Chapter 61: The Eleventh Paper Figure

The rain grew denser.

Some fell upon the joys of this world, while others fell upon its sorrows.

Liu Jianguo sat on a chair. Seeing me drive up, he said, “It took a long time, but it’s finally done. Hope I didn’t delay your plans!”

I muttered, “Normally, this takes just a few days, but you dragged it out for nearly a month. Of course it delayed things! You’d better knock off some of the price.”

Liu Jianguo paused, then asked, “Was what I saw last time correct?” I sighed. “You really are a hidden master in this bustling world. Indeed, something unpleasant happened to a friend of mine.”

Liu Jianguo handed me the finished paper villa. Inside, I could see meticulously crafted paper furniture—sofas, a television, a toilet, and everything else one might need. There were also ten paper dolls modeled after Russian women, arranged in a uniform row. From a distance, they looked eerily lifelike.

On the wall hung another paper doll, its face painted with rouge, giving it an unsettling appearance.

Liu Jianguo said, “Since I delayed you, take the doll on the wall as well. Bring it to burn. It’s been hanging there too long—burning it feels like its proper end. Leaving it up there forever isn’t right.” I didn’t think much of it. Seeing there was still space in the car, I nodded and agreed.

After paying Liu Jianguo, he said, “Now that you’re here, have a smoke before you go.”

He lit a Huanghelou cigarette for me. I took a couple of puffs and asked if he had any Baisha cigarettes—those had more kick.

Liu Jianguo chuckled, “Of course,” and pulled out a pack of Baisha from a drawer, handing me one. Watching me light it, he grinned. “You, my friend, have strange tastes. Fancy cigarettes don’t interest you, but this rough stuff does.”

I laughed. “Habit, I guess.” Liu Jianguo said, “Back when I was stationed at the southern border, we couldn’t smoke, so we’d chew tobacco leaves to keep alert.”

I asked, “Why couldn’t you light one?” Liu Jianguo lit a cigarette for himself. “The enemy was right across from us. A single spark would draw poisoned darts or a sniper’s bullet. Besides, it rained constantly—lighting a cigarette was impossible.”

I gave him a thumbs-up. “I heard most of your batch struggled after discharge, living in poverty. Was it too lonely?”

Liu Jianguo’s cigarette glowed faintly as the rain pattered outside, as if transporting him back to that silent dusk after a downpour, when his squad hid in the tall grass, cut off from reinforcements, each man chewing tobacco leaves.

He took out five Baisha cigarettes, lit them all, and placed them on the table, watching the smoke rise.

Liu Jianguo murmured, “Lonely? I survived unharmed, not like the crippled ones. When it rains, I remember them.”

In his eyes, I saw a rare, bone-deep loneliness.

“Who are those five cigarettes for?”

Liu Jianguo said quietly, “The real tragedy is, I never found their bodies. I was the only one who made it back.”

I asked, “After the war ended, didn’t you go back to look?”

He shook his head sadly. “I searched many times, but never found them. I could never recall the name of that ravine. There’s an old saying—’fallen leaves return to their roots.’ But they’re still out there, far from home, probably tormented by foreign ghosts.”

I thought to myself that perhaps Liu Jianguo’s self-taught mastery of divination and feng shui was driven by his desperate need to recover his comrades’ remains.

That war was called the Southern Frontier Defense. I’d heard stories since childhood—how a neighboring country took our rice and then turned it into barricades to fight us.

I said, “I’ll be traveling to the Yunnan-Tibet border soon. If you have any contacts there, maybe I can help search for their remains.”

Liu Jianguo froze mid-drag. “You mean… you’d look for them? Can you really?”

I replied honestly, “My family has some knowledge of feng shui. It might help locate them.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Good, good. I’ll go with you. Just tell me when.”

Noticing the sudden intensity in Liu Jianguo’s expression, I added, “I might need to visit my hometown first. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

He nodded solemnly. “If this works out, you’ll be my savior.”

As I left, I called back, “You’ve always been *our* savior—this country’s savior.”

Driving the paper dolls and villa to a deserted warehouse in the outskirts, I lit them with a lighter, silently praying, *Ancestors, this is my humble offering. I hope you don’t mind the Russian women or the small villa.*

The last paper doll was covered in thick dust, though its rosy cheeks made it seem almost alive.

But no matter how beautiful, it was still just paper.

I tossed it into the flames and waited until everything had burned to ash, leaving no embers, before driving my battered car back to the flower shop.

