Chapter 17: Has your eldest son turned into a ghost?

 

Unable to make sense of things, Madam Wei decided to stop overthinking. She gestured for Xu Shuyue to come over, and the two knelt before Qi Siming’s grave to burn paper offerings. The flames crackled, and the wind carried the ashes into the air, swirling like ghostly remnants. A mournful wail seemed to linger in the cold wind.

Xu Shuyue, who had no emotional attachment to Qi Siming—having never even seen him in person—remained silent. She knelt there solely to keep Madam Wei company.

Qi Ansheng stood behind them after pouring a cup of wine at the grave. His gaze rested on the carved words on the tombstone as he stood in quiet grief, an air of sorrow hanging over him and Madam Wei.

After Qi Siming’s seventh-day memorial, Qi Ansheng visited Eldest Brother Liang and Second Brother Liang to confirm if they had been the ones to light the incense at the grave. When they denied it, Qi Ansheng didn’t think much of it and moved on to the real purpose of his visit.

“Uncle Ansheng, are you serious? A bamboo cup for one wen, and you want a hundred of them?” Eldest Brother Liang exclaimed, practically leaping to his feet.

Qi Ansheng nodded. “Yes.”

Fengtong Village was close to a vast mountain range. At its base lay a bamboo grove that, over time, had become an unclaimed resource. The villagers could chop bamboo from it whenever they needed.

Xu Shuyue’s request required a large quantity of bamboo, more than Qi Ansheng could handle alone. Madam Wei didn’t want him overexerting himself, so they decided to hire Eldest Brother Liang and Second Brother Liang for the job. After all, it was better to keep the profit within the circle of trusted acquaintances.

Second Brother Liang, being the more steady-minded of the two brothers, asked, “Are there any specific requirements for the bamboo cups?”

This question was far more practical than Eldest Brother Liang’s excited reaction. Qi Ansheng waved his hand and explained, “As long as they hold water without leaking and the edges aren’t rough, they’ll do. These cups are for serving sweet drinks to customers.”

Second Brother Liang nodded thoughtfully. Since the cups would be used as tableware, the edges would need to be finely polished—nothing too difficult.

Satisfied, Second Brother Liang stepped back to let his older brother take the lead in talking to Qi Ansheng. Unlike Second Brother Liang, Eldest Brother Liang enjoyed banter, but he was at a loss for words with the equally quiet Qi Ansheng. If Madam Wei had come, they might have had a lively conversation, but now the two sat there awkwardly.

Qi Ansheng, feeling the same awkwardness, quickly explained the task and left.

After seeing Qi Ansheng off, Eldest Brother Liang smacked his thigh in sudden realization.

Second Brother Liang, who was looking for his axe, turned and shot him a puzzled look. “Brother, what’s wrong with you? Why are you hitting yourself?”

“Oh, I just remembered! I forgot to tell Uncle Ansheng about what happened at Li Tiezhu’s house. He’d probably get a kick out of it!” Eldest Brother Liang exclaimed, shaking his head in disappointment.

Both brothers had been puzzled by Li Tiezhu’s absence during the grave-digging task. Eldest Brother Liang had been ready to ask Qi Ansheng about it on the spot, but Second Brother Liang had stopped him.

Second Brother Liang had suspected there was more to the story. The Qi family was known for being fair, and Qi Siming had been close friends with them. It didn’t make sense to exclude Li Tiezhu from helping without a reason.

After the task was done, Second Brother Liang had asked around, and sure enough, the truth came out.

As it turned out, an uncle living next door to the Li family had been sweeping snow outside that day and overheard everything!

Upon hearing the village elder’s recounting of the events, Eldest Brother Liang immediately realized that Li Tiezhu had simply been lazy and didn’t want to help. He grumbled a few complaints, but Second Brother Liang shook his head firmly and advised, “From now on, don’t bother associating with Li Tiezhu. A brother who betrays trust isn’t worth keeping around.”

At the time, Eldest Brother Liang thought Second Brother Liang was being overly harsh. But later that same day, Li Tiezhu showed up at their house, his face bruised and swollen, begging them to take him to Qi Siming’s grave.

Eldest Brother Liang had been thoroughly disgusted.

