Chapter 37: Taming the Little Rascal

In the middle of the living room, apart from a withered carnation, there was also a porcelain doll with a bizarre design. Upon closer inspection, its eyeballs seemed to be moving.

On the coffee table lay a group photo. In the picture, besides the man, there was a young mother holding a child about one year old. Unlike the little boy I had just seen, could I have entered the wrong room?

The security guard pointed at the man in the photo and said, “I think I’ve seen this guy. He’s shown up at the neighborhood entrance several times, sneaking around but refusing to come in.”

I asked, “Was he wearing a hat, usually coming around dusk, smoking a pack of cigarettes before leaving?” “Yes, yes,” the guard nodded repeatedly, looking at me as if I were some kind of prophet.

Of course, I didn’t tell the young guard that I almost mistook the man in the photo for Chong Lao Wu.

After searching the room for a while, we found nothing particularly strange, except for a cement-filled iron bucket in the bathroom. Nearby were several bags of cement, the floor already hardened, with a hammer and a few nails lying around—eerily similar to the ghostly painting I had seen earlier.

I reached out and touched the outside of the iron bucket. A chilling sensation shot straight to my bones, telling me instinctively that there was a corpse encased in the cement.

I told the property manager, “Call the police immediately. There’s something off about that cement block.” The manager hesitated, clearly aware that if a murder had indeed occurred, the neighborhood would never be peaceful again. Reluctant to involve the authorities, he even argued that entering a resident’s home was illegal to begin with. “Maybe they’re just into some weird art project in the bathroom. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions about murder just because we don’t understand it,” he said.

I snapped back, “Is this how your family does art?” In the end, it was the trembling security guard who dialed the emergency number.

Suddenly, a child leaped out from the porcelain doll—red eyes, long hair, and sharp teeth. The lights in the living room dimmed to a dark red. My heart sank. Today, I had truly encountered a little ghost, one that had likely been nurtured for many years.

The little boy exuded an eerie aura, his red eyes growing increasingly crimson until his entire body seemed to glow red. The malevolent energy was overwhelming, capable of taking a life in an instant.

I shouted at the property manager and the guard, “Run! Get out of here!” The three of us bolted, dropping the flashlight on the floor. One beam illuminated the boy’s face as a cold gust of wind swept through, making Xiao Jianjian shiver. Another beam landed on my face, and the boy seemed momentarily confused.

I gripped the jade ruler in my hand.

The jade ruler, passed down through generations of ghost hunters, was a treasure for subduing spirits. After two ghost-hunting experiences, its resonance with me had grown stronger.

Originally invented by Lu Ban for measuring the world, the ruler symbolized human wisdom—one of the things ghosts feared most. Some carpenters would carry a wooden ruler when traveling at night, ensuring no evil spirits dared approach during the darkest hours.

The little boy bared his teeth at me menacingly. Xiao Jianjian, holding two ghost-catching talismans in his mouth, stared at the boy in the darkness. We cornered him from both sides. Worried the ghost might lash out, I tried to calm him, “Has your mom come back? Let me take you to find her.” The boy let out a shrill, incomprehensible noise. My cultivation was far from sufficient to communicate with spirits, especially a mindless, artificially nurtured ghost like this.

With a *ptui*, the boy spat. I dodged just in time, and the saliva landed on the sofa, emitting black smoke. Two perfume bottles shattered, filling the room with an overpoweringly sweet fragrance.

Seizing the moment, I tucked the jade ruler into my belt, took a talisman from the dog’s mouth, and lunged at the boy. He struggled violently, but I managed to press the talisman onto his forehead. Afraid of dispersing his soul entirely, I held back my full strength, pinning him down with one knee while grabbing the porcelain doll from the table. I forced the boy back into the doll.

About twenty minutes later, police sirens wailed outside. Soon after, the lights in Room 3 flickered back on. The manager, who hadn’t witnessed the ghost, exaggerated my solo ghost-catching feat to the officers. “Thank heavens we ran into this master, or else evil spirits would’ve overrun the place!”

I chuckled, “Master? Hardly. I just heard hammering in Room 3 and went to check. Turned out to be a rat. Thought it was a ghost and freaked out—pretty embarrassing, really.”

Officer Du Xuan eyed me skeptically. “So you’re saying someone was hammering nails in Room 3?” I replied, “Don’t just ask me. Plenty of people heard it. And that cement block in the bathroom—you might want to check if it’s a murder scene.”

Du Xuan glanced at the porcelain doll in my hand. “What’s that?” “Just a toy for walking the dog,” I said.

The cement-filled bucket was eventually smashed open, revealing a stiff, gnarled hand. The porcelain doll grew restless. The property manager gave me a dubious look. “See? I told you it was art. The hand’s so lifelike—I saw similar sculptures at the Louvre last year…”

He reached out to touch the fingers, but Du Xuan grabbed his wrist. Du Xuan’s expression darkened as he called in the discovery, suspecting a brutal murder with attempts to conceal the body. Soon, a forensics team arrived and cordoned off Room 3.

Still unconvinced, Du Xuan pressed me further. Police work demanded hard evidence. “If someone was hammering nails, who was it?” Eager to leave and examine the doll—perhaps housing the victim’s vengeful spirit—I dodged his questions.

