Chapter 54: Xie Lingyu’s Thoughts

Exiting the residential area.

I went to the university to meet Professor Yao Baobao, who had just returned from a conference in the capital. However, the professor had been primarily focused on investigating the service industry there and hadn’t dedicated much time to researching materials at the National Library. Regretfully, he told me that the inscriptions on the bronze jar still hadn’t been deciphered—it felt like he was missing some crucial inspiration to crack them.

I said I wasn’t there for the bronze jar today. After a moment of silence, I mentioned that I had encountered Ji Qianqian. Because of me, she had fallen into a temporary coma and needed a “Seven-Orifice Exquisite Heart” to wake her up—apparently, it was some kind of medicinal herb.

Yao Baobao’s expression shifted from happiness to sadness. He sighed and said, “You really shouldn’t have seen her again. I know what you’re getting at—you want me to take you to meet a professor from the Traditional Chinese Medicine College, right? Well, I happen to have a meeting there this afternoon. Let’s go together.”

The study of Chinese medicine involves many philosophical questions, so professors from the philosophy department and veteran practitioners from the TCM college often cross paths in academic conferences. That was precisely why I had sought out Professor Yao Baobao.

When we arrived at the TCM college, the dilapidated building was a testament to the decline of traditional medicine. Half of the wall was covered in creeping vines, forming a circular pattern with a twisted branch running through the middle. Two windows on either side made it look like a yin-yang taiji symbol.

Yao Baobao introduced me to an expert in ancient herbal medicine and told me to go find him while he attended his meeting.

Yao Baobao was helping me entirely out of goodwill—we weren’t particularly close, and I was just one of his many ordinary students. The fact that he was willing to assist me to this extent left me with little to say.

The expert’s office was on the second floor of the TCM college, near the women’s restroom. The red paint on the door had peeled off, and two of the windowpanes were broken, patched up with newspapers to block the wind.

A strange odor from the women’s restroom wafted over constantly—unpleasant and somewhat eerie. Back in my student days, I had always worried that a female ghost might emerge from there.

I knocked on the door and said Professor Yao Baobao had sent me. When the door opened, I was met with a familiar face—Ye Qingyou, the very man who had sold fake flowers the night before. The door cracked open just enough to reveal a ceiling fan inside, spinning sluggishly with a creaky sound.

Seeing me, Ye Qingyou looked startled and quickly said, “The flowers are already sold. What else do you want? I have a class this afternoon, so I won’t be entertaining you.”

I blocked the door with my hand. “Can we talk inside?”

Ye Qingyou replied, “I only had one white flower—there aren’t any more.” He pressed against the door, refusing to let me in.

I shoved hard, making him stumble back two steps. Seizing the opportunity, I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. On his desk lay two tattered books—*The Plum in the Golden Vase* and *The Peach Blossom Monk*. A black gown hung on the wall, and beneath the chair were a pair of black cloth shoes and socks. Against the wall near the restroom stood five red spider lilies, and a small stool held a box of white paste. He really was a con artist.

I pressed him, “Professor Ye, that beautiful woman who bought flowers from you last night was hit by a car the moment she stepped outside. How can you live with yourself?”

Ye Qingyou was silent for two full minutes before finally saying, “What? Her death has nothing to do with me! I just sold her a potted plant.”

Ye Qingyou was an expert in ancient herbs. Selling dubious remedies was part of his gray income—without it, he wouldn’t be able to survive on the meager salary from the TCM college, which only enrolled a handful of students each year. In his mind, selling a few potted plants wasn’t illegal.

I said sternly, “This morning, a list of materials for raising gu (venomous insects) was found in her home. Did you sell those to her? I know Officer Shen from the city bureau. Should I call him over to ask you a few questions?”

Ye Qingyou forced an awkward laugh and pulled me down to sit. “Come on, brother, have some tea. Let’s talk this over. That woman—I only met her once. I don’t know anything about raising gu. That stuff is beyond me!”

Ye Qingyou was a sly old fox, adept at playing the mysterious sage. He had fooled even me the night before, adjusting his words to suit his audience. Now, he was deftly shifting the blame away from himself.

I said, “Professor Ye, you change your tune too fast. You swindled her out of tens of thousands for a fake flower?”

