Chapter 517

On the third day after Pangzi left, QingSongShu, at the invitation of an old friend, went out of town to celebrate his birthday, and the huge Chan Yi Hall was left with only me guarding it.

I could handle small matters, but for big ones I was somewhat lacking; to avoid damaging the sign of Chan Yi Hall, I had to close the door and refuse guests, so apart from some old acquaintances among the neighbors, hardly anyone could find me.

The only thing worth celebrating is that Little Fat and Murong JiaJia have both awakened, so my solitary days are not that gloomy for me.

Either let Murong JiaJia come out to teach me Qimen Dunjia, or use incense and candles etc. to play with Little Fat. Sometimes I really think, if these two were living 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 JiaJia, I admit I have feelings for her. However, if heaven really gave me a chance to let Murong JiaJia become human, I wouldn't know how to arrange her identity.

Sister? That's a bit unreliable, like the melodramatic dramas often shown on TV. Two people who love each other finally discover they are long-lost siblings; one commits suicide by jumping off a building, the other remains unmarried all life, in the end one is hanged, the other ends up depressed and dies. This exactly fits the curse shouted by singles on Valentine's Day: "All lovers in the world end up as brothers and sisters."

Sister is naturally unreliable, but a lover also won't do; others are fine, but if that day really comes and you let me pursue Murong JiaJia, I truly wouldn't know how to start. I'm afraid that before I even get the confession out, I'll completely chicken out.

Moreover, I still haven't figured out whether Murong JiaJia is my sister's past life; if she is, then my little affection would completely turn into **plot.

Leisurely days passed between worry and happiness, a day felt like an hour, and the past always flew by. A writer often says: "A week has seven days, at least eight days feel like Aunt Flo's visit, not wanting to type, not wanting to write." A **si often says: out of 365 days in a year, at least 366 days they suffer from depression and don't want to go to work.

I'm the same; having grown accustomed to this leisurely, carefree, and tranquil life, I don't want to go out and run around for others. Nor do I want to put on a show for incense money, smiling falsely at people. Obviously this person is full of bad ideas; at home the red flag never falls, outside colorful flags flutter, mistresses three, four, five, six, seven—all running all over the streets. Obviously hypocritical and insincere, after making a fortune they pay no attention to their elderly mother at home, pretending it's just sending some money back so she can live without worries.

Some people you can sincerely guide, leading them back from the wrong path; that counts as a merit for a cultivator. Others, no matter how you advise, they won't listen; with just a bit of family background they act as if the whole world are their grandchildren, arrogant beyond compare. If you engage them, you're annoyed in your heart; if you don't, after all they're acquaintances who come sincerely introduced. So being human is always a dilemma, proving the old saying: "In the rivers and lakes, one has no control over one's own fate."

That morning I was at the ancestral master'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 seeking me.

I pushed open the door and saw a middle-aged uncle standing at the entrance; this middle-aged uncle 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 detailed name; both Pangzi and I call him Yun Shu. He came from his hometown in Shaoguan to Shenzhen, his family has three or four kids, considered poor, and when he first opened the 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 several secret prescription sheets, telling him to boil the Chinese medicine and mix it into the tea.

People of the Fa teaching, having followed many masters, learn extremely diverse things, covering mountain physiognomy, medicine, fate, and divination. Even if their medical skills can't compare to those of doctors in big hospitals, some secret formulas improved over generations cannot be matched by the senior Chinese physicians of large hospitals.

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

Therefore, QingSongShu being able to give his cherished prescription to a complete stranger is already beyond what can be described as great kindness.

After obtaining the prescription, Yun Shu followed it, mixing the Chinese medicine into the herbal tea; for ailments like colds and sore throats, basically two cups would do, so his tea stall nearby also gained fame. Moreover, because of this great favor from the Wang family, Yun Shu, during every festival, would bring an old hen or some local specialties to visit the Wang family,

"Yun Shu, early in the morning, what do you want with me?" I looked at him somewhat curiously; if I remember correctly, today is National Day, and during holidays his shop's business is usually busy, so how does he have time to come here?

