Chapter 36

Liu Changsheng gritted her teeth and mentally tallied one up against Ji Wuxin for always talking about her like that. With a sidelong glance at Song Qian, she chuckled to herself. Her little disciple liked her without even realizing it, and Liu Changsheng didn’t mind adding a little fuel to the fire.

Once Ji Wuxin and Lin Qing had carried the corpse far away, two heads poked out from beside the willow tree. Lin Sheng clutched their last bottle of mineral water, staring longingly at the empty ones on the ground.

Two bucks a bottle.

Lin Changhe watched the group’s retreating backs and began calculating. That female ghost was so certain they’d give her a proper burial. If she went soft on them later, the whole plan would go up in smoke.

No, he needed a backup. Betting everything on a female ghost of uncertain allegiance was unrealistic. Judging from Song Qian’s expression earlier, she even seemed to know the ghost.

“Lin Sheng, come on.”

Lin Sheng was still lamenting those two bottles of water when her master’s voice snapped her back to attention. “Where to?”

Lin Changhe narrowed his eyes, a ruthless glint flashing in them. “After they leave, we steal the corpse.”

The female ghost had already departed, no longer guarding the body. He could take it without anyone knowing and put it to better use.

Lin Sheng gripped her mineral water bottle tightly and fell silent, head bowed. “Master, Liu Changsheng said that whether she’s a vengeful ghost or a wicked one, she has to be laid to rest properly.”

She had no idea what her master planned to do with the corpse, but it surely couldn’t be anything good.

“For that Jade Spirit, do we really have to stoop this low?”

Lin Changhe smacked the top of Lin Sheng’s head in frustration. “If we don’t get the Jade Spirit, we’ll both be eating dirt. Besides, it’s not like I won’t bury it again after.”

