Rustic Ghost Stories

Prologue

About five years ago, when I had just graduated and was job hunting, I rented an extremely cheap old-style qilou building on Xiadu Road in Guangzhou. Though shabby, it at least provided shelter from the wind and rain, and the rent was truly affordable—just two hundred yuan per month, including utilities.

Living next door to me was Daxiong, a chatterbox around my age who was very outgoing and familiar from the get-go. The story I'm about to tell comes from this unassuming, talkative guy.

I remember it was during a particularly hot summer, on an exceptionally sweltering night. I was lying in bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. Suddenly, there came a knock at the door, and a light voice called out, "You asleep? Fancy a couple of drinks?"

I opened the door to see Daxiong standing there with a grin, holding a plastic bag containing two bottles of Zhujiang Beer and some peanuts.

"It's too hot; can't sleep," Daxiong explained.

"I couldn't sleep either," I said.

"Haha, that's perfect then!" Daxiong laughed heartily.

Each with a bottle of beer, we chatted about this and that. Suddenly, Daxiong looked at the numbered oil painting of the Mona Lisa's smile hanging above my bed.

"Not bad painting!" he said.

"Even a three-year-old could do this. You just paint by numbers. The original is truly beautiful," I replied.

"Well, no matter how beautiful the original is, the Mona Lisa can't walk out of the painting."

"Of course that's impossible. She's been dead for who knows how many years."

"However, I have seen someone walk out of a painting!" Daxiong suddenly smiled mysteriously.

"You've had too much to drink, haven't you?" I said dismissively.

"Feeling good tonight. How about I tell you a rustic ghost story? Want to hear it?"

Before I could answer, Daxiong abruptly drained the murky contents of his glass. He set the cup down and gazed out the window. After a long while, he finally said in a low, eerie voice, "Tonight, let's tell a story about a person in a painting."