"Brother Xiao Yuan, Runsheng, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. Otherwise, why would I see two people sitting out on the courtyard in front of Zhou Yong's house?"
Tan Wenbin rubbed his eyes hard and looked again.
The more he looked, the more he hunched his back and shrank backward, quietly placing Runsheng in front of himself as a shield.
Evidently feeling that was not enough, he tried to shrink further behind the young boy.
When he glanced down, however, he caught the boy looking back at him.
Flustered and embarrassed at being caught in the act, Tan Wenbin immediately threw back his chest and minced forward in tiny steps, finally returning to his position beside Runsheng—though his calves were still trembling.
He actually had a fairly high tolerance for things like corpses, thanks to his family background, but his family's trade was police work, not metaphysics.
Li Zhuiyuan said nothing. After a glance at Tan Wenbin, he picked up the luopan once more.
The needle showed everything was normal, without even a trace of attraction.
Although there was some distance between them, it should not have been completely unresponsive. Feng shui locations were notoriously tricky and constantly shifting, yet simple in essence: wherever an evil spirit stood, that spot was an epicenter of baleful yin qi.
The village chief came over, swung a leg off his bicycle, and asked, "Runsheng-hou, haven't you found it yet?"
Runsheng looked toward Li Zhuiyuan.
Li Zhuiyuan murmured softly, "Soon."
Runsheng immediately replied, "We've got a lead. Soon. Don't worry, Village Chief."
"Really?" The village chief breathed a sigh of relief. "Then find it and fish it up quickly. Don't let it scare anyone else. The few villagers who saw it came down with fevers the moment they got home. They've been on IV drips at the clinic the past couple of days."
Li Zhuiyuan said, "Zhou Yong."
Runsheng asked, "Village Chief, where did Zhou Yong go?"
"Yong-hou? He's probably watching people play cards right about now. Why?"
"He plays cards?"
"He likes standing to the side and watching others play. He never sits at the table himself."
"Oh, I see."
"Farm work in the fields always winds down eventually, and jobs casting nets to help people catch fish in the river don't come around every day. When he has nothing to do, Yong-hou goes to watch people play cards. A person's got to find a little amusement in life no matter how bitter things get. Who wants to walk around with a funeral face all day?"
"Yeah, that's true."
"It's just that this fellow Yong-hou... how should I put it? He's truly one of a kind."
"I heard he donated a bridge?"
"Yeah, he donated it. There wasn't really any need for a bridge there in the first place, and hardly anyone uses that route, but he insisted on paying to build it. Said it was to amass merit and pray for blessings for his wife and child.
"I couldn't talk him out of it. The village scraped together a little, pooled it with his money, and put the bridge up. I reckon if we pave more roads down the line, more people might cross it."
"I don't quite understand why he'd do that."
"It's normal that you don't. Yong-hou is a good man, well-liked in the village. But ever since his wife and kid fell ill, he's turned a bit unhinged. Apart from when he's quietly watching cards, anytime you talk to him, he steers the conversation toward bizarre ghost stories. God only knows whose bewitching potion he drank.
"Normally, donating money to build a bridge is a noble deed, but I tried talking sense into him at the time. I told him: 'Yong-hou, if you've got this cash, either tear down that shack of yours and build a proper brick house, or buy some decent food, drink, and clothes for your wife and kid. The village doesn't lack that bridge, but your family desperately needs the money to breathe easier.'
"Hah, he flat-out refused! Said that if the village didn't agree, he'd hire a construction crew himself. Runsheng-hou, tell me, what choice did that leave me?
"I've been nursing a massive headache over this these past few days. Out of goodwill, I helped his family apply for low-income welfare and subsidy funds, but the moment he turned around and donated money to build a bridge—good grief, it put me right on the hot seat!
"Damn it all... Sigh, forget it. Runsheng-hou, give me a holler when you fish it out. Once the job is done, I'll set out drinks at my place for you and your granddad, and the village will provide a red envelope."
"Sure, go ahead and attend to your business, Village Chief."
