As the temperature dropped lower and lower, the festive New Year atmosphere thickened.

Shen Musi directed everyone in the building to do a thorough cleaning. They put up paper cut window decorations and Spring Festival couplets, hung red paper lanterns, and added some liveliness to the previously quiet atmosphere of the whole building.

Zhou Jiayu originally wanted to help, but the other four all insisted that he only needed to focus on cooking and didn’t have to lift a finger for anything else.

Zhou Jiayu sighed inwardly, thinking that being a good cook really was an advantage no matter where he went.

They all went out together to shop for New Year goods. Although they could’ve had everything delivered, Shen Yiqiong insisted on going in person, saying that it wouldn’t feel like the New Year otherwise. Shen Musi and the others had always been very indulgent with Shen Yiqiong’s requests, so seeing him so determined, they agreed.

So Shen Yiqiong drove Zhou Jiayu out to shop for New Year supplies.

When Zhou Jiayu first got into the car, he didn’t think much of it. But when Shen Yiqiong got into the driver’s seat and started the engine, he suddenly came to his senses. “Shen Yiqiong, aren’t you under eighteen? You have a license?”

Shen Yiqiong replied straightforwardly, “Nope.”

Zhou Jiayu asked, “Then…”

Shen Yiqiong countered, “Do you have one?”

Zhou Jiayu said, “I… also don’t.” He really didn’t have a driver’s license.

Hearing that, Shen Yiqiong pressed the accelerator with great satisfaction, and the car sped off.

The whole way, Zhou Jiayu was on edge, terrified that a traffic cop would suddenly appear and arrest Shen Yiqiong. Driving without a license under current laws meant at least ten days of detention—by the time he got out, the New Year would be over. What would be the point of buying supplies then?

However, Shen Yiqiong’s driving skills were actually pretty decent—steady and smooth. He confidently declared that he’d known how to drive for a long time but just couldn’t get a license because of his age. Zhou Jiayu didn’t know what to say to that.

The market they went to was huge, stocked with everything imaginable. Shen Yiqiong went wild spending money, buying tons of useful and useless things, leaving Zhou Jiayu utterly dumbfounded.

When Shen Yiqiong insisted on buying bubble solution, Zhou Jiayu finally couldn’t hold back and asked, “We don’t have any kids in the house. What are you buying that for?”

Shen Yiqiong widened his eyes. “Who says we don’t? Isn’t the paper doll our kid?”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Our kid? Shen Yiqiong really saw himself as a godfather, huh?

Shen Yiqiong said seriously, “You can’t slack off on early childhood education. Just think—if we raise it wrong and it turns out like one of those unruly paper dolls from Xu Jinghuo’s collection, one day you might wake up to find it standing by your bed with a huge machete.”

That comment made Zhou Jiayu recall certain traumatic memories and fall silent.

With no one stopping him, Shen Yiqiong shopped even more gleefully, filling the entire trunk and back seat of the car before heading home in high spirits.

This was the first time Zhou Jiayu had ever shopped for New Year goods so extravagantly. He thought Shen Musi and the others would scold Shen Yiqiong once they got back. But to his surprise, they were totally used to it and calmly helped move everything into the house. Shen Yiqiong then took his bubble solution, rattle-drum, and other little toys to play with the paper doll.

Zhou Jiayu couldn’t help but feel the atmosphere between them all was a bit too harmonious—eerily so.

Ever since the paper doll arrived, it had been constantly fighting with the weasel. At first, it was at a disadvantage, but soon it became quite good at it, sticking to the back of the weasel’s head and scratching like crazy. The weasel, with its short limbs, had no way to retaliate. Zhou Jiayu watched it twist around like a flower and even began to wonder if it might suddenly turn human just to rip the paper doll off its head.

But there was a problem—Zhou Jiayu noticed that the fur on the back of the weasel’s head was getting bald again. He didn’t dare tell Xiao Huang, so he quietly took the paper doll back to his room for a little education, telling it to focus on other areas and please, please don’t turn the weasel into a balding middle-aged man. Otherwise, if Xiao Huang found out, he’d probably explode on the spot.

