With so many armed police officers arriving and Huang Qi negotiating with them, there was naturally nothing left for Wang Ya to do. Wang Ya had no interest in police procedures; what concerned her more was where these thugs armed with steel pipes, machetes, homemade firearms, and landmines—who had nearly taken her down—had come from. How had a Xuan Men dispute dragged in street punks and gangsters?
Boss Huang arrived too! He rushed over anxiously, heaved a great sigh of relief upon seeing Huang Qi unharmed, then gripped Old Tang’s hand in fervent gratitude, saying things like, “It’s a good thing you were here, old brother.” He thanked Zhang Qingshui profusely as well, and only then noticed Wang Ya, exclaiming, “Wang Ya, you’re here too! Uncle has to thank you.” He went on with another round of effusive appreciation. Then came Boss Huang’s main point. He turned, took a bulging kraft paper bag from one of his bodyguards, and stuffed it into her hands with an insistent posture, saying it was just a token of his appreciation and she must accept it.
Wang Ya opened the bag and saw five thick stacks of crisp new hundred-yuan bills. Her mood soared. The blood she’d shed and the ordeal she’d endured that night had more than paid off. Look at her skills—she’d earned twenty thousand from the landlord couple plus fifty thousand from Boss Huang in one evening, making seventy thousand in total. Wang Ya unhesitatingly pocketed the money and said, “Boss Huang, if you have any more trouble with Ghost Entities or evil spirits matters, come find me. I’ll give you a twenty percent discount.”
“Thank you, thank you!” Boss Huang enthusiastically echoed her thanks.
In the midst of their conversation, another police officer arrived—a man in his early fifties with a square face, thick eyebrows, and piercing eyes, exuding an air of authority. As soon as he approached, Huang Qi called out, “Uncle Li,” and quickly introduced Old Tang, Zhang Beauty, and Wang Ya. “Uncle Li, this is my Uncle Tang. This is my good friend Zhang Qingshui, and this is Wang Ya, also my friend.”
Wang Ya smiled and glanced at Zhang Beauty, thinking to herself, “So your name is Zhang Qingshui!”
Uncle Li shook hands with each of them, specifically asking who the Feng Shui master was, exchanged introductions, and praised them several times with phrases like “heroes emerge from the young.” He then smiled and said, “You all have impressive skills. There were twenty to thirty lying around outside the house, plus six inside—all with broken bones.” His expression turned serious. “We found two bloodstained homemade firearms at the scene; they’ve been sent for DNA and fingerprint testing, and we expect results soon. This is a major case, a serious case, a critical case. We’ll handle it strictly and swiftly, treating it with utmost severity and ensuring no criminal escapes! We must crack down harshly on these criminals who gravely threaten public safety!” After this impassioned speech, he told them, “We need your assistance with this case. It’s late now, so go back and rest first. Tomorrow, I’ll send someone to take your statements and get the full details.”
Afterward, Wang Ya and the others were escorted to Boss Huang’s stretched black limousine, with two police cars providing escort as they departed.
The car was spacious enough for Boss Huang, Huang Qi, Zhang Qingshui, Old Tang, and Wang Ya without feeling cramped.
Wang Ya had little interest in the car but was curious about the remarkably capable “Uncle Li.” She casually asked who he was.
Boss Huang, treating Wang Ya like family with his affable demeanor, chuckled and explained that he was the deputy director of a certain public security sub-bureau. He reiterated that in China, any case involving firearms was a major case or serious case, which was why the armed police had cooperated so readily. Wang Ya vaguely sensed there was more to Boss Huang’s words—was he implying that “Uncle Li” wasn’t omnipotent, but rather that their case qualified as a heavy, major, critical one, hence the armed police? Wang Ya had no interest in official matters. She just said, “Oh,” then added, “I’ll nap for a bit,” curled up in her seat hugging her fifty thousand yuan, and fell asleep. She’d been through hell that night; now that she was safe and relaxed, sleepiness overwhelmed her.
Wang Ya slept soundly until Zheng Yanxia woke her, announcing they’d arrived.
Wang Ya groggily got out of the car, rubbed her sleepy eyes, and looked around. It was an underground garage. She followed Boss Huang and the others into the elevator, up to the eighteenth floor. Boss Huang unlocked the door and invited them inside.
Wang Ya’s eyes lit up the moment she entered, her drowsiness vanishing! The entry led to a spacious hall with a Western-Eastern fusion decor style, but most importantly, it was a two-story duplex! Was this the legendary home of the wealthy?
Wang Ya stood at the doorway, carefully appraising the place. The renovations were grand and luxurious, needless to say, but they subtly incorporated Feng Shui layouts, with Feng Shui-related ornaments and decor seamlessly integrated. Her first impression was: This family is loaded! Her second: They must have close ties to Feng Shui masters. Her specialty wasn’t Feng Shui but Ghost Catching, though Ghost Entities and yin evils did intersect somewhat with Feng Shui, so she knew the basics. On the three key Feng Shui positions in the house sat a Feng Shui Fish Tank, a Pi Xiu, and a Money Toad—a wealth-gathering formation. The furnishings, decorations, and overall layout showed meticulous attention to detail. Wang Ya wasn’t an expert, so she couldn’t discern much, but she could tell the entire house formed a precisely arranged Feng Shui Array. She thought Feng Shui was far harder to master than Ghost Catching. Ghost Catching required good constitution, combat prowess, Drawing Talismans, Forming Seals—rote memorization combined with fluid application. Feng Shui, on the other hand, demanded observing mountain contours and water flows on a grand scale, cloud patterns and wind directions, and precise calculations on the fine scale, where a millimeter’s error could lead to miles of deviation. Take a simple example: some Feng Shui burial sites could turn from utmost fortune to utter calamity if shifted by half a foot or a fraction. Those who played with ghosts could drive them to harm others—but only temporarily. Those who wielded Feng Shui maliciously could curse generations, even doom nations.
Boss Huang ushered Wang Ya into the living room, where Old Tang said, “Old bro, it’s late. I’ll whip up some midnight snacks in the kitchen. Everyone eat and then hit the hay.” He rolled up his sleeves and headed to the kitchen. From Old Tang’s familiarity, Wang Ya knew he’d been here more than once.
Boss Huang still brewed some tea, saying, “A’qi, entertain the two young friends. I’ll go help your uncle in the kitchen.” He apologized to Wang Ya and Zhang Qingshui and went off.
