My name is Luo Xiaoqi, born in a barren gully in Western China. Perhaps due to its close-off nature, the people here are alarmingly superstitious.

When I was a child, the greatest talk of the town was that my family bore me - a star of disaster who was said to bring misfortune to both parents and everyone around.

Word was my mother ran into something evil while traveling at night and had no other choice but to give birth to me in a grave. And it was a difficult birth.

No one knew she was in labor there, and by the time they found her, she had stopped breathing.

I was stuck in her birth canal. My grandmother forcefully pulled me out of her. Somehow I didn't die and was still breathing.

Due to this, those who heard about this incident called me a jinx that had brought death on my mother.

This rumor quickly spread throughout the village. Upon seeing me from afar, people would avoid me.

Allegedly, my dad left home because of this incident and still has not returned. Some people say he is already dead.

So I lived with my grandmother since young. Fortunately, she didn't despise me and took great care of me.

My grandmother is regarded as a 'witchdoctor' in the village, or as the people would call it, a 'Shaman'.

She not only predicts one's past and future lives based on their 'Bazi'

a person’s birth date and time in Chinese astrology

, but also often treats villagers’ illnesses. She enjoys a high reputation. Although people disdain me, they all respectfully refer to her as Fairy.

That's not the whole story, my grandmother has far more impressive abilities that I've witnessed first hand.

I remember one night just after we'd entered 'Ghost Month', not long after having dinner with my grandmother, a hulking uncle from the neighboring village brought a blood-soaked boy, begging my grandmother to save him.

This boy was roughly my age, covered in blood all over. His head was slumped over the uncle’s shoulder. Half of his face was a bloody mess, as if bitten by a wild beast.

I was scared at the time, hiding behind the inner room's door, secretly watching them.

The grandmother stared at the boy for a long time before declaring that the child was beyond help, and attempting a soul summoning could potentially summon a shattered and malevolent spirit.

The uncle immediately knelt before her, crying and sniveling, begging her to help by any means necessary.

The grandmother hesitated for a long time before finally agreeing to try. She asked the uncle to leave first and kept the little boy here.

She carried the boy into the back room, placing him flat on the pitch-black desk where she often performed her rituals, and removed his clothes.

Only then could I clearly see that the boy's body beneath his clothes was completely broken and mangled, with no inch left unscathed. Even the grandmother was shocked as her face turned exceptionally grim.

She muttered the word "misfortune" several times before beginning to tie red silk threads onto the boy's body, one tied to the next. At first glance, it looked somewhat like the Yin and Yang diagram seen in shrines.

After tying the red threads, the grandmother placed an oil lamp on the boy's head, then sat down cross-legged in front of the table to chant her spell while swaying her "soul-summoning bell".

The bell was similar to the little one I wore on my wrist, except hers was made of bronze, and mine was made from jade, which I've been wearing since childhood.

When the grandmother was chanting, the candlelight in the room became increasingly dim, and a chilling wind blew in from the doorway cracks, making it especially cold.

I saw the oil lamp flickering on the boy's head, as if it was about to go out.

Vague whimpering sounds could be heard around me, sounding both near and far.

Suddenly, the oil lamp on the boy's head went out without any breeze, and a pitiful wailing sound echoed around. It sent shivers down my spine.

"Ancestral command, arrayed with double-faced vajra, a thousand miles of soul-binding illness, quickly return to your innate self," she chanted.

It turned out that the grandmother was performing a soul-summoning spell, something she often helped the villagers with when they were inexplicably scared. However, in the past, she didn't need a bell, a talisman paper was enough.

On ordinary days, with all that I've seen and heard, I've memorized most of granny's spell scrolls and incantations.

I had never seen her summon spirits with such grandeur and felt very curious. So, I shook the bell in my hand and followed her to read the summoning spell.

The wailing that was present before suddenly halted, leaving me puzzled. I jingled the bell once again. At this moment, a cold breeze blew from behind my ear, as if someone was tugging at it.

I quickly looked back to find a bloody, severed arm floating beside my ear.

Realizing my vision might be playing tricks, I rubbed my eyes and looked again. But, an enlarged head with just a half face was before me. The lone wide-eyed stare from this half face seemed really curious.

I stood stunned. Isn't this the head of the little boy in the house?

"Granny!!"

I screamed at the top of my voice and pounded on the back chamber door, but to no avail. Granny, it seemed, hadn't heard me and was still chanting spells.

Behind me, countless broken limbs and body fragments charged at me all at once – arms, legs, shattered bodies - all soaked in blood.

"Pain, so much pain!"

The half-faced head whizzed in front of me, shouting. Each time he opened his mouth, fresh blood flowed out, a heartbreaking sight.

My eyes were glued to the bell around my wrist, and without much thought, I shook it again. As a result, he moved a bit closer to me.

Then, those randomly floating limbs also flew over and slowly started gathering around his head.

“Granny, granny save me." I pounded frantically on the back chamber door out of fear, but granny still didn't hear.

I panicked and dashed into the inner room, grabbed the blanket, and covered my head.

After a long time, I heard no sound outside and suspiciously lifted the quilt. I didn't see that half-faced man anymore.

Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, my shoulder suddenly got smacked.

"Ah...huh?"

I thought it was that bloody severed hand again but when I turned my head, I saw a young boy about my height standing behind me.

He was extremely handsome, with a turban around his head. With bright eyes and white teeth, his face was as radiant as a precious gem. His white robe fluttered gracefully, making him look like a celestial being from a painting. He was just like the young masters from wealthy families I've seen on TV.

He smiled at me and said bashfully, "Thank you."

Having no playmates since childhood, I was moved by this friendly and good-looking boy. I stood up without any regard for shame and boldy gave him a passionate kiss on his face.

Stunned, he immediately turned around and ran away, vanishing into thin air.

I was anxious and leapt from my bed to chase after him, shouting as I ran, "Wait for me, brother...wait...”

"Wailing like a ghost early in the morning? Get up!”

My grandmother's stern voice woke me up. I opened my eyes to find myself laying on my bed. The handsome young boy was not in the room, and neither was the boy with the red thread tied to the shrine by my grandmother.

I asked my grandmother about this and she denied the visit from the neighbor's uncle and the existence of the half-faced boy. She admonished me not to think nonsense.

However, she looked uneasy since that day and always seemed to have something on her mind.

So I stopped bringing up this issue. But a few days later, on my mother's death anniversary, something even more peculiar happened...