As one of Qi Siming’s closest friends, Li Tiezhu’s claim of having a “weak soul” as an excuse for not helping with the grave was understandable—if lazy. But now, days later, hearing this sudden change in behavior, Second Brother Liang coldly remarked, “It’s not about his weak soul. He probably said something bad about Siming, got some bad luck, and now wants to apologize to the grave.”

Curious, Eldest Brother Liang asked, “What happened?”

“You remember what the village elder overheard, right? That night, Li Tiezhu’s entire family got food poisoning. His mother fell into the manure pit during the night while running to the toilet, and Li Tiezhu himself rolled off the bed in his sleep. He landed face down and twisted his ankle while trying to get up.”

Eldest Brother Liang felt a chill. “Both mother and son had accidents, but Li Tiezhu’s father—who didn’t badmouth Siming—was completely fine? No wonder Li Tiezhu wants to visit Siming’s grave to make amends.”

As he thought about it, Eldest Brother Liang smacked his thigh in realization. “Second Brother Liang, you don’t think it was Li Tiezhu who lit the incense at Siming’s grave, do you?”

Second Brother Liang froze, his face darkening at the thought. “If it was him, that’s… revolting.”

When Eldest Brother Liang and Second Brother Liang delivered the bamboo cups to the Qi family, they casually shared the story. Both Madam Wei and Qi Ansheng’s expressions changed dramatically.

Hearing the tale, Xu Shuyue suddenly remembered the shadowy figure she had seen lurking around their home that evening. Her voice carried a tinge of suspicion as she asked, “Father, Mother, could that ‘thief’ from the other night have been him?”

Eldest Brother Liang perked up. “What thief?”

Madam Wei, clearly irritated, explained, “On the day we came back from the market, someone snuck to our door. As soon as Shuyue shouted, the person ran off.”

“The day of the market?” Second Brother Liang furrowed his brows, then turned to his brother. “Eldest Brother Liang, when did Li Tiezhu come asking about Siming’s grave? Was it the tenth?”

Eldest Brother Liang’s eyes widened. “It was!”

The sequence of events became clear. Li Tiezhu had likely first gone to Eldest Brother Liang for the grave’s location. When that didn’t work, he must have sought out the village elder to ask. The incense and offerings at Siming’s grave had almost certainly been left by Li Tiezhu. His appearance at the Qi family’s door was likely another attempt to “make things right” by paying respects to Siming’s ancestral tablet.

Xu Shuyue shook her head in disbelief. “This man is really something else.”

Madam Wei’s face darkened with anger. Meanwhile, Eldest Brother Liang’s curiosity piqued. He couldn’t help but wonder if Xu Shuyue had seen Qi Siming’s ghost that night.

“Otherwise,” Eldest Brother Liang reasoned, “how could both Li Tiezhu and his mother have such awful luck right after he badmouthed Siming? It’s too much of a coincidence.”

After the brothers left, Madam Wei stared at Xu Shuyue with a mixture of concern and unease. “Could Siming’s soul really have returned?” she asked nervously.

Xu Shuyue chuckled, amused. “Mother, you believe that?”

“People say karma doesn’t lie! They spoke ill of Siming, and that very night, it came true. How can I not believe it?” Madam Madam Weivered at the thought.

Though Xu Shuyue had her own doubts about the supernatural, she had yet to encounter any ghostly phenomena herself. She shrugged and said, “Mother, think about it. The Li family isn’t exactly clean. Getting food poisoning is no surprise for them. And as for Li Tiezhu’s fall? He’s just unlucky. What does that have to do with my… uh, late husband?”

“Then why didn’t Li Tiezhu’s father fall ill?” Madam Wei pressed, still uneasy.

Xu Shuyue hesitated, then offered, “Maybe his father has better immunity?”

Still, it didn’t make much sense. Li Tiezhu was young and should have been more resilient than his elderly father. Xu Shuyue found herself at a loss for a better explanation.

Qi Ansheng, who had remained silent, finally spoke. “Let’s visit the Taoist temple and ask that Daoist priest. We can light an incense stick for Siming while we’re there.”

Though skeptical of the priest’s so-called abilities, Xu Shuyue decided to go along with it. Madam Wei sighed in resignation, agreeing that they might as well make the trip.

