Shen Yihu chuckled, “How can there be so many male and female corpses in the world? I said I’d go back and think about it, and give you an answer after I’ve considered it.” Shen Yihu replied, “Alright, let’s order first. Your sister-in-law will be here soon.”
I shuddered in fear, realizing that I couldn’t avoid meeting Shen Yihu’s formidable wife after all. It was both thrilling and terrifying.
I ordered a few vegetarian dishes. I really didn’t feel like eating meat—eating meat reminded me of Bai Xuan. Besides, how could I bear to order expensive or meat dishes after being scolded for half an hour over thirty bucks?
Shen Yihu glanced at the menu and said, “Order more, don’t worry about the price. Your sister-in-law will foot the bill.” I wondered if I’d misheard or if Shen Yihu was just putting on a humble act in front of me. I thought to myself, *If that’s what you’re saying, then I’ll order more. If we can’t finish it, I’ll take the leftovers home. Little Cat is waiting for me anyway.* So I boldly ordered a premium Jiangcheng fish. After all, it wasn’t me who’d get scolded for it.
By the time we’d ordered seven or eight dishes, I spotted a stunning young woman in high heels and a black suit striding toward us. Behind her, a bespectacled secretary in shorts, black stockings, and a white blouse trailed along, carrying a black bag.
The woman marched up energetically and sat straight beside Shen Yihu. “Have you ordered?” she asked. “Old Shen told me you saved his life. Today, we *have* to share a drink.”
For a moment, I couldn’t find the right words to describe Shen Yihu’s wife. She had the beauty of a femme fatale but the temper of a warlord. The secretary stood meekly by her boss’s side, nodding at every word.
Shen Yihu grinned. “This is my wife, Meng Xiaoyu. The one behind her is her secretary, Gao Mo. And this is Xiao Qi.”
Before Shen Yihu could finish, Meng Xiaoyu cut in, “Xiao Qi, right? What brings you to Jiangcheng? Got a girlfriend? How about Gao Mo? Why don’t you two get to know each other?”
Gao Mo muttered softly, “Boss Meng…” She was the delicate, obedient type, appearing fragile in front of her strong-willed boss, but I could tell she had an inner resilience.
Meng Xiaoyu laughed. “What’s there to be shy about? In this day and age, if you’re shy, you’ll never find a husband and end up a leftover woman. Gao Mo, didn’t you study psychology for your master’s and even dabbled in ancestral physiognomy? Why don’t you check if Xiao Qi is your future husband?”
I hadn’t expected Gao Mo to study physiognomy, and I felt a flicker of interest. At heart, she might be someone like me—gifted with unusual abilities. Much of physiognomy involves reading psychological shifts to improve accuracy. Gao Mo had pursued a master’s in psychology for this reason—impressive. Of course, some people can control their facial expressions so well that their emotions remain hidden. In modern society, some bosses keep a few experts in esoteric arts around for reference during negotiations or investments. But truly skilled individuals are rare.
Gao Mo adjusted her glasses and said softly, “It’s hard to read myself accurately. But Boss Xiao has good facial features, though he recently lost a family member.”
I was surprised she got that right. Smiling, I said, “I’m here to look for work. The food’s arrived—let’s eat first. Gao Mo, join us. You’ve worked all day anyway.”
Shen Yihu chimed in, “Gao Mo, stop analyzing. He’s an expert too. Let’s focus on eating.” He seemed to think there was some taboo and played the mediator.
After the meal, I fed Little Rascal some leftovers. It wouldn’t have been polite to bring my dog to dinner the first time, but I’d only expected Shen Yihu to be there. Who knew so many others would show up? Poor Little Rascal spent the whole evening eyeing Gao Mo and Meng Xiaoyu nervously.
Outside the Grand China restaurant, Shen Yihu handed me an envelope. “Go over Yang Pao’s documents when you get back. If you’re interested, give me a call.” Then he, Meng Xiaoyu, and Gao Mo got into a BMW and drove off.
