Chapter 209: Fighting

Yi Miao was a bit unhappy and walked over to ask, “What are you guys talking about?” Lian Xiaoyao blushed and said, “I won’t tell you.”

I quickly comforted Yi Miao, “Don’t worry, take it slow.”

Yi Miao looked at me suspiciously, “Are you trying to mess with me again?” I immediately shook my head, “You’re such a dazzling man, standing out in a crowd at first glance. How could I mess with you? Even if I wanted to, would you fall for it? Your IQ is higher than Einstein’s, right?”

Yi Miao nodded thoughtfully, “How did you know my IQ is higher than Einstein’s? Only my elementary school teacher knew that.” I was speechless.

After a while, I told Yi Miao and Lian Xiaoyao, “Come back with me for a bit. I have something to tell you.” They both agreed.

Ma Ruoxing didn’t sleep well all night—after all, a woman’s tongue had been in his mouth, and his heart was heavy with guilt, feeling he had wronged Song Shijiu’s wife.

Ah, where else could you find a man like him?

Gu Dun prepared two coffins and carefully gathered the bones of his grandparents. Their bones had been exposed to the cold wind for half the night, and the lingering corpse energy had long dissipated. Holding the light bones, he meticulously arranged them. I chose a new gravesite near the “Moonlight Breaking Through Clouds” formation and buried them at noon.

The original tombstone was moved and re-erected. After working all morning, by the afternoon, Su Shi had regained consciousness, murmuring incoherently as if she had no memory of what had happened.

I had Gu Dun prepare clean water, vinegar, a rooster, and a bowl filled with chicken blood. After some time, a worm crawled out of Su Shi’s mouth and fell into the bowl, wriggling a few times. Once the centipede was completely dead, I had Su Shi drink the mixture. After some purging, she was fine.

Seeing the centipede confirmed Yi Miao’s words—this was definitely Gu Rechang’s doing.

By the afternoon, Ma Ruoxing was still in a daze.

He hadn’t recovered yet. Meanwhile, Lian Xiaoyao found the ghost baby Bai Yueming adorable and fed him some rice paste. At first, Bai Yueming refused to eat, but after Lian Xiaoyao dangled him upside down by his feet, he didn’t dare cry and obediently ate.

That evening, Gu Dun prepared two tables of food, treating the relatives who had helped. They drank happily, saying they’d go to their son’s house in the town for New Year’s instead of staying in the mountains.

Su Shi smiled, and this time, her smile seemed normal.

The next day was already the 26th of the twelfth lunar month. Gu Dun and Su Shi had packed up and locked the snake house, waiting for their son to pick them up on his motorcycle.

Ma Ruoxing felt a little better, satisfied with the two “earth eggs” he had obtained. He said he’d go back first to hatch them.

I warned him, “Those earth eggs belong to Gu Rechang. That old Taoist is probably dead, but he has a disciple named Gu Xiulian—very cunning. You’d better be careful.”

Ma Ruoxing just chuckled blankly.

We set off from the ancient tree village, retracing our steps. Yi Miao and Lian Xiaoyao bickered the whole way. I carried Bai Yueming on my back, while Ma Ruoxing led the way.

I don’t know what drug Ma Ruoxing had taken, but he walked incredibly fast. What had taken a day to walk there only took half a day on the way back. Yi Miao and Lian Xiaoyao waited outside while I took Bai Yueming inside. Ma Ruoxing put down the bamboo tube, hid the “Green Beauty” in a secret spot, and buried the two earth eggs in the stove’s ashes.

“Let’s hatch them first and see what kind of little creatures they are!” Ma Ruoxing said.

Earth eggs, nurtured by natural essence, would produce spiritual beings. The creatures inside would belong to one of the five elements—metal, wood, water, fire, or earth—but since they hadn’t hatched yet, we couldn’t determine their nature. I asked a few more questions about the earth eggs.

Ma Ruoxing answered briefly. It turned out that when two earth eggs grew together, they were called “Yin-Yang Earth Eggs”—one yin, one yang. Just as he was explaining, we heard a shout from outside: “Brother Ma, are you home?”

Ma Ruoxing’s voice trembled. He hurried to a basin of water, washed his face, combed his hair, straightened his clothes, and called back, “I’m here. Wait a moment, I’ll come out.”

I laughed, “Is that Song Shijiu’s wife?”

Ma Ruoxing said, “We have a pure relationship. Don’t overthink it.” I followed him out and saw a tall woman, around fifty, holding a basket of fried pastries, two blocks of tofu, and two fish. She called out, “Brother Ma, I brought you some New Year’s food. Take care of yourself.”

Guilt weighed on Ma Ruoxing as he took the basket. “You really shouldn’t have. I know your life isn’t easy either.”

