“Seventh Brother, there you both are.” Bai Jin came running over, panting.

“Any leads?”

Bai Jin shook his head. “I visited all the households on the list and couldn’t spot anything suspicious. The customs here are so strange — the preference for boys over girls has reached an appalling degree. Their own daughters were violated, yet they could all remain completely unmoved.”

“Never mind being violated — Hu Fen’er hanged herself over this matter and her family accepted ten yuan and called it settled.”

“I really thought the Hu Fen’er angle would be a breakthrough.” Bai Jin was very disappointed.

“Maybe we’ve been making things too complicated.” Under the large locust tree at the crossroads, the three of them stood facing each other. Shi Ting said, “We heard that Hu Sizhu violated a number of women, so we focused our investigation on the families of these female victims. But after going around in a circle, we find that these villagers have little awareness of the law. Regarding this kind of matter, they fear losing face and choose to keep quiet about it, and when some cases did come to light, they chose to settle with money.”

“Seventh Brother, according to your earlier deduction, the killer is very likely a woman. Could it be that one of the victims herself wanted to take revenge on Hu Sizhu?”

“That possibility can’t be ruled out, but looking at the overall investigation — did you find any suspicious individuals?”

Bai Jin shook his head. “These women have backward thinking, and most of them chose to conceal what happened to them. If Hu Sizhu hadn’t gone to Widow Zhang’s place to brag about it, even their own family members wouldn’t have known.”

“Let’s head back to the village committee — it seems we need to think this through more carefully.”

The three of them walked back along the village’s dirt road. Dog barks sounded from time to time in the surroundings, and some elderly people past sixty sat in doorways wearing worn cotton jackets, smoking dry tobacco pipes.

The fifteenth of October was almost upon them, and small shops along the village streets had put out paper money, paper flowers, and red cloth strips used for offerings.

Shi Ting suddenly thought of those two grains of red rice.

He walked to the entrance of a small shop. First he bought two packets of crisp biscuits and two tins of canned meat, paid, and then asked the proprietor, “Could I ask — what are these red cloth strips sold for?”

“You’re not from the village, are you?” The proprietor smiled and looked the group over. “This is our village custom — every year on the fifteenth of the seventh month and the fifteenth of the tenth month, every household buys red cloth strips to tie onto tree branches and then stick them into the graves. On the fifteenth of the tenth month, the Ghost Gate opens. Only graves marked this way allow the spirits inside to pass through the Ghost Gate and come to the human world for a visit.”

“If someone doesn’t want the ghost in the grave to come out, what method would they use?” Shi Ting lowered his voice.

The proprietor, seeing no one around, said, “The Ghost Gate only opens twice a year, and it’s for the purpose of pardoning sins in the human world. On this day each year, the Earth Official opens the gates of hell — it is also the day the gates of the underworld open. Deceased ancestors can return home to reunite with their families, so villagers use red cloth strips to guide them home. The ones buried in the graves are all ancestors and loved ones — who would want to stop the ghost in a grave from coming out? That would have to be someone with a guilty conscience.”

“If someone truly didn’t want to release them, what would they do? Would they pull out the red cloth strips?”

“No, no, no.” The proprietor shook his head. “For that you’d have to go find the spirit medium. The spirit medium opens the ritual altar and summons the red rice, then scatters the red rice on the deceased’s grave — that can prevent the dead person from walking out through the Ghost Gate.”

At the mention of red rice, Shi Ting and Yan Qing couldn’t help but exchange a glance.

In Hu Sizhu’s pocket, Yan Qing had found two grains of red rice. At the time they still hadn’t understood its significance, but now it was essentially certain: those two grains of red rice did not belong to Hu Sizhu. The killer must have deliberately brought them along. The killer’s purpose was to prevent Hu Sizhu’s soul from passing through the Ghost Gate to take revenge.

“Is there a spirit medium in your village?”

“Yes — Old Hu lives in Dashu Hamlet. You can find out from anyone there.”

Leaving the small shop, the three of them headed toward Dashu Hamlet.

“As long as we find this spirit medium, we can find out who came to her for red rice, and the person who requested red rice is the killer.” Bai Jin said excitedly.

The case seemed to be coming into focus again, and the three of them quickened their steps.

Arriving at Dashu Hamlet, Bai Jin asked an elder sitting at a doorway, and the man pointed with his tobacco pipe toward a spot not far away. “See those two big locust trees? Old Hu lives there.”

“Is she the only spirit medium in the village?”

“Yes, just her.” The elder took a puff from his pipe. “Red and white celebrations, fortune-telling and divination, offerings and sacrifices — everyone goes to her.”

“Is she reliable?”

“Reliable, of course she’s reliable — many people from other villages come especially to see her.”

Arriving at the home the elder had described, there were two large locust trees at the entrance, a red-lacquered door with brass rings, and the smell of incense could be detected from far away. Without even guessing, one knew that Old Hu lived here.

Bai Jin stepped forward and knocked on the door. After a moment, a woman in a gray long robe opened it. Seeing the group, she calmly asked, “Who are you looking for?”

“Are you Old Hu?”

“I am.” Old Hu half-narrowed her eyes.

“We have something we’d like to consult you about. May we come in to speak?”

Old Hu glanced at them, said nothing, and turned to go inside.

The courtyard was small and simply furnished. Upon entering the room, there were several incense tables with various deity statues placed on them.

