Chapter 245: with translation of chapter title

The third day after Pangzi left, QingSongShu, in response to an old friend's invitation, went out of town to celebrate his birthday, and such a large Chan Yi Hall now only has me left to guard it.

Some minor things I can handle, but for major matters I'm somewhat lacking. To avoid damaging the sign of Chan Yi Hall, I had to choose to close the door and turn away guests; except for a few old acquaintances from the neighborhood, hardly anyone can find me.

The only thing worth celebrating is that Little Fat and Murong Jiaja have both woken up, so my solitary days aren't that gloomy for me.

Either let Murong Jiaja come out to teach me the art of Wonderful Gates and Escape Techniques, or use incense candles and the like to play with Little Fat. Sometimes I really think, if these two were real people instead of ghosts, how great that would be. Whether as a son or a brother, I would gladly have Little Fat, this mischievous and lovable little rascal. And Murong Jiaja, I admit I have feelings for her. But if heaven really gave me a chance to let Murong Jiaja become human, I wouldn't know how to arrange her status.

Sister? That's a bit unreliable, like those melodramatic soap operas often seen on TV. Two people who love each other end up discovering they are long-lost siblings; one commits suicide by jumping off a building, the other remains unmarried forever, and in the end one dies, the other ends up in despair. This exactly fits the curse that lovelorn singles shout on Valentine's Day: 'All lovers in the world end up as siblings.'

Sister is naturally unreliable, but a lover also won't do; others are fine, but if that day ever comes and you have me pursue Murong Jiaja, I truly wouldn't know where to start. I'm afraid I'd chicken out before I even get the confession out.

Moreover, I still haven't figured out whether Murong Jiaja is my sister's past life. If that's true, then this little affection of mine would completely turn into an incest plot.

Leisurely days pass slowly between worry and joy; a day feels like an hour, and the past always flies by. A writer often says: 'A week has seven days, but at least eight days feel like my period has come and I don't want to type, I don't want to write.' A loser often says a year has 365 days, but at least 366 days are spent depressed and not wanting to work.

Same here; I've grown accustomed to this leisurely, carefree, and tranquil life, and I don't want to go out and toil for others. I also don't want to put on a show for incense money, faking smiles. This guy is full of scheming; at home the red flag never falls, outside colorful flags flutter, with a second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh mistress all running around the streets. Clearly hypocritical, after making his fortune he ignores his elderly mother, pretending it's just sending money home so she can live without worries.

Some people you can sincerely guide back to the right path, and that counts as merit for a cultivator; others, no matter how you advise them, they won't listen, and with just a bit of wealth they act as if the whole world belongs to them, arrogant beyond compare. If you engage them, you're annoyed; if you don't, after all they're introduced by acquaintances coming sincerely. So being human is always a dilemma, as the old saying goes: 'In the rivers and lakes, one has no control over oneself.'

That morning, I was in front of the patriarch's altar swallowing talismans to cultivate, thinking this day would pass leisurely as usual; who would have thought, I wasn't seeking trouble, but trouble came knocking at my door.

Opening the door, I saw a middle-aged man standing at the entrance; this middle-aged man is an acquaintance of ours, he sells herbal tea on the street, his stall is on the same street as Chan Yi Hall. I don't know his exact name, but Pangzi and I call him Yun Shu. He came from his hometown in Shaoguan to Shenzhen; his family has three or four kids, they're poor, and when he first opened his tea stall, business wasn't great.

Later, QingSongShu saw that his whole family relied on this tea stall for a living, which was very hard, so he gave him a few secret prescriptions, telling him to boil the Chinese medicine and mix it into the tea.

Those in the Daoist tradition, having followed many masters, study a wide variety of things—mountain divination, medicine, fate, and prognostication. Even if their medical skills can't match those of hospital TCM doctors, some secret formulas refined over generations are still beyond what senior hospital TCM physicians can compare to.

However, the masters treat these secret formulas as treasures. You want medicine? Sure, I'll prepare it for you, but I will absolutely not give you the prescription.

So for QingSongShu to give his precious secret formula to a complete stranger is already beyond mere kindness.

After obtaining the prescription, Yun Shu followed it, mixing the Chinese medicine into the herbal tea; for ailments like colds and sore throats, drinking just two cups basically does the trick, so his tea stall gained fame nearby. Moreover, in gratitude for this great favor from the Wang family, Yun Shu brings an old hen or some local specialties to visit the Wang family every holiday,

"Yun Shu, early in the morning, what do you need from me?" I looked at him curiously; if I'm not mistaken, today is National Day, and during holidays his shop is usually swamped, so how does he have time to come here?

"Hai Sheng, is Elder QingSong in? I have an urgent matter for him!" Yun Shu kept pounding his hands, looking somewhat anxious.

