Chapter Thirty-Three: Scarlet Locust Blossoms

“A bunch of conmen—do you think it’s funny, pretending to dabble in the supernatural? If you can conjure a ghost for me to see with my own eyes, I’ll let you both go. Otherwise… hmph!” Up to this moment, this guy didn’t believe a word from Wei Qi.

Wei Qi reached into his pocket. I knew he was feeling for his soul urn, which contained two little spirits. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I reached out to stop him. “Uncle Qi, don’t!” No matter what, I couldn’t allow Wang Ying and the two little ghosts she raised to intervene. If they were exposed, maybe Zhang Qi would finally believe us, but the consequences would be endless.

“Director Zhang, how about this? Tonight, you stay in the village and see for yourself if the village chief’s wife is possessed. If everything in Weijia Caiyuan Village is peaceful tonight, you can do whatever you want with us—skin us alive or kill us, it’s your choice. How’s that?” Judging from what Yingzi said about the village chief’s wife, the vengeful spirit would almost certainly act tonight. No matter what, Wei Qi and I couldn’t leave.

Zhang Qi thought for a moment and actually agreed. “Fine. Tonight, I want to see what tricks you can possibly pull off.”

I could only shake my head with a wry smile, too weary to argue with him any further.

Perhaps because of the village chief’s wife’s situation, Zhang Qi and his officers didn’t return to the committee office. Instead, they parked their car right in front of my house. Wei Qi and I had no time to keep them company. We took ink brushes and talisman water and went door to door, painting protective symbols on every house. Maybe because all the livestock had died the night before, things went more smoothly this time. A few families were reluctant, but thinking of their innocent animals, they eventually let us do it.

Since the vengeful spirit was related to the village chief, it was unlikely to target his family. We didn’t paint any talismans on their door, nor could we. The chaos in their home was such that if Wei Qi and I had shown up with a basin of blood-red talisman water, they’d have thrown us out on the spot.

By the time we’d painted blood talismans on every door in the village, night had almost fully fallen. Finally, we could relax. We painted one on my own door too, not just to keep Wang Ying from leaving, but also to keep that vengeful ghost from coming in.

With everything in place, I returned home and told Wang Ying not to step outside. In the end, I locked the door from the outside and pasted a spirit talisman on it. I did all this to protect her; no matter what, I didn’t want her to be harmed. The ghost girl didn’t want me to paste the talisman, saying it would be easier to come and go freely. But I knew her concern was for me. Only after I assured her that I had the Dragon Abyss sword and was working with Wei Qi did she reluctantly let me go.

When I got back to the street, Zhang Qi and his men had rolled out a blanket in front of the police car, drinking beer and snacking. Wei Qi stepped forward, “Director Zhang, I hope you’ll drink less tonight. It’s going to be dangerous.”

Zhang Qi scoffed, wiping foam from his mouth. “The only reason I’m staying tonight is to watch you two put on your little ghost show.”

Wei Qi didn’t argue, and we returned to his home, where Yingzi had prepared dinner. Yingzi gazed at Wei Qi with deep emotion. “Brother Qi, I believe you. Everything you do must be right.”

Wei Qi smacked his lips, pulled a talisman out of his pocket, and pressed it into her hand. “Keep it in your pocket and go home right away. No matter what happens in the village tonight, don’t come out. You must promise me!”

Yingzi’s eyes suddenly reddened. She took the talisman, staring at Wei Qi. “Brother Qi, nothing must happen to you!”

Wei Qi smiled. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. It’s getting late; you should go back.”

Life is about attitude. Yingzi was good to Wei Qi. In terms of looks, she was his equal, but I knew Wei Qi didn’t care for her that way. What would become of them in the future would depend on fate.

Because of what was coming, Wei Qi broke his usual habit and didn’t drink that night. After a simple meal, we left his house and returned to Zhang Qi’s car. The officers were already half-drunk; Zhang Qi slept in the driver’s seat, while the others played cards outside, raising a ruckus without any concern for disturbing the villagers. But I didn’t mind the noise now—better some commotion than a deathly silence.

Wei Qi handed out talismans to the officers, but they just tossed them aside without a second glance. I picked them up, worried for their safety.