Lin Sheng clutched her head and eyed him. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Lin Sheng never dreamed of doubting her master’s word.

~~~

At the new burial site, Liu Changsheng placed a prayer bead at each of the four corners. She clasped her hands together and murmured an incantation. At the center of the circle formed by the beads lay a simply drawn talisman. Song Qian watched closely and committed it to memory—she’d check her notebook later to see what it was.

With Liu Changsheng’s preparations complete, Lin Qing had already borrowed two shovels from a nearby house.

Song Qian and Lin Qing dug away at the pit while Liu Changsheng sat cross-legged beside the female corpse, talisman papers affixed to its forehead and limbs.

Ji Wuxin noticed the thin sheen of sweat beading on Song Qian’s forehead and sidled closer. She reached out and wiped it away. “Let me take over digging.”

Though Ji Wuxin’s touch was cool to the skin, the spot her fingers brushed felt unexpectedly scorching. Song Qian figured the sun must have gone to her head; heat bloomed across her body.

“I’m good, really. I’m not tired.”

Lin Qing kept digging in silence, stealing glances at the two of them every so often. He felt more drained from this trip than from any before.

In the end, Song Qian couldn’t hold out against Ji Wuxin’s insistence. The shovel was snatched from her grasp, leaving her idle once more.

Ji Wuxin wasn’t like ordinary folk—she felt neither heat nor fatigue—and her digging pace outstripped Lin Qing’s by a wide margin.

“No way. It’s not a race or anything. Why are you going at it so hard?” Lin Qing panted heavily, squinting against the blinding sun as Ji Wuxin shoveled without pause.

Ji Wuxin tossed her head back to shake out her hair. She shot a smug glance at Song Qian standing off to the side. “I’m not worn out.”

Lin Qing’s grip tightened on his shovel. What was that supposed to mean? Was she calling him weak?

Song Qian was absorbed in watching Liu Changsheng draw the talisman and missed their exchange entirely. But Liu Changsheng’s brush paused for a split second, the corners of her mouth quirking upward.

Once the pair had finished the pit, Liu Changsheng set aside her brush and rose to her feet. She bowed her head before the corpse, her expression grave and solemn. “The feng shui here is excellent. May you cast off your hatred and find an easier path in your next turn of the wheel.”

Song Qian bowed her head alongside her, then kowtowed three times.

Aunt Mei had always treated her so kindly. No matter the circumstances, paying respects was the least she could do.

Yet Aunt Mei had been kind-hearted and never one for conflict. Song Qian couldn’t recall her having any enemies. Who could hate her enough to murder her and dump the body down a deep well?

After interring the corpse, Lin Qing split a piece of deadwood in half to serve as a makeshift tombstone, propping it up before the grave.

“What was her name?” Liu Changsheng asked Song Qian, pen poised.

Song Qian shook her head. The memories were too distant; all she remembered was calling her Aunt Mei.

In the end, Liu Changsheng simply inscribed “Aunt Mei’s Tomb” on the crude marker.

The group paid their respects once more before departing. Song Qian resolved to ask Grandma Song about it when she got back.

She refused to believe no one would recognize Aunt Mei after pulling her from the well. And Wang Dachuan had mentioned how Grandma Song seemed dazed when his wife spotted Aunt Mei.

After the others had gone, Lin Changhe emerged slowly from the woods, a thick branch clutched in his hand.

The soil of the fresh grave was still loose. Lin Changhe drove the branch into it with all his strength.

The tombstone tipped to one side, the ink not yet dry running down in streaks that resembled tears.

Lin Sheng clutched her own branch but hesitated to act. Her chest tightened at the sight of the inscription; she could almost see that woman weeping.

Lin Changhe glanced back at Lin Sheng, lost in a daze. If she wouldn’t help dig up the grave, he wouldn’t force her.

By the time Song Qian got home, Grandma Song was sitting in the living room, facing a group of grim-faced people. Wang Dachuan and his wife were among them, dark circles under their eyes.

Song Qian’s words caught in her throat. The moment the group spotted them returning, their eyes lit up—especially when they saw Lin Qing.

More precisely, Lin Qing was the one whose eyes gleamed.

They mobbed him in an instant, crowding around. Song Qian and Liu Changsheng took the opportunity to slip off to the side.

“Master, please, you have to help!”

“Save us, Master!”

“Master…”

Being swarmed and hailed as “Master” with a far more powerful senior standing right there made Lin Qing wish the ground would swallow him whole. He shot a glance at Liu Changsheng, who sat with eyes closed, turning her prayer beads.

Thank goodness she wasn’t looking his way.

Lin Qing turned first to Wang Dachuan. “What happened to you now?”

Hadn’t he already given him talisman papers?

The moment Wang Dachuan realized Lin Qing was addressing him first, tears welled up in his eyes. “She’s back! Every night she stands at my door, calling my name. I can’t take it anymore.”

“I… I wanted to save her back then, but I was scared too… Ah!”

