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The third crow of the rooster caught in the throat, dark clouds above Shen Garden swirled into a vortex. Shen Mo Bai collapsed in front of the dilapidated shrine, fragments of the Bagua Mirror in his palm reflecting a bizarre scene: Miss Liu, dressed in a moon-white robe, was crafting Paper Men in the Coffin Shop, her tortoiseshell comb stained with blood, and on the table lay his favorite Fu Ling Cake from childhood.
"Young Master, watch your feet!" Fu Bo's hoarse shout was swallowed by the thunder. Black water mixed with ashes from paper money surged through the cracks of the bluestone slabs, and hundreds of fetal bones from Liuli Jars floated downstream, piling up at his feet to form a lotus altar. The smallest skeleton suddenly opened its mouth, holding a piece of tortoiseshell comb between its milk teeth.
Shen Mo Bai staggered towards the Coffin Shop, where the Centennial Sophora Tree was burning in the downpour. Seven iron chains melted into a crimson hue; a hand adorned with an Agate Ring suddenly curled into a claw from within the tree hollow, pinning his suit hem into the mud. The charred bark peeled away to reveal a Heavenly Marriage Contract written in fetal blood thirty years ago: "The Position of Snow E in the Liu Family of the Shen Sect, to be married to the Shen's Sophora root..."
"This is the true coffin." Fu Bo cleaved through the trunk with a Peach Wood Sword, and putrid corpse oil splattered out. The gnarled roots entwined two corpses: Miss Liu's cervical vertebra was crushed by an iron chain, holding tightly onto an infant's skeleton; Shen Zuyin's right hand was inserted into her chest cavity, fingers entwined with a faded Yuan Yang Bellyband.
The shrill sound of a Gramophone pierced through the rain curtain. Shen Mo Bai turned back to see that Western machine floating in the black water, its brass horn emitting a distorted nursery rhyme: "...the dear child still entwines with branches of bones." All Paper Men stood up in response, their pale faces painted with the likenesses of the Shen Family cracking into smiles, seeds from Sophora Trees suddenly sprouting in their eye sockets.
"Chan Zhi Sha is about to happen!" Fu Bo pressed a fragment of the Bagua Mirror against Shen Mo Bai's heart and plunged the Peach Wood Sword into his own throat. Gushing blood painted a massive talisman in the rain; the old steward's last words mingled with blood foam: "The mirror... reflects... tree hollow..."
Shen Mo Bai trembled as he raised the Bagua Mirror; as its light swept across the charred corpse of the Sophora Tree, the Gramophone's vinyl record shattered into pieces. Each fragment reflected different scenes: that night when he was pressed against a coffin to bleed for kinship at seven; Miss Liu's Silver Bracelet grinding out Zhenhun Nails on wood struck by lightning; Fu Bo secretly sewing his fetal hair into Yuan Yang Bellyband...
A dull rumble rose from beneath the ground as countless fissures cracked open across Shen Garden. The Paper Men joined hands and began to dance, inserting charred branches of the Sophora Tree into their eye sockets. In his dizziness, Shen Mo Bai saw an apparition of Miss Liu; her decaying fingertips gently brushed his brow: "The Shen Family extends the curse with your blood... now it is time to rewrite the genealogy with their bones..."
As the first tongue of fire leaped up, townsfolk saw hundreds of Paper Men carrying Liuli Jars racing around the fire. The liquid soaking fetuses evaporated upon heating, condensing in midair into a blood-red "double happiness" character. The Night Watchman swore he heard Suona music from "Hundred Birds Worship the Phoenix" rising from within the flames, mingling with brittle sounds from Agate Rings shattering in ashes.
Nine years later on Autumn Equinox, an Archaeological Team from Provincial Capital pried open Shen Garden's cellar. A young scholar in a white coat crouched before a Crystal Coffin, brushing over inscriptions on its lid: "Guangxu Year Twenty-Three, Frost's Descent, Hour of the Rat, Shen Family Entwined Branch Coffin Master."
At that moment when the flashbulb lit up, everyone gasped—the man inside wearing a suit had his hands interlocked in a heart knot; a broken Peach Wood Mirror pierced through his heart where dark red lotus patterns slowly writhed beneath his skin.
"Professor! These charred corpses are not right!" The assistant's voice trembled with a hint of tears.
The corpses, arranged in a circular kneeling position, suddenly turned their heads in unison, their burnt eye sockets fixated on the direction of the Crystal Coffin. Each body clenched an emerald button tightly between its teeth, the very same burial item found on Shen Zuyin's funeral attire years ago.
As midnight approached, the Gramophone inexplicably began to operate within the artifact box.
The professor leaned in, trembling, to listen. Amidst the crackling sound of the spinning vinyl record, a woman's lullaby gradually emerged.
He suddenly recalled the fragments of a bronze mirror discovered inside the coffin during the day—there was no reflection of a person, only a burning Sophora Tree, with each branch adorned by Shen Mo Bai in a suit.
Heavy rain poured down as the Archaeological Team's temporary tent swayed in the wind.
The night security guard rubbed his eyes and swore he saw a tender green sapling of the Sophora Tree sprouting from the ashes of the old Coffin Shop site.
In the moonlight, a woman dressed in a pale white shirt squatted beside the tree, burying a Gramophone into the soil, dark red stains of blood congealed on its brass horn.
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