. A dog would go mad and bite a man, and then the man would go mad. All the dogs in the area had to be put down, and for years no one was allowed to keep dogs. Now with these deaths people think it’s the same sickness again. Many dogs in the village have been killed.”

The black dog once again shrank behind Wumei’s legs. The old man saluted Wumei and Zhang Ping. “If you truly pity this beast, young fellows, take him with you. He really is a good dog. If he stays in the village, he’s sure to be beaten to death.”

The little boy came barreling towards them with a wail and threw his arms around the black dog. “Don’t give Shadow away, Grandpa! I want Shadow to stay home!”

Damp-eyed, Shadow whined and lowered his head to lick the boy’s hand. The old man stamped his foot. “Ignorant child. If you want him to live, you have to let go at once!”

The boy cried and clung to the dog. Zhang Ping looked at the road beside them. “None of us can leave now.”

Under the burning sun, a group of dark shapes was galloping towards them—a team of soldiers!

Their leader reined in his horse and came to a halt. “Are you residents of Stonybend? I am under orders to temporarily seal off the roads around Stonybend and Bridgehead Village. No one is to leave or enter!”