Chapter 17: A Wife from My Grandfather?

The voice sounded enchanting, not like the ghastly sound of a malevolent ghost being choked. My inner turmoil was understandable—men instinctively seek to maintain their dignity in front of women. If I acted like a fool in front of a female ghost, wouldn’t I just be a laughingstock for spirits?

I asked, “Do you know my grandfather?” As I spoke, I found it strange. If she really were a ghost, why didn’t I feel the slightest bit afraid? Instinctively, my body wasn’t frightened; I was only scared because she was a ghost.

She must be different from ordinary ghosts.

The voice replied, “Of course I know Long Youshui. When he brought me back, he boasted about his grandson being handsome, with a face like polished jade, exaggerating to the heavens. That’s why I came back with him.”

I said, “No way, he wasn’t exaggerating—he was telling the truth. I may not be exceptionally handsome, but at least I can rival Takeshi Kaneshiro.”

The voice laughed. “Pan Changjiang and Wang Baoqiang could probably fight you to a draw.”

I said, “Really… are you actually a ghost? You’re not, are you? Just a little girl hiding behind the door playing a joke on me. Come out and let me see you.” If she revealed a white, skeletal face, I was ready to use the jade ruler in my hand at any moment.

The voice said, “Then I’m really coming out. Here I come.”

And then, she really appeared. Her aura was pure, her entire body exuding a faint, ethereal presence. She wore an ancient-style cyan embroidered dress, simple yet elegant, radiating a delicate charm.

I pinched my face, thighs, chest, and butt hard with my right hand until it hurt all over, but she was still there before me. Yes, this was the first time I’d seen a ghost—not in a dream.

Three days after my grandfather’s video finished, a ghost really did come to see me.

Little Rascal wagged his tail and ran to her side, as if they’d met long ago.

I cursed inwardly—*traitor, abandoning me for beauty*.

I straightened my clothes and introduced myself. “My name is Xiao Qi. I’m twenty-four, male, Aries, and my profession is feng shui master.”

She giggled, her laughter shaking like blossoming branches. “My name is Xie Lingyu. I’m… how old am I? I forgot. You’re hilarious. What does Aries have to do with me? Since we’re acquainted now, you can go back to sleep. Did you really think I came back with your grandfather just because you’re handsome?”

*If you knew a female ghost was floating around where you slept, would you still be able to sleep? I’d bet four bucks you wouldn’t.* I wondered if she’d been in my room for a long time, watching me every day—especially at night. Did she peek at me while I slept? Did she lift my blanket?

Xie Lingyu took two steps forward, seemingly reading my thoughts. She placed one foot on the edge of my bed, her sleeves fluttering, and glared at me with wide eyes. I could sense a comforting aura from her. She raised her right index finger and tapped my forehead.

*Snap!*

“Don’t think just because you’re handsome I won’t dare touch you,” she said. “I don’t even want to mention how you leave the bathroom and toilet doors open. I’d never spy on you, let alone flip your blankets at night—just thinking about it disgusts me.”

I quickly begged for mercy. “Auntie, I was wrong. I promise I won’t let my thoughts run wild again.”

Suddenly, a black shadow leaped from the roof and landed by my bed—a pitch-black cat. It extended its claws, ready to swipe at me.

Not only was there a female ghost, but now a cat too.

My worldview completely shattered in three minutes. What kind of house had I been living in for days, completely unaware of what was happening? Little Rascal looked utterly dumbfounded, showing no surprise at all. It seemed Xie Lingyu had won his favor when she bandaged him—*traitor, abandoning me for beauty*.

The black cat’s claws moved lightning-fast. I dodged, but not fast enough—its claws left a cut on my face, drawing blood.

Little Rascal leaped onto the bed, barking wildly at the cat but not daring to approach. Xie Lingyu scolded, “Qing Ling, come back. He’s not a pervert.”

The black cat retreated with graceful steps, still threatening Little Rascal with its claws. Little Rascal whimpered and backed away fearfully.

I fumed. “Seriously? You’re this much of a coward? If you keep this up, I’ll stew you into dog meat hotpot.”

Little Rascal panted, drool dripping as he licked my hand, his eyes pleading as if to say, *Next time, I’ll do better.*

Xie Lingyu picked up the kitten, He Qingling, and walked out of the bedroom. Turning her head, she said, “I almost forgot. Your grandfather wanted me to tell you—you ate the treasures of the Five Insect Tribes: a golden thread, a green wood, a water jade, an earth silkworm, and a fire tiger. They might come after you. Oh, and that dish you ate was cooked by me. I put a lot of effort into making it taste like chicken. I remember you had three bowls of rice that day.”

I nearly spat blood. *The Five Insect Tribes’ treasures? They’ll skin me alive!*

Before I could respond, Xie Lingyu carried He Qingling upstairs. The black cat’s emerald-green eyes lingered on me—and then on Little Rascal. The dog rolled happily and burrowed under my blanket.

