Chapter Thirty-Six: Who Is Your Father?

I shook her gently, and her body followed the motion, lifeless and limp, with no sign of vitality at all. Even though she was a fusion of ghost and corpse, her soul controlled the body, and apart from the lack of warmth, she was nearly indistinguishable from a living person. How could she suddenly be so still? Could it be…? I was too terrified to finish the thought.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” I shook her again, and her body rolled over. Her back was wet, stained with blood—the mark I’d applied last night. Through the bloodstain, her wound was faintly visible, unchanged from before. A wave of desolation swept through me. Her injury hadn’t healed after a whole night; it seemed she was truly beyond saving.

Without even bothering to put on shoes, I stumbled out and ran to Wei Qi’s door, banging and shouting desperately, “Uncle Qi, Uncle Qi, open the door!” My own voice trembled with tears.

Wei Qi opened the door, bare-chested, staring at me in surprise. “Da Chuan, what’s happened?”

I quickly recounted Wang Ying’s situation. Wei Qi hurriedly dressed and followed me home. When we entered the room, we found Wang Ying had fallen off the bed onto the floor. I rushed to her side, and she suddenly grabbed my hand, pulling herself tightly into my embrace.

“Wife, you’re awake?” Seeing her move, my heart soared with relief. Thank goodness she had come to; I’d feared she might simply vanish.

“Husband, there’s something I need to tell you.” Wang Ying held my hand tightly, her grip unnaturally stiff.

“Go ahead, darling.” I gripped her hand just as firmly, afraid she might slip away at any moment.

“Husband, I don’t think I’ll last much longer. Last night, I thought I could hold on, but now I feel there’s little hope. You must take good care of yourself. Now you can marry a real woman. I never dared hope for much. After all, you’re human, I’m a ghost.” Her words were soft, lingering with sorrow. Hearing them made my heart ache.

“Don’t say that, darling. You’ll be fine.” I didn’t know what to do, my mind a muddled blank, a bitter confusion gnawing at me, as if a handful of grass had been stuffed into my chest. All I could do was hold her tightly in my arms.

Wang Ying gave a bitter smile and turned to Wei Qi. “Uncle Qi, because of Da Chuan I call you Uncle too, though you’re not so old. Da Chuan is rather clumsy; please look after him for me. If you know any good girls, help him find one.” As she spoke, her eyes reddened.

I hugged her tightly, wanting to hear her speak but dreading these words—a painful contradiction.

“Sister-in-law, don’t be afraid. You’ll be all right.” Wei Qi smiled at Wang Ying, then patted my shoulder, signaling me to step outside.

I gently laid Wang Ying back on the bed and kissed her hand before leaving.

Wei Qi’s brow furrowed as he pulled me over to the wall. “Da Chuan, what are you planning to do?”

How could I know what to do? All I knew was that I didn’t want to lose her.

“Da Chuan, Wang Ying’s yin energy is very weak now. If she stays like this, she won’t last past noon. What are your thoughts? If you let her go, you can live a normal life again. After all, she’s a ghost and you’re a man. If we do nothing, her soul will soon fade away, and you’ll be free.” Wei Qi’s words were harsh but honest. Just days ago, I’d wondered how to rid myself of this ghostly woman, but now, I could never do it.

“Uncle Qi, don’t say that. You know I can’t leave Wang Ying. If you have any way to save her, please help me. I beg you.” I interrupted him.

Wei Qi smacked his lips and nodded. “Da Chuan, you’re a real man. I’ll help you. We’ll go find my master together.” His eyes were full of encouragement and approval. Despite his earlier words, he truly wanted to save Wang Ying.

“Thank you, Uncle Qi.”

“No need for thanks between us. Go back inside. First, seal Wang Ying’s soul so she doesn’t move. We’ll think of a solution when we find my master.” Wei Qi put his arm around my shoulder as we returned to the room.

Inside, Wang Ying lay utterly still, indistinguishable from a corpse. Wei Qi pulled a pill from his pocket and handed it to me. “Put this in her mouth.”

It was a blue pellet, smooth as jade, clearly no ordinary item. I gently pried open the mouth of Wang Ying’s possessed body and slipped the pill inside.

“All right, now find a quiet spot to lay her down. With the Yin Stabilizing Pill protecting her, her body won’t decay and her soul won’t disperse for three days.” Wei Qi instructed. I was like an ant on a hot stove, doing whatever he said.

After placing the pill in Wang Ying’s mouth, Wei Qi brought sulfur and incense from his home, drawing a circle around her resting place to ward off insects and vermin. Clearly, Wei Qi was thoughtful and attentive; when Wang Ying recovered, I must thank him properly.

