The Seventh Night: The Ghost Festival

The Ghost Festival, traditionally observed in China on the 15th day of the seventh lunar month, is a time when children are sternly warned by adults to stay indoors after dark and never to respond if someone calls their name.

"But why? Names are meant to be called, aren't they?" I wondered aloud while browsing this information online.

"You fool. Clearly, you've never heard Lin's story. If you had, you'd never casually answer when someone calls your name on the night of the Ghost Festival," my friend chided.

"Oh? What's the story?" I asked, knowing he was about to launch into one of his tales. Sure enough, he tossed aside his book, grabbed two cans of beer, and began recounting the story of Lin.

"Lin was my childhood playmate in the countryside. I might have mentioned before that our family was quite prestigious locally, thanks to the Eight-Tailed Cat's blessing. Lin, who was basically my play companion, had a mother who worked for us.

"My childhood memories of Lin are of a smart, almost cunning boy. His big head had a few tufts of scraggly hair, and his roving eyes darted everywhere. Though he was shorter than me, he was incredibly agile, always the one climbing trees, raiding bird nests, and catching fish. Even though I was half a year older, I often felt like his younger brother, trailing behind him as he taught me new tricks. Though I returned to the city for school at a young age, Lin remains an unforgettable part of my childhood.

"After graduating from middle school, I longed for those carefree days and decided to visit my hometown in August. When I saw Lin again, he had grown taller and more robust, his body muscular from hard labor. Though he looked tougher, he still had that sharp, sly glint in his eyes.

"'You're back,' Lin greeted me with a broad smile, revealing a row of white teeth as he worked in the fields.

"'Yes, let's go play. It's been so long,' I invited eagerly. Lin glanced at his father, an elderly man who walked with a cane, and got a nod of approval. Tossing aside his tools, he wiped his hands and came over to me.

"We had a blast that day, replaying all our childhood games. The air seemed filled with happiness, but we didn't notice the sun setting. Suddenly, it was dark—August nights come quickly, you know. One moment there were faint traces of the sunset, and the next, it was pitch black.

"'Let's head back; it's the Ghost Festival tonight,' Lin said, brushing off the dust and grabbing my hand. Reluctantly, I agreed, feeling that my time there was too short.

"'Alright, see you tomorrow,' I said. Lin seemed in a hurry, walking so fast that we quickly put several meters between us.

"The path back to the village felt eerie. While it was fine during the day, at night it seemed treacherous. I was surprised at how quickly Lin navigated it.

"Suddenly, he stopped and asked, 'What's wrong?'

"'What do you mean?' I caught up and asked.

"'Didn't you just call me, saying "Lin, Lin"?' he asked, puzzled.

"'No, you must have misheard. It's probably just the wind,' I explained.

"Lin's face changed, his eyes shining in the dark like ghost lights. He kept looking around, his neck swiveling quickly.

"'What's wrong?' I was starting to get scared, being just a teenager.

"Without answering, Lin grabbed my hand and ran us back home at breakneck speed, his grip so strong I was almost dragged along.

"Once we were home, he left hurriedly, his face as pale as a ghost, devoid of any color.

"Our house in the countryside was large, and I slept on the second floor, next to my cousin, the son of my great-uncle who had seen the Eight-Tailed Cat. Tall and kind, he always indulged my requests for ghost stories, though tonight he refused.

"'Not tonight. It's the Ghost Festival. We don't tell such stories on this night, or you'll have trouble sleeping,' he said, patting my head with a broad hand before turning to leave.

"I suddenly called out, 'Cousin, what does it mean if you hear someone calling your name but can't see anyone?'

"My cousin paused, then rushed over and grabbed my hand, urgently asking, 'Did you hear someone call your name? Did you answer?'

"Frightened, I quickly said no. He relaxed but sternly warned me to stay indoors for the next few nights and to be sure of who was calling me before responding.

"Under the covers, I couldn't shake the image of Lin's terrified eyes and my cousin's anxious expression. I had a sense that something was hidden in this village, perhaps just my childlike curiosity.

"The next morning, my first task was to find Lin, worried that something might happen to him, though I couldn't say what. When I found him, he was rubbing his eyes, yawning, and complaining about being woken so early. Relieved, we spent the day playing, but returned home as soon as the sun touched the horizon.

"Things seemed safe until the last day of the lunar month, Lin's birthday. He was turning sixteen, but I hadn't seen him in days due to the busy farming season.

"That morning, the village was quiet, covered in fog that cleared as I approached Lin's house with a bowl of red eggs, cooked by Granny for his birthday.

"The door was unlocked, so I pushed it open. Back then, people didn't lock their doors, especially if someone was home. I knew Lin was likely still asleep; he'd been playing with me and working hard, so he was probably exhausted. Today, I wanted to celebrate his birthday properly.

"'Lin? Lin?' I called as I entered. The house was dark despite the bright sun outside. His room was in the loft, a cramped space you had to crawl into.

"I called his name again and again, but the house was eerily silent. Carefully climbing the stairs, I saw something moving in the dark corner of the loft.

"'Lin, is that you? Why aren't you answering?' I crawled closer, the loft too low to stand.

