Sentient Hazelnut

Disclaimer: mythology inevitably varies between tellings, so there’s no singular agreed-upon lore. Also, despite my heritage and all my efforts, I can’t read Chinese so I’m stuck working from English sources, which are going to be a lot less comprehensive, and all I can do is try my best.

With that in mind, here’s my argument (once again, spoilers):

(Mal du Pays.) Jiangshi are corpses returned from death after either an improper burial; having died far from home, away from where their family can grieve and honour them alongside their own ancestors (culturally, one’s geographic home is of far more importance than the Anglo-centric world observes); or holding onto a longing strong enough to defy the natural order. They wander aimlessly in search of it, having lost or forgotten the way. They can be safely laid to rest there, but even if they can return to the location, they may not recognise it; undeath has severed them from its spiritual importance. Reaching journey’s end is not enough; the memory that connects to it, and the self that could have found peace there, no longer exist.

(Everything was worth remembering.) Much like zombies, jiangshi lose their humanity and consciousness in death, and no longer remember their ties to those they knew in life. The yang half of the soul (positive, disciplined, ethereal, sapient) ascends to heaven, while the yin half (negative, coarse, corporeal, instinctive) remains in the body, so upon reanimation none of the yang qualities remain to govern them. There is only hunger, and nothing left with which to reason or restrain it. Unlike regular vampires, they feed on a person’s qi (life force, essentially).

(You breathe in, and out.) Jiangshi are blind, but they can detect the nearby presence of the living from their breath. One way to hide from them is to hold it. They nonetheless fear their reflection in mirrors, as well as the sun and any indications of imminent daybreak (including the sound of bells).

(Are you really moving differently, though?) Jiangshi possess superhuman strength, and — being ancient enough, or having absorbed enough qi — are known to defy the rigor mortis that gives them their name (jiangshi = stiff corpse), exhibiting remarkable agility and powers of flight.

(A wish, a wish…) Jiangshi are bound to follow the command given on their paper talisman, ritually written and applied by a Daoist priest to pacify and control them. Usually this is an order to stop endangering the living and calmly find their way home, under cover of night, so they can be quietly and permanently laid to rest.

I’m probably forgetting some others but for me at least the leaf+wish/talisman+command thing is the nail in the coffin, so to speak.