Chapter Two: Face

For a long while, I remained stunned, unable to process what had just happened. I hadn’t even gotten a clear look at what that thing was; it merely struck me as a piece of flesh, with distinct contours. Could it really be...?

I didn’t dare finish the thought. The whole affair was far too strange, completely beyond the grasp of someone like me, raised in the light of modern ideals, a lover of art and literature. The moment I recalled that invitation, I poked my head out for a look, only to find nothing at all outside the window.

The more I thought, the less sense any of it made. I remembered that old man I’d met earlier, Chen Chuyi—he seemed to know something. And why, the instant he gripped my wrist, did I feel dizzy, unable to breathe? All these questions seemed to point toward my own body—something was terribly wrong.

Just then, my mother knocked, asking if everything was alright. I quickly forced a smile, saying it was nothing, that work had ended early today. I’d always been an honest kid, so she didn’t press me further, and went to watch TV.

But the more I mulled it over, the more uneasy I felt. I stared out the window for a long time, but there was only emptiness.

Exhaling deeply, I tried to calm myself—no point frightening myself any further. The stress of recent days, being fired, running into my ex getting married—all of that must have been enough to conjure up hallucinations.

I lay down, intending to rest for a bit.

Suddenly, I sensed a burnt, acrid smell emanating from beside my pillow—the same scent I’d noticed before. My entire body tensed as I turned my head.

A gasp escaped me.

For a moment, I thought I might die of fright. Lying neatly on the pillow, scarcely ten centimeters from my eyes, was a face.

It was an exquisitely crafted visage. My heart pounded so violently I trembled all over, unable to breathe, my body rigid with terror.

I couldn’t even speak.

The shock overwhelmed all rational thought. I wanted nothing more than to flee this room—to get as far as possible from that eerily perfect face.

“Xiaodong, what’s wrong?”

My mother suddenly pushed open the door.

“What’s this?”

I still couldn’t speak; cold sweat had already soaked my clothes.

She came over and calmly picked up the face.

It was a human skin mask, seemingly peeled from someone’s face, yet not a trace of blood marred its surface—it was clean as jade.

Panic screamed inside me. I wanted to shout, to beg her to throw it away.

But instead, she turned it over, examining it…

“Xiaoying was such a good girl, really. Your father and I both liked her. I just don’t understand you two… Now look, she’s married, and you don’t even have a girlfriend.”

“Mom, throw it out!” I managed.

She chuckled, then placed the mask directly into my hand.

“I know you’re upset, but it’s been years now. Xiaoying’s found her happiness—you should wish her well. Oh, and in a few days, there’s a young college graduate someone introduced to us. Remember to meet her, okay?”

It felt as though giant hands pinned me down, smothering my mouth so I couldn’t speak. Terror gripped me so tightly my tongue seemed frozen, tears leaking from my eyes.

“Don’t be sad, Xiaodong. I’ll make you something nice for dinner,” my mother said, closing the door behind her as she left.

The instant the door clicked shut, my body regained its freedom—I flung that delicate mask away, then wrapped myself tightly in my blanket.

A strange chill swept over me, deeper than any cold I’d ever known.

For a long time, I didn’t dare look directly at the mask lying on the floor. But slowly, its features became more familiar to me—and then the cold sweat broke out anew. That face looked so much like Suying.

I didn’t think—I just grabbed my phone and called Chen Chuyi.

“Young man, how are you holding up?”

“Sir, I—I—” I stammered, unable to form words.

“I understand. Bring that invitation to me—I can only help you if I have it,” he said, then gave me an address.

Truth be told, I’d lived in Chengdu for over twenty years and knew the city well, but the place he mentioned gave me pause: Mugui Street.

Everyone in the area knew Mugui Street was where funerals were handled. Since childhood, my mother had told me never to go there; people said it was haunted at night.

Normally, the street was deserted, unless someone had died or needed funeral arrangements. It was out by the edge of Chengdu, but not far from my home. Eyeing the mask that so resembled Suying, I carefully placed it in a bag, then set out straight for Mugui Street.

My heart raced as I traveled, haunted by thoughts of my mother’s lack of fear when handling the mask, treating it as an ordinary invitation—yet in my hands, it was a human face. Had I truly encountered something supernatural? But surely Suying would never wish me harm?

Lost in thought, I realized the taxi had already stopped at the entrance to Shui Gui Street. Taxis never ventured inside—that was an unwritten rule.

Stepping out, I spotted Chen Chuyi waiting nearby, just as he had been at noon.

“Come, let’s talk inside,” he said, anticipating my questions before I could voice them.

Inside a shop lined with paper effigies, funeral wreaths, and painted mountains of gold and silver, Chen Chuyi led me upstairs.

The moment I sat down, he smiled. “Frightened, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“Give me your hand.”

Just as before, I extended my hand, but this time he didn’t immediately grasp my wrist. Instead, he studied my palm for a long moment, then pressed something onto it, as if making a seal, before finally placing his fingers on my wrist, just like a traditional doctor taking a pulse.

“Tell me your birth date—the lunar one.”

“Seventeenth day of the seventh month,” I replied.

From the moment his hand touched my wrist, unease crept over me—not just from his touch, but from the atmosphere in the room. I kept feeling there was someone else present besides us.

After about a minute, Chen Chuyi let out a long sigh.

“What is it, Grandpa Chen…?”

He smiled wryly. “Nothing, really. I just didn’t expect someone to have been planning for you so long. And this person seems to be related to you by blood—otherwise, they couldn’t have set a geomantic fate inside your body with their own blood. You’re twenty-four this year, aren’t you?”

I nodded, bewildered. I’d never met Chen Chuyi before, yet he stated my age as if it were common knowledge.

“That’s right. You were a late-born child. You should have been born on the twelfth day of the seventh lunar month, but this mysterious person set a geomantic fate inside your mother, delaying your birth by three days and sealing the two vital meridians within you.”

“As a child, you must have been frequently ill—always with high fevers that wouldn’t abate, then suddenly recovering on your own. And friends who played with you would suffer misfortune, except for the woman who sent you that invitation. Think carefully—isn’t that so?”

I was stunned into silence. If his earlier guess about my age could have been a fluke, everything he’d just said now was the absolute truth of my life.

As an only child—my mother had lost two pregnancies before me—I’d always been doted on, but I was sickly, constantly taking medicine, known as the “medicine jar.” My childhood friends were always getting hurt or falling ill. Only Suying, once we got together, was unaffected—unlike everyone else.

So, from elementary through middle school, I’d been extremely withdrawn, always alone. It wasn’t until high school, when I met Suying, that things changed. She broke the cycle, and gradually I opened up and made more friends.

“Grandpa Chen, what does this mean…?”

He raised a hand, signaling that he understood my question, then slowly lit a cigarette.

“Don’t worry. Let me explain everything to you.”