Chapter 7: Gold Ingots (III)

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Xue Xian suddenly wondered whether this bald donkey was a stupid donkey, too. Even after such a mighty pinch, Xuanmin still didn't seem to understand what Xue Xian had meant. Xue Xian took advantage of the next time Liu Chong’s gaze wandered away from the pouch, and silently turned around so that the painted side of his face now faced up at Xuanmin. He used his ink-dotted eyes to stare daggers at the bald donkey.
But art could never be as effective as real flesh. Besides, to call Xue Xian's painting skills ‘adequate’ would already be an overstatement –– he was very, very far from being a master. There was just something insufficient about the painted eyes in comparison to the real thing –– Xue Xian couldn't use them to express exactly what he wanted.

Xuanmin had felt the pinch; it had been rather painful. He directed his cold gaze downwards, intending to scold the mischievous niezhang; but he happened to come across the pair of eyes staring out at him from the opening of his own pouch. This truly took Xuanmin by surprise.
The paper man lay on its back, facing him. Paired with hollow, haunted eyes that betrayed no emotion, he really was ‘a sight for sore eyes’! [a]
Xuanmin: “…”

Xuanmin had caught his fair share of ghosts, demons, and niezhang on his way here –– not many, as he did not often seek them out, but not a small amount, either. In most cases, they had been highly rebellious before he'd caught them, but, upon defeat, had calmed down and become respectful and dignified, waiting quietly to transcend. [b] Xue Xian was certainly the first to behave so aggressively after being captured. He had no sense of meekness at all, [c] and never seemed to tire of making trouble.
Xuanmin got the feeling that this niezhang was a drama queen [d] from head to toe. He could play all the roles in a theatre troupe by himself.

Xuanmin retracted his gaze from the paper man and reached out with two fingers to pinch it out of his pouch.
Xue Xian: “...” I'll never forgive you!

Xuanmin's hands really didn't look like the hands of someone who travelled far and wandered the land. His fingers were as straight as ink brushes, long and slender. They were so clean: they looked as though they'd never seen any kind of dirt. Xuanmin certainly didn't look like he'd grown up doing hard labor in a mountain monastery, but of course, he didn't look like a rogue monk at all. He was much more like a spoilt prince or aristocrat.
But in that moment, Xue Xian was far too busy to take notice of Xuanmin's hands.

Xuanmin held the paper man between his fingers and began to bring it toward Liu Chong.
Xue Xian: “...” When I get my body back and start summoning storms again, I’m going to make sure the lightning always lands on you! I’ll greet you with lightning every single minute of every single day!
"This thing?" Xuanmin asked Liu Chong in a calm voice.
Xue Xian: “...” If I don’t burn this bald donkey to a crisp one day, then you can stop calling me ‘dragon’ and start calling me ‘long bug with four legs’!

"Mn." Liu Chong nodded eagerly, and flashed that foolish-looking [e] smile again.
Xue Xian: “...” Don’t you fucking smile!

But when Liu Chong [f] reached out to receive the paper man, Xuanmin shook his head, maintaining the same placid expression as always. "No," he said.
Alright, I guess you have some sense.
Xue Xian finally let go of the breath he'd been holding. His paper body, which had been stiff with fear, suddenly let loose and became soft as he collapsed into the crook of Xuanmin's finger, exhausted. He looked like a puppet who’d had its strings cut. [g]

Liu Chong was still staring intently at Xue Xian. He nodded again, although his expression was one of disappointment. He didn’t have enough worldliness to understand concepts like tact or connivance –– he was purely, simply disappointed, and he showed it.
People with slow minds [h] also tend to move slower than other people [i], and lack a certain finesse in their movement. Yet they make up for it with more strength. They stare at people intently, over-enunciate in their speech, or nod or shake their heads vigorously.
It’s only clumsiness, but it can cause anxiety among others.

As Xue Xian lay draped across Xuanmin's palm like a badly-pulled noodle, he took a single look at Liu Chong, and then decided not to bother looking again. He felt as though the fool might carry some kind of poison that could infect others into being as foolish. He was worried that if he looked at Liu Chong for too long, he would experience a moment of insanity and leap into Liu Chong’s hands himself. [j]
Then he’d really be in trouble!

