Tales of Folk Feng Shui Mysteries

The moment I realized what was going on, my heart sank.This was bad. Really bad.The worst possible thing I feared… had happened.

This woman had obviously achieved spiritual cultivation—and now her children had been killed and eaten.How could she not come for revenge?

But to my surprise, she held it in. For now, she didn't explode. She simply asked:

"These yellow weasels were so small… How could you bear to eat them?"

The group burst into laughter.Liu Ruoyi even joked sarcastically, "What, are you from the Animal Protection Society?" Her words were clearly aimed at me.

Everyone laughed and shouted:

"Eat! Eat! It's great for your health!"

Watching them chew contentedly, I felt cold all over.Anyone who eats this meat tonight is doomed. She will claim lives.

Even though these people disliked me—even ridiculed me—I couldn't stand by and say nothing. So I warned them:

"Don't eat anymore. You'll regret it when the payback comes."

Sure enough, the crowd rolled their eyes. Someone scoffed. Others sneered. Some told me to shut up. No one believed a word.

I sighed deeply. I knew I couldn't just give up. This wasn't about face—it was about lives.So I said,

"Fine. If you won't believe me, let me tell you a true story. Then decide for yourselves if you still want to eat."

I told them about something that happened when I was a kid, back when I visited my grandmother's hometown in Zhangwu County, Fuxin. I couldn't remember the village name, but I remembered the haystacks—giant piles of dried grass used for cooking year-round.

Since old hay wasn't cleared before new hay was added, those haystacks became homes for yellow weasels. Most of the time, they coexisted peacefully with villagers. Weasels mainly ate field mice, and only rarely stole chickens.Because of local superstitions, villagers referred to them as "Huang Daxian"—a deity—and pretended not to notice even when they saw one.

But some people were greedy, skeptical of superstition, and decided to catch and eat them anyway. Yellow weasel pelts could be sold for good money. Their tails were even used to make calligraphy brushes.

My grand-uncle had two sons—typical troublemakers. Their family was relatively well-off in the village, and both sons married quickly thanks to matchmakers. Rural life was dull. People mostly played mahjong or walked to neighboring villages to watch movies.

One summer night, the moon was bright, the sky was clear, and nearly everyone in the village went to a nearby commune to watch a film. As they returned home, chatting happily, the two brothers spotted a fat yellow weasel squatting at their front door.

Excited, the older one called out to his brother:

"Come help me catch it! That thing's huge—we can make a whole pot of stew!"

Their wives begged them to leave it alone, but the brothers ignored them. They chased the weasel around, cornered it, and beat at it with bamboo poles. The plump creature vanished into the darkness.

Frustrated, the younger brother decided to call it a night and went to bed.

But when he lifted the mosquito net… he found that same fat yellow weasel lying on the bed, head on the pillow—asleep.

Overjoyed, he silently grabbed a bamboo pole and beat it to death on the spot.

His wife, terrified, stayed far away while he skinned the weasel and opened it up.That's when he realized—it was pregnant. Several unborn kits lay in its belly.

But he didn't care. He chopped up the meat, made a big pot of stew, and even invited his older brother over. They ate for days. His wife, too frightened, didn't eat a bite.

Within days, strange things started happening.

His wife fell ill—madness, they said. Delirious, muttering nonsense. Doctors found nothing wrong.Then one day, a crowd came to visit—and she suddenly changed.Her voice became that of an old woman.

She snarled at her husband:

"You vicious beast! My daughter-in-law was pregnant—she only stopped at your house to rest while cultivating under the moonlight. She laid down to nap and you beat her to death. My grandbabies—murdered! Since you took my family's lives, your children will never live in peace. And your brother who ate her flesh—his wife will suffer too!"

Everyone heard it. Everyone was terrified.

Still, the younger brother dismissed it as nonsense.

Less than a month later, his wife recovered.But that same day, his brother—the older one—fell in the fields and broke his leg. He remained crippled for life.

That night, after arguing with his wife, she was found…hanging from a rope.

His family was ruined.

The younger brother's wife eventually gave birth—to a mentally disabled child. Then another. And another. None lived long. I remember as a kid seeing two infants wrapped in mats, lying on the ground, waiting to be buried.

Years later, they finally had a daughter who survived. Sweet, obedient, and seemingly normal.They loved her.

But at age five, she drowned while herding ducks.

The year after her death, another daughter was born—also mentally disabled.Last I heard, she was around fourteen or fifteen. But since my grandmother passed away, I've lost contact with that side of the family.

Whether she's still alive or not… I really don't know.