New Year’s was just too delightful—so much good food, and you got to see the people you wanted to see.

The day before New Year’s Eve, Lin Zhushui sent over a whole lamb. Zhou Jiayu fired up the stove and made a hotpot feast. The lamb was not only fresh but also had excellent texture. He braised some, made a lamb soup, and sliced some thin pieces for shabu-shabu.

Lin Zhushui didn’t come over for dinner, so Zhou Jiayu hesitated for a moment but still packed up a portion of the food and had Shen Yiqiong bring it over to him.

Shen Yiqiong said, “Wow, this is the first time I’ve ever delivered food to Shifu.”

Zhou Jiayu asked, “You guys never brought him food before?”

At that, Shen Yiqiong looked pained. “Think about it. If I gave Shifu something I made… do you think he’d love me for it or hate me?”

Zhou Jiayu: “…” Valid point.

Shen Yiqiong mused philosophically, “Sometimes, giving is the greatest form of cruelty.”

Zhou Jiayu recalled the taste of Shen Yiqiong’s noodles and had to admit—“cruelty” really was the perfect word.

When they got to Lin Zhushui’s place, Zhou Jiayu knocked on the door. A moment later, Lin Zhushui opened it with a cold expression. “Hm?”

Zhou Jiayu quickly held out the basket of food. “Shifu, I made the lamb you sent over. Since you didn’t come, I brought some to you.”

Lin Zhushui took the basket and nodded. “You can go now.”

Zhou Jiayu said, “Okay…” He had more he wanted to say, but in the end, the words stuck in his throat.

Back home, the lamb feast was a huge hit. The meat was tender and flavorful no matter how it was cooked. Zhou Jiayu’s favorite was the shabu-shabu—thin slices of lamb cooked quickly and dipped in sesame sauce. The fresh, gamey flavor filled his mouth, the texture chewy and springy, without getting stuck in his teeth.

One lamb yielded over thirty pounds of meat. From 7 to 10 p.m., they almost finished it all. Even the weasel got a share, gnawing on a large bone in satisfaction, while the paper doll curled up in Zhou Jiayu’s chest pocket and fell asleep, its tiny head bobbing—completely adorable.

Zhou Jiayu felt warm all over, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. He was tipsy, grinning stupidly. He felt his current life was pretty great. He was content—no other wishes.

On New Year’s Eve, Zhou Jiayu made dumplings. That evening, Lin Zhushui came to join them for dinner. The TV in the living room was playing the bustling Spring Festival Gala.

Zhou Jiayu held the weasel in his arms, Lin Zhushui sitting beside him. He caught a faint whiff of sandalwood. It was subtle, and he knew it came from Lin Zhushui. The scent made him feel especially at ease, even making him subconsciously want to lean closer to him.

“Come on, let’s go light some firecrackers!” Shen Yiqiong suggested. “I bought tons of fireworks too!”

“I’m in!” Shen Erbai was the first to stand.

So they all went outside, with Zhou Jiayu and Lin Zhushui walking at the end of the group. Snowflakes drifted from the sky, cold against the skin. Laughter and chatter filled the air—lively and joyous.

“There’s a temple fair on the third day,” Lin Zhushui suddenly said beside Zhou Jiayu. “Let’s go together.”

Zhou Jiayu thought he misheard. After a few seconds, he realized what was said and got so excited he could barely contain himself. “Sure!”

Lin Zhushui nodded.

“Wow, this is the first time Shifu’s ever asked me out,” Zhou Jiayu was over the moon but tried not to show it. He could only tell Ji Ba in his mind, “Oh my god, I’m so happy!”

Ji Ba replied, “Congratulations!”

Zhou Jiayu just kept grinning like a fool.

The crackle of firecrackers chased away the Nian beast, and the fireworks blooming in the night sky were wishes for a wonderful new year.

The first day of the New Year was for worship.

That morning, the Lin family arrived early—including Lin Po. Zhou Jiayu only found out after breakfast that they were going up the mountain to honor their ancestors.

