In 19**, it was an age when the blazing sun could never seem to settle. On the way to the hospital, my mother lost her way and ended up giving birth to me in a graveyard in the dead of night.
They said that anyone born with a life as cheap as a dog's would grow up to become a dragon or tiger.
Yet after I was born, I was always falling mysteriously ill. Even the biggest hospitals could do nothing for me. I had 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 secret prescription. In the end, she found a fortune-teller skilled in reading fate.
The man said I had been schemed against before I was even born: a yin year, a yin lunar month, a yin hour, a yin place, and a yin ghost acting as midwife. I had been born with an overwhelming yin aura, one that attracted evil spirits. He also said that this sort of fate was called a "Yin Corpse Ghost Fate." There was absolutely no cure. Even if every method were exhausted, I would never live past seven. After I died, I would even be raised into a "Blood-Clothed Little Ghost" by that crooked-hearted person and driven to harm others.
My mother was stunned. The thought that I would turn into a ghost and go on to hurt people after death made her whole body prickle with fear. She hurriedly begged the fortune-teller to save me. He had still possessed some compassion, but after counting on his fingers, he immediately threw his pack over his shoulder and fled as fast as his legs could carry him.
My mother