FMT 3

Chapter 03  Consummation

Liandan still remembered his mother-in-law’s words, that he must serve his husband well. If he could not conceive this time, he would have no way to live.

He knew his mother-in-law had not been speaking lightly. Even if he died, no one would seek justice for him.

As long as she accused him of being unfilial, the authorities would not punish her.

Liandan had long since learned to accept his fate. He was terrified, but he still clenched his teeth, untied the cord at his waist, and took off his outer robe.

But the white ghostly figure at the door had no reaction, only stared at him with those bulging black eyes that showed between strands of hair, eerie and horrifying.

Liandan’s teeth chattered. Half kneeling on the ground, he crawled forward, clutched a corner of the figure’s robe, his thin shoulder bared in the cold air. He cried as he looked up at him. “I beg you…” But he could not say what he was begging for.

The white figure did not move, only lowered its head and stared fixedly at him.

The sweet scent in the air grew stronger. Liandan’s heartbeat sped up. Blood rushed to his head. His body grew restless, heat surged up into his mind, and a burning, unbearable desire arose out of nowhere.

This was very wrong, but Liandan did not understand and had no time to figure it out.

The ghostly figure before his eyes was his husband. His mother-in-law had told him what to do. He dared not forget. Whatever he did, no matter how improper, was what he ought to do.

In his twenty years of life, this was the first time Liandan dared to do what he never would have before.

He lay on the ground, clung tightly to the figure’s leg, and pleaded, “Please, hold me…”

The white figure still did not move. Liandan, suppressing his fear, raised his head to meet those terrifying eyes.

Those eyes were black and bottomless, as if leading straight to the depths of hell.

Liandan’s body grew hotter and hotter. He panted in distress, his cheeks flushed red.

Only then did the ghostly figure move. He turned his head toward the doorframe beside him. Fingers like dry bone brushed against it, and a smear of white powder clung to his fingertips.

He lowered his head, those bulging black eyes staring at it for a moment.

At that moment, Liandan, face flushed, pitiful and humble, raised his head with effort to kiss the hem of the ghost’s white robe, and then cried, “Please grant me this. I don’t want to die…!”

The ghost’s gaze returned once more to his face.

He did not know how long it was before, just as Liandan almost thought the figure would turn and leave, the door behind him banged shut.

Liandan’s whole body trembled. As the door swung, the blood-stained white robe that hung in front of his eyes lifted with the wind, revealing the courtyard outside.

In that instant, Liandan’s eyes went wide. His face showed indescribable horror.

In his twenty years of life, he had never seen such a terrifying sight.

In the moonlight, the courtyard was covered everywhere with blackened, congealed blood. Scattered all around were countless pieces of human corpses.

Some people had been cut in half at the waist, their innards spilling wetly across the ground.

Hell on earth was no more than this.

Before Liandan could see clearly, the door slammed completely shut.

His whole body shook, tears pouring down in fear.

The white figure bent down. Fingers like bone brushed his cheek. The touch was icy cold, nothing like the living.

Their faces were very close. Liandan quickly lowered his eyes, he didn’t dare to look.

His hands were pried from the figure’s leg. Liandan’s heart sank. He thought the figure would not grant him what he sought.

But the next moment, that cold figure lifted him by the waist and threw him onto the bed.

Liandan was stunned from the throw and let out an “Ah.”

Fingers like dry bone had already pushed into his mouth, stirring roughly.

A taste of blood spread through his mouth. Thinking of what it might be, Liandan struggled free, bent over, and retched. He barely managed not to vomit.

Very soon, a violent pain shot straight to his head. It hurt so much that Liandan kicked his legs wildly, his whole body shaking, his teeth nearly cracking.

At the peak of the pain, Liandan bit down hard on the figure’s neck. But the figure had no reaction at all, as if he felt nothing.

That night, Liandan cried and begged, but he did not try to escape.

If he wanted to live, he had to endure.

With his thin arms, he clung tightly around the ghostly figure’s neck, kissed the cold face and lips again and again to please him, and promised in his ear over and over: “I will give you a child…”

Liandan did not know if the figure had any awareness, or if he heard him at all. Liandan only did his best so he could stay alive.

The ghostly figure never gave him any response.

In a daze, just before he lost consciousness, Liandan felt the figure’s breath on his face. It seemed warm, but maybe it was only his imagination.

…

By morning, a few black clouds gathered in the sky. The air was heavy, as if it would rain. The wind rose, and the leaves rustled loudly.

Liandan woke from deep sleep. At first he was dazed, then suddenly sat up from under the blanket.

He was naked. The tearing pain below made his face turn deathly pale at once. The sticky feeling there was also uncomfortable, but Liandan could not even care about that.

He found his clothes at the foot of the bed, put them on as fast as he could, quickly slipped on his shoes, and pushed the door open.

In the courtyard, the nightmare from last night had not vanished with daylight. The indescribable stench of blood and rot seemed even stronger than before.

Liandan ran out of the room, leapt over the terrifying corpse of the old monk by the door, and rushed toward Tang Hua’s quarters nearby.

But when he reached Tang Hua’s door, he saw the head of the young monk who had brought him bath water last night lying on the threshold, the body nowhere to be seen.

Where the head was severed from the neck, the flesh and blood were a sticky blur. Liandan’s face turned pale. He gagged several times.

After retching, he softly called Tang Hua’s name and tried to push the door. But it was locked from inside. He knocked for a long time, and no one answered.

Liandan thought of something, turned, and knocked on Qingyu’s door instead.

This time, as soon as he touched the panel, the door pushed open on its own.

When he saw the scene inside, Liandan covered his mouth and stumbled back several steps.

Qingyu’s once fair face was now completely ashen. Her foxy eyes were wide open, glaring at the doorway. The resentment in her dead eyes had not faded. Even the red mole by her mouth looked dark and dull.

Beneath her was a large pool of black blood, soaking her thin clothes. She was already thoroughly dead.

Liandan could not bear the terror anymore. He screamed, turned, and ran across the corridor, straight through the courtyard, past the main hall, and ran down the mountain.

He did not know how long he ran. When he finally returned to the village, some children were playing under a tree. Seeing his strange appearance, they stopped and stared.

A few old men and women sat together chatting. When Liandan passed, they spoke to him, but he stood blankly, not responding.

One old woman sighed deeply and said softly to the others, “That Old Madam Chen has done evil. Look at what she has turned this good child into!”

The others also shook their heads and sighed, watching the frail young ge’er stumble along like he had lost his soul, heading toward the Chen house.

When he reached home, Liandan went inside.

Old Madam Chen was just about to light the fire to cook lunch. When she saw him come in, she first froze, then she became angry. She stood up and was about to slap him.

But when she saw the red marks on his neck, she narrowed her eyes, then roughly tore open Liandan’s collar. When she saw the state of his body, her old, clouded eyes suddenly lit up.

Old Madam Chen grabbed his collar and asked, “Did you see my son?”

Liandan nodded.

Her eyes shone brighter. “Did you consummate?”

Liandan nodded again.

Old Madam Chen paced back and forth in the room, rubbing her hands excitedly.

Then she came before him again, frowned, and said, “Why did you come back so early? Did you fail to serve my son well and make him unhappy?”

Liandan’s lips trembled, his eyes filled with fear. In a broken voice he said, “All… all dead. Husband lost his mind… he killed every living thing in Lingyun Temple!”

Old Madam Chen’s face changed. She staggered two steps back and bumped into the already unsteady round table. A chipped bowl at the edge toppled with a loud noise, shattering into pieces on the floor.