Chapter 153: The Snowman’s Head

Here’s the translation of the provided Chinese text into English:

—

**Master Longbrow** shouted, “Where were you last night?”

The old monk in charge of the kitchen, being senior in rank, didn’t give Master Longbrow the slightest regard. “I went out for some plain wine. What’s it to you? Are you going to police me?”

With a flick of his sleeve, Longbrow commanded, “Seal off this area and wait for the police.”

**Yun Chaohai** had just been about to sleep when he was dragged out again. Yesterday, there had been a severed hand with no leads, and today, a charred corpse so unrecognizable even its own mother wouldn’t know it. What the hell was going on?

Just like yesterday’s investigation, there was no clue as to who had set the fire or how the corpse had appeared. The mummified remains were taken away and sent overnight to **Fufeng County** for further analysis.

Yun Chaohai said to me, frustrated, “Just as I feared—another death, and by fire this time. Are we dealing with ghosts? Do ghosts really exist to kill and burn?”

I shook my head. “There aren’t that many ghosts in the world. Let’s identify the body before jumping to conclusions. Making assumptions too early will cloud our judgment.”

**Master Yuantong**, hearing the commotion, arrived as well. “Amitabha. May the departed find peace.”

Longbrow asked, “Master, why aren’t you resting? What brings you here?”

“A life is a life. **Master Papaya**, let us recite the **Rebirth Mantra** for the deceased,” Yuantong said sorrowfully.

The corpse’s hands were bony, with little flesh, but its clothes were thick, giving it an almost comical appearance. The neck was obscured by a heavy robe, seemingly covered with two **Yunnan Baiyao** bandages. A faint medicinal scent lingered in the air.

Longbrow, in contrast, was sturdy, wearing only a thin robe yet standing composed in the freezing wind.

Hearing himself called “Master Papaya,” Longbrow frowned. “Master Yuantong, I’ve already recited the Rebirth Mantra several times. It’s cold outside—you should return and rest.”

Yuantong replied, “When the temple is in trouble, how can this humble monk stand idly by?”

The two began bickering. Meanwhile, Yun Chaohai set up a police cordon outside the burned hut.

The next day, **Famen Temple’s** attractions were temporarily closed. The snowfall grew heavier, blanketing the **Buddha Light Avenue** and the **Clasped Hands Relic Pagoda**, where hundreds of Buddha statues stood dusted in white.

Bored out of our minds, **Uncle Jianguo** and I stayed in the dormitory. **Jiese** was summoned by Longbrow all day.

With no visitors, we called **Hua Chongyang** over and spent half an hour teaching him how to play **Landlord**.

Hua laughed. “This game is excellent! This lord enjoys it. Let’s keep it small—five yuan per hand. A whole day’s worth should suffice.” He pulled out ten yuan and placed it before him.

Uncle Jianguo and I exchanged knowing glances, confident in our strategy. But fate had other plans—by the end, we each lost two hundred yuan.

Hua couldn’t stop grinning. “Who knew Landlord was this fun? In my time, we had no such games. What a pity.”

Furious, I cursed my luck—losing to a rookie!

Uncle Jianguo sighed. “Two hundred yuan could’ve gotten me four visits to the masseuse. Wasted.”

—

The next morning, another scream shattered the silence.

Our relaxed mood from last night’s game vanished instantly. This time, the sound was close—right outside our room.

Uncle Jianguo kicked me awake, and we rushed out, pulling on clothes as we ran.

What we saw froze us in our tracks.

**Xie Xiaoyu’s** snowman had its head rolled off, revealing a stiff, bloodied neck.

The cut was clean—made by a blade.

The head had likely been dislodged by birds perching overnight.

My mind reeled. Xie Xiaoyu had built this snowman, and monks had seen it. If she were implicated, I wouldn’t stand for it. The police would pin it on her, and Uncle Jianguo and I might be framed as the masterminds.

The snowman’s body was pure white—only the head had been replaced.