Yan Qing couldn’t recognize who these deity figures were. At first glance they seemed somewhat eerie and unsettling, but she noticed that on a shelf to one side hung many red cloth strips — the same kind commonly seen at the small shop. It appeared this spirit medium also sold red cloth strips for extra income.

“This Old Hu looks rather gloomy.” Bai Jin muttered quietly.

Old Hu’s face was expressionless. She sat down on a meditation cushion, closed her eyes, and murmured to herself.

“We’ve come from another village and have long heard of Old Hu’s great name. We’d like to ask you for help with something.”

“What matter do you wish to consult me about?”

“It’s like this.” Bai Jin half-crouched. “There is someone among our family ancestors who died a wrongful death. With the fifteenth of the tenth month coming up, is there any way to prevent that person’s soul from coming out?”

Old Hu lifted her eyelids. Her murky eyes held no light — at first glance they looked like the eyes of a dead person.

“You want to request red rice?”

“Red rice? What is that?”

“Red rice is an object used to suppress evil. Scatter red rice on a grave and it can suppress the ghost’s spirit, trapping them in the underworld unable to escape.”

“So how would one request it?”

“Which of the three of you is doing the requesting?” Old Hu asked.

“Me!” Bai Jin pointed at himself.

Old Hu looked at him. “There is no one among your family ancestors who died a wrongful death.”

She then looked at Shi Ting. “Same for you.”

Finally, Old Hu’s gaze fell on Yan Qing. “But among your family ancestors, there must be someone who died a wrongful death.”

Yan Qing didn’t believe in supernatural matters, yet there were some things that science could not explain — such as fortune-telling and divination. Sometimes these practitioners needed only to observe your face to reveal secrets about your family that no outsider could know, even when they had never met you before.

She felt there was perhaps a genuine field of knowledge involved.

Bai Jin looked at Yan Qing and quietly asked, “Is there someone among your family ancestors who died a wrongful death? Did you know about it?”

Yan Qing shook her head. “I only know that my mother hanged herself. As for whether she died with grievances, I’m not clear.”

“You three have not come to request red rice, nor for fortune-telling. All three of you carry a righteous aura — you are officers of the law.” Old Hu said.

The three of them started at this.

Shi Ting half-crouched and looked at Old Hu. “Since you’ve guessed our identities, we won’t hide it either. We’ve come this time to ask you — has anyone from Xiqian Village recently come to request red rice?”

Old Hu didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she picked up a purple clay teapot beside her and set out three teacups.

After filling each cup with water, she raised her head. “Please, help yourselves.”

This Old Hu seemed mystical and strange, yet she had seen through their identities at a glance. She clearly had some genuine ability.

Bai Jin picked up the teacup in front of him, sniffed it. “Fine tea indeed.”

Old Hu still said nothing, and looked toward Shi Ting and Yan Qing.

The two also picked up their teacups and took a light sip — the fragrance of tea was pleasant, but there was a distinctive flavor, unlike common tea found on the market.

Old Hu, seeing that all three had drunk the tea, then spoke unhurriedly, “I can only tell you that in recent days, someone did indeed come to request red rice. But as for who requested it, I cannot say.”

The group’s expressions brightened.

“Can you tell us whether it was a man or a woman?”

Old Hu thought for a moment, then squeezed out a single word through clenched teeth: “Male.”

Male?

This seemed inconsistent with Shi Ting’s earlier deduction. All the clues pointed to the killer being a woman. If this was an accomplice, why didn’t the accomplice just deal with the matter directly? Wouldn’t that be safer?

After Old Hu uttered that word, she closed her eyes. No matter how much Bai Jin pleaded, she refused to say another word.

The three of them, helpless, rose and took their leave.

As they were leaving the courtyard, a woman came walking in carrying several pieces of clothing.

“Excuse me, are you a relative of Old Hu’s?” Shi Ting stopped and looked over.

“I’m her neighbor.” The woman replied.

“Then these clothes you’re carrying…”

“Oh, these all belong to Old Hu. The courtyard of her home can’t be used for drying clothes — it would block the sight of the deities — so when her clothes are washed, she dries them in my courtyard and then I bring them back to her.”

“Does a spirit medium also do laundry?” Bai Jin found this amusing.

The woman laughed. “A spirit medium is still a person — she still has bodily needs. How could she not do laundry? Otherwise she would smell.”

“Ma’am.” Seeing the woman about to go inside, Shi Ting quickly called to her. “Does Old Hu live alone? Does she have a daughter?”

“How did you know?” The woman was puzzled. “Old Hu does have a daughter, but she doesn’t come home often.”

“How old is her daughter?”

“Sixteen, or maybe fifteen — I can’t quite remember.”

“Where does she usually live?”

“I only know she works away from home. I don’t know much else about her.”

Leaving Old Hu’s courtyard, Bai Jin asked curiously, “Seventh Brother, how did you know Old Hu had a daughter?”

“Among the clothes that woman was carrying, there was a cream-colored balloon-cut trouser and a dusty rose-pink sweater. Given Old Hu’s age, she couldn’t possibly wear clothing like that. And for someone to wash clothes on her behalf, it would have to be someone close to her.”

As Shi Ting said this, he suddenly thought of something. “Do you both remember — when the autopsy came up at the time, the Hu Zaiquan couple initially showed no particular aversion, but after a brief private discussion they expressed strong opposition? Why was that?”