在东北有个偏远的村落，村里有位通灵人，大家都尊称他“老陈”。老陈不算年纪大，但脸上的皱纹密密麻麻，像是操劳了大半辈子似的。他是出马仙，传说他有一只黄仙，能沟通阴阳。村里的大小灵异怪事，基本都是老陈去处理的。
那天晚上，村民阿石喝多了酒，晃晃悠悠地往家走。天冷得厉害，月光冰冷，荒坟地四周寂静得出奇，似乎连风都屏住了呼吸。阿石不知是走错了路，还是喝多了，不知不觉走进了村外那片荒坟地。就在他路过一座新土堆时，背后忽然传来一股阴寒的凉意，像有什么东西抓住了他的肩头，越走越沉。
阿石这才慌了神，回头一看，却什么也没见到。他心惊胆战，想要加快脚步，但每一步都像踩在泥沼里。他想喊人，可张口只发出嘶哑的声响。这时，前方忽然出现了一丝灯光，灯下站着一个熟悉的身影——是老陈！
老陈抽着烟，见到阿石被吓得魂不守舍的样子，脸色一沉，缓缓走到他身旁，轻声说：“别回头，跟着我走。”老陈随即牵出一条黄狗，那狗冲着阿石背后的黑暗中狂吠，凶狠地扑向某处。刹那间，阿石只觉得身上一轻，好像那个沉重的东西忽然消失了。他一屁股瘫坐在地上，大口喘着气，心有余悸地问：“刚刚那是什么啊？”
老陈沉默片刻，才冷冷道：“是一只母狼的怨魂。你前几天猎了它的崽，母狼的魂不愿离去，缠上你了。”说完，老陈掐灭烟头，随手在荒地里点了几张黄纸。火光中，阿石看到那几张纸迅速化为灰烬，烟雾四散，似乎带走了那股寒意。
这只是老陈的日常之一。他这辈子处理了不少阴事儿，村民们既敬他又怕他。平日里老陈不怎么出门，总喜欢一个人待在家里喝小酒。村里的狗娃一提起老陈就特别兴奋，说老陈是“活神仙”，总能让诡异的事平息下来。
几天后，村里发生了一件大事。村头的铁牛家，莫名其妙闹起了怪事。他家半夜时常传出女子的哭声，门窗也会自己开合。铁牛的媳妇说，夜里她梦见了自己去世多年的爹娘，哭诉说思念她。铁牛媳妇心疼父母，便请了一尊菩萨供在屋里，还点起香火，希望能给爹娘一个栖息之所。
不料，她的举动反而引来了更多的麻烦。那晚铁牛正睡得香甜，忽然被一股冰凉的阴气惊醒，睁开眼一看，见床头站着两个模糊的人影，面容模糊，却熟悉得很——正是铁牛媳妇的爹娘！铁牛大惊，拼命叫醒媳妇。媳妇迷迷糊糊地睁开眼，眼前的情景也让她吓得魂飞魄散。夫妻俩连忙找到老陈。
老陈到他们家查看一番，发现铁牛家不远处正是村里的一处“棺材地”，风水极差，不适宜供奉亡灵。老陈叹了口气，对铁牛说：“你们的供奉方式有误，亡灵在这里驻不住，反而容易引来孤魂野鬼，日后怕是难平安。”
铁牛一家照着老陈的指点，烧香祭祀，将鬼堂移走。果然，从那之后再也没有什么怪事发生了。
事情刚过去不久，村里传出一则消息：要在村头的大河上修一座桥，村长称这是响应政府号召，便于村里交通来往。工程定在月末动工，村民们都拍手叫好，觉得生活将更加便利。
可老陈却并不乐观。他找到村长，神情严肃地劝告：“这桥不能建，那条河底下积了多年怨气，修桥只会扰动阴煞之气。”村长心想老陈一把年纪，满嘴迷信之语，便不以为意，笑着搪塞了过去，决心将工程继续下去。
终于，桥梁开工了。村里人围观着工人们在河上挖桩，不料到了午后，河面忽然起了浓雾，接连两名工人从脚手架上坠落身亡。村长慌了，但碍于脸面，仍不愿暂停工程，只当是意外。
几天后，工程终于完成了。村长正好为儿子办婚礼，觉得这是双喜临门，决定请全村人来庆祝。然而婚宴进行到一半，新郎和新娘突然毫无预兆地倒地不起，医生也束手无策。村长这才意识到，可能是触犯了禁忌。他顾不得脸面，立刻请老陈相助。
老陈来到村长家，神色凝重。他拿出一把香，三步一跪地走到河边，口中念念有词，为新婚夫妇祈求平安。祭毕，他叹息道：“村长，你建桥之事触犯了河底怨魂，如今桥虽建成，但阴气缠绕，唯有将二人魂灵安抚，方能解脱。”他告诉村长，让他为儿子儿媳办一场“纸人婚礼”。
村长听罢，又惊又恐，不得不照做。那晚，村长家院中点起一堆篝火，火光中，一对纸人夫妻立在火堆前，面目庄严如生。随着火焰渐渐燃起，纸人仿佛活了一般，竟微微点头，嘴角似乎挂上了一丝笑意。村长和家人屏住呼吸，眼睁睁地看着这一幕，竟无一人敢出声。
从那以后，村长家再无怪事发生。然而，不知从什么时候起，老陈变得愈发沉默寡言，渐渐淡出了村民们的生活。有时夜里，偶尔有人能瞥见他在村口点起一柱香，对着苍茫夜色低语。
多年后，村里一位孩子在村口发现了一块孤零零的坟碑。碑上只刻着“陈某某”三字，破旧的石碑隐没在荒草丛中。有人说那是老陈的坟，可却没有人见过他真正的身影。
又一个秋冬交替的夜晚，村里的狗娃打着火把从坟地经过，忽然听到低低的诵经声。狗娃壮着胆子望去，却发现那坟头处影影绰绰，似有一位白发老者，手持香炉，朝着村子的方向拜了三拜，缓缓隐去。
