Eu Venho do Mundo Inferior
No mundo do Yin e Yang, na entrada do Rio Amarelo, treze portões dos mortos são guardados por vivos. O comandante dos carcereiros veste trajes de brocado, e na estação de passagem dos mortos observa-se o cão das montanhas. Os deuses das portas, o senhor das águas e o templo dos mestres, lanternas vermelhas e bandeiras brancas percorrem as ruas. Nesta canção dos fantasmas, com um verso faltando, há um segredo aterrador. Porque fui roubado do Rio Amarelo pelo meu avô, fui envolvido nesse segredo do submundo antes mesmo de nascer. Para romper o destino mortal que me envolve, entrei repetidas vezes em lugares perigosos: interroguei cadáveres em túmulos desolados, caixões flutuando em areias movediças, altares misteriosos nas nove águas, portões dos mortos sem vida... Após inúmeras experiências entre a vida e a morte, finalmente completei com sangue o último verso da canção dos fantasmas. Só que, naquele momento, já era impossível voltar atrás.
Eu Venho do Mundo Inferior
In the old days, when families of status married off their sons, they always observed the tradition of setting rules for the new bride as she entered the household.
Other families’ rules were nothing more than the usual expectations of obedience and virtue, but my family’s rule was so unbelievable, no one would accept it if they heard it.
When my mother married in, my grandfather blocked both my parents outside the door and declared bluntly, “Our family has only one rule: you must never bear children.”
“If you agree, drink what’s in this bowl and enter the Yuan family’s doors. If you disagree, go back to where you came from—we won’t stop you.”
The matchmaker, eager to speak up, glanced into the bowl and nearly fainted with fright.
Inside floated a horse snake whose belly had been pierced by coffin nails. It wasn’t dead yet; it thrashed desperately in a bowl of blood, its two claws—like a child’s small hands—gripping the edge, trying to climb out. But the coffin nail pinned its body inside, making escape impossible.
The matchmaker trembled with rage. “Yuan, what devilry is this? If she drinks this, won’t it kill her?”
At that, everyone present was dumbstruck. The neighbors tried to intervene, but my grandfather glared and barked, “None of your business! Either sit and drink or get out of my house.”
With the matchmaker and the master of ceremonies so humiliated, who could stay? The villagers accused my grandfather of bullying an outsider girl and, upset, all left in a huff. Only three people remained at the wedding.
My
