Chapter 442

When we left Aomen, Pangzi was still sunk in his drunkenness, unable to wake. I dragged him like a corpse onto the train heading for Hubei. Only after the train had traveled for half an hour did Pangzi slowly wake up… he vomited so much that the whole chair was covered with the filth of his hangover.

"Where are we, and where are we preparing to go?" Pangzi rubbed his forehead, asking in a dazed voice.

I patted his shoulder and said softly: "We're on the train to Hubei; you forgot, QingSongShu told me to first go to Hong'an in Hubei to settle some matters for Uncle Liu, then take a bus to Yichang, right?"

Pangzi, his mind unclear, grinned foolishly: "Hong'an, Hong'an is great! I, as a prince, have lived this long and never seen police in red uniforms—this really opens my eyes!"

I: "……"

The train crept forward, time trickling by; I could no longer bear the waves of fatigue rising in my body, and I slumped, dazed, beside the alcohol‑reeking Pangzi, falling asleep.

The Aomen trip finally ended. Though only two months short, it left an indelible mark on our lives. During this journey we met far too many unforgettable people.

The faithful Fan Wuchang, the lovesick Chen Zheng couple, Grandma Zhao who painstakingly raised her granddaughter, the adorable Xiao Changsheng, the mysterious Daoist Chen, and Chen Mo, who shares a past‑life affinity with Pangzi!

One thrilling incident after another nearly dragged us into a great whirlpool, almost making it impossible to escape unscathed.

I left Grandma Zhao in Aomen; she is now the teacher of little Shishi. She finally found her own disciple. And I, unintentionally, fulfilled my own promise.

I kept the small key Chen Zheng gave me; I never went to the bank's safe deposit box to retrieve the fragment of the Wumu Legacy.

As Chen Zheng said, if the fragment were to leak out, it would surely spark a bloody, bone‑deep struggle in the world; better to bury this harmful thing completely.

For this trip to Hubei, Yuan Qiu did not accompany us, and QingSongShu had temporarily gone to Hong Kong. Our reason for going to Hubei, however, was that just before he left, QingSongShu received a call from someone who isn't exactly an elder but certainly is one.

This elder is the old troupe leader surnamed Liu. He took on a job to perform a play in Hong'an, Hubei. Unexpectedly, during the performance the troupe encountered some strange events; several actors remain unconscious, and even the town's doctors are helpless.

Liu troupe leader's first thought was QingSongShu. Speaking of this Liu troupe leader, his family has deep ties with QingSongShu's family—precisely, with QingSongShu's sister, Pangzi's aunt; he even once saved her life, almost becoming Pangzi's uncle‑by‑marriage.

It seems this happened in the old society; to tell the story in detail, one must recount the rise and fall of the old Wang family, and at the same time mention that turbulent era.

The Chinese nation, after enduring countless twists in the long river of history, finally ushered in a new era—only to suffer ten turbulent years of the Cultural Revolution.

The Wang family was one of those persecuted in that era. Although the Wang family is a Daoist lineage, do not forget that during the Cultural Revolution there was a massive movement called "Destroy the Four Olds, smash all demons and monsters."

At that time the renowned Wang family naturally became a target of many Red Guards' struggle sessions. Guangdong has an old saying, "running birthday," which originates from the Cultural Revolution's Destroy the Four Olds and struggle against landlords.

Don't think "running birthday" means jogging around on your birthday; its meaning is quite different: "running birthday" means only by fleeing can you have a day of survival—only by escaping the struggle sessions do you gain a chance to live.

To speak frankly, folk Daoists, especially those hereditary lineages of esoteric arts, may not be rich but they are never destitute. Whether in the countryside conducting funerals or in the city consulting feng shui, people always seek them out; a Daoist with a few solid skills can get by anywhere and eat well.

Even if the old society's economy was poor, the old Wang family's life wasn't too bad; besides owning their own land, they often could eat white rice, and occasionally meat dishes appeared on the table.

Thus, the old Wang family of that time could be considered both a rich peasant and a "demon‑monster" among the Red Guards. Consequently, during the Cultural Revolution's massive struggle sessions, Pangzi's grandfather also began his own life on the run.

Do not assume abandoning one's wife is heartless; those who never lived through that turbulent era can never know its sorrow. No man wishes to leave his home, no one wants to desert wife and children, yet the times forced them to flee their homeland and seek refuge far away.