"He's not here; he went out of town to celebrate an old friend's birthday, I reckon he'll be back in about a month and a half." I spoke frankly, then asked him: "What's the urgent matter?"

"He's not here… then… you'll do, come with me quickly, I'm waiting for you to save my life!" Yun Shu hurriedly grabbed me and we ran.

"Hold on, Yun Shu, you ought to tell me clearly what's going on; you've got me all confused, what is this?" I said dissatisfied.

"No time, let's talk as we walk; if you don't go now, someone will die." Yun Shu looked extremely anxious, so I didn't dare hesitate, hastily preparing talismans and such at home, then followed him out. I'm a Daoist; him seeking me out surely has to do with ghosts and gods.

On the way, Yun Shu's words confirmed my suspicion. He came to me this time mainly because a Daoist priest his relatives had invited had fainted on the bed and died, and no amount of calling could wake him.

Hearing this, I grew curious—why would his relatives suddenly summon a Daoist priest? Could their house be haunted?

The outcome surprised me; Yun Shu said they hadn't invited the priest because the house was haunted, but because the relatives wanted to summon a ghost—to call forth the spirit of a deceased ancestor to ask a few questions.

Yun Shu said this relative also came from his hometown in Shaoguan; the relative's surname is Shao, given name Long. Their ancestors had struggled in Shenzhen for decades, finally saving up several hundred thousand, intending to use that money to buy a property in Shenzhen so the kids could have local hukou and attend school without paying extra fees. Who would have thought that the Shao family's elderly mother suffered a sudden calamity two weeks ago—bandits broke into the house and stabbed her to death with a cleaver, and the household valuables were completely looted.

All important belongings of the Shao Long family were kept by his mother; perhaps because she had been poor most of her life, she was extremely traditional and conservative, hiding the household register, savings book, and other important items tightly, never letting relatives or anyone else touch them.

Shao Long had taken a liking to a second-hand house in the suburbs of Shenzhen, planning to discuss it with his mother in a few days and have her give him the saved money to buy the place. But who knew that just one day after not returning home, his mother suddenly met with a calamity and died in the rented house. The savings book and household register that she had been keeping disappeared—unknown whether they were stolen by thieves or hidden by the old mother herself.

Several hundred thousand yuan may be nothing to the wealthy, but for an ordinary family saving that amount could take half a lifetime or more; moreover, with the household register and other important items involved, losing them is equivalent to being a black household—how could the Shao Long family not be anxious?

Afterward, Shao Long hardened his heart, taking his remaining savings of twenty thousand yuan to hire a Daoist priest, explaining that if he could summon the spirit of the Shao family's elderly grandmother upstairs and find out where the savings book and household register were, that sum would be considered payment for the priest.

"Ridiculous…" After Yun Shu finished recounting the whole story, I couldn't help but blurt out. Life and death are bound by heavenly mandate; moreover, the Shao family's elderly grandmother died an unjust death, and having received no proper rites in life, she must have been dragged by the ghost officials to the City of Wrongful Death after death.

The art of summoning souls isn't something you can just perform at will; if nothing untoward has occurred in the home, it's not for calling wandering vengeful spirits.

Or unless the ghost appears in a dream and the household is disturbed; otherwise, one cannot summon spirits for no reason. If those who know how to traverse the yin-yang realms could freely trample both worlds, summoning ghosts and hooking souls, then this world would be in chaos.

Now that the seventh day for the Shao family's elderly grandmother has passed, she must have been taken by the ghost officials to the City of Wrongful Death. If we want to find her spirit, we cannot use the ordinary method of inviting ghosts across the yin; we must personally go down to the underworld to seek her. The so‑called 'inviting ghosts across the yin' merely borrows the master's communication between yin and yang, using ask‑the‑way rice as a guide to lure spirits up. Whereas going down to the underworld requires the soul to leave the body and personally pass through the Gates of Ghosts,

Making a trip inside the Gates of Ghosts immediately reduces one's yang lifespan by three years. Combined with the dangers of the City of Wrongful Death in the underworld and the peril of the soul leaving the body, normally even if we were offered much more money, we wouldn't engage in such a violation of the underworld's yin laws.

Who would do such a thing? Is it ignorance or greed for money, daring to take on an act that defies the underworld's yin laws and shortens one's own life?

Thinking this, I went with Yun Shu to the home of his relative Shao Long.

As soon as I entered the room, seeing that red figure lying on the straw mat, my pupils dilated instantly and my whole body trembled with excitement.

"Thank God for giving me braised pork—no, for giving me my enemy." Looking at that red figure asleep on the bed, I was so excited I cracked my knuckles, just short of lunging at him like a wolf.

Han Duo, we finally meet again!.