Chapter Twenty-Five: The First Guest

In the Paper Craft Shop!

After Fang You's uncle departed, Fang You simply changed the name of the paper craft shop to "Fortune Teller's Pavilion!" He placed a sign beside the door: "Predicting fortune and misfortune, exorcising ghosts and dispelling evil, Five Yang and Eight Trigrams, Feng Shui appraisal!"

Though Fang You lacked the extraordinary abilities of his senior brother Zhang Zhiheng, who could search for dragon veins and divine the secrets of heaven, his diligent study of the arts of Qimen Dunjia enabled him to perform simple Feng Shui remedies. After rebranding the shop, it still sold paper crafts as before, but Fang You's skill at crafting was woefully lacking. Even with his uncle's "Miscellaneous Notes on Paper Craft," he could barely grasp the basics. Thus, his livelihood mainly depended on fortune-telling and Feng Shui consultations.

However, in the days after reopening, customers who entered saw a proprietor barely in his twenties. Most fortune tellers were wizened and dignified, their age lending gravity to their craft. How could a young man who had scarcely lived half a lifetime possess any real skill? So, since his uncle left, Fang You's shop was truly deserted.

But on this day, a familiar face appeared at the door—Lin Xue.

That day, Fang You was engrossed in studying his uncle's "Miscellaneous Notes on Paper Craft" while working on some paper crafts when a commotion sounded outside.

"Is anyone here?" The voice outside was soft and gentle, unmistakably that of a young girl.

"Please come in!" Fang You thought a customer had arrived and went out to greet them, only to find that it was Lin Xue, the girl he had helped not long ago.

"It really is you. I never got to properly thank you last time." Lin Xue, seeing Fang You, excitedly rushed over, but Fang You simply waved his hand and stepped back.

"What happened last time was nothing but a small favor, no need to dwell on it," Fang You replied, somewhat resistant to Lin Xue. After all, he had nearly broken his vow of chastity last time. Lately, he'd been avoiding direct contact with women, focusing on cultivating himself to prevent his inner demons from resurfacing.

"What are you doing? Never mind. Here, take this." Lin Xue pulled a red envelope from her pocket and handed it to Fang You.

"This is...?" Fang You asked in confusion.

"It's your reward for helping me resolve the paper craft spirit last time," Lin Xue replied with a smile.

Fang You looked at the envelope. By nature, he regarded money as dirt; even if he had surplus wealth, he would use it for charity. But now, with the shop's business dwindling, he was financially strained and, embarrassed, accepted Lin Xue's gift.

"This is just right. I have to head to school soon, but I'll treat you to a meal another day. If anything else happens, I'll definitely come to you. Goodbye!" With that, Lin Xue waved and left.

Fang You opened the envelope. Inside was a stack of red bills—roughly a thousand yuan, enough to get by for a while.

Not long after Lin Xue left, another visitor arrived, dressed in black. He entered and asked anxiously whether the shop could really drive away ghosts and dispel evil.

The man in black was visibly anxious. Fang You stepped out calmly and, seeing his distress, spoke gently, "Don't worry, sir. Has something happened at home?"

The man looked at Fang You, seeing someone about his own age, and his eyes filled with doubt and mistrust.

Noticing the man's hesitation, Fang You pressed his palms together and bowed. "I am Fang You, third disciple of the inner sect of Mount Mao. If you trust me, please tell me your problem."

Though the man remained skeptical, he had no other options. He drew a breath and tried to speak calmly. "Sir, please, save my child!"

"Don't worry, take your time," Fang You said, listening carefully.

"It's like this, sir. Someone died in our village recently, so a troupe was brought in to perform opera. The show lasted three days, but the final performance was at night. The whole village stayed indoors, but my son, Xier, snuck out and watched the night show. When he returned, he was silent, as if he'd lost his soul."

"I've consulted many doctors, but nothing worked. Now I'm seeking a spiritual master to see if we can retrieve Xier's soul."

Fang You immediately understood. Whenever there was a celebration or funeral in a village, an opera troupe was invited to perform for three days. The first two days were daytime shows for the villagers, but the third was held at night.

It was said, "Never listen to opera at night; the last show is for the ghosts." The final performance was meant for spirits—after the daytime festivities disturbed them, a ghost opera was played to appease them and attract wandering ghosts. If not, misfortune might befall the villagers.

Regardless of payment, the last show must be performed. The ghost opera was mournful, with actors giving their all.

From this, Fang You deduced that Xier's soul had likely been taken by a ghost during the show. Humans have three souls and seven spirits, governing emotions and desires. If one is missing, a person becomes dazed or, in severe cases, a vegetative state, or even dies as the soul disperses.

Realizing this, Fang You dared not delay. If the missing soul was lost for too long or destroyed by ghosts, it would be impossible to recover.

"What is your name?" Fang You asked the young man.

"Everyone in the village calls me Da Zhuang," he replied simply.

"Alright, Da Zhuang, let's hurry over."

"Yes, sir. My home is in the bamboo grove ahead, a bit remote. Sorry for the trouble."

"No problem, let's go at once!"

Without further delay, Fang You followed Da Zhuang along the mountain paths, jogging and climbing for two hours. The northern city was a blend of urban and rural areas, with many farmlands.

They passed through a bamboo grove and arrived at Da Zhuang's village. Life there was primitive—every household raised chickens and ducks, or kept a big yellow dog at the door. Power lines by the road swayed precariously, clearly neglected for years.

At Da Zhuang's house, poverty was evident on all sides. Inside, a woman was preparing a simple meal of vegetables and steamed buns.

"Feng, I've brought the master!" Da Zhuang called to his wife as he entered.

"Really? That's wonderful!" The woman came out, carrying some leftover porridge.

"Please, sir, save my son!"