Lin Zhushui didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic; his expression remained cold the entire way.

The Lin family’s cemetery was private, only for their clan members. The setting and feng shui were both excellent. As soon as Zhou Jiayu entered, he noticed a faint aura of auspicious energy—a rare thing in a graveyard.

After offering incense, Lin Zhushui stood to the side, letting his disciples kowtow to their ancestors one by one.

Zhou Jiayu wasn’t sure what to do. Lin Zhushui still hadn’t officially declared him a disciple, so he wasn’t sure what was appropriate… Just then, Lin Zhushui reached out and lightly patted his shoulder, lifting his chin slightly. “Go on. Bow to your grandmaster.”

Zhou Jiayu quickly responded and took incense from Lin Po before respectfully going up to kowtow. Lin Po, standing nearby, looked at Zhou Jiayu with a complicated expression. Zhou Jiayu couldn’t quite tell what it meant, but he clearly saw a trace of suppressed jealousy.

Well… to be envied by the Lin family’s heir… that’s something, Zhou Jiayu comforted himself.

The Lin family might be feng shui experts, but their worship was surprisingly simple: offer a few sticks of incense and lay out some offerings. All the direct and collateral relatives added up to over two hundred people, and the whole ceremony wrapped up by noon.

Lunch was served at the cemetery grounds and was clearly quite elaborate. Zhou Jiayu couldn’t even identify the ingredients of some dishes.

But no matter how exquisite the food, Lin Zhushui didn’t give it much face. This time, Zhou Jiayu paid closer attention and noticed he only moved his chopsticks once—to pick up a single asparagus spear. It was like he couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to try.

Lin Po’s attitude had changed slightly as well—he seemed to sense that Lin Zhushui was in a bad mood, so he spoke with great caution. Lin Zhushui responded half-heartedly, his expression cold enough to be frightening.

Even Shen Yiqiong was uncharacteristically quiet today. He didn’t even dare to chat at the dinner table, keeping his head down as he ate.

It wasn’t until the afternoon that Zhou Jiayu finally understood the reason for all the strangeness.

They left the cemetery early, but Lin Zhushui didn’t get into the car.

“Where’s Sir?” Zhou Jiayu asked in a low voice.

Shen Yiqiong made a gesture for silence, and only after the car drove away from the cemetery did he say, “Sir stayed behind to visit Shiye and Shiniang.”

Zhou Jiayu was stunned for a moment. “They’ve both…”

Shen Yiqiong nodded.

On the way back, Shen Yiqiong spoke haltingly about Lin Zhushui’s parents. It was said that the two came from equally prestigious families, both masters in feng shui. They fell in love at first sight and quickly got married.

After Lin Zhushui was born, their relationship grew even stronger. Their happy life continued until Lin Zhushui’s extreme yang constitution began to reveal itself. In the feng shui world, nothing was more feared than objects of hidden yin. Thus, someone with an extreme yang constitution was often extraordinarily gifted in the field. While this constitution interfered with compasses, one could bypass that limitation using the Nine Palaces Flying Stars technique and calculating with one’s fingers. However, the greatest flaw of this constitution was a short lifespan.

“At the time,” Shen Yiqiong said, “there was a rumor in the field that the Lin family ancestors had read Sir’s fate and said he wouldn’t live past eighteen. Everyone believed it. But no one knows exactly what his parents did—they actually managed to defy fate and help him survive that critical year.”

Zhou Jiayu felt a pang of sorrow hearing this.

Shen Yiqiong sighed, and his expression showed an unusual touch of melancholy. “But defying fate is ultimately a violation of the Heavenly Dao. Not long after, the two of them died in an accident, leaving behind Sir, who was only eight years old…”

Eight years old. Even for a genius like Lin Zhushui, he was still just a child. Losing both parents so suddenly must have been a crushing blow.

“It seems like the Lin family had something to do with it too,” Shen Yiqiong added. “So Sir moved out of the Lin household shortly afterward and started his own path.”