After the village chief departed, the mother and daughter were still there on the small courtyard.
Li Zhuiyuan started walking toward Zhou Yong's house, wanting to test his theory.
Seeing this, Runsheng naturally moved ahead of Xiao Yuan.
Tan Wenbin froze where he stood for a few seconds before lowering his head and hurrying to catch up. Though he did not dare walk side by side with Runsheng, he at least stayed in front of Xiao Yuan.
The closer they got, the clearer the mother and daughter on the courtyard became.
The woman was seated on a wooden bench, the girl snuggled in her arms. The two of them were chatting and laughing, presenting a warm and cozy picture.
Cold sweat began trickling down Tan Wenbin's forehead. He glanced up quickly from time to time, ducking his head again immediately after each look.
His mind was entirely flooded with images of the little girl curled inside the rice vat and the woman lying beneath the cotton batting.
As they neared the stretch of path outside the house, Li Zhuiyuan halted.
Finally, Li Zhuiyuan stopped.
"Brother Binbin, keep walking forward."
"Huh? Okay."
Tan Wenbin crossed his arms and plodded forward with his head down. When he reached the edge of the courtyard, he stopped and looked toward the house. The space was completely empty; the mother and daughter from moments ago had vanished.
"There's no one here..." Tan Wenbin turned around, a deeply puzzled look on his face.
Li Zhuiyuan waved, beckoning him back. Tan Wenbin sprinted back in a single dash.
Looking toward the courtyard again—lo and behold, the mother and daughter were back.
"This..."
"Brother Runsheng, you walk forward."
"All right."
Runsheng stepped forward, walked to where Binbin had stopped, and turned his head toward the courtyard.
Standing behind, Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin saw Runsheng somewhat awkwardly raise his hand and wave toward the courtyard.
"Runsheng can see them?"
"Yes, because Brother Runsheng belongs to this village."
"That works too?"
"Because he doesn't want outsiders to know his wife and child are already dead."
"'He' meaning Zhou Yong?"
"Yes."
"Then, Brother Xiao Yuan, if his wife and kid are right here, who's the one swimming in the river?"
"Probably Zhou Yong."
"Huh? But didn't the village chief just say Zhou Yong was watching people play cards?"
"Dead-flippers can move, you know."
"A dead-flipper going ashore to watch villagers play cards? Isn't that utterly absurd?"
"Didn't you just eat a meal cooked by a dead-flipper? As I recall, you ate the most out of that plate of boiled shrimp."
"I... I didn't know back then!"
Runsheng walked back and said, "Just now, they waved hello to me."
"Mm."
Runsheng pulled the Yellow River shovel from his burlap sack and asked, "Should I smash them with it?"
"No need. There's actually nothing there at all."
Li Zhuiyuan glanced at the well covered by the large bamboo hat on the courtyard—an illusion of flowers in a mirror and the moon in the water.
He could not help wondering how he would have arranged it himself. At the very least, he would not have made it so crude. He would have raised a miasma to lure passing travelers inside,
dropping them one by one into the well like dumplings into a boiling pot.
Li Zhuiyuan drew a breath and tapped his forehead with his palm. *Sigh, Wei Zhengdao, you really are a piece of work.*
"Let's go, Brother Runsheng. Let's find Zhou Yong."
Runsheng scratched his head. "But I don't know which gambling den Zhou Yong watches cards at."
"Just go to the biggest one. Even if he isn't there, it'll be easy to ask around. The one where we won money last time."
The trio walked along the village road, and before long they reached the gambling den.
The short, chubby Zhou Fabao was standing by the edge of the courtyard with his back to the road, his bird out, humming a tune while fertilizing his vegetable patch.
Turning around, he caught sight of three people walking toward him. By reflex, he hastened his pace, intending to greet customers.
Taking a closer look, however, he realized it was Runsheng. Looking at the boy, he recognized him as the one from last time.
Zhou Fabao shuddered in fright and hastily shook his bird.
"Ah, what brings you folks here?"
The visitors had already stepped onto the courtyard. Zhou Fabao did not welcome them; instead, he stood his ground, partially blocking the way.