这一夜，村中没有一丝风，天地间静得出奇，仿佛多年来的怨气与阴霾随着老陈的离去，终于彻底消散了。
In the Northeast, there was a remote village where a spirit medium known as “Old Chen” lived. Old Chen wasn’t very old, but his face was lined with deep wrinkles, as if he had toiled for most of his life. He was a practitioner of the "Out Horse" tradition, believed to possess a yellow spirit that could communicate with both the living and the dead. Whenever strange occurrences happened in the village, it was usually Old Chen who dealt with them.
One evening, a villager named A-Shi got drunk and stumbled his way home. The night was cold, and the moonlight was icy. The desolate graveyard surrounding the village was eerily silent, as if even the wind held its breath. A-Shi, whether lost or simply tipsy, unwittingly wandered into the cemetery. As he passed by a fresh mound of earth, a sudden chill gripped him, as if something had grabbed his shoulder and was weighing him down.
Terrified, A-Shi glanced back but saw nothing. His heart raced, and he tried to quicken his pace, yet each step felt like wading through mud. He opened his mouth to shout, but only a hoarse croak escaped. Just then, he spotted a faint light ahead—Old Chen stood there!
Old Chen was smoking a cigarette, and upon seeing A-Shi’s panic-stricken face, his expression darkened. He approached A-Shi and whispered, “Don’t look back; follow me.” Old Chen then called out his yellow dog, which rushed towards the darkness behind A-Shi, barking furiously. In an instant, A-Shi felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath, still shaken. “What was that?” he asked, trembling.
Old Chen paused before responding, “It was the vengeful spirit of a mother wolf. You killed her cubs a few days ago, and now her spirit clings to you.” With that, Old Chen lit a few joss papers, and as the flames flickered, A-Shi watched the papers burn to ashes, dispersing the cold aura that had enveloped him.