Zhou Jiayu had always felt that something was off about Lin Zhushui’s relationship with Lin Po. He hadn’t expected a story like this to be behind it.

“That’s why Sir is always in a bad mood after visiting the ancestral graves,” Shen Yiqiong said, slumping in his seat, looking drained.

Zhou Jiayu felt a little helpless—like he couldn’t do anything to help. “Then tonight I’ll cook more of the dishes Sir likes,” he mumbled.

That evening, Zhou Jiayu put in extra effort and filled the table with food, waiting for Lin Zhushui to come home.

Perhaps noticing his uneasiness, Shen Mu Si said kindly, “Don’t worry. Sir will definitely come back. It just takes a little longer today—let’s wait a bit more.”

Zhou Jiayu thanked him a little awkwardly.

“Sir is always in a bad mood on this day each year,” Shen Erbai consoled him. “We’ve never really known how to comfort him. You cooking this meal already helps a lot—don’t overthink it.”

The others nodded in agreement.

They were right. Around 8 p.m., Lin Zhushui finally came home. When the sound of the car came from outside, Zhou Jiayu and Shen Yiqiong rushed to the door, followed closely by a weasel and a little paper figurine stubbornly clinging to the weasel’s back.

Watching their backs, Shen Mu Si smiled. “Since Zhou Jiayu came, this house has felt a lot livelier.”

Usually silent, Shen Chaosan replied with meaning, “Just the house?”

Their eyes met, and both saw the unspoken thoughts mirrored in the other.

“I suppose it’s a good thing,” Shen Mu Si murmured to himself.

A few minutes later, Lin Zhushui sat down at the dinner table, and everyone began eating. Compared to lunch, his appetite was clearly better—he even went for seconds twice.

The other five all noticed this and were visibly pleased.

Lin Zhushui was a strong person, and precisely because of that, it was hard to comfort him when something troubled him. It was as if offering pity would be an insult.

Thankfully, Zhou Jiayu was there now.

The meal was bountiful, and as warm food filled their bellies, their bodies also seemed to warm up. Shen Yiqiong brought up the upcoming temple fair on the third day of the New Year, saying it was bound to be lively.

Zhou Jiayu echoed him, clearly looking forward to it.

The room gradually filled with cheer again. The little paper figurine somehow managed to annoy the weasel again and got viciously stomped on. Fortunately, its special paper construction made it hard to damage by mere physical force. After being bullied, it climbed up Zhou Jiayu’s arm, pitifully begging for comfort.

Zhou Jiayu patted its head.

After dinner, as everyone was about to leave, Lin Zhushui said “thank you” to Zhou Jiayu.

Zhou Jiayu was taken aback and quickly waved it off. “You’re too kind, Sir. If it weren’t for you, I’d—” He abruptly stopped, realizing he almost slipped and confused his identity again.

But Lin Zhushui only curled his lips into a faint smile. “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be living in luxury.”

Zhou Jiayu: “…”

Shen Yiqiong chimed in from the side, “Yeah, you don’t know how rich you were, Zhou Jiayu. My god, you even had five or six seaside villas. But now they’re all gone—used to compensate the victims.”

Zhou Jiayu could only say “thank you” again—he really had nothing else to say…

Like a child waiting for a holiday, Zhou Jiayu was especially looking forward to the temple fair. On the morning of the third day, he got up early, put the buns and steamed rolls he had prepared last night into the steamer, and had breakfast with the others.

The fair was held at the eastern end of the city. Even before getting out of the car, Zhou Jiayu could hear the lively, bustling noise.

They got out and followed the crowd toward the street where the fair was taking place.

Even though the place was packed, Lin Zhushui still stood out. He wore a black, mid-length trench coat with a light gray V-neck sweater underneath. The outfit didn’t cover much, and one could vaguely see his well-defined collarbones, the elegant line of his long neck, and the faintly prominent Adam’s apple. These features exuded a kind of refined charm. His closed eyes added to his aloof aura, yet that coldness was laced with another kind of allure that was hard to describe. Zhou Jiayu noticed that many girls nearby were sneaking glances at him.

