“Fellow practitioner?”
Fu Sang sneered and gave him a vicious kick:
“Who’s a fellow practitioner with you?”
But after kicking him, he still withdrew the blood threads and released Chen Binglong.
Chen Binglong quickly scrambled up from the ground, dusting himself off while still flattering, “Hey… no, no, not a fellow practitioner, you’re so capable, you’re a little celestial being, here to save me, how would I dare to be a fellow practitioner with you, right?”
Chen Binglong’s hair was a messy, somewhat long mop that exploded wildly on top of his head, covered in dust and grass clippings that had clumped together with grease, forming greasy strands and making him look very unkempt. His clothes were also tattered and torn. The cotton-padded jacket on him looked like it had been picked up from somewhere, with holes at the cuffs and yellowed cotton wadding spilling out.
“Where are you from?” Fu Sang asked after looking him up and down.
“Me? I was tricked into coming here!” Chen Binglong put on a bitter melon face, as if he’d finally found a place to pour out all his grievances, “I’m just a feng shui practitioner. I do feng shui consultations, dispel evil energy, drive away ghosts, fortune-telling and the like. I don’t have a fixed residence, I go wherever there’s a job.
“Half a month ago, someone sent me an email, saying there was a big job in Mitou Village, Xibo County. I thought, I’m familiar with this area! Good things shouldn’t flow to outsiders, right? So I said I’d come take a look. Who knew this damn place would be impossible to leave once you’re in? The people inside are neither human nor ghost, it’s terrifying. I’ve been hiding here for so many days just waiting for a living person like you to show up… Little brother, little brother, please save me, take me out of here, little brother…”
Hearing this, Fu Sang raised an eyebrow slightly, as if finding something in his words very interesting: “Driving away ghosts?”
“Yes, yes…” Having probably been terrified in this place for too long, now that hope had suddenly appeared, Chen Binglong’s voice was trembling as he spoke.
Fu Sang ignored him, only casting a faint glance at Qi Changying beside him.
With Qi Changying’s appearance, aura, and rank, anyone who could see ghosts would scream in terror and faint at the mere sight of him. But Chen Binglong had no reaction at all, which could only mean that he couldn’t see him.
In Huo Wei’s words, he was a ‘Muggle’.
This suggested that this man most likely didn’t have any real skills, and even if he did, they weren’t the skills of a nether path spirit master.
That made things rather intriguing.
Fu Sang nodded, and repeated Chen Binglong’s words, “Neither human nor ghost?”
With that, he changed the subject. “How could you tell that they are neither human nor ghost?”
“…”
Chen Binglong’s expression froze for a moment.
Fu Sang accurately captured that faint micro-expression in his eyes, then, seeing that Chen Binglong seemed to be hesitating to speak, he said, “If you have something to say, just say it.”
“Oh… well, about thirty years ago, I came to this place. The people I met in this village back then were exactly the same as the batch in the village now… exactly the same! Do you understand what ‘exactly the same’ means? Even their ages hadn’t changed! Have you seen that little girl in the village with the pigtail braids? I saw her thirty years ago! She was exactly that big! Tell me, if she wasn’t neither human nor ghost, why hasn’t she grown up?”
Probably genuinely finding it terrifying, Chen Binglong’s lips turned white.
“Is that so?”
Chen Binglong felt that the information he’d revealed was already enough to give someone a big shock, but the young man before him didn’t seem very surprised.
He only raised his eyes to glance at the dilapidated temple beside them and asked another question, “What god is enshrined in this temple? I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s the mountain god.”
Chen Binglong craned his neck to look in that direction.
“This mountain range is called Hubizi Mountain, and the god inside is called Hubizi God. The people in this village all believe in this god!”
“Hubizi God?” Fu Sang pulled a flashlight out of his small bag and stepped into the temple.
The temple wasn’t large, and with various miscellaneous items piled up everywhere, there wasn’t much open space to move around, just a couple of steps would suffice.
Fu Sang stood in the middle of the dilapidated temple and shone the flashlight at the spot where the statue was placed.
The statue was quite large, with a glazed surface that was terribly done and had a garish color. It was an extremely ugly piece of work. Apart from the size, it was almost identical to the one in Wu Renmei’s family hall.
“Little brother, although you seem quite formidable, I don’t know which divine figure you are, but I still have to warn you.”
Chen Binglong stood outside the door, seemingly afraid of something, and suddenly lowered his voice, “During the day, it’s fine for you to wander around like this outside, but once night falls, absolutely do not move about casually.”
He looked left and right, his voice dropping even lower, almost using just breath to speak.
“Be careful, you might encounter something very terrifying…”
“Aren’t you in this line of work? Why are you still afraid of dirty things?” Fu Sang let out a light snort, dripping with sarcasm.
“Heh…” Chen Binglong scratched his head, too embarrassed to say anything more.
