It was the middle of summer, and the road west of W Station lay beneath a heavy, unmoving heat.
But Wang Shen wasn’t bothered much by thirst or sweat. He had planted elm trees along the edge of the road until they had grown into a small grove. He had also built a few thatched huts under the shade, where travelers could escape the sun.
He’d give passersby cool rice water to drink, and invite officials into the shade to serve them tea. He also had a thirteen-year-old son who often helped him attend to the guests.
For years, nothing unusual happened.
Until one day, the boy came running to his father.
“Dad, there’s a woman outside. She’s asking for water.”
“Bring her in.”
The woman looked very young, and it was not common for someone around her age to travel alone. She wore a green robe and a white mourning cloth around her head.
She noticed that Wang Shen was looking at it.
“My home is a little over ten miles south of here,” she said. “My husband died, and we had no children. I’ve just finished my mourning period. I’m on my way to M to look for relatives. I hope they’ll take me in and support me.”
She spoke clearly and calmly. There was something gentle about her manner that made her easy to trust.
Wang Shen felt sorry for her.
“It’s getting late,” he said. “Stay here tonight. You can leave in the morning.”
The woman smiled.
“I’d be grateful.”
Wang Shen called his wife, who brought the woman into the back room and treated her like a younger sister. She also brought out some clothes that needed mending and asked the woman if she would help.
The woman agreed, and she was far better with a needle than Wang Shen’s wife had expected.
By sunset, every piece of clothing was finished.
Wang Shen’s wife examined the stitching. The work was impossibly fine—each stitch small, neat, and perfectly even.
She stared at it for a moment. It was almost inhuman.
She brought the clothes to Wang Shen, who was no less astonished. Wang Shen’s wife laughed and said, half-jokingly, “Since you have no family to return to, why not stay here and become my daughter-in-law?”
“Well, I have no one to depend on,” she said with a smile. “If you will have me, I’m willing to stay.”
And just like that, Wang Shen arranged the wedding.
That very evening, the young woman became his son’s bride.
It was still hot after dark, and the new husband and wife went to their room.
The door was shut.
“What are you doing?” the boy asked, looking at his wife as she took a heavy wooden beam and wedged it against the door.
“There have been thieves on the road lately. We must be careful,” she explained. “Don’t open the door tonight.”
Only then did she lie down.
The house fell silent.
Sometime after midnight, Wang Shen’s wife began to dream.
She saw her son standing before her. His hair hung loose around his face. He was crying.
“Mom,” he said, “I’m being eaten.”
Startled, she woke Wang Shen and wanted to check if their son was safe. But Wang Shen got annoyed.
“What are you talking about? It was just a dream. You must be so happy about your new daughter-in-law that you’re talking in your sleep.”
Wang Shen’s wife questioned herself and went back to sleep, but later, the exact same nightmare found her again.
This time, Wang Shen got up.
He lit a candle.
Together, the two of them walked to their son’s room.
“Son?”
No answer.
They called the bride’s name.
Nothing.
Wang Shen tried the door.
It would not open.
He pushed harder.
Still nothing.
Flustered, he grabbed a hatchet.
Once.
Twice.
Strangely, the hatchet barely made a mark.
Again.
The door finally cracked open.
But just as the door opened, something burst through the gap.
For an instant, the candlelight caught it.
Two round eyes.
A mouth lined with long, chisel-like teeth.
A body the color of deep blue.
Then it rushed past them and disappeared into the darkness.
Wang Shen and his wife stood frozen for a moment.
Then they ran inside.
The candle shook in Wang Shen’s hand.
They called their son’s name.
Silence.
They moved toward the bed.
And in the dim light, they saw a figure lying beneath the covers.
Wang Shen’s wife reached out.
Her fingers touched the boy’s face.
But she froze.
There was no skin…