Chapter 304

After leaving Chan Yi Hall, Pangzi instead wasn't in a hurry, leisurely strolling the streets, looking here and there.

I urged him: "Pangzi, hurry up a bit, Li Xun is still waiting for us in Chan Yi Hall!"

Pangzi pursed his lips and said: "No rush, let this swindler suffer a bit of fleshly pain; otherwise he won't learn his lesson, and even if cured he'll remain the same scoundrel."

"By the way, what did Yuan Qiu come to see us about?" Pangzi shifted the topic and asked me.

I thought about it, but for a moment I didn't know what was going on. Previously, whenever Yuan Qiu saw us, he treated us the same as others, just walking away in a circle. If we had any connection, at most it was that once, by sheer chance, Pangzi and I resolved the fetal spirit for his niece.

What is a fetal spirit? Not even outsiders, even we insiders cannot fully explain it. All we know is that a fetal spirit is neither a god nor a ghost, but a kind of malign influence that small children are especially prone to provoke.

Once a child provokes a fetal spirit, they usually show several symptoms: rapid, nonstop blinking, biting their own fingers, eating their own fingernails; in severe cases they eat their own hair, a ring of hair above the ears turns whitish and stands up; or their eyes turn blood‑red with a fever that won't subside.

At that time, when we saw Yuan Qiu's niece, we saw her eating her own hair and running a low fever; plus we learned that a pregnant relative was staying at her house, so we were absolutely certain that Yuan Qiu's niece had provoked a fetal spirit.

Because the fetal spirit usually accompanies a pregnant woman, if a child's fortune for the year is poor, and they have long‑term contact with the pregnant woman, they easily provoke the fetal spirit. Elders often say that after bumping into a pregnant woman, besides apologizing, one must wait until she leaves and then discreetly spit a mouthful of saliva outward. They claim it's because the pregnant woman brings bad luck, but actually it's because she carries the fetal spirit. However, the elders' method is a bit over the top; the fetal spirit's influence on adults is minor, it targets only children, and not all children—only those with poor yearly fortunes.

Yuan Qiu's cousin, because she had frequent long‑term contact with that pregnant relative and her yearly fortune was low, she ended up provoking the fetal spirit. But this fetal spirit is just a trivial pediatric matter; I reckon any street‑side stall could handle it easily, so it posed no difficulty for Pangzi and me— a few simple gestures and we cleared the fetal spirit from her niece.

Pangzi also calculated his niece's eight characters: she is a fire‑destiny winter birth, the heavenly stem of the day master is relatively weak, innate fire qi insufficient, her body prone to illness. So Pangzi consecrated a small wooden gourd for her to wear.

Don't be fooled by its appearance as a mere ornament; the wooden gourd is actually quite effective. If a household has someone suffering from a chronic illness, you can place three wooden gourds at the head of the bed, or hang them in the directions of Heavenly Doctor, Longevity, and Vital Energy, which can improve the feng shui magnetic field and treat disease, because in feng shui the gourd represents medicinal stones and health.

Moreover, the wooden gourd belongs to the Wood element, while Yuan Qiu's niece is a fire‑destiny winter birth with weak fire qi; Pangzi's action follows the Five Phases principle of Wood producing Fire, helping to boost her niece's fire qi so that her eight characters' five elements achieve balance.

Because of this incident, Yuan Qiu also learned that Pangzi and I are Daoist Sect practitioners, and his attitude toward us improved considerably. Nevertheless, although our impression changed, we three seldom interact in daily life, so his sudden visit really left Pangzi and me baffled.

"We've arrived, this should be the place." As we chatted, the two of us came to the big street Li Xun had mentioned.

On the street we found the spot Li Xun had described—in front of a wonton shop, where an empty table was set out and some flyers lay on the ground. It must be where Li Xun was swindling and got caught by an old man, but now the place is deserted—no old man, not even a person in sight.

I asked Pangzi, "This street is so big—where should we look?"

Pangzi pondered a moment and said, "I'll go ask."

I nodded, having no choice. I said, I was about to ask the neighboring shops whether they had seen two people clash here this morning.

But Pangzi didn't ask that; instead he accosted passersby and asked, "Around here, is there any famous barefoot doctor, and where is he practicing?"

So‑called barefoot doctors are those unlicensed private practitioners; lacking a license doesn't mean lacking skill—many itinerant Daoist physicians of old had no license either, yet their medical art could surpass even the doctors of big hospitals.

But… why is Pangzi asking about a Chinese medicine doctor now? Is he trying to treat an illness?

I was puzzled, but Pangzi wore a mysterious expression and told me not to worry. So I could only adopt the attitude of "treat a dead horse as if it were alive" and let Pangzi do as he pleased.

Pangzi walked into several shops in a row, then came out and said to me, "Let's go." After that, he took the lead and led me into a narrow alley.

I shoved him a little and asked, "Pangzi, why did you bring me here?"

Pangzi made a hushing gesture, telling me not to speak. Then he wrinkled his nose like a dog and sniffed all around the alley. After a moment, he took a deep breath, beckoned me and said, "Follow me, we'll find it soon."

I followed him, bewildered, as he turned into a corner of the alley and walked into another narrow lane.

Only then did I notice a medicinal aroma permeating the alley; the deeper we went, the stronger the smell became.