Staying to face the struggle sessions is certainly not taking responsibility; on the contrary, it burdens wife and children and wastes one's life in vain. Therefore, many did not want to leave, but had no choice.

After a few more years, the Cultural Revolution ended and the motherland welcomed the spring of reform and opening up.

But Pangzi's grandmother never saw her husband return. During the years he was away, she clung to a single belief, her body and mind already exhausted to the point of utter fatigue. As soon as she heard the Cultural Revolution had ended, she overjoyedly waited at the door for her "running birthday" husband to come home.

Yet after many days, spring arrived but her husband remained missing. This made Pangzi's grandmother worry even more, fearing he had met with mishap on his "running birthday," been devoured by wild beasts, captured by Red Guards, or beaten to death in a struggle session.

Old grief had not faded, new worries arrived; after years of toil, Pangzi's grandmother finally reached utter exhaustion. Before her husband could return, she passed away, leaving Pangzi's aunt and his father QingSongShu.

Pangzi's aunt bears an old‑fashioned name, Wang Daiqi. Don't laugh at this name; even in today's countryside many parents still give their daughters this name.

Because in Guangdong dialect, "ti" and "di" are homophones. In old society people were traditional and superstitious, hoping for a son to carry on the line; thus, if their firstborn was a daughter, they would give her a name with auspicious meaning and superstitious tint.

Either they chose Daiqi, meaning "the daughter's birth ensures a son will follow," or they chose Shidi, meaning "many sons, boundless blessings." No matter how rustic, they used whatever worked, preferring to believe it exists rather than deny it.

From this we can see how feudal and ignorant people were back then.

The name Daiqi was insisted upon by QingSongShu's maternal grandmother; his parents could not oppose this strong‑willed elder, so they gave their daughter that name.

Even after QingSongShu's father "ran birthday" and his mother died, the name Daiqi remained on Pangzi's aunt. Perhaps she didn't want to change it, or simply hadn't gotten around to it.

Of course, don't assume that because Pangzi's aunt has an old‑fashioned name she looks old‑fashioned, giving the image of a mud‑splattered country shrew.

In fact, Pangzi's aunt is beautiful; since childhood she has been renowned as a beauty for miles around.

The year after their mother died, Pangzi's aunt was only seventeen, while QingSongShu was twelve. After being targeted in the struggle sessions, the whole family became destitute peasants, and after their mother's death their life grew harder; sometimes they had to survive by picking wild vegetables by the roadside.

If even adults find it hard to endure, how could two growing children possibly cope with such prolonged hardship?

Then, with reform and opening up, the state established land‑reclamation production teams. Village men and women had to join these teams to earn work points; otherwise they would receive no grain or oil coupons, could buy nothing, and would have nothing to eat.

Although Pangzi's aunt still bore the marks of the struggle sessions, by then reform and opening up had arrived and everything was past history. Thus she got the chance to join the production team, go to the fields to reclaim land, and work.

Fortunately, that prevented QingSongShu from starving to death.

That very year, Pangzi's aunt met an important man in her life.

This man was surnamed Liu, named Liu Zhongguo; his father was a wandering juggler who made a living performing acrobatics.

However, Liu Zhongguo also had another identity.

He is the orthodox successor of the Liu family style among the Thirteen Fists of Southern Boxing.

It is said that Liu Zhongguo's father was a prominent figure in his hometown, and his ancestors were the last heads of the Liu family boxing school at the end of the Republic era.

The Liu family fist, together with Hong, Liu, Cai, Li, and Mo, is known as one of Guangdong's five famous martial arts, ranking second. Although it is an external style, when practiced to the extreme it connects with internal arts. In the hometown, or in the twilight of the martial world, legends of Liu Zhongguo's father are often told.

Liu Zhongguo's father, too, was forced by the Cultural Revolution to flee home, wandering with the young Liu Zhongguo, enduring wind and exposure, drifting through the martial world.

Somehow, when Liu Zhongguo's father drifted to the old Wang family's hometown, he settled there and even married a local widow.

After the production teams were set up, the burly Liu Zhongguo inevitably became a conscripted laborer, joining the effort to reclaim land.

Pangzi's aunt and Liu Zhongguo thus entered the production team together; their acquaintance began on a dark, windy night.

On a moonless night when one could not see one's own hand, Pangzi's aunt encountered one of the most terrifying spirits among the evil ghosts—the Thousand Corpse Ghost.