I kicked him off. “Tomorrow, I’m having Zhang the Brave neuter you.”

Lying in bed, my thoughts raced. I barely slept two hours before waking up. The next morning, I got up quietly, skipped washing my face or brushing my teeth, packed my things, and prepared to go home.

I tied a rope around the little black cat, wondering if I should say goodbye to Xie Lingyu. I hoped she’d take good care of my grandfather’s house, not scare people, and avoid running into any Taoist priests. *Maybe I’ll visit her again someday—though I probably won’t.*

Just then, soft pawsteps came from upstairs. The kitten, He Qingling, appeared before me. I hadn’t gotten a good look last night, but now I could see—its fur was pure black, its eyes transparent green, and its claws razor-sharp (as I’d already experienced). But the most striking feature was its eyes—bottomless. Legends from both East and West say you can reach hell through a cat’s eyes. I wonder if that’s true.

Xie Lingyu floated down in her cyan dress, her makeup simple and elegant. This centuries-old ghost looked quite lovely. She smiled and said, “I don’t have much to pack. I can leave anytime. Are we setting off now? How are we getting down the mountain?”

Confused, I asked, “Miss, *I’m* the one going down the mountain. *You’re* staying here.”

Xie Lingyu chuckled, then poked my forehead with her finger, sending me stumbling back two steps. “You brat. If your grandfather hadn’t said his grandson was good-looking, I wouldn’t have come back with him. Don’t you get it?”

I stammered, “Are you… my wife?”

She smirked. “That’s still under evaluation.”

Half an hour later, a Qianjiang motorcycle slowly descended the winding mountain road. I was the one driving, wearing a long robe, carefully steering to avoid plunging off the cliff.

I carried two bags—one with Little Rascal’s head poking out. Before leaving, Village Chief Bai had seen us off, offering the dog a drink. Now, on the mountain road, the wind sobered him up as he barked incessantly, perhaps mourning leaving his hometown.

The other bag held the kitten, He Qingling. Its green eyes watched the scenery flash by, quiet yet curious, filled with inexplicable joy. Both animals carried hope and the sorrow of departure.

Before leaving, Xie Lingyu had pointed to the jade ruler on my waist and said, “I can stay in here during the day.” So now, a beautiful ghost resided in the ruler at my waist.

The Qianjiang motorcycle I’d borrowed from the neighbor was in good condition, even modified with a speaker. With no one to talk to on the road—just a cat and a dog lost in their own emotions—I turned on the music.

The mountain road echoed with:

*”Betrayed my love, forced me to leave, now I know the truth and tears fall down…”*

A woman’s passionate singing roared through the mountains.

From the opposite direction, another motorcycle played:

*”If I have your body but not your heart, even the whole world won’t make me happy…”*

A green-haired guy on the bike gave me a thumbs-up, impressed by my taste—though confused by my ancient robes. I thought to myself, *How many people use “winning your heart” as an excuse to “win your body”?*

After descending the mountain, I hit the highway and soon entered the village. I turned off the music—screaming lyrics didn’t suit my image. Some villagers recognized me and pointed at my speeding figure, telling their grandkids, “See that? He wasted years in school. Finish high school, then go work in Guangdong—you’ll make twenty grand a year.”

When I got home, the courtyard gate was shut. My father sat inside, fuming, clutching an old Milo can repurposed as a teacup, filled mostly with tea leaves. The chair beneath him had seen decades of use. A wooden stick lay beside him—the same one that had beaten me in sixth grade for scoring 95 on a test.

Clearly, Dad was preparing to discipline me.

I entered, carrying a cat and a dog.

“Kneel,” he commanded.

Knowing he wouldn’t rage without reason, I dropped to my knees. Little Rascal and the kitten watched from the bags.

Dad raised the stick and rained blows on me. “You idiot! All those years of school wasted! Just like your damn grandfather… Long Youshui, you old bastard, why’d you drag my son into this line of work…?”

Mom stood by the kitchen door, weeping as if she’d failed Dad. After cursing for a while, Dad threw the stick down, smashed his Milo cup, shouted twice, then stormed inside to sulk.

Mom wiped my wounds with a damp cloth, then fed Little Rascal and the kitten. Smiling, she said, “Don’t blame your father. Yesterday, at Third Uncle’s family gathering, people said some things. He’s upset. He knew you were coming back today, so he waited in the yard since morning.”

I stood up abruptly. “What did they say? I’ll go argue with them!”

Mom grabbed me. “People can say what they want. You can’t shut them up. It’s fine, son. I don’t understand grand philosophies, but some things are worth doing. Everyone has a destiny, a path to follow.”

I nodded. “In a few days, I’ll find a stable job.”

Mom smiled. “No rush—you’re still young. Oh, the day before yesterday, during the heavy rain, a man in a straw raincoat and hat came looking for you. Said he was a friend—Chong Lao Wu. I told him you weren’t home and invited him in for shelter and a meal, but he said his luck was bad. He’s waiting for you in town.”

“If you’re back, go see him.”