Wang Dachuan’s words cut off as someone kicked him hard in the leg, sending him crashing to his knees. The blow landed with enough force to make him howl and clutch at his leg.

Wang Dachuan might have been a pushover, but his wife Xiuhe was made of sterner stuff. She wasn’t about to let anyone bully her man like that. She whipped out a fruit knife from behind her back.

“Who kicked Dachuan!?”

“Whoa, whoa, let’s talk this out nice and easy.” A potbellied man in the crowd recoiled a step.

Xiuhe jabbed the knife toward him. “Was it you?”

Before the man could respond, a small-eyed, skinny, lanky fellow snatched the knife from her grasp and backhanded her across the face.

Smack!

Xiuhe staggered back several steps and collapsed against the sofa.

“Wife!” Wang Dachuan scrambled over to support her. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth—the blow had been delivered with brutal force.

Song Qian clenched her fists at her side. She despised thugs who bullied others just because they were stronger.

The small-eyed man waved the knife menacingly at Xiuhe before turning his gaze on Lin Qing. “I hear you’ve got some skills. Shouldn’t be hard to whip up a few ghost-repelling trinkets, right?”

As he spoke, the knife tip hovered inches from Lin Qing’s chest, as if a single word of refusal would send it plunging in.

Lin Qing glanced down at the blade without a trace of fear. He had no patience for crude bullies like this.

“No.”

The man’s eyes narrowed to slits. He bared his teeth and moved to press the knife against Lin Qing’s throat. “What did you say?”

“Hey!”

A sharp shout drew the man’s attention. He turned his head slightly.

The moment he did, a powerful kick connected with his face. He didn’t even have time to react before he was sent flying backward, his back slamming into the solid front door with a thud that nearly knocked the wind out of him.

The knife flew from his hand, clattering into some forgotten corner.

Song Qian straightened up, glaring down at the man writhing on the floor. “This is my house. If you want to bully my friend, shouldn’t you ask me first?”

The thug towered over her by a good head and a half, but her roundhouse kick had launched him like a ragdoll. Even Liu Changsheng couldn’t help but clap for her twice.

Her little disciple certainly had some moves.

Lin Qing, who had already witnessed her beat Black Bear to tears and crack someone else’s ribs, was less shocked than the rest. The people who had been crowding him moments ago now huddled against the door, eyes averted from Song Qian.

The small-eyed man blinked his eyes, his vision a blurry haze. His head throbbed with a relentless buzz, and the thick metallic tang of blood filled his mouth, forcing him to spit. Two large teeth lay starkly visible in the crimson spittle.

“You…”

Grandma Song strode over, grabbing her long-unused cane and swinging it hard against the man’s leg. “You’ve sinned enough on your own, and now you come bullying people in my home? Get out!”

The small-eyed man could only scramble away, dodging as he rolled out the door. He appeared to be the ringleader of the bunch; his companions stuck close to the doorway as they helped him to his feet, then fled in panicked disarray.

Song Qian hurried over to help Xiuhe stand and handed her a wet wipe.

“Thank you.”

Grandma Song set the cane aside with a heavy sigh. “You knew they were coming, so why on earth did you bring a knife?”

Xiuhe’s eyes instantly welled up with tears as she turned to Grandma Song. “But Aunt Song, this whole mess has nothing to do with Dachuan from our family.”

“They’re counting on that Shaman to shield them from trouble, but what about my Dachuan? Doesn’t his life matter?”

Song Qian shut the front door firmly, cutting off the cluster of villagers who had been craning their necks for a glimpse of the drama.

“The Shaman?”

“Didn’t they say the town Shaman doesn’t meddle in our village’s affairs?”

Wang Dachuan limped along, supporting Xiuhe with his arm, his brows furrowed in dejection. “That’s right. These folks threw money around to convince the Shaman to stay out of our village’s business. Word got twisted among outsiders into rumors that we’ve got some awful curse hanging over us, so now everyone treats us like carriers of the plague.”

“Who are they?” Song Qian asked. She had no memory of those faces.

“They’re nothing but town ruffians!” Xiuhe spat out furiously, only to hiss in pain as the motion tugged at her wound.

Wang Dachuan picked up the thread. “Exactly. Somehow these people came into a pile of cash, and they’ve been prowling from village to village…”

He trailed off, his expression darkening. Whatever they were up to, it clearly wasn’t anything respectable.

“They zero in on women in their thirties or forties—unmarried ones, or widows. They band together to sling their filthy talk, and their hands wander where they shouldn’t.”

Lin Qing stared in disbelief. Such things happening in the modern world? “My God, is there no justice left? No one to put a stop to them?”

Wang Dachuan let out a derisive snort. “Justice?”

“That animal who just swung at me? He has connections at the Public Security Bureau. Every time he’s hauled in, he’s back on the street in days.”

Song Qian’s fingernails dug deep into her palms, her voice quivering with barely contained fury. “So that’s it—they set their sights on Aunt Mei.”

“Right?”