But the weirdest part was, the bald donkey seemed to have even less courtesy [k] than this fool… [f] Not only did he not notice the disappointment on Liu Chong’s face, but he then was so rude as to try barging into the latter’s home. [f]
Thankfully, right before Xuanmin entered, the bald donkey seemed to remember that there were such things as ‘rules of etiquette’. He nodded toward Liu Chong, [f] as if to ask permission.
Xue Xian: “...” Would it kill you to say an extra word? If this fool [f] can really understand what you meant with just a nod, then I'll change my surname to yours.

He had barely finished thinking this mocking thought when Liu Chong walked into the shack himself, then turned back to Xuanmin and waved happily, saying, "Come in!" He was as lively and enthusiastic as a child with a new playmate.
Xue Xian: “...”
He pursed his lips in frustration and thought, I’ll just shut up and hang out here.

The niezhang in Xuanmin's palm twitched several times, then, thankfully, it finally calmed down.

The half open shack doors were pushed open by Liu Chong, revealing the sight inside for all to see –– that pile of joss paper ingots was much larger than Xue Xian had originally spied from outside. Not only were they stacked in piles by the door, but the whole room was so full of it that there was nowhere to step.
Behind them, Liu-shiye seemed extremely worried. As soon as he saw the inside of his eldest son's room, he turned away unhappily. He seemed to have no intention of entering the shack, and stood alone around one zhang away from the door with his hands clasped behind his back.

This was likely torture for him. On the one hand, he wanted Xuanmin to fix the feng shui in his compound, but on the other hand, he wanted to drive this socially inept, rude monk out of his home.
Anyone with any ability to read people’s faces would know that this was the time to retreat, so as to avoid causing trouble for the host.
Unfortunately, this monk did not understand.

Worse, he did not even deign to look at the shiye once!
Liu-shiye was close to dying of fury.

Liu-shiye could stand wherever he wanted; it didn’t matter to Xuanmin at all. Even if he took a bamboo pole and swung himself ten zhang away, it would still not prevent Xuanmin from entering the shack. [l]
The interior of Liu Chong’s room was as crude and bare as the exterior. It was not fit for a child servant, let alone the eldest gongzi [m] of the shiye’s household. There was nothing other than a four-person table, two wooden chairs, and a bed that, compared to Liu Chong's frame, was far too narrow and small.
This was a tiny space, as cramped as the inside of a snail's shell. Yet someone had insisted on putting a divider in the middle, turning the bed part and the table part into two different sections, which only made it all seem even smaller.

Who knew how old the furniture was? These were some of the grayest, darkest, most worn objects anyone had ever seen. In fact, the only dash of color resided in the yellow paper ingots strewn all across the room.
Xuanmin picked one up and studied it.  

Xue Xian was still draped between the fingers of Xuanmin's other hand. Thanks to his small size and low point of view, as well as the fact that he happened to be facing upward, Xue Xian was able to clearly see the bottom of the ingot.
Three letters were written there: P A P.

Xue Xian: “…” What the hell is this?
Then, he realised that this was actually supposed to read: dad. Liu Chong’s calligraphy was poor, and he had written it wrong. [n]

But now that he'd seen an ingot, Xue Xian suddenly understood why the boy's father was so unhappy at his son. To write a living person's name onto paper money –– that was essentially cursing them. But Liu Chong was so ignorant [o] that it was most likely he’d written the text for fun.
Soon, however, Xue Xian had to swallow his words again.    

Because Xuanmin began picking up more ingots, and each and every one had writing on the bottom. The calligraphy for all of the text was sloppy and difficult to decipher.
With nothing better to do, Xue Xian decided to read and decode them all: out of seven ingots, two said P A P, three said W O W, and two were blank.

What kind of hobby would you call this?

