Chapter 995: One Misfortune After Another

Yesterday he was still full of vigor, elated after picking up a huge bargain, how could the big boss die overnight?

Could it be that he drank too much alcohol?

I also haven't heard that the big boss had any underlying illness.

Tang Qingshan hurriedly went around inquiring, but the news seemed blocked; he couldn't find out anything.

He was anxious all day; at night, Tang Qingshan tossed and turned until midnight before falling asleep.

But shortly after falling asleep, he was awakened by a phone call.

At that time he was still using a brick phone, bought at great expense from Vast East, which had no camera function.

The call came from the photo studio, made by the studio owner's wife.

In the dead of night, the owner's wife sobbed: "Mr. Tang, only one of the photos you sent for development came out; I'm terribly sorry..."

Tang Qingshan hadn't slept well, his head ached; he rubbed his nose bridge while asking: "How could only one photo have been developed? And why are you crying?"

At the big boss's house, Tang Qingshan had taken the photos with a camera he had specially brought along.

After finishing with the film camera, one must press the rewind button to retract all the film into its black canister, then send it to the photo studio for them to develop the pictures.

The entire photo development process must be carried out in a darkroom; light, temperature, developer chemicals, even incorrect timing, can affect the outcome.

Tang Qingshan was full of doubt; this question made the owner's wife cry even harder.

After a while she said: "My Old Jiang, while helping you develop that set of photos, suddenly had a heart attack and collapsed in the developing tray... By the time I found him, he was already... cold. Of your set of photos, only one is usable; if you have time, come pick it up..."

Tang Qingshan hadn't expected such a thing to happen; he quickly apologized and urged her to restrain her grief.

After hanging up, he felt no sleepiness and hurried to the photo studio.

That photo studio was a husband-and-wife shop; the storefront was their own two-story small building, with a large courtyard behind.

When Tang Qingshan arrived, the mourning shed had already been set up; he burned paper money for the deceased, lit incense, then comforted the owner's wife with a few words.

The owner's wife handed Tang Qingshan a paper bag containing the sole successfully developed photograph.

Tang Qingshan took the photo home, sat down and had just caught his breath when, before he could open the paper bag, the brick phone rang again.

He casually put the paper bag in the bedside drawer, then answered the call.

Unexpectedly, another piece of bad news came.

It was a fellow expert who had gone that day to appraise the painting at the big boss's house who had passed away.

Events came one after another; Tang Qingshan keenly sensed something amiss, and after ending the call he glanced at the drawer but did not open it again.

Tang Qingshan sat on the edge of the bed, thinking for a long time, when he suddenly recalled the expert who had said he had to leave because of family matters before the big boss was about to lift the red cloth.

At the time he hadn't thought anything of it, but now looking back Tang Qingshan realized that the expert might not really have had family matters; he likely had discovered a problem and slipped away early to avoid disaster.

Never mind that the person wasn't being forthcoming—why didn't he warn his peers beforehand, and so on.

In that situation, the big boss was feeling elated; who would dare to touch his brow?

Moreover, he said, would the other peers believe him?

Before seeing the ancient painting with one's own eyes, who wouldn't feel unwilling and suspicious?

Furthermore, the expert might merely have sensed danger, not being certain what true catastrophe lay hidden in the painting; he decided to leave, possibly just out of personal caution.

But regardless, Tang Qingshan still decided to visit that expert in person the next day to inquire about the situation, so as not to bring disaster upon himself.

After all, he had also glanced at that ancient painting at the time, although he didn't see it clearly, he had indeed seen it.

Early the next morning, Tang Qingshan hurried to the expert's home.

That expert bore the surname Qiu and was called Qiu Xuantong.

The Qiu family was prominent and influential, with generations of leaders in the trade; their manor locally was also a distinguished clan.

Tang Qingshan arrived unexpectedly; after the Qiu mansion's servant reported, he was actually led directly to Qiu Xuantong's study.

Tang Qingshan was somewhat surprised, after all, normally Qiu Xuantong would receive him in the reception hall.

Qiu Xuantong's study offered good privacy; Tang Qingshan was seated to drink tea, and the servant asked him to wait a moment.

Tang Qingshan hadn't waited long when Qiu Xuantong arrived, his complexion poor, obviously ill.

Tang Qingshan quickly rose to greet him.

Qiu Xuantong waved him off, gesturing for him to sit: "I know why you've come; among the dozen or so who went to appraise the painting that day, only you caught a glimpse, which truly surprised me."

Indeed, Qiu Xuantong had not left that day due to an urgent family matter.

Tang Qingshan hurriedly asked: "Master Qiu, what exactly is wrong with that ancient painting? I also caught a glimpse of it then; I fear I may be implicated as well—please, Master Qiu, save me!"

These were his sincere words; Tang Qingshan clasped his fists with earnest tone.

Qiu Xuantong sighed and said: "Qingshan, to be frank, I don't know what's wrong with that ancient painting either, after all I never even saw the painting."

Tang Qingshan puzzled: "Then what about you at that time..."

"I noticed something amiss from that Buddhist niche," Qiu Xuantong said. "At the time everyone was admiring the niche's style and carving, but I, from its broken gap, discovered its material was actually old locust wood, and if I'm not mistaken, that old locust wood should have been coated with corpse oil."

Tang Qingshan had been standing far away at the time, so he hadn't noticed those details.

Locust wood is said to "hide ghosts in wood," belonging to the foremost yin wood for trapping souls; old locust wood coated with corpse oil is even more potent.

How could one possibly use such wood to make a Buddhist niche?

The only explanation is that the niche was never meant for worship or sacrifice, but for imprisoning souls!

Then the question arises: whose soul does that niche imprison?

Moreover, considering the red cloth covering the niche's main seat and the woman depicted in the ancient painting, the answer is obvious.

Qiu Xuantong couldn't be certain whether the niche truly imprisoned a soul, but he sensed the whole thing was ominous, so he didn't want to risk getting involved—and thus avoided disaster.

"I've heard about the boss and the fellow experts," Qiu Xuantong said. "Before you arrived, I had already sent someone to warn the host, urging them to quickly find someone to deal with the niche and the painting; as for whether the host will heed my advice, that's beyond my control."

Do one's best, leave the rest to fate; as long as one's conscience is clear, that's enough.

Tang Qingshan felt uneasy in his heart; he cautiously asked: "Master Qiu, please also help me see how to survive this calamity? Moreover, I have a photograph in my hand..."

Tang Qingshan then recounted to Qiu Xuantong in detail the photograph and the events at the photo studio...