In 1989, an era when the blazing sun seemed unsteady, my mother lost her way on the road to the hospital and gave birth to me in a cemetery in the dead of night.
People said that those born with a lowly fate were as cheap as dogs, but that they would grow up to become dragons or tigers.
Yet after I was born, I kept falling ill for no apparent reason. Even the biggest hospitals could do nothing about me. There were so many critical-condition notices that I folded them up and bound them into an exercise book.
To keep me alive, my mother visited countless people and exhausted every kind of folk remedy and unorthodox treatment. In the end, she found a fortune-teller skilled at reading the stars and calculating fate.
The fortune-teller said that someone had plotted out my fate before I was born: a yin year, a yin lunar date, a yin hour, a yin place, and a yin ghost acting as midwife. I was born with layers upon layers of yin energy, attracting fierce ghosts. He also said that this kind of fate was called a "Yin Corpse Ghost Fate," and there was no cure for it. Even if every possible method were used, I absolutely would not live past seven. After death, I would even be raised into a "Blood-Clothed Little Ghost" by some crooked-minded person and driven out to harm others.
My mother was dumbfounded when she heard that. Thinking that I would have to turn into a ghost and harm people after dying, she immediately felt every hair on her body stand on end. She hurriedly begged the fortune-teller to save me. He had originally still possessed some compassion, but after making a quick calculation with his fingers, he immediately slung his