Wang You felt like he was going to die.
If he didn't starve to death, he'd freeze to death. Or he'd be gnawed apart by wild dogs.
Curled up in a half-collapsed grave pit on the edge of Dead Man's Hill, his single tattered, sack-like garment was useless against the biting wind.
His stomach felt as if it were packed with ice, heavy and hollow, his last traces of strength draining away along with his body heat.
His vision blurred. His ears rang, the unmistakable signs of extreme hunger. The piece of tree bark he'd gnawed on yesterday, hard as stone, now pressed painfully against his stomach.
He didn't even have the strength to curse.
The unique stench of Dead Man's Hill filled his nostrils: rotting earth, a faint lingering fishy smell, and an ancient, bone-chilling dampness. A crow cawed "ga" from a bare branch nearby, its voice dry and eerie.
Wang You shuddered, shrinking deeper into the grave pit. His fingers brushed the muddy earth beneath him.
He touched something hard: half of a decayed bone. Human or beast, he couldn't tell. He yanked his hand back as if burned, his heart pounding wildly.
Just then, something caught his eye.
Directly opposite him, behind the mound of a newly buried grave, there was a shadow.
It was faint, like white breath exhaled in winter, or thin fog rising from the ground.
The shadow swayed slightly, shapeless, yet it exuded an indescribable sense of liveness.
Not the vitality of a living being, but a presence.
Wang You's heart raced from the shock of encountering something inexplicable while teetering on the brink of death. He stared at the shadow without blinking.
The shadow seemed to be "looking" back at him or maybe sensing him.
An unspeakably cold aura brushed against his skin, like fine needles. It was faint, but it made his already frozen body feel even colder.
A ghost?
The word surfaced naturally in his mind. Dead Man's Hill was known for ghosts. He had no strength to flee, nor could he even move.
Stranger still, the shadow didn't resemble the vicious green-faced spirits of folklore. It felt more like… something lost.
A thought sprouted in his starving, muddled mind like a poisonous weed pushing through grave soil:
You're almost dead anyway why are you still afraid of ghosts?
What if… what if it could be useful?
For example… scaring off those wild dogs that lurked nearby, always trying at his flesh.
He recalled something an old villager once said in passing: lonely souls and wandering ghosts treasured incense offerings above all else. Even a mouthful of "human vitality" could soothe them.
Incense?
He didn't even have a moldy bun.
Wang Yu licked his cracked, peeling lips. The taste of rust filled his mouth. Gathering the last of his strength, he fumbled inside his clothes.
His fingers found a few tiny stalks of dry grass, still faintly warmed by his body, tinder he'd saved earlier.
With trembling hands, he pushed three stalks side by side into the damp earth before him. No incense burner and no offerings. Just three bare strands of grass.
Facing the blurry shadow, he forced out a hoarse whisper.
"Hey… over there… see? Incense… I'm offering you incense…"
He paused, sucking in a mouthful of icy air that scraped against his lungs.
"Don't hurt me… and don't let the wild dogs come… okay? I'm… I'm almost dead… I've got nothing else to give you…"
After speaking, he stared at the three grass stalks, then at the shadow behind the grave mound. The cold wind wailed through the graves, and the grass trembled weakly, pitiful and fragile.
A bit like him.
Time passed.
The shadow continued to sway faintly. That cold aura seemed to draw closer. Wang Yu felt even colder, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Just as his consciousness began to blur
The tips of the three grass stalks suddenly glowed.
Extremely faint and For just a moment.
It wasn't firelight, but a pale glow that vanished instantly, leaving behind three tiny, nearly invisible specks of black ash.
At the same time, the cold aura wrapped itself around those specks of ash and then… fell silent.
Like a young beast that had caught the scent of blood and was, for the moment, appeased.
The shadow across from him solidified slightly, no longer quite so ethereal.
…Did it work?
Wang Yu's mind went blank. Only the exhaustion of surviving disaster remained, along with an indescribable sense of unease.
His body was still bone-chillingly cold. His hunger hadn't eased in the slightest.
But he wasn't dead.
At least for now, the wild dogs hadn't come.
He looked at the nearly invisible black ash, then at the blurry shadow behind the grave mound that seemed… somewhat satisfied.
"Heh…"
A soft, numb, self-mocking sound slipped from his throat.
It seemed he had… actually… managed to do something.
A thought slid through his heart.
How long would this bit of "incense" be enough for it to eat?