Zhou Jiayu only looked once before his face inexplicably grew warm. He quickly turned his gaze away.

“So lively,” Shen Yiqiong was thrilled, loving the bustle. “Wow, I want a candied hawthorn. Do you guys want some?”

The others all scoffed at him, saying that was something for kids.

“I don’t care, I don’t care—you all have to eat some with me!” Shen Yiqiong started whining. “Isn’t that what temple fairs are for? Playing games and eating snacks? Zhou Jiayu, come with me to get some.”

Before Zhou Jiayu could say no, he was dragged off.

The candied hawthorn stand had a wide variety—hawthorn, strawberries, grapes, kiwi. Shen Yiqiong picked five skewers and waved for Zhou Jiayu to follow.

Zhou Jiayu asked, “Aren’t you getting one for Sir?”

Shen Yiqiong was stunned. “I’d like to—but are you going to give it to him?”

Zhou Jiayu thought for a moment. “Okay.”

As Shen Yiqiong paid, he marveled at how Zhou Jiayu was getting bolder. “What happened to that little hamster who used to tremble at the sight of Sir?”

Zhou Jiayu said, “So stop calling me ‘Guan’zi’…”

Shen Yiqiong burst into laughter—and refused.

When the other three saw Zhou Jiayu handing a skewer of strawberry tanghulu to Lin Zhushui, their expressions were like they’d seen a ghost. But when Lin Zhushui actually accepted it, their jaws nearly dropped.

“It’s strawberry,” Zhou Jiayu explained. “We picked the plumpest one. Try it—if you don’t like it, I’ll eat it.”

Lin Zhushui nodded and took a bite. The strawberry entered his mouth, puffing out his cheeks a little—it strangely made him look a bit cute.

Of course, Zhou Jiayu only dared to think that Lin Zhushui looked cute in his own mind.

“Not bad,” Lin Zhushui commented after swallowing. “A little too sweet.”

Zhou Jiayu asked, “So will you finish it?”

Lin Zhushui replied, “I will.”

And so, the group watched Lin Zhushui finish an entire skewer of candied fruit. The sight was so rare that Shen Yiqiong was stunned for a long time.

The temple fair was a sea of people. Vendors selling goods, customers buying, performers putting on shows, spectators watching—all kinds of chaos and excitement.

Zhou Jiayu spotted a fortune teller and pointed him out.

Shen Mu Si saw the man holding a flag that read “Iron Mouth Divine Foresight” and laughed. “What do you guys think—Xing ju or Jian ju?”

Shen Erbai casually guessed, “From the look of him, probably Xing ju.”

Zhou Jiayu looked confused, so Shen Yiqiong explained beside him, “Xing and Jian are slang terms. Xing ju means a fraud using tricks to scam people. Jian ju means someone who actually knows something—at least studied the subject.”

Zhou Jiayu said, “Oh!”

“These charlatans of the jianghu are the mortal enemies of our trade,” Shen Yiqiong stood beside Zhou Jiayu without moving, while Shen Erbai had already headed over. “If they’ve got some real skills, it’s one thing. But if they’re just tricking people with cheap tricks, we’ve got to break their sign.”

Zhou Jiayu asked, “Because they’re conning people?”

Shen Yiqiong replied, “Because they’ve ruined the reputation of feng shui and divination.” In their line of work, the most despised people were frauds—those who claimed to be feng shui masters but made their living cheating others. After spending twenty hard years mastering the craft, being lumped in with these frauds and called swindlers was something no one could tolerate.

By then, Shen Erbai had already reached the fortune teller’s table. He sat down directly and said, “Master, give me a reading, will you?”

The fortune teller asked, “What would you like me to look into?”

Shen Erbai said, “Let’s talk about my mother.”

The fortune teller said, “Let me take a look at your left hand.”

Shen Erbai extended his hand. After examining it carefully, the fortune teller sighed and said, “Your mother must have been ill for some time now, hasn’t she?”

