Chapter 32

After leaving Chan-Yi Hall, Pangzi was no longer 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 some fleshly pain; otherwise he won't learn his lesson, and even if cured he'll remain the same scoundrel."

"By the way, what does Yuan Qiu want from us?" 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 everyone else, making a detour when he saw us. 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? Even outsiders, let alone us 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 attract.

Once a child attracts 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 persistent high fever.

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

Since a fetal spirit usually clings to a pregnant woman's body, if a child's annual fortune is low and they have prolonged contact with a pregnant woman, they easily attract a fetal spirit. Elders often say that after bumping into a pregnant woman, besides apologizing, one must wait for her to leave and then discreetly spit out a mouthful of saliva. They claim it's because the pregnant woman brings bad luck, but actually it's because she carries a fetal spirit. However, the elders' method is overkill; the fetal spirit hardly affects adults, targeting only children—specifically those with low annual fortune.

Yuan Qiu's cousin attracted a fetal spirit because she had prolonged contact with that pregnant relative and her annual fortune was low. However, this fetal spirit is a trivial pediatric matter; any roadside stall could handle it easily, so it posed no difficulty for Pangzi and me—we resolved the fetal spirit for her niece with just a few gestures.

Pangzi also calculated his niece's eight characters: she has a fire destiny, born in winter, with a weak heavenly stem day master and deficient innate fire energy, making her 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 quite effective. If a household has someone suffering from a chronic illness, placing three wooden gourds at the bedside or hanging them in the directions of Heavenly Doctor, Longevity, and Vitality can improve the feng shui energy field and treat disease, because in feng shui the gourd represents medicinal stones and health.

Since the wooden gourd belongs to the Wood element, and Yuan Qiu's niece has a fire destiny, born in winter with weak fire energy, Pangzi's action follows the Five Phases principle of Wood producing Fire, helping to boost her niece's fire energy so that her eight characters' Five Phases achieve balance.

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

"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. Surely this is where Li Xun was caught swindling by an old man, but now the place is deserted; not even a shadow remains.

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

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

I nodded, having no choice. I prepared to ask the nearby shops whether they had seen two people clash here this morning.

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

So-called barefoot doctors are unlicensed private practitioners, but lacking a license doesn't mean they lack skill; many itinerant Daoist physicians of old had no license either, yet their medical art could surpass even that of doctors in major hospitals.

But… why is Pangzi asking about Chinese medicine 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 treating a dead horse as if it were alive, letting Pangzi mess around as he pleased.

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

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

Pangzi made a hushing gesture, telling me to stay quiet. Then he wrinkled his nose like a dog and sniffed 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 entered another narrow lane.

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

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

I looked around; the tile-roofed house appeared dilapidated, its wall bricks beginning to fade, hardly different from a rural cottage. The only difference was the scent of aged medicinal herbs drifting from its surroundings.

Just then, 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 eyebrows, exactly as Li Xun had described.

"Seventh Master..." 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 Seventh Uncle was here? It's rare that you care enough to come see him—come on in." Unlike Pangzi, the old man called Seventh Master lit up at the sight of Pangzi, grabbing him to sit and stare, his enthusiasm almost unbelievable.

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

"Seventh Master? 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, Seventh Master pulled us both into the house.

Only after entering did I realize where the medicinal smell in the alley came from—it was emanating from Seventh Master's house: roasted ephedra, dried chicken‑bone grass, Tianma for calming the liver and extinguishing wind… both familiar and unfamiliar herbs were piled up, occupying at least a quarter of the room. This shows Seventh Master must be a veteran herbalist; Pangzi's earlier inquiries about a Chinese medicine practitioner on the street were surely aimed at finding him.

This makes me think their relationship is anything but ordinary—Pangzi understands Seventh Master so well and can locate his residence by the scent of medicine; no one would believe they're unrelated. Yet I've followed QingSongShu for so long, how have I never heard of this Seventh Master figure?

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

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

Pangzi flinched and quickly corrected himself to call him Seventh Uncle.

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

While Seventh Master was away, I quietly asked Pangzi, "Hey Pangzi, why do you keep switching between calling him grandfather and uncle—is he actually your grandfather or your uncle?"

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

"Well… Seventh Master'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 would have to respectfully address my son as 'Great Master', and since I'd be the father of a Great Master, I'd feel mighty."

I could only helplessly press my forehead.

"Great Master"... Pangzi, you're treating your own son like a patron at a brothel. Oh, Wang Great Master, 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 would fall.

Even though Pangzi isn't married yet, I already feel sorrow for his future son. Who knows who will be so unlucky as to be reborn as Pangzi's child, saddled 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 of drinks so Seventh Uncle can see how you've improved." And this Yang Seventh Master actually brought out… a case of beer from the inner room.

Who would have thought? Pangzi shrank back at the sight of the beer, hiding behind me as if looking at a raging flood and ferocious beast.

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

Although I didn't know what Yang Seventh Master was up to, I thought Pangzi's reaction was a bit over the top—it's just half a glass of beer; we can down a whole bottle of liquor, so what's the big deal about beer?

I, however, wanted to see what was up; Pangzi didn't move, so I picked up one of the half‑glasses and drained it.

Yang Seventh Master smiled narrowly as I raised the glass, while Pangzi panicked, grabbing my sleeve and pleading, "Don't, don't drink it!"

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

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

Pangzi swallowed and asked, "You're really okay?"

I shook my head. "No problem?"

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

Immediately afterwards, 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 "shit", realizing I had been caught.

This Yang Qiye even slipped a thousand-pound drop into the beer while hosting.