Ye Qingyou’s eyes reddened. He sighed. “What else could I do? My elderly mother has terminal cancer, and my wife has breast cancer. If not for that, I wouldn’t be out here selling fake flowers. I was forced into this—truly, I had no choice. Please forgive me, brother, and keep my secret.”

I sneered. “I admire your audacity. It’s a good thing your mother and wife aren’t here—if they heard you, they’d die of anger on the spot.” I paused before continuing, “Professor Yao Baobao sent me here. I want to ask you—does a herb called ‘Seven-Orifice Exquisite Heart’ really exist?”

Afraid I might expose his flower scam, Ye Qingyou became unusually helpful. He pulled out two tattered books from the shelf behind him. “Wait a moment, brother. Let me check.”

After searching for a while, he said apologetically, “I’ve never heard of such a herb existing in this world. There are countless medical texts—maybe it does exist somewhere. Local names can vary, so it’s normal if it’s not recorded. For example, the lily plant ‘Paris polyphylla’ is also called ‘Chonglou,’ ‘Dengtaiqi,’ or ‘Hailuoqi.’ I must admit, my knowledge is limited—I don’t know what kind of plant ‘Seven-Orifice Exquisite Heart’ could be.” When it came to academic matters, Ye Qingyou could sound quite convincing.

I probed further, “Someone mentioned it might be found in the Yunnan-Tibet region. Is that true?”

Ye Qingyou shook his head again. “I can’t confirm that, but any lead is worth pursuing. Hope is always a good thing—it’s what keeps people alive…”

I stood up. “Spare me the motivational talk. I know what I need to do. Professor Ye, you’d better watch yourself—don’t wait until someone comes at you with a knife to stop your schemes.”

Ye Qingyou sighed. “Let fate decide. I’ll regret it when the time comes.”

…

By the time I left the TCM college, it was already afternoon.

After my argument with Xie Lingyu, I had no idea where to eat. Professor Yao Baobao had social engagements and told me not to wait for him.

As I walked, I mulled things over and realized I had been in the wrong. I went back to the flower shop to pick up a bouquet, then returned to my apartment and knocked on Xie Lingyu’s door.

From inside, Xie Lingyu asked, “What is it? What do you need?”

Holding the flowers, I said apologetically, “I’m sorry for losing my temper earlier. Don’t be mad at me… I’m hungry…” At my feet, Little Rascal whimpered in agreement.

Xie Lingyu opened the door, holding a handful of fallen hair. “Ah, Xiao Qi, I wasn’t in the best mood either. I’ve been losing a lot of hair lately. What do you want for dinner? I’ll cook for you. After we eat, let’s go to the flower shop and sell more to earn some extra money. Why are you giving me flowers, though? I sell them every day, but no one’s ever given me any…”

Her smile was sweet—sweeter than I’d ever seen before. We exchanged a glance, and the tension from earlier melted away.

Little Cat He meowed twice, probably craving fish. I called out, “Little Rascal, let’s go buy groceries.” The little dog barked happily in response.

Xie Lingyu added, “Buy a bottle of wine too.”

For dinner, she stir-fried tomatoes with eggs, stewed winter melon, and sautéed baby bok choy. The food was delicious. We had also picked up two fish from the market. After the cat finished its fish and wandered off, wagging its tail, the dog eagerly gnawed on the leftover bones.

I poured a bowl of rice soaked in gravy for the dog and teased, “Dog bones indeed—you’re happily eating the leftovers from He Qingling’s meal.” Little Rascal gave me a displeased look, as if to say, *I am a dog, and I love bones.*

I hadn’t played with Little Rascal in days and noticed its eyes had grown brighter and deeper. Aside from barking twice to scare off the wild boar spirit Yang Pao, it still couldn’t compare to He Qingling. That cat had leaped from the roof to slay Meng Liuchuan’s ghost form—a once-in-a-lifetime prodigy.

Xie Lingyu still didn’t eat. She opened the bottle of red wine we’d bought and let it breathe. Since we didn’t have wine glasses, she said she preferred drinking from a bowl. I laughed. “Here, let me pour you a cup. May you stay forever young.”

She sniffed the wine and sighed. “I still prefer the capital’s *erguotou*. This foreign stuff just doesn’t sit right with me.”