Although, based on the ingots that Xuanmin had picked up, Xue Xian was surprised to realise that Liu Chong may be dim-witted, [f] but he did know how to sort things into categories. The pile by the door probably all said P A P, so they for his dad, Liu-shiye. The ones by the table were all for his mom. [p] The random ingots strewn on the floor did not yet have inscriptions on them.
So... who were the bedside ingots for?

Clearly, Xue Xian wasn't the only one to notice all this. After having briefly examined the piles in this outer room, Xuanmin went into the inner room where the bed was.
As soon as they entered the inner room, Xue Xian felt himself choked by an immense gust of yin energy, and sneezed.

Liu Chong: “…” ???
He stared at Xuanmin’s completely expressionless face for a long time. Then, confused, he looked down at Xuanmin’s hand, confused as to how the sneezing noise could have come from between Xuanmin’s fingers.

But neither Xuanmin nor Xue Xian could be bothered to pay attention to Liu Chong. The strong presence of yin energy had been a nasty surprise, and both of them now looked directly at the pile of paper ingots next to Liu Chong’s bed.
Frowning, Xuanmin walked over and picked up one of the ingots.

This time, what was written underneath was neither ‘dad’ nor ‘mom’. Instead, there was a huge, confusing ink scribble. It seemed to say something far more complex than ‘dad’ or ‘mom’, something much harder to write.
Xuanmin picked up two more ingots: the same.

But one of the ingots’ inscriptions was slightly less messy. With some effort, Xuanmin could make out part of the inscription: Liu.
Xuanmin did not know much about Liu-shiye’s family. Seeing this, all he could think of was Liu-shiye and his two sons. But based on the scribble, it didn't seem to say ‘Liu Xu’, nor ‘Liu Chong’, nor ‘Liu Jin’.

Just as Xuanmin bent over to pick up another ingot, something tumbled out of the pouch on his hip.
That thing let out an "Aiyo!" sound as it fell directly onto the pile of paper ingots. When it landed on the ground, it began to inflate like a leather balloon, and suddenly swelled up, transforming into a fully living human being.
******
This person's face was deathly pale, with small dark circles under his eyes that made him look like an overworked scholar. It was none other than Jiang Shining.
He had likely never expected to suddenly go from being a paper man to a flesh-and-blood human being. Confused, he asked, "Why did I fall off?"

Seeing that Liu Chong didn’t seen alarmed by this sudden apparition, Xue Xian stopped pretending, too. He replied, "There's too much yin energy."
Ghosts like yin energy. This was why Jiang Shining was normally powerless in the daytime –– there was too much yang energy during the day. The yin energy in Liu Chong's shack was more overpowering than the yin energy you might encounter if you stumbled upon an ancient mass grave. Naturally, being here had drawn Jiang Shining out.
Despite all this yin energy, Liu Chong was still alive and well. This was strange.

"So why haven't you fallen off?" Jiang Shining asked, mystified.
Xue Xian snapped, "I’m not dead. I’m not in the same category as you.” [q]

"If you're not dead, why are you clinging to a piece of paper?" Jiang Shining thought this Xue guy must be insane.
If he wasn't a ghost, that meant he had a body. If he still had a body, why would he go to such lengths to take out his soul and put it inside a piece of paper? If he wasn’t crazy, then what was he?
Xue Xian, still perched on Xuanmin's hand, idly replied, "Why do you care? Shut up and get up from the floor."

Now that the bookworm had turned into a human, despite the fact that he still looked as thin as a pile of reeds, he was much heavier. The pile of paper ingots couldn't support his weight and, as he attempted to get up, half of the pile was utterly flattened: the golden mountain became flat land.
Jiang Shining looked around him, and as soon as he realised where he was sitting, he immediately put his hands together in an apologetic salute toward Liu Chong. "I'm so sorry."
As Jiang Shining attempted to get himself up, Liu Chong, who had been standing there speechless, finally seemed to process what was happening. He noticed the flattened pile of ingots and let out a scream. He pushed Jiang Shining aside brusquely and knelt on the floor, carefully folding each ingot back together again.

