Chapter 15

14. "Innate Wisdom"

Zhou Sanji’s senior brother—Yang Rui removed his skullcap, and wisps of steam drifted from his hair, still mostly dark.

Facing Zhou Sanji’s hostile tone, he blinked and chuckled: “Yes, yes, you’re right, younger brother—I told that mule cart driver I’d pay him one less copper coin, since my younger brother would make it up.”

One copper coin buys a jin of coarse rice; three copper coins buy a big chunk of tender tofu—can’t waste them…”

Zhou Sanji froze at the sound.

Yang Rui pulled the eleven- or twelve-year-old boy straight into the courtyard and said casually: “You sent word for me to come, but you didn’t clarify what’s really going on with A Chang—is he alive or dead?”

“If he’s dead…”

Yang Rui suddenly stopped, turned, and looked at Zhou Sanji following him, his expression turning serious: “Then I can only urge you to accept his passing—death is final.”

“Who said he’s dead?!”

“He’s still lying there in the room, perfectly fine!” Zhou Sanji’s eyelid twitched, his voice rising three notches.

Yang Rui relaxed at the words: “Good—he’s alive, then there’s always a way…”

Zhou Sanji hesitated: “He’s alive, yes, but he doesn’t seem like my little grandson anymore… He has his own name, also Zhou Chang, but it’s the double-day ‘Chang’—his birth chart matches A Chang’s exactly.”

“I’m truly worried—some outside ghost has taken over A Chang’s body…”

Yang Rui studied Zhou Sanji’s expression.

Seeing his hesitation, Yang Rui already had a clear idea.

When Zhou Sanji finished speaking, Yang Rui smiled: “Ghosts come in two kinds—one is the soul that leaves the body of someone recently dead or terrified; the other is a ‘guǐ’ formed from the collective thoughts of all things.”

“You know this.”

“The first kind of ghost can’t even approach any living or dead body except its own corpse.”

“Living beings carry fire; corpses carry malevolent energy—both fire and malevolence can instantly incinerate such wandering souls.”

“The second kind of guǐ—they’re already becoming ‘xiang mo.’ Even if they mimic humans perfectly, they must reveal their inhuman nature.”

“Do you think the Zhou Chang in your house is the second kind of guǐ?”

“No, he’s not!” Zhou Sanji was certain: “Though he’s distant and not affectionate toward me, he still sometimes calls me ‘Grandpa’—he’s not the second kind of guǐ—but the problem is, he’s not a xiang mo either, yet he’s not A Chang either…”

“Could he really not be an outside soul?”

“You said outside souls can’t even approach living or dead bodies…”

“He shares the exact birth chart as your A Chang, and his name is nearly identical—neither an outside soul nor a formed guǐ… then only one possibility remains—” Yang Rui narrowed his eyes.

Zhou Sanji held his breath: “What possibility?”

“Su Hui!” Yang Rui declared firmly. “A Chang is someone with su hui!”

“He has awakened his past-life su hui. His past-life experiences were too complex, overwhelming his current-life memories—that’s why he’s emotionally distant from you!”

Hearing his senior brother’s words, Zhou Sanji felt as if the sky had cleared.

All the inner barriers he’d struggled with vanished instantly under this explanation.

Indeed—what other scenario could possibly fit A Chang now?

It’s common in legend that those who awaken su hui appear alien and detached from loved ones at first—but so what? As long as he’s still A Chang, as long as he’s still my grandson, that’s all that matters!

In that instant, Zhou Sanji accepted Yang Rui’s explanation.

But he still hesitated: “Su hui… that’s only something old folks tell stories about—how could it happen to us?”

“I’ve never seen anyone with su hui in my life…”

“Aren’t you seeing one now?” Yang Rui glanced at Zhou Sanji. “Don’t believe me? Fine. If you’d rather hear me repeat ‘accept his passing, death is final’ again, I can say it ten more times…”

“No, no—forget it!” Zhou Sanji waved his hands urgently.

His stern face finally softened into a faint smile. He turned his gaze to the quiet boy Yang Rui had been holding, about to ask about the boy’s identity—when Yang Rui spoke again: “There’s another way to determine whether the soul inside A Chang is a ‘guǐ’—”

“Xiang mo and deities consume ‘xiang qi.’”

“Xiang qi is thought-energy.”

“Human thoughts cling to the smoke from burning incense, so xiang mo, guǐ, and deities all instinctively draw in incense smoke.”

“Have you ever tried—lighting an incense stick and watching whether the smoke drifts straight into his nostrils?”

Zhou Sanji blinked: “I haven’t tried yet…”

“Then go try now—”

“Wait—no, forget it! I believe he’s A Chang’s su hui!”

“But what if he’s a guǐ?”

…

Creak~

The door hinge groaned under strain as light spilled into the dim room.

Zhou Chang watched the open door as Zhou Sanji entered with a tall old man and a small boy.

“A Chang, this is my senior brother—call him Uncle Yang.” Zhou Sanji smiled, pointing to the tall old man beside him, speaking to Zhou Chang, who sat propped up on the bed.

“Uncle Yang.” Zhou Chang nodded slightly to Yang Rui. “I’m not mobile right now…”

“No problem, no problem.” Yang Rui stared intently at Zhou Chang, then patted the boy beside him. “This is my new disciple—surname Guan, no formal name yet. We gave him a humble nickname: Stone Egg. Call him Brother Guan.”

“Stone Egg, greet your nephew.”

Stone Egg remained calm, bowed to Zhou Chang with clasped fists.

His movements were practiced, mature beyond his years.

“Hello.” Zhou Chang nodded in return.

Yang Rui scanned the room. His eyes immediately landed on the incense sticks on the altar. He called out to Zhou Sanji: “I’ll offer a stick of incense to the ancestral deities.”

Zhou Sanji mumbled an uncertain reply, avoiding Yang Rui’s gaze, instead sneaking glances at Zhou Chang.

Each time his eyes met Zhou Chang’s, he quickly looked away, as if guilty.

Yang Rui broke off three sticks from the incense bundle, lit them with a candle, extinguished the flame with his fingertips, then held the incense aloft with both hands, circling the room while muttering prayers for ancestral protection and blessings from the myriad heavens.

The red glow of the incense tip swayed within the room as thin trails of blue smoke curled upward.

Zhou Chang watched the smoke, expressionless.

But his body subtly opened its nostrils, flaring its wings, trying to draw in the drifting smoke—Zhou Chang instantly sensed the anomaly. Thin transparent threads emerged from his brow, coiling several times around his mouth and nose.

His body stilled. The drifting smoke shifted elsewhere, fading gradually into nothing.

Yang Rui stuck the incense into the altar’s censer, then knocked over the temporary tablet labeled ‘Zhou Chang’: “The child is alive and well—why set up a tablet for him?”

“Bad luck. Take it down!”