I climbed into my Wuling minivan and trundled home, with a takeaway box of braised Jiangcheng fish on the passenger seat.
Back home, Xie Lingyu had already tidied the place spotlessly. I pulled out Yang Pao’s documents, and Xie Lingyu took a glance, gasping, “Yang Pao! His photo and records are bizarre. Look at his eyes—they’re full of malice.”
The documents showed that several meticulously planned arrests had failed—Yang Pao vanished without a trace every time. It was downright eerie.
I said gravely, “Miss Xie, as an old ghost, you’ve seen it all. You must be right.” Xie Lingyu raised her right hand and poked my forehead with her finger. I couldn’t dodge in time. She fumed, “What did you just say? Who’s an old ghost?”
The ancestor once said women were the most terrifying creatures in the world. So what about a female ghost? Wouldn’t she be even scarier?
I quickly backtracked, “Spit, spit—my bad, I misspoke… But Shen Yihu said there’s fifty grand in it…”
Xie Lingyu was visibly annoyed. “Is fifty grand more important than your life?” Little Rascal barked twice beside me, as if protesting, *My boss is human, not a dog.*
I hastily agreed, “Life is more important.” Xie Lingyu said, “Just because you lucked out catching a water monkey and a low-level female corpse, you think you’re invincible? Starting tomorrow, I’ll buy you books to study. Without a solid foundation, you’re as good as dead. Do you even know how to write ‘dead’?”
I nodded. “I know. One horizontal stroke, one downward stroke…”
Xie Lingyu glared. “Soon, Insect Old Five will come knocking. And someone else will too.”
I stopped joking. “You mean the owner of the bloody handprint?” She nodded. After a moment of silence, I said, “Then give me the reading list.”
Xie Lingyu replied, “The basics—Chinese zodiac, yin-yang and the five elements, the four directions and time—you need to study them all. And you must seriously read the *I Ching*. Only with a solid foundation can you truly grasp the *Compendium*. Don’t think just because you graduated with a philosophy degree, you’re anywhere near ready. Also, if possible, you should exercise daily and learn some combat techniques. A stronger body means you won’t be at a disadvantage in a fight.”
“Why?” I asked. Xie Lingyu scolded again, “You might have ways to subdue evil spirits, neutralize gu poison, fend off curse masters, outwit insect shamans, and counter formations. You trapped Bai Jingren with dried cow dung, but could you handle Shen Yihu if he turned evil? A single chokehold could kill you. If Insect Old Five ditches his bugs and comes at you with a knife, could you survive? What would you do against that driver you met today?”
Xie Lingyu’s motherly lecture left me feeling utterly inadequate. I hung my head and admitted, “I’ll work hard on the basics, train seriously, and improve my combat skills.”
Xie Lingyu sighed. “True adepts aren’t all about supernatural power. In the real world, who can kill with flying daggers? They might have some fighting skills, but against zombies, they rely on magical artifacts, talismans, and incantations. Very few possess such abilities. You won’t have access to genuine Taoist or Buddhist techniques, so you’ll have to settle for common martial arts.”
The Ghost School employs unorthodox methods, and Xie Lingyu wanted me to handle both spirits and people with real combat skills. I understood her good intentions.
Over the next few days, I replaced the sign at Bai Meng Flower Shop and restocked with fresh flowers. Xie Lingyu had me buy two desktop computers and a laptop.
While I handled the shop’s reopening, Xie Lingyu ordered every foundational book she could find. Most fell under Chinese philosophical and cultural studies: *I Ching*, *Tao Te Ching*, *Diamond Sutra*, *Analects*, and even the complete *Compendium of Esoteric Arts*.