"Is this the place?" Pangzi stopped in front of a tile‑roofed house.

I looked around; the tile house appeared somewhat dilapidated, the bricks of its walls and gate beginning to fade, really no different from a rural cottage—except that the house was suffused with the scent of aged medicinal herbs.

Just as I was feeling doubtful, the door creaked open and an old man stepped out. He was about sixty or seventy years old; importantly, he had a hooked nose and sparse, tidy brows—exactly as Li Xun had described.

"Master Seven…" Upon seeing the old man appear, Pangzi's expression instantly turned obsequious—faster than a face‑changing act in Sichuan opera.

"Hey, isn't that Xiaoqiang? How did you know Uncle Seven was here? It's rare that you care enough to visit Uncle Seven—come in quick." Unlike Pangzi, the old man called Master Seven lit up at the sight of Pangzi, grabbing him to look over and over, his enthusiasm almost unbelievable.

They really have an affair… that's my conclusion about Pangzi and Master Seven.

"Master Seven? I…" Pangzi stammered, apparently preparing to state his purpose.

"Come on, come on, let's go inside first; it's windy out there, don't catch a chill." Before he finished speaking, Master Seven pulled us both into the house.

Only after entering did I realize where the medicinal smell in the alley came from—it was clearly emanating from Master Seven's house: roasted ephedra, dried chicken‑bone grass, Tianma for calming the liver and extinguishing wind… both familiar and unfamiliar herbs were slowly piled up inside, occupying at least a quarter of the space. Thus, Master Seven must be a veteran old Chinese doctor; Pangzi's earlier inquiries among the street shops for a doctor were surely aimed at finding Master Seven.

Thinking about this, I felt even more that their relationship was not ordinary—his such familiarity with Master Seven and ability to locate his dwelling by the scent of medicine made it hard to believe they had no connection. Yet I've followed QingSongShu for so long; how come I've never heard of a figure called Master Seven before?

"Master Seven, I…" Pangzi was about to speak again, but Master Seven instantly cut him off.

"How many times must I tell you? Don't call me Master Seven, call me Uncle Seven. You kid, why are you always so distant?"

Pangzi was startled, quickly corrected himself to call him Uncle Seven.

"Come, come, have a seat first; I'll go fetch something from the house." Master Seven greeted us to sit down, then turned and ran into the inner rooms.

While Master Seven was away, I quietly asked Pangzi, "Hey Pangzi, how come you keep calling him both grandfather and uncle—is this old man your grandfather or your uncle?"

Pangzi gave a wry smile and whispered, "His surname is Yang, his given name is Qiye; everyone respectfully calls him Master Seven, but he insists I call him Uncle Seven—I have no choice."

"Well… Master Seven's father really was outstanding, giving his son a name that literally means 'grandfather'."

Pangzi snorted, "What's so outstanding about that? I think his father was just stupid. If it were me, I'd never name my son Qiye; I'd call him Daye instead, so that everyone who saw my son would have to respectfully call him 'Great Grandfather', and since I'd be the father of that Great Grandfather, just thinking about it makes me feel mighty."

I could only speechlessly rub my forehead.

"Great Grandfather"... Pangzi, you're treating your own son like a client at a brothel. Hey, Wang Great Grandfather, why haven't you come to see our little Red for so long? Our little Red has been longing for you so much that even the stars in the sky seem to have fallen down.

Even though Pangzi isn't married yet, I've already started feeling sorry for his future son. I don't know who would be so unlucky as to be reborn as Pangzi's child and end up with such an unreliable father—truly a misfortune across three lifetimes.

"Come on, come on, Xiaoqiang, we haven't seen each other in ages—let's have a couple drinks so Uncle Seven can see how you've improved." This Master Seven Yang actually brought out… a case of beer from the back room.

Who would have thought? As soon as Pangzi saw the beer he immediately shrank back, hiding behind me as if looking at a flood‑raging beast.

By then Master Seven Yang had already poured two half‑cups on the table and gestured for us to drink.

Although I didn't know what Master Seven Yang was up to, I felt Pangzi's reaction was somewhat over the top—it's just half a cup of beer; we can down a whole bottle of baijiu, so what's the big deal about beer?

I, on the other hand, wanted to see what the trick was. Pangzi didn't move, so I picked up one of the half‑cups and drained it in one go.

Master Seven Yang looked at me with a squinting smile as I raised the cup, while Pangzi panicked, his face turning pale, and he grabbed my sleeve, urging, "Don't… don't drink it."

But it was already too late—Pangzi cried out, and I had already swallowed that cup of liquor.

"Nothing at all!" I held the cup, looking at Pangzi in bewilderment.

Pangzi swallowed his saliva and asked, "You really are okay?"

I shook my head, "No problem, right?"

Who would have thought? As soon as I said that, a sudden force surged up from my belly. My face instantly flushed like I'd drunk too much, twitching rapidly. What's more outrageous, I felt as if a huge stone were pressing on my body, rendering me unable to move.

Immediately after, I felt the whole world spinning, even the ceiling above was swaying.

Then I saw Yang Qiye's left hand resting on his knee, making a sword‑finger gesture, and I only then muttered "crap" in my heart, realizing I had been caught.

This Yang Qiye actually even put a "Thousand‑Pound Drop" in the beer when hosting guests.