This was just another day in Old Chen's life. He had dealt with numerous supernatural matters and was both respected and feared by the villagers. Though he rarely ventured out, he often enjoyed a quiet drink at home. The village's children spoke of him with awe, believing he was a "living god" who could calm restless spirits.
A few days later, an unsettling incident occurred in the village. Iron Bull, a local man, reported that strange noises were coming from his house at night—specifically, the sound of a woman weeping. Iron Bull's wife claimed she had dreamed of her deceased parents, who lamented their longing for her. Moved by their sorrow, Iron Bull's wife set up an altar at home, hoping to provide her parents a resting place.
However, her actions only invited more trouble. That night, Iron Bull was sleeping soundly when a sudden chill awakened him. As he opened his eyes, he saw two hazy figures standing at the foot of his bed—familiar but indistinct: it was the ghostly apparitions of his wife’s parents! Iron Bull shouted in terror, rousing his wife from sleep. Startled by the sight, they both froze in fear. The couple quickly sought help from Old Chen.
When Old Chen arrived, he assessed the situation and discovered that Iron Bull's home was built atop a cursed burial site. The poor feng shui of the location was unsuitable for housing spirits. Old Chen sighed and explained, “Your offerings are misguided. The spirits cannot settle here; they only attract wandering souls, which will bring misfortune.”
He advised Iron Bull to remove the altar and properly appease the spirits. Following Old Chen’s guidance, they dismantled the altar and performed the necessary rituals. Remarkably, the haunting ceased thereafter.
Not long after, the village received news that a bridge would be constructed over a river at the edge of town, a project the village head promoted as part of a government initiative for improved transportation. The construction was set to begin at the end of the month, and the villagers eagerly anticipated the convenience it would bring.
However, Old Chen was not optimistic. He approached the village head with a grave demeanor, warning, “You cannot build that bridge; the river harbors years of accumulated resentment. Building there will disturb the vengeful spirits.” The village head dismissed Old Chen’s concerns as mere superstition, reassuring everyone that nothing bad would happen.
Eventually, the construction began. Villagers gathered to watch the workers erecting scaffolding over the river. Suddenly, dense fog rolled in, and two workers fell to their deaths from the scaffolding. The village head was alarmed, but unwilling to halt the project, he attributed the incident to mere coincidence.
Days later, the bridge was finally completed. The village head decided to celebrate by hosting a wedding for his son, believing it to be a double blessing. He invited the entire village to the festivities. However, midway through the banquet, both the groom and bride collapsed, unresponsive despite medical attention. It was only then that the village head realized he might have disturbed the spirits. In desperation, he sought out Old Chen for assistance.
Upon arriving at the village head's house, Old Chen examined the situation gravely. He retrieved an incense stick and knelt by the river, chanting prayers for the young couple’s safety. Once finished, he lamented, “Building that bridge angered the river's spirits. Now, to appease them, we must perform a marriage ceremony for the couple.”
The village head was astonished but understood he had no choice but to comply. That night, a bonfire was lit in the village head’s yard, and a pair of paper figurines resembling the couple stood before the flames, looking eerily lifelike. The villagers held their breath as they watched the paper figures seemingly come to life, nodding slightly as if acknowledging their presence.
Afterward, the village head's family experienced no further disturbances. However, Old Chen became increasingly withdrawn, gradually fading from the villagers’ lives. Occasionally, villagers claimed to see him at the edge of the village, lighting incense and whispering to the night sky.
Years later, a child stumbled upon a solitary gravestone near the village. The inscription read simply, "Chen." The weathered stone was overgrown with weeds, and no one had seen Old Chen for some time.
One autumn night, as the village boy walked past the cemetery with a torch, he heard soft chanting. Gathering his courage, he looked over and saw a white-haired old man holding an incense burner, bowing three times towards the village before slowly fading away.
That night, the village was unusually still; the air was so quiet that it felt as if years of resentment and gloom had finally lifted with Old Chen’s departure.