Parking outside, before I could enter, Yu Yuwei stood waiting, whispering mysteriously, “Boss, there’s a woman inside asking for you. She’s talking to the madam—curvy, you know. Hope they don’t start fighting.”

I wondered who’d come looking for me. Judging by Yu Yuwei’s suggestive smirk, it couldn’t be good.

Entering the shop, I grabbed a towel to dry off. Inside sat a woman with her hair in an elegant updo, silent and composed.

I asked, “Were you looking for me?”

She wore light makeup and an old-fashioned pleated skirt, her figure voluptuous. Smiling, she said, “You told me to come.”

I blinked. “When did I say that? I’ve never seen you before.”

She giggled. “We just met, didn’t we?”

Worried Xie Lingyu might misunderstand, I said, “Don’t joke around. Aside from Liu Jianguo, the fortune-teller, I haven’t met anyone today. Well, eleven paper dolls don’t count as people—”

Mid-sentence, I froze, studying her face. Her delicate features were lovelier than any paper doll’s, more alluring than Xie Lingyu’s, her curves more pronounced.

I gasped. “You mean… you’re the eleventh… doll—” The last word stuck in my throat.

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s right. I came for you.”

I slumped into a chair. “Lady, don’t scare me like this. Aren’t you supposed to be… over there? Why come looking for me?”

Yu Yuwei asked, “You know her? Where’s she from?”

Xie Lingyu glanced between me and the stranger before telling Yu Yuwei, “Xiao Wei, business is slow tonight. You can head home early.”

Disappointed there wasn’t going to be a catfight, Yu Yuwei packed up and left, closing the door behind her.

The woman pouted. “What’s this? You brought me here and now you’re ignoring me?”

I shook my head. “Weren’t you with Liu Jianguo? Why follow me? Are you messing with me?”

Burning a paper doll only for it to trail me home—even I wouldn’t believe it.

And Xie Lingyu certainly wouldn’t.

She eyed me skeptically. “Xiao Qi, you’ve got some nerve, sneaking around behind my back.”

I wanted to bang my head against the wall.

He Xiaomiao meowed twice, eyeing the stranger before turning to me with a judgmental look. Xiao Jian, ever the follower, wagged his tail and stood beside the cat.

I asked, “Miss, who *are* you?”

She laughed. “Relax, I won’t bite. And little sister,” she said to Xie Lingyu, “don’t be upset. I’m here to ask for his help. There’s a strange seal on my back I can’t remove—nothing more. My name is Guo Yingying.”

Xie Lingyu frowned. “On your back? You’re a woman. How can a man help with that? Isn’t that… too convenient for him?”

Guo Yingying smirked. “And what are you to him?”

Xie Lingyu faltered. “We’re nothing. Xiao Qi, do what you want.”

Guo Yingying rolled up her right sleeve. “It’s on my hand, see?”

I examined her palm. The mark wasn’t stamped but formed by tiny punctures, like insect bites—a black circle the size of a bottle cap.

She watched me expectantly. “Can you remove it?”

I hesitated. “Was this done by bugs?”

Her eyelid twitched—a tell. “Yes.”

This was dangerous. Most feng shui masters avoided meddling with spirits or vengeful ghosts—it wasn’t their domain.

And whoever had cursed her would see me as a threat if I interfered. A seal made by insects? That was no amateur’s work. I didn’t need another powerful enemy.

Guo Yingying pressed, “Well? Can you or not?”

I sighed. “Tell me who did this, and I’ll see what I can do.”

She bit her lip. “You’re right. It was my brother. Any ideas?”

“I specialize in capturing or exorcising ghosts, not saving them. The best way to ease your pain is to move on.”

Her expression darkened. “I thought you were a skilled master who could help. I have unfinished business—I can’t leave yet. Besides, if you had any sense, you’d see this seal traps me here. I can’t pass on. Understand?”

“Why would your brother do this?”

“Family shame stays in the family. No one will know you helped me. And if you do, there’s something in it for you.”

Xie Lingyu coughed loudly. “Don’t try seducing him. He’s weak to that.”

I guessed, “If I’m not mistaken, you’re from the Guo family—the insect masters of Hedong?”

She smiled. “Impressive. How’d you know?”

“A Japanese onmyoji once mistook me for a Guo. Using bugs to seal spirits, plus your surname—it wasn’t hard. But I don’t want any dealings with you.”

Guo Yingying tilted her head. “Then what do you want?”