Back in school, Professor Yao Baobao had said the *Compendium*’s compilation was a revival of Chinese scholarly traditions. “Esoteric arts” broadly referred to various systems in Chinese culture for divining the future and averting misfortune—astronomy, calendars, mathematics, astrology, liuren, taiyi, qimen, weather divination, scapulimancy, fate calculation, physiognomy, geomancy, charms, auspicious date selection, miscellaneous divination, longevity techniques, bedroom arts, and more. The set cost me forty grand, filling the living room to the brim—utterly terrifying.
The delivery guy first came on an electric bike, then switched to a minivan, and finally a medium-sized truck. As I signed for the last batch, he asked, bewildered, “Bro, you buying all these fortune-telling books to cultivate immortality?”
I grinned. “Heaven’s secrets can’t be revealed. I’ll call you when I succeed.”
He waved it off. “Just toss me a couple of immortality pills when the time comes.” With the books piled in the living room, Little Rascal and Little Cat played hide-and-seek among them daily. I was busy from dawn till dusk preparing the shop’s reopening—dealing with business licenses, health inspections, fire safety—until I was exhausted. Finally, I called Shen Yihu. He took half a day off to help me sort it out and asked again if I’d decided to go after Yang Pao.
I laughed. “Gotta prioritize staying alive.” Shen Yihu left me with, “I’ll wait. The more you learn, the more you’ll beg me to take you on jobs.” I replied, “Come by for the grand opening tomorrow.”
Brother Jun also helped a lot, asking curiously, “Didn’t your girlfriend come? Why haven’t I seen her?” I watered the roses and smiled. “Brother Jun, I do the heavy lifting. How could I let my girlfriend work?”
He gave me a thumbs-up. “Not bad.” I brushed it off. “Come on, don’t flatter me… By the way, Brother Jun, do you know where I can learn some self-defense and combat skills?”
Suddenly animated, he pulled up a chair and shouted, “Zongbao, Zongbao, bring tea! I need to talk with Boss Xiao.” Zhang Zongbao trudged out with tea, looking dejected. I sniffed—another batch of five-yuan-per-pound tea leaves.
I asked, “Is your disciple related to that Zhang Junbao who goes crazy three times a day?” Liu Jun paused. “Same surname, maybe? Unless they’re brothers.”
Zhang Junbao scowled. “Not funny.” Liu Jun chuckled. “Kid’s been fighting with his girlfriend, Xiaoxiao. Anyway, about combat—last century, Chinese martial arts dominated the world, followed by Japanese ninja assassination techniques and Muay Thai. These days, it’s Israeli Krav Maga and Brazilian jiu-jitsu.”
I asked why.
Liu Jun explained, “Chinese martial arts aren’t just the flashy routines you see on TV. The moves are lethal. Back then, Fang Shiyu was killed when Wumei Shi Tai attacked his weak spot—his anus—and yanked out his intestines. Many grandmasters were selective with disciples, so a lot of techniques died out. Japanese assassination arts and Muay Thai require training from childhood. Who’s willing to put their kids through that nowadays? That’s why they declined, making way for Krav Maga and jiu-jitsu.”
I grinned. “So, big bro, are you going to teach me a few moves? No point just talking—show me something.”
Brother Jun laughed heartily. “Let me smoke first and enjoy this.” He leisurely lit a Baisha cigarette.
Damn, another four-yuan Baisha. I watched. “Four-fifty now,” he corrected, taking a deep drag. Then he stood and walked to the garage entrance. “Come at me. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
Zhang Zongbao interjected, “My master served in the army for ten years, honing an iron body. This National Day, he plans to test himself against Shaolin’s Bronze Men Array.”
I scoffed. “Who’s scared?” I charged forward. Well, Zhang Junbao’s “brother” Zhang Zongbao was right. Brother Jun pinned me to the ground with one hand and one foot.
I yelled, “I yield! I’ll train with you!” Brother Jun released me, laughing, and went back to his cigarette. The ash was still intact—I saw it clearly.
Taking another deep drag, he asked, “When’s the opening tomorrow?” I dusted myself off. “Tomorrow at sunset.”
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