Beyond the Veil: A Teacher's Tragic End and the Unseen Forces at Play

In 2005, I encountered something that went beyond my understanding. Before entering this line of work, I didn't believe in gods, ghosts, or any form of faith. It was only after I started this job that I began to believe in the myriad of possibilities that this world could hold. However, I only believed in what I had seen with my own eyes. As for things like vampires, zombies, reincarnation, and the like, which I hadn't seen, I always took them with a grain of salt.

But that year, I witnessed "walking through the yin" - journeying to the underworld.

In the Ba District of Chongqing, there's a sharp-tongued beef noodle shop called Brother Lion Beef Noodles. Next to the noodle shop was a building waiting to be demolished. Before its demolition, the building was home to a well-known Granny Huang. It's no exaggeration to say she was the most formidable old lady I've ever met. Like us, she was involved in ghostbusting and exorcisms in her early years. After retiring at 50, she began to offer fortune-telling services. A decade ago, those seeking her advice included prominent figures, and ordinary people had to book an appointment a month in advance.

That year, a friend of mine had a daughter and asked if I knew any good fortune tellers for naming his child. I took my friend to Granny Huang. I knew of Granny Huang's capabilities, but I had never seen her "walk through the yin". This term was new to me that day.

Although I was acquainted with Granny Huang, I never disclosed anyone's personal information to her. When my friend wrote down his child's birth details for Granny Huang, her response left both of us dumbfounded. Her first remark was that my friend's child was a female ancestor reincarnated within their family. Then, she warned that he must be cautious while driving that year - curiously, without anyone mentioning that my friend owned a car. What truly astonished my friend was when Granny Huang mentioned, "Your deceased father said, remember to burn a coat for him during Qingming or the Spring Festival."

Even I was unaware of his father's passing. In the end, Granny Huang provided four characters for his daughter's name. My friend left happily, marveling at the old lady's divine insight. My revisit to Granny Huang was due to another matter, sparked by a casual conversation about her "walking through the yin".

I asked her what "walking through the yin" meant. She explained it as the soul leaving the body to enter the underworld, where one could converse face-to-face with ghosts in their ghostly form.

Towards the end of that year, a young male teacher at a middle school died suddenly during a class. The school attributed his death to overwork and extolled his virtues, even making it into a news segment.

However, the teacher's wife suspected it wasn't a simple case of sudden death because, a few days before his demise, her husband had shared a dream. In it, he saw himself teaching when several people burst into the classroom, took him away in front of everyone, drowned him by pushing his head underwater, and then he woke up. Initially, his wife thought it was just a nightmare from stress, but then, just days after sharing this dream, the teacher died in his classroom, leaving her deeply suspicious.

Having witnessed Granny Huang's incredible ability to traverse the yin realm before, when I received this commission, I planned to take the teacher's widow directly to her. I hoped Granny Huang could traverse the yin again, this time to speak directly with the teacher. However, upon our arrival at Granny Huang's home, several elegantly dressed individuals were already waiting, presumably seeking her services for fortune-telling or life advice.

I knew she wouldn't just alter someone's fate on a whim, as meddling with one's destiny could invite severe repercussions. I discreetly called Granny Huang, asking if we could be seen sooner, and thankfully, we were allowed into her inner chambers ahead of others. Her room, adorned with an ancient desk filled with ink, paper, and a turtle shell for divination, was surrounded by walls hung with calligraphy and various talismans praising the Dharma and revering the spirits. Granny Huang, a devout Buddhist, has maintained a strict vegetarian diet on the first and fifteenth days of each lunar month for over 50 years since starting her practice at the age of 15. Her deep Buddhist faith imbued the names she gave with profound meanings. The room was filled with an intense smell, later identified as opium, which I learned Granny Huang used to quickly achieve a meditative state for her journeys to the yin realm.

As the teacher's widow and I sat before Granny Huang, I was about to explain our visit when she gestured, indicating she already knew why we were there. Granny Huang, known for her sharp wit and formidable presence, remained unmarried throughout her life, having deterred all suitors with her strong personality.

Granny Huang asked for the deceased teacher's birth date and then drank a bowl of water mixed with green onions and an unidentifiable powder. Soon, she appeared to fall asleep or enter a trance, and after a lengthy silence, she awakened, drenched in sweat, to share her findings. She revealed that a year before his death, a female student from the class he taught, overwhelmed by academic pressure, attempted suicide by jumping from a building. Although she survived the fall, she was mentally disturbed thereafter, often escaping home to recite books at the school's entrance, even biting a security guard who tried to remove her. She died months later, believing the school had driven her to her demise and chose her teacher for revenge.

Granny Huang explained that spirits don't harm humans in physical ways but rather induce fear or manipulate physiological functions leading to sudden death. The teacher's demise, she clarified, was caused by the vengeful spirit of the girl. This level of detail convinced the widow, given she had never shared these specifics with anyone. Granny Huang further mentioned that the teacher's spirit was still unsettled, torn between seeking justice and worrying about his students' upcoming exams.

After hearing this, the widow wept, regretting the academic pressure her husband had placed on his students, including the girl. Despite not having experienced the pressures of college entrance exams myself, the frequent news of student suicides due to exam stress made me question the current high-pressure educational system.

To prevent further incidents, Granny Huang suggested acquiring protective amulets for the students, which I distributed as a precaution. While I couldn't directly confront the vengeful spirit, the red strings and amulets seemed to mitigate its influence, ensuring no strange occurrences since then. However, I knew this peace was temporary, and should the restless spirit reemerge, my colleagues and I would be ready to intervene.

In a gesture of empathy and understanding, the widow also visited the girl's family, offering gifts as a condolence. This act of kindness underscored the shared tragedy both families endured, hoping for healing and closure in the wake of such profound loss