Whispers of the Divided Soul: A Corpse's Lament

In the remote village of Lingxia, nestled between the ancient mountains and the whispering rivers, there lay an abandoned temple. It was said that the temple had once been a place of solace and worship, but over the years, it had fallen into disrepair, its once-golden roof now covered in moss, and its stone walls etched with the passage of time.

The locals whispered tales of the temple's eerie silence, and on nights when the wind howled through the trees, they could hear faint, ghostly melodies echoing from the depths of the ruins. But it was the legend of the Corpse that Sang in Two Voices that truly held the villagers in thrall.

Many years ago, in the heyday of the temple, there lived a monk named Ming who was deeply revered by the villagers. Ming was known for his wisdom and his compassion, and he spent his days in meditation and helping those in need. However, his life took a dark turn when he fell in love with a young woman named Li, who worked as a servant in the temple.

Li was a beautiful and kind-hearted girl, but her love for Ming was forbidden. Despite their clandestine meetings, Ming's commitment to his vows was unyielding. One fateful night, in a fit of passion and despair, Ming killed Li, leaving her body hidden in the temple's crypt.

The villagers discovered Li's body, and Ming, overwhelmed with guilt, took his own life. His spirit, however, was not at peace. It was torn between its love for Li and its devotion to its monastic duties. Ming's body was buried, but his spirit remained, divided between the living and the dead.

The Corpse that Sang in Two Voices was Ming's physical remains, which, over time, had been corrupted by the earth and the elements. The voice from the crypt was Ming's spirit, trapped and bound to his mortal coil, its melodies a haunting reminder of the love and the betrayal.

As the years passed, the villagers grew tired of the ghostly melodies and the whispers of the temple. They attempted to seal the temple and the crypt, but each attempt failed. Ming's spirit grew stronger, and its song became more insistent, more desperate.

One evening, a young girl named Mei, whose curiosity had led her to the temple's ruins, heard the song again. The melody was unlike any she had ever heard, a haunting duet that seemed to speak of sorrow and of a love that would never be fulfilled.

Mei, driven by a strange compulsion, decided to uncover the truth behind the Corpse that Sang in Two Voices. She delved into the village's ancient records, seeking any clue that might reveal the fate of Ming and Li. Her search led her to an old, tattered scroll, which told of a ritual that could unite the divided spirits.

According to the scroll, Ming's spirit could only be at peace if his divided soul were to be re-united. The ritual required the blood of a virgin, whose life force would be the bridge between the living and the dead. Mei knew the ritual was dangerous, but she was determined to set Ming and Li free from their eternal duet.

On the night of the full moon, Mei gathered the necessary ingredients and made her way to the temple. She stood before Ming's grave, her heart pounding with fear and resolve. She performed the ritual, her hands trembling as she cut a deep gash into her wrist.

As her blood mingled with the earth, Ming's spirit, now freed from his body, began to emerge. The air around Mei shimmered with an ethereal glow, and the voices of Ming and Li grew louder, clearer. Mei could see the two spirits, entwined in a dance of pain and longing.

The voices sang of a love that had been lost, of a betrayal that had been committed, and of a soul that had been torn asunder. Mei listened, her heart breaking, as she realized that she was the key to their salvation.

With a final, tearful plea, Mei urged Ming and Li to let go of their past and move on. The spirits, now at peace, seemed to melt away into the night. The air grew still, and the temple, once the source of fear, now seemed to breathe with a newfound tranquility.

Mei, weary but elated, made her way home, the Corpse that Sang in Two Voices now a tale of redemption rather than of horror. The village of Lingxia slowly forgot the legend of the ghostly melodies, for the spirits of Ming and Li had finally found their rest.

And so, in the quiet of the night, the temple lay in silence, its once-ominous whispers replaced by the soft rustling of leaves and the gentle flow of the river. The Corpse that Sang in Two Voices had ceased its haunting song, and the divided spirits had finally found peace.