Shen Erbai asked, “How did you know that?”

The fortune teller sighed again, “Your brow shows dark patches, your glabella has a pale line reaching toward your nose, and your hair is dry and yellowed… These are signs of a gravely ill mother.”

Zhou Jiayu and the others stood nearby, listening to the exchange. Shen Musi asked, “It’s fishy, sir. What should we do?”

Lin Zhushui said flatly, “Have someone investigate, then deal with it. Let him be for today.”

In just a few short sentences, they seemed to have already determined that the man was a fraud.

Zhou Jiayu figured it was probably because what the man said wasn’t accurate, but Shen Yiqiong explained, “If your mother was perfectly fine, would the first thing you asked a fortune teller be about her?”

That made sense—people usually asked about things they were truly concerned about. If someone asked about their mother and based on the person’s age, it was often related to illness.

“What if the fortune teller got it wrong?” Zhou Jiayu still felt unsure.

Shen Musi said, “If he’s wrong, then he’s just wrong. Don’t charge money and it’s no big deal.”

Zhou Jiayu fell into thoughtful silence.

When Shen Erbai returned, he was clearly dissatisfied with the fortune teller, saying these jianghu folk had really lost their touch. Back in the day, even when the trade was declining, their skills with the gold pouch and flipping seals were jaw-dropping. Now it was all just wild guessing.

Zhou Jiayu had a head full of questions but felt embarrassed to ask too much, so he figured he’d look it up in a book later.

At the end of the temple fair was a large temple dedicated to Buddha beads. Judging by the stream of visitors, its incense offerings were clearly thriving.

Lin Zhushui had them buy some incense and spirit money, and they went inside to pray before coming out again.

It was noon by then, and the crowd was growing thicker. Zhou Jiayu was walking through the throng when he suddenly heard someone shout his name loudly.

He turned around and looked into the crowd, but couldn’t find the person who called out. When he turned back, he saw that Lin Zhushui and the others had already been pushed farther away by the crowd.

He hurried to catch up, but just then, someone tugged at his leg. He looked down and saw an old woman sitting on the ground, moaning, “It hurts, it hurts so much…”

Seeing the crowd was so dense and the old woman sitting there, Zhou Jiayu was afraid she’d get trampled, so he bent down and asked, “Are you okay, ma’am?”

“Help me up, it hurts so bad.” The old woman was wearing a floral jacket and a white flower on her head. Though her outfit was a bit odd, she didn’t seem to give off any strange aura. Besides, there were so many people around—it didn’t seem dangerous. Thinking that, Zhou Jiayu used some strength to help her up.

“Ma’am, where’s your family? Did you hurt your foot?” Zhou Jiayu asked about her injuries.

But the old woman didn’t reply. Instead, she squinted at him. Her gaze made Zhou Jiayu feel very uneasy. Just as he was about to step back, she suddenly lunged forward and slapped his back hard—

Zhou Jiayu heard her voice echoing in his ears:
“Return my grandson’s life—to me—”

Zhou Jiayu’s entire body convulsed. He felt as if he were floating, and the world around him warped and twisted. It was like he’d entered another dimension.

When he came to, all the noise around him had vanished. The once-busy temple fair street was now empty, with only snowflakes drifting down from the sky.

The street was eerily quiet. The shops were still open, and the food stalls still steaming, but there wasn’t a single soul in sight.

Zhou Jiayu stood in the empty street, looking around in confusion. He had a sinking feeling he was in a very bad place.

“Quick, Zhou Jiayu!!” Ji Ba’s voice suddenly shouted, “Find a place to hide, now!!”

Startled, Zhou Jiayu asked, “What’s going on?”

Ji Ba snapped, “No time to explain! Get into the temple in front of you and hide under the Buddha statue! No matter what you hear, don’t make a sound!”

Ji Ba’s voice was sharp and urgent—Zhou Jiayu hadn’t heard him speak like that in a long time. Without hesitation, he dashed into the temple. Inside, the Buddha statues startled him—unlike the kind, smiling faces before, they now glared with fierce expressions and held weapons in their hands. So lifelike, they looked like they could jump down at any moment.