Song Shijiu’s wife smiled, “I’ll be going now. Take care.”

I had Yi Miao give Ma Ruoxing a stack of money we’d gotten from the toad spirit, then took Yi Miao and Lian Xiaoyao back to my place.

Just outside Songxi Village, we ran into Song Chuxi, drunk and swaggering. When he saw me, he shouted, “Master! Master! Your prediction was spot on! My son’s working at the city’s Women’s Federation now, and his female boss treats him real well. Though, last time I saw him, he’d lost a lot of weight.”

I chuckled awkwardly and exchanged a few pleasantries, thinking to myself that when Song Chuxi had wanted me to read fortunes for Song Badou, I hadn’t said a word. Song Chuxi staggered a few steps and then yelled, “Old Nineteen! Why aren’t you resting for New Year’s? Look at you—you won’t live long like this.”

I turned and saw Song Shijiu carrying a heavy load of freshly dug lotus roots, washed clean and still dripping water, rushing to sell them at the market. The load must have weighed over a hundred pounds, yet despite his thin frame, Song Shijiu moved with surprising energy.

I hailed a motorcycle taxi and took Yi Miao and Lian Xiaoyao back home. At the village store, Yi Miao had the driver stop and ran in to buy cigarettes and alcohol. Since he’d swindled 100,000 yuan from the toad spirit, I didn’t stop him.

When we got off, Yi Miao asked me, “You brought me here because of Lian Xiaoyao, didn’t you? What’s your scheme?”

I grinned, “I’m just not telling you. Not telling you.”

The motorcycle stopped at my doorstep, where I saw my neighbor storming out of my yard with a wooden stick. My mother shouted, “Don’t fight!” The neighbor saw me and urgently called out, “Xiao Qi, your dad got beaten up in town!”

My mother rushed out, “Xiao Qi, don’t go!” I stepped out of the bike, “Mom, these are my two friends. I’ll go see what’s going on.” My mother stomped her foot, “Be careful!” Yi Miao greeted her, “Auntie, I’m Yi Miao.” Lian Xiaoyao added, “Auntie, I’m Lian Xiaoyao, his girlfriend.”

I grabbed a long stick from the yard. Yi Miao said, “Auntie, I’ll go keep an eye on things. Don’t worry. Xiaoyao, take care of Auntie.” Lian Xiaoyao agreed and led my mother back inside.

I shouted, “Little Bastard, let’s go!”

Xie Xiaoyu was holding Little Bastard, who followed me. He Qingling paced on the roof like a cat.

Luckily, the motorcycle taxi was still there.

The neighbor handed Yi Miao a cigarette and lit it. I thanked the neighbor repeatedly—someone must have called my mother, who then sent him to bring my father back.

My father had always been mild-mannered. How could he have gotten into a fight?

I clenched my fists.

The neighbor warned, “There are a lot of them. Be careful not to get hurt. And your friend here shouldn’t charge in recklessly.”

In rural areas, fights during New Year’s were as common as passing gas. Plenty of young men, having made some money in the city, returned to the village acting high and mighty, disrespecting elders and cursing at will. The local police usually avoided intervening in brawls, only showing up afterward to make arrests. Just in case, I called Wu Zhen, the town’s police chief.

The motorcycle soon reached town, where half the street was crowded with onlookers. The neighbor pushed through with his stick, yelling, “Make way! Make way!” I followed.

At the center of the crowd, my father stood with a bleeding forehead, but his gaze was steady—no serious internal injuries. Nearby lay a large shattered jar, its camellia oil spilled across the ground.

A Cayenne SUV blocked the way.

Turns out, a few days after I left, my father had dried some tea seeds and taken them to the oil press in town, planning to sell the oil at the market for a few hundred yuan. At noon, after setting up his stall, a car sped through the market, knocking over his jar before he could move it.

Angry, my father confronted the driver. But several tattooed thugs with chains around their necks stepped out, saw the oil splattered on their car, and punched him.

The crowd blocked the car, prompting another man to step out—a crew-cut guy with a jade ring, wearing a black trench coat, laughing menacingly. “What do you people think you’re doing?” He walked up to my father. “My car got oil on it. Pay me 5,000 yuan.”

He then called over seven or eight more men.

Since my father had no brothers, the onlookers backed off.

I stepped forward and held my father. “Dad, it’s okay. I’m here.” My father panicked, “A-Qi, what are you doing here? Just give him the money. It’s better to avoid trouble.”

One of the thugs sneered, “Idiot. You got the money? Do you even know how much this car costs? Or how much the cleaning fee is?”

I kicked him to the ground. “Motherf*cker, tell me how much it is. Let someone who can actually talk step up.”

The crew-cut man kicked open the car door and got out.

I studied him and asked, “What’s your relation to Ma Yan?”