"Hai Sheng, is Elder QingSong there? I have urgent business with him!" Yun Shu kept pounding his hands, looking somewhat anxious.

"He's not here; Uncle went out of town to celebrate an old friend's birthday, I estimate it'll be one and a half months before he returns." I spoke frankly, then asked him: "What urgent matter do you have?"

"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.

"Wait a minute, Yun Shu, you should explain clearly what's going on, leaving me completely confused—what is this all about?" I said dissatisfiedly.

"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 am a Daoist; for him to seek me out, it must certainly involve ghosts and gods.

On the way, Yun Shu's words further confirmed my suspicion. This time he came to me mainly because a Daoist priest summoned by his relatives had fainted on the bed and died, no matter how they called, they couldn't wake him.

Hearing this, I became curious; for no reason, why would his relatives summon a Daoist priest? Could it be that his relatives' house is haunted?

The outcome exceeded my expectations; Yun Shu said that summoning this Daoist priest was not because his relatives' house was haunted, but because they wanted to summon ghosts, to call forth the deceased ancestors to ask some questions.

Yun Shu said this relative also came from the Shaoguan hometown, surname Shao, given name Long. Their ancestors had struggled in Shenzhen for decades, finally saving several hundred thousand, originally intending to use that money to buy a set of apartments in Shenzhen so the children could have local hukou and attend school without paying sponsorship fees. Who would have thought that the Shao family's elderly mother, just two weeks prior, suffered a violent demise, being stabbed to death by bandits who broke into the house with a cleaver, and the household's valuables were completely looted.

All important possessions in the Shao Long household were kept by his mother; perhaps because she had been poor for most of her life, she was extremely feudal and conservative, keeping the household register, savings book, and other important things tightly guarded, 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. Who would have known that, just one day after not returning home, his mother suddenly met a violent death, dying in the rental house. The savings book and household register that she had always kept are now missing; unknown whether they were stolen by thieves or hidden by the old mother herself.

Several hundred thousand dollars may be nothing to the rich, but for an ordinary family saving that amount could take half a lifetime or more; moreover, with the household register and other important things at stake, losing them is equivalent to being a black household—you tell me, could the Shao Long family not be anxious?

Afterwards, Shao Long hardened his heart, taking his remaining twenty thousand savings and hiring a Daoist priest, explaining that as long as he could summon the soul of the Shao family's elderly grandmother to clarify where the savings book and household register were placed, that sum of money would count as payment for the priest.

"Absurd..." After Yun Shu finished recounting the whole story, I couldn't help but blurt out. Human life and death are determined by heavenly mandate; moreover, the Shao family's elderly grandmother died an unjust death, having never received proper rites in life, so after death she must have been seized by ghost officials and taken to the City of Unjust Death.

The art of summoning souls is not something you can just casually perform; if there is no incident in the household, it is not for dealing with wandering vengeful spirits.

Or unless the ghosts appear in dreams and disturb the household; otherwise one cannot summon them for no reason. If those who understand crossing the yin-yang could freely trample both realms, summoning ghosts and hooking souls, then this world would be in chaos.

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

One trip inside the Gates of Ghosts immediately reduces one's yang lifespan by three years. Combined with the dangers of the netherworld's City of Unjust Death and the peril of the soul leaving the body, normally even if we were offered much more money, we would not engage in such conduct that violates the netherworld's yin laws.

Who then? Is it ignorance or greed for money, daring to take on such deeds that violate the netherworld's yin laws and shorten one's own lifespan?

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

Upon entering the house, seeing that red figure lying on the straw mat bed, my pupils dilated instantly, and I trembled all over with excitement.

"Thank God for granting me… stewed meat? No, I meant granting me an enemy." Gazing at that red figure asleep on the bed, I was so excited I cracked my knuckles, almost lunging at him like a wolf.

Han Duo, we finally meet again!