I asked my grandfather why the ghost was harming the horse butcher.

Grandpa told me that it was the first dead son of a horse butcher. That son died of illness, unlike the sons who died in the back who died inexplicably. After that son died, the horse butcher buried him in the ghost den and never visited him again. After the death of the horse butcher's first son, his daughter-in-law gave birth to another child soon after, and the horse butcher doted on his hard-won second son, and even went to the meat stall to sell meat. Maybe it was his first son who saw his first son when he passed through the ghost den to go to the meat stall with his son, so the first son felt that it was unfair to him, and he had the intention of harming people, and killed the three sons of the horse butcher in a row. But the horse butcher did not believe in evil until he heard with his own ears the conversation of the two devils.

I felt a little sympathy for the ghost, but I didn't dare to close my eyes when I thought of it, for fear that it would appear in front of me as soon as I opened it.

Back at home, Grandpa catches a rooster from the chicken coop. There were four local chickens in the chicken coop that had been raised for half a year, and they slept soundly, and when the grandfather caught one of them, the other chickens cooed twice, indicating that they were not satisfied with disturbing their sleep, and then closed their eyes and fell asleep. The rooster who had the misfortune of being caught did not know that danger was coming, and did not startle or scream, but just turned his little head around and watched, not knowing why his master brought it up at this time of sleep.

Grandpa tied the rooster's feet with a string, took out a kitchen knife from the kitchen, and pulled it on the rooster's neck. Before the rooster could crow, blood gushed out of his throat and was caught by a large porcelain bowl. The kept twitching in Grandpa's hand, and the chicken claws softened after a few hard scratches out of thin air. Grandpa wrapped the head of the chicken in turn in the wings. I don't understand why Grandpa wrapped the chicken's head in the rooster's own wings, as if it was tickling under the armpits with its pointed beak.

Grandpa said, "It's going over the mountain." ”

I asked, "What is the mountain?" ”

Grandpa said, "When its soul passes over the mountain, we will boil water and pluck its feathers." Its soul hasn't gone through the mountains yet. The soul is truly dead after walking through the mountains. So, I thought about it again, and the soul of a rooster fluttered across the mountain that divides yin and yang.

Grandpa said: "When a person dies, he has to drink Meng Po soup and cross the Nai He Bridge." When the animal is born, he will have to cross the mountain before he reaches the underworld. As he spoke, he stirred in the large porcelain bowl with his chopsticks, and the chicken blood swirled into a whirlpool with the chopsticks. Come here. "Grandpa beckoned to me.

I walked over and my grandfather tore off a rag and dipped it in chicken blood and smeared it on my arm. There is black blood on my arm, the blood of a ghost. Grandpa kneaded vigorously in the place where the chicken blood was smeared, trying to rub the ghost blood off, which made my bones hurt and almost shed tears. Grandpa said, "Bear with me! If you don't wash it, you'll be stupid and you won't be a college student in the future. "I can go to college now, thanks to my grandfather's hands that were once strong enough to break the flat shoulder.

And the demon blood on his own hands was not washed, so that later the veins of his hands rose up, and they were crooked like earthworms, and he shivered a little when he lit a cigarette.

At that time, I raised my other hand and sniffed the ghost blood splashed on my hand, which stinked even more than ****. I sneezed three times in a row. Grandpa smiled and said, "The smell of is three points fragrant, and the smell of people is irresistible." "That ghost blood does stink better than.

I washed it with chicken blood, found the wine that I didn't finish when I went out, and rubbed it on my arm for a while, and finally there was no smell. Grandpa yawned and said, "Go to sleep, there will be something tomorrow." The ghost still has to deal with it. ”

I didn't sleep well that night, and I still smelled the stench of ghost blood in my dreams, and I was always worried that I hadn't washed it just now. When he woke up several times during the night, he heard his grandfather snoring on the wooden bed next door, and the gnats in the corner accompanied him. The night of the first ghost hunt is still vivid in my mind. Ever since Grandpa stopped catching ghosts, I haven't heard Grandpa snoring in his sleep.

The next day, when my grandfather told me to go to the ghost den, I was still too lazy to get up in bed. I heard my grandfather's call in a daze, and lazily replied and went back to sleep. Grandpa put his cold hand into my quilt and pinched it in my armpit, and a tingling sensation of being shocked spread throughout my body, and my sleepiness disappeared immediately.

Grandpa looked at me with a smile and said, "Your soul may have been out of your body last night, and you couldn't get up in the morning because you saw those dustpan ghosts." ”

I was startled and asked, "Is my soul gone?" ”

Grandpa said, "I just pinched it and came back." The heart of the living can hold the soul, and as soon as the heart is dead, the soul of the dead will be scattered. You are still young, and your soul loves to play, and it is inevitable that sometimes your heart can't hold your soul. ”

I said, "Grandpa, how do you know?" ”

Grandpa said, "Can you hear me and answer, but you can't move?" ”

I nodded, it was true.

Grandpa smiled and said, "That's right." Okay, get up, you still have to help me get something." When Grandpa smiled, the wrinkles on his face were squeezed together, and the smile was scattered in the wrinkles of the ravines, which made people feel very comfortable.

We took a few bites of food and set off. Grandpa carried a small bag of white rice and carried a mountain-opening axe on his shoulder. I helped my grandfather hold a handful of bamboo. In this way, our grandfather and grandson walked towards the ghost nest in the fog.