Chapter 3: A Widowed Marriage

Xueci felt his heart turn to ash, realizing he truly could not escape. Seeing that the bride had accepted his fate, the paper matchmaker continued to direct the other paper figures to change Xueci’s clothes.

Dazed, Xueci found himself dressed in a large red embroidered ruqun wedding dress. The stitching felt cold and stiff, exactly like a burial shroud stripped from a corpse in a graveyard.

Ignoring his resistance, the paper matchmaker took a red bridal veil embroidered with the “Double Happiness” character and draped it over his head.

The red veil blocked his vision completely, making everything dark. Xueci didn’t even have to walk on his own; several paper figures crowded around, grabbing his arms and dragging him outside.

Disoriented, he was stuffed into a sedan chair.

Heavy dark clouds shrouded the moon, and soon rain began to fall. The downpour soaked the white “joss paper” money that was fluttering everywhere on the ground.

Through the pervasive mist, several paper figures carried a red wedding sedan. Unaffected by the weather, they marched forward with hurried steps—a vision of blurry red and ghastly white that eventually vanished into the thick fog.

Waving a red handkerchief, the paper matchmaker urged them on in a shrill voice, “Hurry, hurry! Do not miss the auspicious hour!”

Xueci gripped the red veil, wanting to tear it off but not daring to. After an unknown amount of time, he was finally dragged out of the sedan by the paper figures.

His head hung weakly. Beneath the bridal veil, he could see a brazier appear in front of him.

The tongues of fire were twisted and expanding, scorching and dazzling, yet they emitted a cold, ominous feeling as they swirled toward him.

It felt as though they were trying to drag him into hell along with them.

“Cross the brazier!” The matchmaker’s sharp voice followed immediately.

Xueci shook with fear. Even as a “little fool,” he felt this was bizarre; this didn’t seem like a normal wedding at all.

However, the paper figures possessed immense strength. Pinning his shoulders tightly, they dragged him forward.

If he didn’t lift his feet, the hem of his skirt would be scorched by the flames. Using every ounce of his strength, Xueci lifted his stiff legs and stepped over.

On the matchmaker’s cold, ghastly white face, her red lips parted into a massive, eerie grin.

As he was dragged further in, he finally heard human voices. The surroundings were noisy and bustling, seemingly filled with guests.

There were men and women, elderly people and children. Occasionally, bursts of laughter from the guests or the giggling of children rang out. Cymbals and suona horns played loudly, yet there wasn’t a hint of festivity to be felt.

Xueci heard them mentioning a “First Seven” mourning period.

“How tragic. The He family’s eldest son was born with a calamitous fate; he was filled with ghostly energy from birth,” an elderly voice said. “He cursed his parents, his friends, his wife, and his children. He was destined not to live past thirty.”

Someone nearby agreed, “Indeed. The white-haired sent off the black-haired. Tonight is the First Seven. Seeing how lonely he was in life and how pitiful he is in death, the He parents found him a wife. They’re about to perform the ceremony!”

Their tones were rhythmic and dramatic, which would have been funny in any other context. But the old He estate was currently filled with cold red lanterns, making the black-hole-like courtyard glow red.

Even the moon struggling out from the clouds held a bloody red tint. No one would be able to laugh; they would only feel a chill down their spines.

Xueci felt dizzy. For some reason, he could hear them speaking, but his mind felt tightly wrapped in a damp, heavy fog, unable to process the meaning of the words.

He only knew he had finally encountered other people. These voices weren’t as mechanical and sharp as the paper figures’.

Xueci’s throat tightened. He was still terrified, but perhaps driven by a survival instinct, he endured the immense pain in his shoulders—as if the bones were being crushed—and suddenly wrenched himself free from the paper figures.

Without thinking, he grabbed the person closest to him, who seemed to be the old man who had been speaking.

“Help me…” Xueci lifted the veil with trembling fingers. He bit his lip to hold back tears, his voice shaking.

He knew the man was a guest invited by the He family and was unlikely to save him, but he sounded like a living person. He had to grasp at this straw.

However, the moment he met the old man’s eyes, his scalp went numb. His spine felt as if it had exploded, and he broke out in a cold sweat.

The old man’s skin was blue-purple and bloated, emitting a pungent stench. The corners of his mouth were rotted, and his eye sockets were black holes filled with eerie green water plants and algae. Yet, his lips continued to move, “…Ghostly energy! This place is overflowing with ghostly energy!”

His voice was terrified, as if he had been greatly shocked, yet the corners of his mouth split wider and wider, unable to hide a malicious grin.

Xueci’s face turned deathly white. He let go abruptly and stumbled back several steps as if he had touched something filthy.

He had once heard a saying: do not fear a ghost’s cry, but fear a ghost’s laugh. A ghost hiding and sobbing at night might not be very dangerous, but one laughing like this was likely unfathomably sinister.

“Oh dear!” The paper matchmaker saw the bride had lifted the veil himself. Her voice changed pitch from fright. She rushed over, covered Xueci’s head tightly, and dragged him away. “Don’t keep the groom waiting.”

