The Faith and Salt

Settling back into his chair, Xiao Yan unhooked his leather scabbard and slammed it onto the table with a heavy thud.

Beside them, the servant picking up the elder's skullcap flinched at the sharp noise.

"Now I ask, and you answer. Understood?"

Pressing a hand to his ringing ear, the elder stared blankly ahead, still reeling from the heavy slap. Taking the hat back from the servant, he placed it onto his head with trembling hands and swallowed hard.

"Did you understand me?" Xiao Yan repeated, his voice rising sharply.

"Understood... understood," the old man mumbled weakly.

"What is the deal with the paper horses outside the wall?"

"They are prepared... for the sacrifices."

"Has anything happened in the village recently?"

"Yes... There have been some monster attacks on people."

"That is it?"

"That is it."

"When is your next clan meeting at the ancestral hall?"

"Tomorrow..."

"Make sure you save a seat for me."

The old man neither nodded nor agreed. His glassy eyes just remained fixed on the space ahead.

Tilting his head to study the elder's pale face, Xiao Yan asked his next question. "Do you know a man named Zheng Laosi?"

A slow nod was the only response.

"Where does he live?"

"By the riverbank, past the mass graves... his family is the only one living out there."

Hooking a finger, Xiao Yan silently signaled the servant to pour him some tea.

"See? We could have just started like this," he said, draining the cup in one quick sip. "Pardon the offense."

Without another word, he grabbed his sword from the table and strode directly out the door.

Leaving the courtyard and cresting a low dirt mound brought him directly to the barren mudflats behind the village.

Sitting dead center in the wasteland was a faceless stone idol. Pinned beneath its small shrine were a yellow paper talisman and the stamped seal of a salt merchant. The cinnabar ink drawn on the paper belonged to neither Buddhism nor Taoism; it was completely unrecognizable.

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Dozens of crooked tombstones surrounded the statue.

However, two of the graves were fresh and completely unmarked, their dirt mounds weighed down by heavy, upside-down clay urns.

Pools of stagnant, yellow-green water dotted the flats.

It was strange.

Has the river really not flooded once this entire summer?

Across the river stood another abandoned salt warehouse. A monster-warding banner snapped violently in the wind above its roof.

On the faded, ash-grey fabric, four large characters were still barely legible:

Peace and Happy.

He then spotted Zheng Laosi's earthen house. Its mud walls leaned heavily to one side. The thatched roof was patched with dried reeds, forming a dull, grey lump from a distance.

A string of dried, salted fish hung over the doorframe, flanked by crude wind chimes made of snail shells strung together. A few sparrows hopped around the dirt yard, chirping without a care in the world.

Seeing Xiao Yan approach, Zheng Laosi looked both shocked and overjoyed.

His young girl was currently riding on his shoulders.

"This is the big brother I was telling you about," the man said to the little girl, beaming.

Upon seeing Zheng Laosi, Xiao Yan immediately pulled a few silvers from his pocket.

"What is this? You looking down on me?"

"Room and board cost money. That is my rule."

"Cut that nonsense. Just get inside." Rejecting the money again, Zheng Laosi grabbed his arm, trying to haul him toward the door physically.

"Are you sure?" Xiao Yan did not budge an inch. "You have seen what I am. And you spat on me before."

Zheng Laosi looked briefly embarrassed. "I wasn't spitting at you. You misunderstood. I just got a hair in my mouth. Haiya—Stop overthinking things so much. Just come."

Stepping into the house, a large Earthen heated bed took up the dead center of the room.

The sleeping mat was woven from old fishing nets, its gaps stuffed thick with reed catkins for warmth.

Rows of yellow joss paper and neatly folded paper effigies were laid out across the mat to dry. A buckwheat pillow sat at the head of the bed, while a square wooden stool, missing a leg, leaned against the base, temporarily supporting a lacquer tray laden with uncooked ritual grains and newly polished incense burners.

They are preparing for the upcoming Zhongyuan Festival, or the Ghost Festival. It's a day of feast, but only for the monsters.

It's clever to prepare beforehand.

A necklace of strung seashells hung on one wall. The opposite wall held a branch of peach wood, a rusted fishing spear, and an old salt rake.

The bed is connected directly to a wood-fired stove coated in dried river mud. A few sweet potatoes lay buried in the hot ash of the firebox.

A wooden stick tied with faded hemp rope propped open the window. Looking out, it offered a direct view of the barren mudflats.

Zheng Laosi's wife was sitting on the bed, mending a woven straw raincoat.

Seeing Xiao Yan enter, she quickly stood up and bowed her head in greeting. “We just moved here; hope you don’t mind.”

With a single glance, Xiao Yan could tell she was definitely not born in a place like this.

Setting his girl down from his shoulders, Zheng Laosi told her to go play with her older sister, specifically warning them to stay away from the water.

"How old is the eldest?" Xiao Yan asked.

"Seven, a fine girl," the wife answered. "And the least troublesome."

"Your family is not from the countryside, right?"

"How do you know that?" Zheng Laosi grinned. "I risked my life snatching her away from a city asshole."

His wife swatted him. "Nonsense. If I hadn't chosen you…I regret that every day and night already. You old bastard."

"Well," Xiao Yan said flatly. "Run off to a place like this. You truly are a rare woman."

"I decide how I want to live my life," she replied. "A place like this has its own perks that those city folks could never enjoy."

Zheng Laosi's wife opened her mouth to continue. She was clearly eager to share more of her thoughts with Xiao Yan.

Before she could speak, however, a sudden, foul stench hit Xiao Yan.

He knew that rotten smell all too well.

A water ghost.