Chapter Nine: Hungry Ghost

Soon, the girl’s dishes were all served.
It was quite startling, really—the girl had ordered six hot dishes: three pounds of lamb spine, stir-fried lamb liver, fiery squid, twice-cooked pork, green pepper and chestnut chicken, and braised pork trotters.
All meat! Even for a burly man like Wang Hou, it would be impossible to finish so much in one sitting, let alone a young woman.
As the dishes were being served, I finally got a clear look at the girl’s face.
She appeared to be about twenty-one or twenty-two, dressed in red, with a beautiful oval face and dark, luminous eyes. She was exactly the type Wang Hou liked—delicate and gentle, evoking a desire to protect her.
But in her expression, I saw something different.
Bathed in sunlight from the window, her exquisite face seemed to be shrouded in a faint, elusive shadow and fatigue. It wasn’t that I possessed any special ability—it was her expression that struck me as eerily familiar.
Five years ago, I had seen a face like hers.
“Eat,” I said politely as I placed the last dish in front of her.
Then Wang Hou and I sat nearby, watching as the girl began to eat alone.
Her manner of eating nearly made my jaw drop in astonishment!
We watched, stunned, as her eating grew more and more frenzied, until she seemed possessed, devouring the food in huge mouthfuls.
She tore the chicken and pork trotters apart, bones and all, and stuffed them directly into her mouth, barely chewing before swallowing. Her slender, graceful neck even revealed the vague outline of the food as it passed down.
Wang Hou could hardly bear to watch. He whispered to me, “Is she even human? She’s like a starving ghost reborn!”
I remained silent, watching her ravenous display.
After a while, I sensed the time was right and handed a thermos to Wang Hou. “She’s thirsty. Go bring her some water.”
“She already has water in her thermos.”
“Don’t argue! If you want to win her favor, do as I say!” I ordered.
Wang Hou leapt up, nerves taut, and walked toward the girl.
As he refilled her water, I seized the moment when the girl looked up. I stared intently, catching a glimpse of her previously shining, black eyes.
“My God!” I gasped in shock.
Her eyes, once dark and beautiful, had suddenly turned blood-red!
This quiet girl in red, hair disheveled, a trace of crimson drool at the corner of her mouth, now looked like a creature straight from hell—a starving ghost incarnate, too dreadful to meet her gaze.
Wang Hou, confronted with those blood-red eyes, recoiled instinctively. I quickly rose and walked over to them.
I snatched the chicken leg from her hand and spoke to her:

“Stop eating! You’re ill, do you know that? The more you eat, the hungrier you’ll become! You’ll die if you keep this up!”
“No! I can’t stop!” she cried, nearly in tears. “There’s a voice in my stomach telling me to eat, nonstop! If I don’t eat, I’ll starve to death…”
Even as she spoke, she could not stop consuming food.
I watched her reddening eyes and desperate eating, but did not try to restrain her. Instead, I called Wang Hou over and told him to keep a close eye on her and not let her leave.
Then I ran to the kitchen and prepared a bowl of ginger water, adding an extra dose of mustard.
In less than a minute, I returned with a large bowl of pungent ginger-mustard water.
“Pinch her nose!” I commanded.
“What?” Wang Hou didn’t quite understand.
I had no time to explain; her eyes looked ready to bleed. I knew this was no time for hesitation.
Without delay, I pried open her mouth, pinched her nose, and poured the entire bowl of ginger-mustard water down her throat.
The girl struggled a bit, but her resistance was no more than a gentle scratch.
After she drank the whole bowl, I saw the blood-red hue rapidly fade from her eyes.
Then, she collapsed, utterly drained, and began to vomit—pinkish blood and saliva spilling out.
I looked at what she expelled; though it was sticky and revolting, there wasn’t a single scrap of undigested food from what she’d eaten moments before.
I knew something was off—as if she’d digested everything the instant it entered her mouth.
“Could it really be…?” I murmured to myself, a hint of satisfaction crossing my brow.
Indeed, I felt triumphant, for I now understood most of her illness.
Still, out of caution, I made no immediate conclusions. After her body and emotions had stabilized a bit, I began questioning her:
“Miss, forgive my bluntness—do you feel normal? One person eating five or six dishes, all heavy meats in a single meal. If not for that bowl of ginger water just now, you’d have died from overeating.”
The girl shook her head gently. “I don’t want to, but… I just can’t control myself. Recently, there’s always a voice in my belly, telling me to eat, eat, eat…”
As she spoke, she suddenly grabbed my hand.
“Sir, do you know what’s wrong with me? Can you cure me?”
I blushed, withdrew my arm under Wang Hou’s sharp gaze, and cleared my throat. “Young lady, keep your composure. You’re safe for now, but if you want to save your life, you’ll have to answer a few questions honestly.”
She nodded desperately.
I asked her to explain when these binge-eating symptoms began, and especially, when her eyes started turning red during meals.

The girl told us her name was Xian Hongye. She was from another province, working as a supervisor at a state-owned enterprise in our county.
Her illness began three days ago.
At first, her symptoms were mild—she merely craved meat at meals and never felt full. But after each meal, her condition worsened. Today, before lunch, she’d already eaten a whole fried chicken and half a pound of duck necks for breakfast, yet still felt ravenous.
She’d gone to the hospital, but the doctors found nothing physically wrong.
Yet their diagnosis brought her no comfort.
Her illness rapidly escalated.
Whenever she tried to resist the inexplicable hunger, she felt an overwhelming, irresistible urge in her abdomen, compelling her to eat. That urge convinced her something terrible would happen if she didn’t obey.
As for when her eyes started turning red, she couldn’t say for sure. Perhaps it was this morning—she remembered someone pointing at her face and secretly calling her a “female ghost.”
At this point, Xian Hongye was utterly despondent. She feared that, at this rate, she would become a slave to her appetite.
“How close you came!” I sighed deliberately. “If you hadn’t found us today, you might really have died…”
“Sir… can you cure me? Am I… possessed by a starving ghost?” she asked, trembling, her voice full of terror at her own hunger.
I waved her concerns away, telling her not to dwell on such thoughts. Her attitude wasn’t conducive to treatment.
I comforted her, told her to go home and let me think it over calmly, and instructed her to return tomorrow morning. By then, I promised to have a reliable treatment plan for her.
She listened, weeping, rested for a while, then left on her own.
Wang Hou watched her leave, her tear-stained face tugging at his heart. He wanted to chase after her and offer comfort, but I firmly stopped him.
“You’ve got more important things to do! Go buy some medicinal herbs for me later,” I told him.
Wang Hou, frustrated at being stopped, kept pestering me about whether I could really cure the girl’s illness. And how, as a cook, I could possibly know what was wrong with her.
Eventually, annoyed by his questions, I revealed the truth.
I told him that five years ago, I’d seen a patient exactly like this girl—and Wang Hou knew him too. It was the Mongolian lad who had narrowly lost to Wang Hou and took third place in the all-military competition.
At my reminder, Wang Hou immediately remembered.
“You mean the ‘Wild Seafood’ of the Blade Company! Right?” he slapped his forehead.
I nodded, thinking he’d finally recalled his fiercest rival from back then.