"As I neared, sunlight slowly illuminated the space, revealing Lin. I was shocked. In just a few days, he had wasted away, looking nothing like his former robust self. His eyes were sunken, his cheekbones protruding, and his ribs stuck out like piano keys. He lay there, barely alive.

"'What happened? How did this happen?' I cried, shaking his large head, but he only stared blankly past me.

"'It's calling my name again. It's coming for me,' he muttered like in a trance.

"'What? Who's calling you? Don't scare me, Lin. I'll get help,' I said, but as I moved to leave, he grabbed my shirt with surprising strength.

"'Don't go! It's here! I see it, behind you!' Lin screamed, pointing at the dark loft behind me.

"Terrified, I turned to see nothing but felt something approaching Lin from behind. His eyes bulged as a white figure filled his pupils, and he died in my arms, a smile on his face.

"I screamed and cried, holding his lifeless body for hours until the adults came. They found me and I fainted.

"When I awoke at home, my head ached and my throat was sore. My cousin told me Lin had died. I fainted again and was bedridden for days, during which I vaguely saw Taoist priests performing rituals by my bed, relatives visiting, and Lin waving at me.

"Three days later, I fully recovered. My cousin, relieved, warned me again about not answering when someone calls my name at night, especially during the Ghost Festival.

"I felt guilty, believing I indirectly caused Lin's death. If we hadn't been playing so recklessly, he wouldn't have forgotten the village's taboo. I apologized to his parents, who told me it wasn't my fault and that it was Lin's fate. Still, his mother cried.

"After that, I rarely returned to the village. I never understood why it was Lin who heard his name called and not me. Perhaps he subconsciously answered on my behalf.

"Anyway, never answer when someone calls your name on the night of the Ghost Festival," my friend finished, looking solemn.

"That's the end of Lin's story?" I asked, finishing my beer and feeling a chill.

"No, it's just the beginning," he said gravely.

"Time heals all wounds, or so they say. I was busy with college, then my parents passed away, which you know. When my father died, I returned to the village to bury his ashes in the family tomb. That was when the terrifying memories of my childhood replayed like a videotape.

"My father's death wasn't too sorrowful, as he'd been suffering from cancer for years. His death was a release from pain, though I felt immense pressure. Returning to the village reminded me of Lin's death, adding to my distress. The night after burying my father, which happened to be the Ghost Festival, I wandered around the village, drinking homemade liquor and ended up at the forbidden back mountain.

"After vomiting against a wall, I felt a cool breeze that sobered me. Realizing where I was, I drunkenly called out for Lin, shouting his name into the night.

"Just as I was about to leave the mountain, I heard a faint voice call 'Xiaosi!' my childhood nickname, known to very few, including Lin.

"Thinking I misheard, I continued walking home. The voice called again, clearer this time, right by my ear.

"Terrified, I shouted, 'Who's there?' but got no response, just the wind and distant dog barks. I ran home, not stopping until I collapsed into bed, unable to sleep all night, haunted by the voice calling 'Xiaosi.'

"The next morning, exhausted, I went downstairs. My cousin, noticing my distress, handed me a protective charm and warned me never to lose it.

"For several days, I heard nothing more. Going through the motions, I visited familiar places, everyone praising my growth and mourning my father.

"Finally, I went to Lin's house, though I dreaded it. It was abandoned after his family faced a string of misfortunes. The house stood as it did on the day Lin died.

"I pushed open the unlocked door, stepping back in time. The house's unchanged interior brought back painful memories. I climbed to the loft, now darker and more desolate. Despite my fear, I felt a strange urge to see Lin.

"Each step on the creaking stairs was a struggle, but I finally reached the loft, bathed in warm sunlight. I sat where Lin had sat, mimicking his posture.

"'Lin, are you there?' I whispered in my heart.

"'Xiaosi,' a voice called, waking me from my trance.

"'Xiaosi,' it called again, clear and close. Terrified, I realized the taboo and tried to leave but found no ladder.

"The loft seemed impossibly high, like a bottomless pit.

"'Xiaosi!' the voice grew sharp. I screamed, 'Stay away!' but saw nothing.

"Panicked, I flailed my arms, stirring up dust in the sunlight.

"'Xiaosi,' I finally saw him, Lin, sitting where he always had, looking just as he did before his death. Tears streamed down my face as he crawled towards me, calling my name.

"His nails scraped the floor, the sound growing louder as he neared. His hand reached out, almost touching my face.

"'Xiaosi, I've been waiting for you,' he said, his eyes filling my vision.

"Despair washed over me, feeling it was better to join him. Suddenly, I could move and speak again, and Lin's image vanished. The loft was empty, the ladder back in place.

"Feeling a sense of survival, I returned home to find my family mourning. My cousin had died suddenly, his eyes wide open, just before I arrived. His last words were to tell me to take care of myself.

"I felt I had caused the deaths of my closest people. I didn't blame Lin; he had no choice. I blamed myself for not being more cautious. My friend showed me the protective charm my cousin had given him.

"'This is the charm my cousin gave me. I'll always wear it,' he said. 'Now you know why you should never answer when someone calls your name on the Ghost Festival night.'

"I nodded mechanically, shivering as I thought of the countless times I'd answered to my name, never knowing the danger I'd escaped."