As I stepped out of Room 3, I ran into Chen Tutu. She glared icily. “Wherever you go, death follows. Are you some kind of Conan?”

I grinned. “Don’t say that. I’m just helping the police. If you must compare me to someone, make it Judge Bao. Hopefully, the killer’s still around for you to catch.” She scoffed, “How boring,” and marched into the room with her kit.

Back in my apartment, I placed the porcelain doll on the table. The talisman on it quivered, barely containing the spirit. I added another and set it down. Xiao Jianjian paced nervously, wagging his tail.

The ghostly painting on the staircase had vanished, leaving only a single nail.

I placed my hand on the doll, attempting to communicate with the boy inside. All I sensed was rage—no connection to his true self. After several failed attempts, I gave up, fearing I might not be able to reseal him if released.

Later, a policeman knocked, asking if I knew anything about Room 3’s residents. “I’ve only been here a few days. No idea.” He asked a few vague questions and left, promising to follow up if needed.

Xie Lingyu returned around midnight. I showed her the doll. “The boy’s willpower is strong, but nowhere near Bai Yu’s. Didn’t take much to catch him.”

She said, “Remove the talisman. I spoke to him earlier. He was raised as a kumanthong since childhood, growing to about seven or eight. Later, his mom went mad and tried to abandon him. His dad refused and killed her.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Raising a ghost is dangerous. Keeping a dead child’s spirit in this world defies nature. The mom probably wanted him to move on, but her husband couldn’t let go—and killed her for it.”

I peeled off the talisman. Xie Lingyu took the doll and retreated to her room, shutting the door behind her. Remembering Bai Yu’s ghost tears, I knocked. “Do you still need the seven ghost-tear beads?”

She cracked the door open, gasping. “Ghost tears? Rare spiritual artifacts. Give them to me—I can use them. And don’t peek inside.” My face flushed. “Not my style.” Spying on a female ghost bathing or changing? Not my thing. Though that attractive young woman upstairs had caught my eye a few times…

As the door closed, I glimpsed a faint blue glow inside. Was it flame? Or ghost fire?

The next morning, after a shower, I knocked on Xie Lingyu’s still-closed door. “Want breakfast?” She snapped, “I’m a ghost. I don’t eat. Don’t bother me in the morning.”

Rebuffed, I took Xiao Jianjian downstairs. Outside the complex, two guards called out, “Master! Walking the dog?”

I nodded. “Keep it quiet. Stay low-key.” They grinned. “Got it. Master does good deeds anonymously—a true hero. After removing that cement block last night, the whole neighborhood feels brighter. Hey, Master, can you tell me when I’ll win the lottery?”

“Master, when will my love life bloom?”

Mid-conversation, they straightened up as a slender young woman drove past. Her reflection in the mirror revealed a haughty, high-maintenance beauty.

“Good morning, resident!” the guards chirped.

The two mutts forgot all about me at the sight of her. Annoyed, I left the complex and stopped at a noodle shop, “Red Red Hot Dry Noodles.”

The owner, a woman, deftly prepared the noodles, calling out, “Seats inside!” I ordered noodles and soy milk, plus two eggs for Xiao Jianjian, who wagged excitedly.

Officer Du Xuan was wiping tables. Spotting me, he blinked. “You eat here too?” I smiled. “Everyone eats noodles. Aren’t you a cop? Moonlighting?”

He laughed. “Not moonlighting. The owner’s my wife. I help out when I can—worked night shift, off today.” I knew neighborhood cops earned little. Every bit helped.

His wife, Lei Honghong, shouted, “Old Du, if he’s a friend, give him extra tofu!” Du Xuan obliged but couldn’t resist asking, “How’d you know about Room 3?”

I deadpanned, “When I was born, the Earth God touched my head in a dream. Since then, I hear strange things. Once, at a temple, Laozi smiled at me.” Du Xuan sighed. “Fine, I’ll stop before you drag out the Jade Emperor.”

Stirring my noodles, I asked, “Case solved?” “In hours. The couple lost their son in a crash years ago. The wife got sick, and the husband snapped, killed her. Confessed this morning. Oddly, perfume shops kept reporting thefts—all the bottles ended up in Room 3.” I nodded. “Weird.”

Those perfumes were likely gifts from the boy to his mom.

Lei Honghong muttered, “Blame the one-child policy. Losing an only child destroys couples. More kids, fewer tragedies.”

After eating, I paid and left. Lei Honghong asked Du Xuan, “Why so uneasy?” He whispered, “That guy… uncanny. Walks a black dog—probably some urban hermit master. He’s the one who found the body… been here less than a month.”

She roared, “Master? Bullshit! Get back to work, or I’ll beat you!” Du Xuan winced. “Wife, respect. I’m still a cop.”

Back home, Xiao Jianjian happily shared an egg with He Xiaomao. I picked up my book on the Plum Blossom Numerology.

Its inventor, Shao Yong, also wrote *The Supreme Principles Governing the World*—a lofty title. It used the Eight Trigrams to predict the future, claiming readers could see beyond time. But the methods seemed lost over the years, leaving only fragments.

Mid-read, my phone rang. Gao Mo’s voice: “Free tonight? Dinner. Got a surprise for you.”