Relief washed over me. The second possibility was that someone had swapped the head in secret.

Monks pointed accusingly at Xie Xiaoyu, who looked aggrieved. I shouted, “Stop pointing! She’s just a girl—how could she put a human head on a snowman? Someone must’ve switched it!”

Then it hit me—**Snake Spirit Woman**. She had helped build the snowman. Was this her doing?

Fearing Xie Xiaoyu might lash out, I shielded her, waiting for the situation to calm.

Longbrow arrived, sneering, “So it’s this demoness. She’s not normal, is she?”

I tensed. Jiese had once mentioned his grandmaster’s **”Buddha’s Palm”** technique—something I’d dismissed as myth. But seeing Longbrow standing in thin robes in the snow, I wasn’t so sure.

“Master, her mind is like a child’s. She’s harmless. Please, show mercy.” Sweat beaded on my forehead.

Against Longbrow, I stood no chance. If he truly knew the Buddha’s Palm, even a **Jade Corpse** would be pulverized.

Longbrow scowled. “The living belong in the world of the living. Why linger here? I’ll let this go—for now.”

“Make way!” Yun Chaohai, dragged from bed, pushed through the crowd.

Brushing off the snow, he uncovered the neck and a bearded face, pale with frozen blood. The eyes were shut, but the lips curled into an eerie smile—as if in pleasure.

After questioning the monks, Yun learned Xie Xiaoyu had built the snowman. When he approached her, she nearly attacked him.

I explained, “She’s mentally impaired—not a killer. The other day, a woman in a black coat helped build the snowman. Many saw her. She must still be in the temple. Find her.”

Yun eyed me skeptically. “Is that so?” He ordered a search, but no trace of the woman was found.

After whispering with Longbrow, Yun grew even more suspicious of me.

Damn that Snake Spirit Woman!

Had she planted the head days ago to frame me?

Uncle Jianguo observed coldly. “First, a severed hand in the hall, clutching a wooden sutra. Then, a man burned alive. Now, a head in snow—water turned to ice. Don’t you find it odd?”

“You mean… we’re missing earth and metal. Two more deaths?” I stared at him.

He nodded. “**Five Elements**—wood, fire, water, earth, metal. Only when all are present is it complete. Just a theory.”

After conferring with Longbrow, Yun’s attitude toward me shifted.

“Master says you’re no good. And here I thought you were a detective. Who are you really?” Yun demanded.

There was no hiding it now.

“Truth is, Officer Yun, I’m a wandering **feng shui master**, traveling with a black dog to rid the world of evil. I came to Famen Temple fearing foul play.”

Longbrow scoffed. “This temple needs no help from charlatans. Nine out of ten so-called ‘feng shui masters’ are frauds.”

I shot back, “And twenty out of ten monks have wives, thirty have kids, forty are grandfathers.”

Longbrow’s face darkened. “You dare mock the Buddha’s disciples?”

Yun sighed, letting the bickering continue.

Eventually, he turned to me. “Master, you said the hall was wood, the fire was fire, the snowman water. Where will earth and metal strike?”

The title “Master” made me uneasy.

“The hardest part is that each murder lacks witnesses or victims’ identities. We must wait for earth and metal to reveal the pattern.”

Severed hand, charred corpse, severed head—wood, fire, water.

Why arrange killings by the Five Elements? The killer’s cunning surpassed my expectations.

Yun hadn’t expected such a case before retirement. Rumors of ghostly killings spread like wildfire.

But ghosts don’t kill so meticulously—no lingering resentment, no smiling corpses.

A temple, of all places, brimming with Buddha’s light, is the last site for ghostly murders.

The only answer: a human killer.

I told Yun, “There **was** a woman in a black coat—beautiful, with a face like a snake’s.”

“Sleep with her, and she’d have you killing for her.”

—

This translation maintains the original tone, cultural references, and stylistic elements while ensuring clarity and natural flow in English. Let me know if you’d like any refinements!