The temple wasn’t far, and the next day, the Qi family set off after breakfast. The path was too narrow for their ox cart, forcing them to climb the steep mountain trail on foot.

Xu Shuyue, already short of breath from the climb, silently swore to herself that she’d earn enough money to buy a carriage. She lifted her skirt to avoid tripping and trudged forward, panting heavily.

Meanwhile, inside the temple’s meditation room, Daoist Master Chuyun suddenly opened his eyes, a sharp light flashing within. His gaze turned toward the window, as if he were anticipating the arrival of a particular visitor.

Moments later, Daoist Master Chuyun’s previously sharp gaze softened. He gently nudged the young disciple napping at his feet, speaking softly but firmly, “Disciple, focus your mind!”

The voice rang out like a thunderclap, startling the boy awake as he jumped to his feet.

Seeing his master, the boy rubbed his eyes and muttered, “Master, could you lower your voice next time? If this keeps up, I’ll be deaf before long.”

Chuyun Daoist’s serene, sage-like demeanor disappeared instantly as he shot the boy a glare and gave him a swift kick. “You dare talk back? Get moving! Guests are on their way up the mountain. Prepare tea and be sure to treat them with respect!”

The young boy, still rubbing his sleepy eyes, saluted with a bow and shuffled out of the meditation hall. “Yes, Master. I understand.”

As he closed the door with a creak, Chuyun Daoist’s voice faintly carried through the wooden panels.

The boy furrowed his brows in confusion, mumbling, “The Patriarch’s golden statue can finally be restored? What kind of nonsense is Master rambling about?”

Their temple was notoriously impoverished, with the main hall barely holding together. Where would they get the money to restore the golden statue of the temple’s founder?

Shaking his head, the boy dismissed the thought and walked toward the outer courtyard.

The mountain path was desolate, with withered trees and frosty air clinging to the terrain. After climbing nearly a thousand stone steps, the group arrived at a dilapidated temple. The paint on its wooden doors was peeling, the walls were cracked, and even the roof’s decorative carvings had long since disappeared.

Xu Shuyue approached the weathered doors, her hand just inches from the bronze handles when the doors creaked open from within.

A young boy in a tattered Daoist robe stood there, looking more surprised to see them than they were to see him. Muttering something about his master being “right again,” he raised his head and greeted them with a polite bow. “Honored guests, please follow me. Master is already waiting for you in the main hall.”

Madam Wei and Qi Ansheng exchanged a glance, their surprise tinged with an odd sense of expectation.

“The Daoist already knew our situation last time,” Madam Wei whispered to her husband. “Him predicting our visit today shouldn’t be a surprise.”

Xu Shuyue, walking arm-in-arm with Madam Wei, seemed less certain. As she followed the boy, she surveyed the lifeless temple grounds. It was eerily quiet, as though the place hadn’t seen visitors in years. Only when they reached the main hall did she see the faint glow of incense smoke curling in the air.

Inside, seated cross-legged on a worn prayer mat, was the Daoist Master. His hair was tied in a simple topknot, and he didn’t bother turning around as he spoke. “Are you here again about the eldest son?”

Madam Wei immediately fell to her knees on a mat before him, her voice trembling with emotion. “Master, my husband and I followed all your instructions. But on the day of the wedding, we received news of my son’s death. And now… rumors say his spirit has turned vengeful, haunting our village. My son was a good man—he served in the army to protect our homeland. I fear his soul may be restless…”

Her words trailed off, tears brimming in her eyes.

Xu Shuyue knelt beside her, placing a comforting arm around Madam Wei’s shoulders. Her expression remained skeptical as she glanced at the Daoist, silently questioning his supposed abilities.

It was all so improbable to her—these so-called spiritual “powers” were nothing more than tricks or a form of psychological comfort for those desperate to find meaning. The Daoist, in her view, was little more than a therapist in robes, using flowery language and sleight of hand to soothe troubled minds.

As she pondered this, the Daoist suddenly let out a puzzled “hmm.” Turning toward them, he looked directly at Madam Wei and asked with genuine curiosity, “Did you say your eldest son turned into a ghost?”