“You said you’ve been in here for half a month. All this time, you’ve just been hiding here? You never thought about finding your own way out?”
Fu Sang used the flashlight to sweep across the nailed board at the door, then shone it in Chen Binglong’s eyes.
“Yeah.”
“What are you hiding from? Is something chasing you?”
“Well…” Chen Binglong paused, “…not really, it’s just that this place is too eerie and you can’t get out, it’s unsettling. I’m cowardly, so I don’t dare to move around casually.”
“Then this dilapidated temple is quite magical, giving you a stronger sense of security than your own home? Great, if you like it, then keep staying here. I wish you happiness.”
Chen Binglong couldn’t tell whether this person was genuinely praising and wishing him well or being sarcastic. The content sounded like mockery, but the tone and expression seemed like he was speaking seriously yet had low emotional intelligence. So to be on the safe side, he didn’t respond.
Just as well, Fu Sang was too lazy to say more to this man. He tilted his head to glance at Qi Changying, gave him a look, and then stepped out on his own.
Qi Changying understood the meaning of that one look, so as he passed by Chen Binglong, he left Fu Sang and moved closer to sniff the scent on Chen Binglong. But then, for some reason, he took a few steps back.
Before Fu Sang could react, the ghost had already turned into mist and coiled back around him, using his favorite position to hug Fu Sang’s shoulders from behind, burying his face in the hollow of his neck and taking a deep sniff.
“What’s wrong?”
Fu Sang raised an eyebrow and asked.
“It doesn’t smell good.” Qi Changying was concise.
The three words “doesn’t smell good” already seemed like a very restrained evaluation, because after returning from Chen Binglong’s side, Qi Changying uncharacteristically clung to Fu Sang and sniffed him for a long time without lifting his head.
After all, this ghost used to have some sense of boundaries, knowing that he didn’t like others sticking too close for too long, he would usually take the initiative to leave after one or two sniffs.
But Fu Sang didn’t cruelly push him away either. After all, he’d been overwhelmed by the smell of the task he had assigned him, so he generously and silently permitted such a small request as using him as an air freshener to cleanse his soul.
“How bad does it smell?” Fu Sang asked as they walked along the mountain path back to the village.
“…Very, very bad.”
“How many ‘verys’?”
“Five,” after a moment of thought, Qi Changying rejected his previous proposal and amended, “Ten.”
That was indeed very bad.
As we all know, the sense of smell cannot be shared; without experiencing it oneself, one cannot make an accurate judgement, and there will always be some deviation when hearing others describe it. So Fu Sang, having had nothing better to do before, set a standard with Qi Changying. For example, human scents were divided into good and bad, with the number of “verys” placed in front to indicate the degree, with ten at the maximum.
Among the samples that had appeared so far, Fu Sang was a ten of “very good-smelling.” Even Wei Luyuan, whom Qi Changying disliked the most, Even Wei Luyuan…was only a four on the “very bad-smelling” scale. Who knew there would be an even stronger contender later.
“You’re not being objective.” Fu Sang felt he was exaggerating, just like how he selfishly added ten “verys” to his own scent because he liked it.
“I am very objective.” Qi Changying, however, didn’t think his judging criteria were problematic.
“What specific smell is it?” Fu Sang didn’t argue with him further and instead asked.
“The smell of burning.” Qi Changying didn’t really want to recall that odor, but since Fu Sang had asked, he did his best to give an answer:
“And a very strong smell of copper rust.”
“Copper rust?”
“Yes.”
“The same as Huo Wei?” He remembered Qi Changying had used that phrase to describe Huo Wei before.
“It’s different.” Qi Changying was quite certain.
“Miss Huo’s scent doesn’t make one feel repulsed; it’s very faint. But this old uncle’s odor… is very unpleasant.”
“Old uncle?” Fu Sang let out a small chuckle.
Qi Changying was still too gentle. Fu Sang guessed that what he originally meant to say was probably “disgusting” or “nauseating.”
Back in the village, Fu Sang didn’t bother the fools playing role-playing games again.
He randomly picked a household in the village, knocked on the door, but no one answered. He kicked it, but it wouldn’t budge. Observing that the wall wasn’t very high, he simply climbed right over.
The door to the house in the yard wasn’t locked, and Fu Sang had a clear goal…he went straight to the main hall.
Sure enough, there was a statue of an ugly old man enshrined inside.
This time, he carefully examined the statue’s appearance.
It had a round face, and a round body too. It was not only an ugly old man, but a fat and ugly old man.
The sculpting techniques of the 1990s were limited, so such a thing could only give a general impression; the specific facial features weren’t clear, and the ink lines on the face blurred together in a mess.
“Does it look familiar?”
Fu Sang handed the statue to Qi Changying for him to see.
Qi Changying leaned in to observe and gave an objective evaluation.
