Chapter 53: The Grave Cat

The ancestral graveyard of the Zhao family is vast. For over six hundred years, everyone who died in Zhaojialou was buried here. Before the end of the Qing Dynasty, almost everyone in Zhaojialou bore the surname Zhao, so the overwhelming majority of the headstones were inscribed with "Zhao So-and-so" or "Madam Zhao, née..."

Seen from afar, this ancestral burial ground, nestled beneath the majestic and towering Shiren Gu, possessed excellent feng shui. Because the Zhao family had settled here earliest, the graves grew more ancient the further inward one ventured—some dating back five or six centuries. Deepest within lay the oldest, most weathered tombs of the Zhao ancestors, whose origins had long been lost to time. Due to their extreme age, the burial chambers of these graves had long since collapsed, and the headstones and epitaphs were eroded and ruined, leaving the graves as mere sunken depressions in the earth.

Li Douniu remembered clearly that one of these graves was particularly large and deeply sunken. Behind it, just as the old Taoist priest had claimed, was a dark "cat hole." It was just large enough for a seven or eight-year-old child to crawl through, yet it felt sinister, exhaling a chill even in the height of summer. Li Douniu had never entered it, nor did he have the courage to; he had no idea what lay inside.

But now, driven to the brink, Li Douniu had no choice but to go in. After all, it was a matter of life and death. Summoning his courage, he bent down and crawled into the "cat hole."

Strangely, once he was inside, he discovered that the cavity was not small at all. While the entrance was only wide enough to squeeze through, the space widened as he progressed until, finally, he could crawl forward while hunched over. After moving about seven or eight meters from the entrance, Li Douniu, guided by the faint, diffused light filtering through, could just barely make out a half-buried, black-lacquered coffin at the end of the hollow. One half remained embedded in the earth, already rotting away, while the other half, exposed to the air, was withered and splintered.

From within that coffin came the faint, intermittent mewling of cats, exactly as the old Taoist had described. Hearing the sounds, Li Douniu’s heart leapt with a mix of surprise and hope. He hurriedly leaned forward to find the cat with the black body and white forehead.

But the moment he peered in, Li Douniu nearly jumped out of his skin. Inside the coffin lay a skeleton, and for reasons unknown, the bones were emitting a faint, eerie, fluorescent green glow. Amidst that phosphorescence sat a nest of weeds where three kittens were huddled—the very ones the old Taoist had mentioned. Guided by the ghostly light of the bones, Li Douniu saw clearly that the kitten in the center was indeed the "black-bodied, white-foreheaded" one.

Though terrified, Li Douniu weighed his options and decided that his survival was paramount. Gritting his teeth, he scooped up the kitten, which had only just learned to walk, and turned to flee.

Everything went smoothly at first, and his spirits began to lift. But just as he was about to scramble out of the ancient grave, a seductive, feminine voice called out from the coffin behind him: "Why have you taken my child?!"

The voice was sweet and delicate, dripping with charm. Had Li Douniu been a grown man, he would have instinctively looked back, but being only a child of seven or eight, he did not fall for the trick. Instead, he was paralyzed with fear and scrambled out of the graveyard, stumbling away.

On his way back, he heard all sorts of voices: some calling him for dinner, others threatening to kill him, women crying for help, and the sharp hissing of cats. It felt as if every corpse buried in that graveyard had suddenly come back to life. Throughout it all, Li Douniu strictly followed the old man’s instructions and dared not look back. He just kept running, clutching the kitten, until he was on the verge of escaping the labyrinthine Zhao ancestral grounds.

Yet, just at that moment, he heard a familiar voice beside him: "Did you get the cat?"

It was the same disheveled Taoist who had directed him to the grave. The timing was impeccable, occurring just as he was about to clear the graveyard. In a moment of carelessness, Li Douniu turned around, ready to answer, but was suddenly frozen in his tracks by the sight behind him.

In the graveyard, filled with rows of headstones, a thin mist was swirling. And there, atop every single grave, stood a cat. Every one of them was staring directly at him. For some reason, the moment Li Douniu met those eyes, he fell into a trance. He stopped moving and, instead, turned back around and began walking step by step toward the depths of the graveyard. His mind had been bewitched by the eyes of the cat demons.

But at that critical juncture, a hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder and yanked him out of the graveyard. Once clear of the burial ground, Li Douniu snapped out of it. Breaking into a cold sweat, he looked at the person who had saved his life. It was, as expected, the disheveled Taoist.

The Taoist shook his head with a sigh of regret. "Oh, you child!"

Seeing the look of pity on the man’s face, Li Douniu asked, "I got the cat. Am I still in danger?"

The Taoist quickly composed himself and shook his head slightly. "Not for now. Take this cat home and raise it. As long as you have it, it will ensure you live a safe life. Until..." The Taoist stopped mid-sentence, then waved his hand and turned, disappearing into the thin mist.

Later, Li Douniu followed the Taoist’s instructions, brought the kitten home, and told his father everything in detail. For the sake of his son’s safety, and seeing how much the boy loved the cat, the old village chief allowed him to keep the "Fire-Tailed Lian."

From that day on, Li Douniu’s behavior became somewhat obsessive. He never spoke of the graveyard again, but he began to collect more and more cats. He fed every stray or house cat he saw. Over time, he knew every cat in the village and even gave them names and nicknames. If Li Douniu stood with his hands on his hips and shouted, he could summon six or seven of the beasts in an instant.

Though his hobby was strange, he was otherwise much more normal than before, and life in the Li household grew peaceful. Li Douniu went on to live a prosperous life—marrying, building a house, and thriving.

But a little over a year ago, on the day his son turned one month old, it all came to an end. That day, Li Douniu followed his cats back to the Zhao ancestral graveyard and vanished among the tombs.

"Vanished?" I asked, stunned. "If he vanished, how do you know he’s dead?"

"He must be dead," the old village chief sighed heavily. "In the graveyard, we found his clothes lying flat on the ground. They were covered in claw marks and blood..."

The old village chief did not continue. I could not bear to listen any further. The implication was clear: Li Douniu had likely been torn apart and consumed by the very cats he had raised.