Fools have more physical strength. Paired with Jiang Shining’s weak body, this meant that he fell easily and rolled across the floor until he collided with the chest of drawers at the end of the room.
The chest of drawers knocked against the wall with a guangdang sound.

Despite being hurt by the fall, Jiang Shining, embarrassed, palmed the ground, trying to help Liu Chong fix his ingots. But he moved too abruptly, and suddenly emitted a hiss of pain and withdrew his hand from whatever he had touched.
In his outstretched palm, there was now a hole. Jiang Shining grimaced with agony, but no blood flowed from the wound.
That was the thing about paper bodies: they could help ghosts to walk normally on the ground and interact with the material world, almost like an actual living person, but the bodies were also prone to injury.

"Why are there nails hammered into the floorboards underneath this chest of drawers?" Jiang Shining demanded, miserable. Turning back to Xue Xian, he said in a small voice, "Next time... If there is a next time, can you use leather, not paper?"
"How about human skin?" Xue Xian said.
Jiang Shining: “…”
Although Xuanmin’s face betrayed no emotion, he used his finger to block Xue Xian’s mouth. Every time this niezhang opened his mouth, it was to spew gibberish. [r]
Xue Xian: “…”

"Eh? Strange. This nail has a piece of paper attached to it." As Jiang Shining crawled up, he caught a glimpse of the floor beneath the chest of drawers, and seemed to discover something interesting.
Xuanmin heard this and frowned. He gathered his robes and crouched down.

The chest of drawers had been pushed askew by the collision, and indeed a nail could be seen sticking out of the floorboards. With a flick of his hand, Xuanmin ripped off another piece of cloth from the bottom of his robe, and, with his fingers wrapped inside the white hemp cloth, reached out to touch the nail. As he cleared the dirt from the surface of the nail, it began to have a clearer appearance––
From the oily, brown color, it was clear that this was a copper nail, with three vertical ridges carved onto it.
With that much mud caked on it, that nail had probably been there for a good two or three years, if not more. But it hadn't rusted at all: it remained shiny and bright. It was clearly not an ordinary object.
Most importantly, its job seemed to consist of nailing down a strange-looking piece of paper.

Frowning, Xuanmin peered closer and used the cloth to brush away the thick layer of dust from the paper––
Just as he'd thought, the sheet of paper was yellow in color. On it, in red ink, was a complex diagram.

Although the diagram was unreadable, it was clear what this was. After a brief moment of confusion, Jiang Shining went and pushed the chest of drawers aside, revealing more of the floorboards.
Hidden by the chest of drawers were three nails in total, each with a yellow piece of paper. They pointed southwest, northeast, and northwest.

"What... kind of talisman is this? Long life and good health?" Jiang Shining asked as he studied the talismans. For some reason, his body began to feel hot.
This was very odd. Ever since he'd become a ghost, he had not felt warm even once. These past few years had been defined by a harsh feeling of coldness, as though he were permanently residing in a foggy snowscape, and he'd long become used to it. With the sudden heat, he felt deeply unsettled.
Frightened, he backed away a couple steps.

Xue Xian, who had grown to love making fun of Jiang Shining, had his mouth blocked and could not speak.
So the question that Jiang Shining had asked remained hanging in the air with no response for quite a while. It was rather awkward.

Finally, Xuanmin finished examining the contents of the three talismans and calmly said, "Feng shui array." [s]
Xue Xian: “...” No shit.

All the commotion in the room had made Liu-shiye impatient. He glanced a few times at the door, and then reluctantly walked to the doorway and said, "Dashi, did you bump into something just now? What has my fool [f] of a son done now?"
He seemed really to hate this shack, and looked like he’d rather die than take a step inside. As he stood by the doorway, he glared at the piles of ingots inside with extreme disgust.

Hearing the shiye's voice, Xuanmin crossed the threshold and emerged back into the shack’s main room. He asked Liu-shiye, "Who lives in the northwest of the compound?"
Confused, Liu-shiye looked in that direction. "I do."
Xuanmin looked at him, then asked, "Northeast."
"Ah, northeast? That's where my son Liu Jin lives –– the younger one, the one who fell into the well earlier today. Dashi, why do you ask? Is there a problem with these two rooms?"