Last time these two came to play cards, they had ended up smashing his table to pieces, shattering teacups and ashtrays all over the floor.
Even though they had properly compensated him for the damages, his business operated in the gray zone, and what he feared most was making a scene. He dared not let these two play here again.
Runsheng asked, "We didn't come to play cards. We're looking for someone. Is Zhou Yong here?"
"Yong-hou?" Zhou Fabao offered a smile. "He didn't come here today. He's probably watching cards somewhere else."
"Oh." Runsheng looked at Li Zhuiyuan. "Xiao Yuan, Zhou Yong isn't here."
"The boss is lying."
Zhou Fabao: "..."
During that match of Zha Jinhua last time, Li Zhuiyuan had memorized the facial features of everyone at the table. Because the boss had served tea, poured water, and collected tips, he counted as half a participant, so Zhou Fabao's face had also been cataloged by Li Zhuiyuan.
Though they were not at a card table right now, Li Zhuiyuan could still tell the boss was bluffing; his micro-expressions did not match his hand.
Runsheng turned back to Zhou Fabao and asked again in a firmer tone, "Is Zhou Yong here or not?"
Zhou Fabao waved his hands frantically, putting on an intensely aggrieved expression. "He really isn't! Why would I lie to you? What good would it do me?"
Li Zhuiyuan was just about to remind Runsheng to recall how thugs threatened people in the movies, but Tan Wenbin was faster.
He pulled out an imitation-leather wallet, flipped it open, and produced a family portrait in which every male except him was wearing a police uniform.
Thrusting the photo before Zhou Fabao's eyes, he demanded, "Speak! Is Zhou Yong here with you or not?!"
Zhou Fabao swallowed with difficulty. "He is."
"We need him for something."
With that, Tan Wenbin strode straight inside, his shoulder brushing against Zhou Fabao, who promptly scrambled out of the way.
Runsheng sighed inward: *Sure enough, Xiao Yuan was right. Being a gangster has no future.*
Inside, seven or eight gambling tables were in full swing, creating a bustling, noisy scene.
Tan Wenbin walked in, planted a hand on his hip, and swept a sharp gaze across the room. For a moment, it seemed as if his own father had possessed him.
His eyes swept over everyone in the room once, twice, three times...
In the end, he could no longer keep up the facade.
He had no idea what Zhou Yong looked like.
When Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng stepped inside, half the room paused their card games and looked over. Those who were out of the loop immediately questioned the people beside them, and once they learned the boy's identity, they stared as well.
Not a single soul here had failed to hear about that eerie game of Zha Jinhua. Everyone had already resolved that wherever this kid sat down, they would immediately leave the table.
Li Zhuiyuan asked Zhou Fabao, "Where is Zhou Yong?"
"Yong-hou... he was right here a moment ago! Where did he go? Maybe he went to the back to grab a bite. He's a clan relative of mine. When he has free time, he comes to watch cards and helps boil water or pour tea, so I feed him a meal."
Zhou Fabao led the three to the back room, where several elderly villagers sat drinking tea and chatting.
Zhou Fabao asked, "Auntie, where's Yong-hou?"
"Yong-hou? Saw him here just a bit ago. Don't know where he slipped off to now."
Zhou Fabao turned around with a helpless look. "I'm really not lying to you this time. I genuinely don't know where he went. What are you looking for him for? Does he owe you money?"
"No, we just wanted to ask him about someone. Sorry for disrupting your business, Boss. We'll take our leave."
Li Zhuiyuan walked out of the gambling den and returned to the road.
Runsheng rubbed his nose and said, "Xiao Yuan, it's strange. I didn't smell any scent of a dead-flipper inside just now."
"That's not unusual. Some dead-flippers possess special abilities that allow them to detach their spirit from their physical body. Remember that Cat-Faced Old Woman from last time?"
"Cat-Faced Old Woman?" Tan Wenbin looked astonished. "Did I arrive too late and miss out on some major event?"