I wanted to go home with Wei Qi, but he refused. He said he couldn’t leave these idiots unsupervised, not after they’d been drinking. If the vengeful ghost appeared, they’d be in real danger. My respect for Wei Qi only grew; he was more selfless than Lei Feng himself.

While they played cards, Wei Qi and I walked the village, keeping vigilant. As he put it, the villagers had little experience with such things; we couldn’t afford to let our guard down. If even one villager fell victim to the ghost, it would be a tragedy. We had to keep everyone safe tonight.

Wei Qi carried his blood-soaked whip, and I gripped the three-foot Dragon Abyss sword. We walked from the east end of the village to the west. Reaching the chief’s house, we found it eerily quiet.

That surprised me—could Wei Qi have been wrong?

Wei Qi, peering through the crack in the door at the dim lights inside, grew solemn. “Da Chuan, the yin energy here is getting heavier. Be ready.”

I nodded, tightening my grip on the Dragon Abyss sword, and we continued our patrol.

Whoosh! As we turned a corner, a chill wind swept over our heads. Wei Qi hunched his shoulders and grabbed my arm. “After it!”

Damn! I hadn’t seen a thing—just a gust of wind. Chase what? To where?

Fortunately, Wei Qi was already running ahead, so I hurried after him. We soon reached the village entrance. It was pitch black, the darkness so deep you couldn’t see a thing.

“Something’s wrong. It’s not the chief’s brother—it’s another ghost.” Wei Qi frowned.

My heart sank. How many ghosts were there in Weijia Village? We hadn’t even dealt with the vengeful one, and now there was another. But all I saw was darkness—no sign of ghostly flames, nothing.

“What should we do?”

“Let’s go see. I’ve lived in Weijia Village for over twenty years and never encountered wandering spirits until now. What’s going on these days?” Wei Qi’s hand trembled as we moved forward.

Night shrouded the fields, and the wind rustled the tall corn and sorghum—an eerie sound. The summer crops were already taller than a person. I followed behind Wei Qi, always feeling as if countless eyes watched us from the fields. Luckily, Wei Qi was calm, and I held the Dragon Abyss sword; otherwise, I’d have been terrified.

Emerging from a patch of peanuts, we saw a mound of earth. Wei Qi shone his flashlight on it—a solitary grave. As a practitioner, I knew what that meant: someone who died young, though I couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman.

As Wei Qi’s flashlight swept over the scene, something astonishing came into view. Next to the grave stood a locust tree, not very tall, but covered in crimson blossoms—red as blood.

I was dumbfounded. As someone from the countryside, I knew locust flowers were white. Every May, the mountains would be perfumed with their scent. But here they were, blood-red and out of season—it was already late June; the latest locust blossoms would have withered a month ago. What was going on?

Staring at the blood-red flowers, I instinctively took a few steps back. “Uncle Qi, what does this mean?”

“I’ve always known there was a solitary grave here, but never imagined there’d be a ghost inside. Judging by the color of the flowers, it’s a female ghost who died young.” Wei Qi answered without really answering. Whether it was a man or woman buried there, it was certainly someone who died prematurely.

“What do we do?” It all felt like a dream. I’d worked in this field for years but had never seen a ghost before. What was happening? Was the world changing?

“Let’s take a closer look. Blossoms out of season, and red as blood—there must be a reason.” With a wave, Wei Qi led the way toward the grave.

The mound was small, half a man’s height, with a red paper pressed atop it. It was a local custom: a “joy grave,” marked to celebrate happy events like a marriage or a child getting into university. The red paper notified the ancestor’s spirit beneath the earth. But as practitioners, we avoided placing such marks on graves of those who died young, fearing it would disturb them.

Looking at the red paper, Wei Qi shook his head. I understood immediately—marking the grave of one who died young was taboo.

“What now?” I whispered to Wei Qi.

“We’ll deal with it tomorrow. Looks like there’s another ghost marriage to arrange. But no one in this village believes me—they all think I’m faking it.” Wei Qi sounded helpless. He was right; I saw it clearly.

We were about to head back when a gunshot rang out from the village, sharp and clear, shattering the night. Wei Qi and I froze. Half a second later, he jabbed my arm. “Something’s wrong—back to the village, now!”