As she spoke the last sentence, she suddenly shuddered, as if she had seen a ghost. It made Xueci feel that she wanted this wedding to end even more than he did, so she could leave him and run away.

Pushed and shoved along, Xueci finally stopped. He lifted his pale little face, and before he could react, a great force pressed down on the back of his head.

He was forced to bow.

“First bow to Heaven and Earth!” The master of ceremonies was a cold, sharp male voice.

Xueci was so terrified his body wouldn’t obey him, but he had no way to resist. He was dragged around to face a different direction, and his head was forced down again.

The force was so great he feared his neck would snap if it happened a few more times.

Xueci tumbled forward uncontrollably. In his panic, he reached out to grab something, catching hold of something cold and slender. His hands were lifted lightly by the object, helping him kneel steadily again.

“Second bow to the parents!”

Xueci dazed for a moment. His heart raced and his chest pained, but he could only kneel stiffly. His head was pressed down once more for a forceful kowtow, and a metallic, bloody taste immediately filled his throat.

His head buzzed as a massive sense of cold desolation enveloped him, as if his soul no longer belonged to himself.

“Couple bow to each other! The ceremony is complete!”

After the bows, the hands pressing him down suddenly let go. Xueci slumped to the floor in his kneeling position, and the noisy guests receded like a tide.

Xueci lay on the ground, not daring to move. The door behind him thudded, as if someone were sticking something onto it.

He even heard a few normal human voices and noisy footsteps, but everything soon fell silent again.

On this gloomy night, the entire He estate was so deathly still there was no sound at all. Xueci’s heart pounded; he felt as if he were the only living person left in the entire He family.

He was still kneeling with his rear up; the youth’s waist was very thin, curving beautifully as he lay prostrated. His knees hurt terribly. Propping himself up with trembling arms, he finally sat up.

The He family had likely been afraid he would run away, as they hadn’t given him shoes. He curled his toes, trying to hide his cold feet under the hem of his skirt.

The wedding veil still blocked his vision. Being unable to see anything in this strange, eerie place terrified him. But when his fingers brushed the cold embroidery of the veil, he shivered.

He didn’t have the courage to tear it off.

He was terrified of seeing something monstrous again.

Xueci hugged his knees, cautiously scooting backward bit by bit until his back hit something solid. With something to lean on, he felt a slight relief in his heart.

Finally unable to stand the bizarre atmosphere, his slender fingers gripped the veil and gently lifted it a fraction.

Unexpectedly, this hall-like room had no red lanterns or candles. Instead, it was hung with many white flowers and white cloth… there were even various funeral wreaths and soul-summoning banners.

Xueci’s breath hitched. He turned his head stiffly and finally realized what he had been leaning against.

It was a pitch-black coffin.

Xueci nearly screamed. Cold sweat instantly flowed down his spine. In a panic, he scrambled away on all fours.

The wedding veil still hung precariously on his black hair, half-covering his deathly pale face. Under the light of the white lanterns—which looked like ghost fires—it emphasized a strange, shivering beauty.

Xueci backed away from the coffin, and only then did he see the altar placed in front of it. He was too afraid to look, but his eyes uncontrollably drifted upward.

He met a black-and-white funeral portrait.

The man in the portrait was pale and handsome, with a sharp, protruding bone structure. His brow ridges were like small mountain ranges, casting heavy shadows over his eye sockets and making his gaze look especially deep. He wore a black suit, and his somber, cold “peach blossom” eyes seemed to hold a natural smile; even the corners of his mouth were hooked upward.

However, the candlelight nearby was too dim, blurring his features and inevitably giving him a ghostly air on such a night.

Xueci’s pupils trembled. Reflected in the flickering candlelight, cold sweat rolled down his gaunt cheeks. As a cold wind whistled through the hall, his heart felt like ice.

He thought, he finally knew.

He knew why his younger brother refused to marry at all costs, and why his parents risked offending the He family to make him a substitute.

Because this man was already dead. This was a ghost marriage. He was in the man’s funeral hall.

Many paper figures were also placed on both sides of the coffin. There were boys and girls dressed in red and green, and a pair of paper figures looking like a middle-aged couple sitting in chairs on either side of the altar.

Beyond them were the paper guests.

All these paper figures had eyes dotted in. Though made of paper with painted eyes, they held the expressions of living people.

Xueci felt that no matter where he tried to hide, the gazes of these paper figures followed him in a cold, oily stare.

A chill seeped out from the depths of his heart.

In this place, besides himself… were there any other living people?

Xueci’s beautiful eyes filled with tears. Every nerve screamed with terror. He lacked even the strength to call out, yet the door behind him began to thud again.

Startled, he scrambled up but couldn’t find anywhere to hide.

By the light of the dim, reddish moon, Xueci could vaguely see many paper-like objects stuck to the outside of the door. It was as if countless yellow talismans were being torn and battered; the wind sounded like ghosts wailing.

What to do… what to do…

Before Xueci could find a way out, the middle-aged paper couple in the hall suddenly burst into flames. Though made of paper, they melted from head to toe like human fat.

The female paper figure swayed, her skull hanging precariously on her neck as she suddenly stood up like a stiff corpse!