Xuanmin did not respond immediately. Only after a pause did he say, "Have you heard of the design, 'Direct the River into the Sea'?"
It was impossible to tell what Xuanmin was feeling –– he still maintained that cold, expressionless face, as though he were asking a question as simple as Have you eaten? — but Liu-shiye's face suddenly turned white.

He remained standing stiffly by the door, his entire body rigid, for a very long time. Then his eyes twitched and he peered into the room. As soon as he saw that the chest of drawers had been moved aside, his expression turned even paler. "I-I-I'm not going to lie, Dashi, sir, [t] these past two years I... I've had some health issues, so... so..."

As Liu-shiye stumbled and stammered from the doorway where he stood, Jiang Shining was moving around inside. When Liu-shiye peered in, he backed away so as not to appear in Liu-shiye’s eyeline. One of the reasons was that he was a ghost about to be confronted with someone he'd known in life, which usually ended badly; but another reason was... every time he saw Liu-shiye, his heart was filled with such hatred that he wanted to attack the man.
He remembered the ways in which his parents had suffered in the days before their death and gritted his teeth.

While Jiang Shining stood by the wall, stewing in anger, Liu Chong, who had been busy fixing his ingots, took notice of the talismans on the floor.
His [f] attention span was particularly easily distracted. He stared at those yellow talismans for a while, then dropped the ingots he was holding and ran to crouch in front of the chest of drawers, studying the talismans.

Whenever toddlers take notice of some new object, whether it is filthy or clean, whether it is dangerous or safe, the first thing they like to do is touch it. Liu Chong, whose mindset was comparable to an ignorant child’s, stared at the three copper nails for some time, then couldn’t help but reach out to touch the tip of a nail.
The shiny copper nail had an extremely sharp tip. If one were to blow a single hair in the direction of the nail, it would certainly cut the hair in half. Liu Chong’s thin skin stood no chance.
Thus, Liu Chong’s reward for touching the nail was a handful of blood.

"Hey –– don't touch!" But by the time Jiang Shining realised what was going on, it was too late.
A drop of blood slid from the tip of the nail down the copper shaft and seeped into the talisman.

Surprised by the scolding, Liu Chong froze and looked up.
For a moment, Jiang Shining suddenly wondered why the room was so disconcertingly quiet –– the incessant winter wind that had been howling against the shack's walls seemed to have suddenly gone away.
Ghosts — especially lonely, rogue ghosts — are usually more sensitive than actual humans. Jiang Shining felt as though there was suddenly no air around him at all. The calm was suspicious.

Xuanmin, who had been standing by the door with Liu-shiye, abruptly frowned and looked up at the sky.
The wind was still and the clouds were heavy. There was no noise anywhere.
The entire Liu compound had, in an instant, fallen into complete silence…

That strange peacefulness did not last long. In the blink of an eye, the sound of the wind returned, but its oooooh sounds were completely different from before. For some reason, the wind now sounded a little resentful.
Soon, the oooooh sound of the wind became louder and louder, so that it seemed to resemble a chorus of rogue ghosts whose weeping noises came in from all sides. It was enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.
Amidst the bestial, haunting cries of the wind, there was suddenly something that emitted a weng––– sound.

It sounded like the end tone of two metallic objects striking each other, but also somehow different.
Xue Xian, still drooping from where he was held between Xuanmin’s fingers, suddenly sat up, his entire body tense. Others may have found the sound difficult to parse, but he could hear it loud and clear.
Because it sounded exactly like the thing that he was searching for.

In the northeast!
Xue Xian struggled to raise his head and look in that direction.
The bald donkey had just asked about it. Whose wing was in the northeast again?

As Xue Xian tried to remember, that strange sound merged with the weeping noises of the wind, becoming piercingly loud. In that moment, everyone felt as though someone had struck them violently on the back of the head. Their ears screeched and their vision went black, then they all promptly lost consciousness.

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