In Yangxin County there lived an old man from Caidian Village. His village was some five or six li from the county seat. The old man and his son ran a roadside inn, lodging passing merchants. Several carters, coming and going with freight goods, often stayed at the old man’s inn.

One evening at dusk, four carters arrived together seeking lodging, but the old man’s inn was already full. The four men, seeing no alternative, insisted that the innkeeper find some way to accommodate them. The old man thought for a moment and recalled a place, but feared it might not suit the guests. The travelers said: “We only ask for a place to shelter from wind and rain. How could we be choosy?”

At that time, the old man’s daughter-in-law had just died, and her body was lying in state in a room. The old man’s son had gone out to buy lumber for the coffin and had not yet returned. Thinking that the room serving as the mourning hall was quiet, the old man led the guests through lanes and alleys to that place.

Entering the room, they saw a dim oil lamp burning on a wooden table. Behind the table hung drapes around the funeral bier, and a paper quilt covered the deceased. Further in, the inner bedroom contained a long connected platform bed. The four men, exhausted from their journey, lay down and were soon snoring loudly.

Only one guest lingered in that half-asleep state when he suddenly heard a “rustle rustle” from the funeral bier. He snapped his eyes open. By the clear light of the lamp before the bier, he saw the female corpse had thrown off the paper quilt and sat up. Presently she got off the bier and slowly walked into the bedroom. The corpse’s face was sallow yellow, and a band of raw silk was tied around her forehead. She approached the beds, bent down, and breathed on each of the three sleeping guests in turn.

The guest who had not fallen asleep was terrified. Fearing the corpse would breathe on him, he secretly pulled up the quilt to cover his head and held his breath, listening for her movements. Before long, the corpse indeed came over and breathed on him just as she had the others. The guest felt her leave the bedroom, and soon heard the sound of the paper quilt. He poked his head out to peek and saw the corpse lying rigidly on the bier as before.

He was too frightened to make a sound. Secretly he kicked his companions, but none of them moved. He thought and thought, with no plan in mind—better to get dressed and flee. He sat up and was about to put on his clothes when the “rustle rustle” sounded again. He panicked, lay back down, and shrank his head under the quilt. He felt the corpse come to him again and breathe on him several times before leaving. Soon he heard the bier stir once more, knowing the corpse had lain back down. Then he slowly reached out from under the quilt, found his trousers, pulled them on in haste, and ran out barefoot.

The female corpse also sat up, as if to chase him. But by the time she left the drapes of the bier, the guest had already unlocked the door and fled. The corpse ran after him. The guest ran and shouted, but no one in the village was awakened. He thought of knocking on the innkeeper’s door, but feared being caught if he slowed down. So he sprinted madly down the road toward the county seat.

Reaching the eastern outskirts, he spotted a temple and heard the tapping of a wooden fish inside. He rushed to pound on the temple door. The monk inside, astonished by his frantic behavior, refused to let him in at once. Just then the corpse arrived, barely a foot behind him. The guest was even more terrified.

Outside the temple stood a white poplar tree, its trunk four or five feet around. The guest hid behind it. When the corpse lunged right, he dodged left; when she lunged left, he dodged right. The corpse grew increasingly furious, but both gradually grew weary. She stopped and stood still. The guest, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, hid behind the tree. Suddenly the corpse lunged forward with both arms, reaching around the trunk from both sides to grab him. The guest fell to the ground in terror. The corpse, unable to reach him, embraced the tree trunk and gradually grew rigid.

The monk inside had been listening secretly for a long time. When all was silent, he slowly came out. He saw the guest lying on the ground. Shining a lamp, he looked as if the man were dead—but his chest still held a faint warmth. The monk carried the guest into the temple, and after a night the man regained consciousness. The monk gave him some hot water and asked what had happened. The guest recounted everything in detail.

By then the morning bell had rung. In the dim light of dawn, the monk went to inspect the white poplar and indeed found a female zombie there. The monk was greatly alarmed and reported it to the county magistrate. The magistrate came personally to conduct an inquest. He ordered the corpse’s hands pulled from the tree, but they gripped so tightly they could not be pried loose. On close inspection, the four fingers of each hand were curled like hooks, the nails embedded deep into the trunk. The magistrate had several men pull together with all their strength before the corpse was detached. The holes her fingers had left in the tree looked like holes drilled by an awl.

The magistrate sent constables to the old man’s house to inquire. There, chaos reigned over the missing corpse and the guests‘ sudden deaths. The constables explained the situation to the old man, who followed them back and carried the corpse home.

The guest wept and said to the magistrate: “The four of us set out together, and now only I return. How can the folks back home believe this?” The magistrate then wrote him a certificate and gave him some gifts to see him on his way.

(The End)