“The features are unclear, but the figure strongly resembles the old uncle from before.”
“Unfortunately, thirty years ago, the old uncle wasn’t an old uncle yet.”
With that, Fu Sang casually stuffed the statue into his bag and turned to head for the bedroom.
Qi Changying watched his determined steps, thinking he’d found something else. However, upon entering, Fu Sang didn’t look anywhere except at the bed. He directly pulled back the covers and lay down, as skilled and at ease as if he’d walked into his own home.
“You’re going to sleep?” Qi Changying asked.
“What else? Lie here with my eyes closed, meditating, and sincerely pay homage to the Hubizi God?”
Fu Sang turned over, his back to Qi Changying, and scooted further in.
He really did need to sleep. After all, he’d spent the first half of the previous night going through the different modes of transportation, and the second half on the train, sitting on a hard seat listening to a carload of people snoring in a cacophony. Even if he could fall asleep, it wouldn’t be restful.
Since Chen Binglong said something dirty would come out at night, he definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep then, so catching up on sleep now was perfectly reasonable.
“Then sleep. If something happens, I’ll wake you.”
Qi Changying sat on a small stool by the bed, watching Fu Sang sleep at the very edge, almost pressed against the wall.
He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Fu Sang, can you move a little closer to me?”
“No.” Fu Sang refused without mercy.
Qi Changying pressed on: “The smells in this place are too mixed; they’ll dilute your scent.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“…” Qi Changying didn’t know what else to say. After a brief silence, he called his name.
“…Fu Sang.”
Seeing Fu Sang didn’t move, Qi Changying stared at his back for a while and then made a bold decision…
He got onto Fu Sang’s bed.
Fu Sang actually hadn’t fallen asleep; the silence and stillness were just because he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the ghost.
So, when the familiar chill behind him slowly crept closer, pretending to be undetected, he raised an eyebrow slightly:
“Who told you to get up here?”
“Sorry.”
He said sorry with his mouth, but his actions were anything but apologetic.
Qi Changying lay down properly beside Fu Sang, leaving the space of half a person between them.
“?” Fu Sang turned over to face him again, opening his eyes slightly to look at his profile in the dim room.
“Have I been a bit too lenient with you?”
Having stayed by Fu Sang’s side for so long, Qi Changying had already figured out the rules of interacting with him.
For instance, as long as there was no firm refusal or vicious insult, that was tacit permission, meaning it was acceptable.
So Qi Changying smiled, accepted it graciously, and politely said, “Thank you.”
“…” Fu Sang really had nothing to say to this cotton ball.
He frowned and closed his eyes again.
Actually, Fu Sang used to be very particular about his bed; in a new place, he’d usually toss and turn for half the night unable to sleep.
But at some point, this bad habit had quietly disappeared, allowing him to sleep soundly anywhere.
Whether in a top-tier hotel in Shanghai with an L-shaped floor-to-ceiling window, in a noisy, crowded train carriage, or in some unknown person’s home in this eerie little village.
This time, he sank into unconsciousness quickly, but he probably didn’t sleep very deeply, because he had a dream.
A very vivid dream.
In the dream, towering flames roared. Although it was night, the scene before his eyes was lit up as brightly as sunrise by the firelight.
The smell of smoke and burning was pungent, and the scorching heat slapped his face. Someone was running through the fire, their breathing heavy.
The person turned through the village’s winding paths, as if searching for someone. The wetness trailing down their cheeks was impossible to tell if it was sweat or tears.
“Save…”
“Save… save…”
They tried to finish the sentence several times but couldn’t. The dreamer’s foot caught on something, and with a cry of pain, they fell hard to the ground.
When they looked up again, the scene before them had already changed into something else…
The narrow, cramped path before their eyes had vanished, replaced by an open plain.
Like a battlefield that had recently witnessed slaughter and deadly combat. Flames licked at the grass, spreading onto the swords and spears stuck diagonally in the ground, even the corpses burning together.
“Qi…”
As if struggling to get up and continue somewhere, Fu Sang saw another person in the dream when they lifted their head.
The person limped toward him through the fiery plain, but the firelight was too fierce, leaving only a blurry silhouette in his eyes.
“…Qi… Changying…”
“Qi Changying…!”
A cool sensation touched his cheek, and Fu Sang’s eyes snapped open.
It was dark. Only the exceptionally bright moonlight streamed through the dust-laden glass window, illuminating his vision.
Qi Changying was half-supporting himself beside him, one hand on his cheek, his long hair sliding off his shoulder and falling onto him.
He was frowning slightly, a hint of worry spreading across his features.
Very gently, Fu Sang felt Qi Changying seemingly unconsciously rubbing his thumb against his cheek.
He was held in the gaze of those gray-white eyes, and then heard the familiar voice ring out in the silent night.
It was Qi Changying telling him, “I’m here.”