We locked the bedroom, then the main door, and I placed five or six spirit talismans everywhere—even on the windows. Not only did I want to keep away rats and snakes, but also ensure no malicious spirits could approach.

Once everything was arranged, Wei Qi and I drove out. At the village entrance, beneath the old locust tree, we ran into the village chief, who stopped Wei Qi’s “Happy Prince” car. This old fellow was always meddling. This time, I couldn’t tolerate it anymore; I shot him a glare and opened the car door. “What do you want?”

The village chief was startled, his face flushed. “Where are you two headed? I just wanted to say sorry for yesterday—I misunderstood you both. Also, thanks for last night. If not for you two, my wife wouldn’t have made it.”

His words reminded me of his wife, so I asked after her. The chief said she’d pulled through—three broken ribs and a fractured arm, but her life was saved.

No matter what, she survived. As we were in a hurry, we didn’t chat long. The chief mentioned Zhang Qi had called and wanted to invite us for drinks sometime.

I had no interest in that now. Zhang Qi was never my kind of person; if I never saw him again, it wouldn’t matter.

Wei Qi drove west for about half an hour, stopping at a market in a village. It was a bustling fair, crowded with people—men, women, old and young, even sellers of chickens, ducks, cattle, and sheep. I was puzzled—could Wei Qi’s master really be here? It seemed unlikely.

I imagined his master would have the air of a sage.

But perhaps that’s not so strange. Isn’t it said, “The greatest hermits hide in cities, lesser ones in forests”? With Wei Qi’s abilities, his master must be half-immortal.

We parked by the roadside and walked through the crowd to a shop with a golden sign reading “Xuan Yi Gate.” I didn’t know what it meant, but it felt impressive. Surely, Wei Qi’s master was formidable.

Inside, several elders sat sipping tea, all with a hint of sage-like demeanor. When we entered, one elder nodded at us, “Nephew Qi, you’re here.”

“Master Gu, is my teacher not here for tea?” Wei Qi replied with a smile.

I’d thought this Taoist was Wei Qi’s master, but apparently not.

“It’s market day, your master’s busy making money—he won’t be here for tea. He should be in the poplar grove.” Master Gu gestured toward a sofa, inviting us to sit and chat.

We had no mood for tea or conversation, so we exchanged greetings and headed west toward the poplar grove. The grove was part of the market, filled with livestock vendors. At the edge were fortune-tellers, each set up with their trappings of divination—Yi Jing hexagrams and the like, all quite professional. I wondered what Wei Qi’s master was doing here, when he pulled me forward. “My master’s over there.”

Following his gesture, I saw beneath a tree a thin, elderly man of about sixty, wearing glasses and holding a woman’s hand, examining it. Seeing him, my heart sank—he looked just like a street fortune-teller! What skill could he possibly have? He even seemed a bit sleazy, clutching the woman’s hand so greedily.

But then, I remembered how my initial impression of Wei Qi had been wrong—I’d thought he was a chicken thief, only to realize later he needed the blood for talismans. Wei Qi was capable, compassionate, and responsible.

Wei Qi’s master was busy solving a client’s troubles, so we waited nearby. My mind drifted home, anxious about Wang Ying’s condition.

Soon, the woman left, and Wei Qi and I knelt before his master.

“Xiao Qi, have you brought me another client?” his master asked with a grin.

“Da Chuan, this is my master, known in the world as Duan Three-Blades, the Scourge of Ghosts. Beg him to save your ghost bride,” Wei Qi said, addressing me.

Duan Three-Blades picked up his pipe and knocked it against Wei Qi’s head. “You rascal, always bringing me trouble.”

I’d heard the name Duan Three-Blades before—not from my uncle, nor my mother, nor even my late grandparents, but from my wandering, absent father. He’d once told me that in Ju County lived Duan Three-Blades, a man who died for three years and returned to life. Supposedly, he’d visited the Ghost Town and met the Ghost King, so even lesser ghosts feared him.

I never expected to meet him here. For Wang Ying’s sake, and mine, I ignored the crowd and dropped to my knees. “Master Duan, please save my wife.”

Duan Three-Blades sighed and shook his head. “Get up—no need for kneeling these days. Give me your hand.” I quickly stood and offered both hands, feeling puzzled—wasn’t I here to save someone? Why was he reading my palm?

But since I was here, I did as he asked. Three days should be enough time. Duan Three-Blades stared at my palms for a while; the gentle smile on his face slowly faded.

“Young man, who is your father?” he asked, holding my hand and looking up.

I was stunned. What did saving Wang Ying have to do with my father?