Curious, I asked, “Are you from the Qing dynasty? People back then called foreigners ‘foreign devils.'”

Xie Lingyu took a sip, savoring the taste. “This wine isn’t bad—harsh at first, but the aftertaste is quite rich.” She didn’t answer my question directly, and I didn’t press further.

People have their struggles—do ghosts not? I have my burdens—do you not?

I said, “Good wine can intoxicate, and too much can bring sorrow. Sorrow leads to tears, and drowning grief in wine only deepens it. Didn’t Li Bai say, *Drowning sorrow in wine only makes it heavier*?”

Xie Lingyu downed two bowls and began to look tipsy, her cheeks flushed pink against her pale skin. Dressed in light red, she looked even more enchanting. “Xiao Qi,” she asked, “do you think I’m pretty? Compared to Ji Qianqian, who’s more beautiful?”

I said, “Both of you are beautiful.”

Xie Lingyu burst into laughter. “You’re so dense. In front of me, you can say I’m pretty. In front of Ji Qianqian, you can say she’s beautiful.”

I chuckled. “Then you’re the pretty one.”

Xie Lingyu said, “Calling me pretty doesn’t mean anything. You don’t like me, and I don’t like you.”

I replied, “You’ll find happiness.” I’d said this many times before, and this time, it felt especially hollow. Xie Lingyu saw right through me. “You always wear your heart on your sleeve. You can’t even tell a convincing lie.”

After dinner, I washed the dishes, and it was time to open the shop. Xie Lingyu carried the cat outside as usual. The evening held a hint of lingering sunlight, so I held an umbrella, and she walked beneath it. Little Rascal trotted happily beside me on a leash. Jun-ge hadn’t finished work yet, so I found a pump to inflate the bike tires.

Yu Yuwei saw Xie Lingyu and asked, “What happened last night? The boss looked like he wanted to kill someone.” Xie Lingyu replied, “Nothing much—just some unpleasantness. And he’s not the boss; I am.”

Yu Yuwei pouted at me. “Then what is he?”

I grinned. “In this shop, the first boss is Miss Xie, the second boss is the cat, and the third is the dog. Me? I’m just the guy who handles deliveries and restocks.”

Yu Yuwei laughed. “I thought you were the boss.”

…

In the late afternoon, Yu Fan called. He said that after drinking the secret remedy, he had indeed expelled a worm and now felt incredibly refreshed—like he’d been reborn. “Boss Xiao, thank you. If I hear anything about spider lilies, I’ll let you know.”

I asked, “Did you catch the worm?”

Yu Fan said, “Who’d dare? I flushed it down the toilet as soon as it came out.”

I said darkly, “Ye Qingyou is a goddamn fraud. I don’t know how much you’re getting out of this, but consider this a warning. If you try to cheat me again, you’ll regret it.” Yu Fan’s voice trembled. “I won’t, I won’t.”

At eight o’clock, a group of security guards showed up at the shop. Xu Guangsheng came inside while the others waited outside. They were visiting Ma Shuangxi in the hospital and wanted to buy flowers, asking for recommendations. Yu Yuwei suggested gladiolus—they could be placed by the bedside without being overpowering.

Xu Guangsheng sighed as he looked at me. “Such a good man, and now he might be gone any moment.”

I asked with concern, “Who’s covering his hospital bills? Is it work-related?”

Xu Guangsheng forced a smile. “He’s still a temp—just a basic contract. The property management is only paying twenty thousand. But I heard the city has provisions for cases like this—they’ll cover the medical fees upfront as an act of bravery. Still, he’ll have to pay it back once he recovers.”

Watching Yu Yuwei prepare the gladiolus, Xu Guangsheng murmured, “If he lives, he’ll never be able to repay the debt. Maybe it’s better to die—at least his family would get some compensation.”

I managed a weak smile. “Things will work out.” Yu Yuwei handed him the neatly wrapped flowers with a smile.

Jun-ge, hearing the story, gave Xu Guangsheng three hundred yuan and gave a thumbs-up. “That guy’s a real man. When he recovers, we’ll drink together.”

I chipped in two hundred as a token of goodwill.

Deep down, I knew—if I hadn’t asked Ma Shuangxi to come out and meet Sun Junliu that morning, he might still be alive and well.