Xueci’s limbs went weak, and tears instantly blurred his vision. He had no time to dodge, but fortunately, the paper figure only stumbled a few steps before being completely burned to ash.

The remaining paper figures also ignited one by one, their faces twisting in the flames. Xueci finally broke down completely, turning to bang on the door with all his might. “Help!! Help me!!!”

He knocked for a long time until his voice became hoarse and choked with sobs, but no one paid him any mind.

The shaking in the hall had stopped, and the paper figures were almost burned out, but the fear did not recede. The massive hall loomed over him like a heavy black mountain.

No…

No!

Xueci pinched his palms, forcing himself to calm down. No, he suddenly thought—he had a mental illness.

He had been able to see those dark creatures, or what could be called ghosts, since he was a child. But there were no ghosts in this world. Xueci knew he was just having hallucinations.

Otherwise, how could it be explained that these monsters stared at him every night with cold resentment, yet never actually hurt him? Besides, his medicine was very effective; the monsters would disappear every time he took it.

Xueci never doubted his mental illness. Even the doctors said the ghosts in his hallucinations couldn’t hurt him. Therefore, the only thing he had to fight was the fear in his heart.

Great, he was sick!

Thinking of this, Xueci’s body went limp. He sank to the floor, and some color returned to his small face as he finally calmed down a little.

Right now… he probably wasn’t even in a funeral hall.

Even if he were, there couldn’t be moving paper figures. They were all his hallucinations, or he was having a nightmare. He just needed to find other people, and someone would take him to the hospital.

“…” When Xueci spoke, his voice was trembling and very weak. “Mr… Mr. He, are you there?”

The hall was silent. The silence was so oppressive it felt like a giant hand was squeezing his heart in the heavy night, leaving him exhausted and struggling to breathe.

“Mr. He?”

“…”

No response.

Xueci rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He gave a small sob and bit his lip to keep from crying out loud, but he couldn’t quite stop himself; his lips were bitten until they were a bright, messy red.

Ignoring him right after the wedding—wasn’t this just a “widowed marriage”? What was the difference between this ice-cold husband and a dead one?

No wonder he saw He Xunye’s funeral portrait in his nightmare.

It matched.

Everything matched.

And that coffin in the center of the room—it was probably the bed. He was forced to marry a stranger and lie in the same bed as him. This marriage was like a grave.

It matched again.

Xueci gave a tiny sigh of relief.

He had only recently been discharged. An old man in his ward also had schizophrenia. Their ward was a six-person open ward with relatively stable patients. The doctors allowed them to use their phones for a while, and every day he heard that old man watching short videos from “relationship experts.” He had learned a lot.

“Kind words create good karma; harsh words wound the heart. If you don’t want to be heartbroken by a man, stay away from this kind of marriage.”

“When a man gives you the cold shoulder, this is what you should do.”

“A man only behaves once he’s hanging on the wall.”

Xueci: “…”

It seemed… it seemed a bit right, yet also not quite right. But he couldn’t figure out exactly what was wrong.

Xueci sat dazed on the floor hugging his knees, his eyes wide and round. His pale, slightly pointed chin rested on his knees as he looked around uneasily. One moment he remembered he was in a nightmare, the next he forgot. He felt surrounded by ghosts. With tear tracks on his face, he wanted to cry but didn’t dare do so too loudly.

He sobbed quietly. To a listener, it sounded like a ghost was haunting the place.

“…”

The burning tongues of flame nearby seemed to freeze for a split second, but only for a very brief moment before leaping up again, burning the remaining paper figures to a crisp.

Xueci was startled. He cried easily, and his face was soon covered in tears. His nose and eyelids were red. With a tear-stained face, he didn’t even dare to breathe too loudly.

“Mr. He?” Xueci called out timidly again.

He instinctively didn’t dare to call out He Xunye’s name directly. In such a cold, eerie funeral hall, saying a dead man’s name felt like summoning a soul.

Just thinking about it made his scalp tingle and his whole body shake uncontrollably.

…

The funeral banners swayed; the coffin was pitch black.

“Hus… Husband,” Xueci knelt on the floor. He was still a bit afraid and didn’t even dare to stand up. Shaking, he bit his red lips and called out in a tiny voice, “Husband, are you there?”

He had never used such a term for anyone before.

Even in this terrifying environment, the tips of his ears turned an unnatural red. His palm-sized face looked fearful, like an innocent bride being sacrificed to an evil spirit.

Silence.

No one answered.

Only the flames of the pair of white candles on the altar flickered once without any wind, reflecting the man’s gloomy, blurred face.

Xueci’s illness hadn’t recovered, and he had been severely frightened. He waited for a while, but still no one cared for him. His consciousness grew heavier and heavier; even his fear couldn’t withstand the exhaustion.

The movement in the hall had stopped. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified. Rubbing his red eyes, he finally couldn’t hold out anymore and slumped over onto the floor.

He crumpled the wide sleeves of his wedding dress into a ball to use as a pillow and fell asleep with teary eyes.

He slept very deeply, so he did not notice that the black pupils of the handsome man in the portrait suddenly drifted downward. Like a cold, oily tongue, they licked across the snow-white soles of his feet.1