Below the statues were compartments made from curtains, used to shield offerings. Zhou Jiayu slipped into one and crouched down.

“What happened?” he whispered. “Where am I?”

“Shh—quiet!” Ji Ba hissed.

Zhou Jiayu had no choice but to shut his mouth.

Clink… clink… clink… Strange sounds echoed in the silence, like chains dragging on the ground. The noises came from all directions and quickly approached Zhou Jiayu’s hiding place.

Holding his breath, Zhou Jiayu peered through a gap in the curtain and saw them—shadows floating mid-air. They looked human but didn’t touch the ground, with black chains around their ankles. Their faces were hidden in darkness, and they drifted silently into the temple.

“Do you smell that?” one voice said. It wasn’t clear which shadow had spoken.

“I do,” replied another. “There’s a fresh scent of the living here… and it smells so good…” One of the shadows lowered its head, as if trying to track the scent.

It stopped right beside Zhou Jiayu’s curtain. As it bent down, Zhou Jiayu finally saw its face.

It wasn’t human. Though the features were humanoid, its face was covered in yellow fur, and its eyes were narrow slits like a fox’s. It looked like a grotesque mask frozen in a stiff expression—Zhou Jiayu broke into a cold sweat.

“It’s here… right here.” The shadow moved its face closer and closer—only a thin curtain separated them. Zhou Jiayu stared as the hand reached forward, covered in fur with sharp claws. “Is it here?” it whispered.

His heart nearly leapt out of his chest as the hand touched the curtain.

But the moment the fingers brushed the fabric, it screamed in agony:
“It burns—it burns—”

Another shadow snapped, “Why are you touching the offerings!”

“There’s a living scent in there!” the first shadow insisted.

“Idiot! Living or not, once they’re here, they’ll be dead anyway.”

They muttered a bit more before finally drifting out through the temple door.

Only then did Zhou Jiayu dare to breathe again. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he asked, “Ji Ba, what just happened?”

Ji Ba sighed, “That old lady… she probably wasn’t human. Her slap knocked your soul clean out of your body…”

Zhou Jiayu stared, “You can slap a soul out of someone?!”

“Yup. Normally, it’d only knock out one soul or one spirit. You’d just need someone to help summon it back. But your case is special.” Ji Ba’s expression actually looked troubled—Zhou Jiayu was amazed that a bird could have such expressive features.

“You weren’t the original soul of that body,” Ji Ba said. “So your grip on it is unstable. She probably didn’t expect to knock your whole soul out cleanly like that…”

Zhou Jiayu: “…”
He wanted a cigarette. “What did she mean about her grandson?”

Ji Ba said, “Who knows? You’ve probably sent a fair number of people off by now.”

Zhou Jiayu was speechless.

“So what do I do now? Just wait here? Can I find a way back?” Zhou Jiayu wasn’t about to die this randomly. “Is this the underworld? What were those shadows?”

“My god, you’re about to die and still asking so many questions.” Ji Ba said, “This isn’t exactly the underworld. More like a transitional space. Come out first. Then find some incense ash, rub it on your temples and forehead. Use a lot, okay?”

Zhou Jiayu looked around carefully. After making sure the coast was clear, he crawled out of the curtain and followed Ji Ba’s instructions, digging some ash from the incense burner. As he did, he felt like the Buddha statue was glaring at him. Feeling guilty, he apologized: “Sorry, just borrowing a little. I’ll offer tons of incense and paper later. Please be lenient.”

He didn’t know if it was his imagination, but the Buddha’s expression actually seemed to soften a little.

Now covered in ash, Zhou Jiayu sighed. What terrible luck—to run into this mess during the New Year. He only hoped he could escape this disaster in one piece.

__

Author’s Note:
Zhou Jiayu: I want to cook something delicious for the sir.
Lin Zhushui: Come here.
Zhou Jiayu: Huh…?!
Lin Zhushui: It’s very tasty.