Runsheng's expression grew solemn. "If that's the case, Xiao Yuan, then dealing with Zhou Yong is going to be difficult."
Tan Wenbin rubbed his hands excitedly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, sounds really tricky!"
Li Zhuiyuan shook his head. "We don't necessarily have to fight. He hasn't harmed any villagers so far. If he just likes taking a swim in the river and going home to be with his dead wife and child, we have no reason to make life hard for him.
"All we need to do is warn him not to surface where villagers can see him, and find out who taught him these methods. That'll be enough.
"In essence, we can coexist in peace."
"Huh? Coexist in peace?" Tan Wenbin asked, baffled. "Shouldn't good and evil be irreconcilable, humans and ghosts unable to share the world? Shouldn't we suppress and destroy him?"
"Brother Binbin, living like that is exhausting."
"Uh..."
Just like Little Oriole—after she had claimed her revenge, she stopped harming people, so Great-Grandpa acted as if she did not exist, never intending to pursue her further.
"Then... where do we go look for Zhou Yong now? His house, or back to the river?"
Li Zhuiyuan smiled, looked out at the paddy fields ahead, and said,
"Who knows, maybe he's standing somewhere right now, watching us."
Even if Zhou Yong was deliberately avoiding them, Li Zhuiyuan was not worried. He had plenty of ways to force him out for a conversation.
Before that, however, another matter had to be addressed: night was fast approaching.
Li Zhuiyuan patted his pockets, pulled out some money, and handed it to Runsheng. "Brother Runsheng, go buy a good amount of high-proof white liquor and cooked dishes. It's time for dinner."
When they returned to Grandpa Shan's home, the two old men were sitting shoulder to shoulder in the courtyard, smoking and chatting.
"Sanjiang-hou, the hardest trial of my life was meeting you."
"Shan Pao, your gambling ruined your own family. Don't go dumping the chamber pot on my head."
"Heh, I didn't dump it on your head."
"Right, right, you poured it straight down your own throat."
"A Beijing household registration... I heard that taking the college entrance exam in Beijing also..."
"Shan Pao, mention that again and I'll sling you over my back and dump you into your neighbor's ceramic vat to pickle you some more!"
"Ptui! You old bastard, you're shameless as ever!"
Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin walked in, and the two elders immediately inquired about the situation.
"Great-Grandpa, we found the approximate spot and trapped it with a net, but it's too late in the day. Brother Runsheng plans to fish it out tomorrow after sunrise."
"See that? Found it already!" Li Sanjiang boasted. "Look at that, Shan Pao. Runsheng has made far more progress following me than he ever did following you!"
Turning to Xiao Yuan, Li Sanjiang nodded approvingly. "Right, that's the proper way to handle it. Never do this kind of work at night; it's too easy for things to go sideways. Sometimes an ordinary dead-flipper starts moving once the sun goes down."
Runsheng returned with the liquor and food. Naturally, the two elders had to down a couple of drinks.
With Tan Wenbin, who had received his marching orders, livening up the mood at the table, the two old men drank to their hearts' content.
For the first five cups, Li Sanjiang kept insisting it was getting late and that he had to take Xiao Yuan-hou home. But after five more cups went down, he and Grandpa Shan collapsed across the table, dead drunk.
Runsheng carried his grandfather and Grandpa Li to the bed, pulled a quilt over their bellies, and placed the spittoon by the bedside in case they threw up during the night.
With that done, the three packed their gear once more and headed to the river.
The atmosphere at night was indeed completely different from the daytime. Li Zhuiyuan knew his great-grandfather was right, but it hardly mattered now, as Zhou Yong could already dart about at will and even find time to go ashore and watch people play cards.
Reaching the bridge, Runsheng waded into the water. Unspooling the Seven Stars hook, he flicked it upward, catching the head of a spike, and pulled down with all his might.
After prying out three spikes in succession, Runsheng stopped. He stowed the Seven Stars hook, drew the Yellow River shovel, and gripped it firmly in hand.
Before long, the temperature over the river plummeted.
Even standing on the riverbank, Li Zhuiyuan felt a biting chill riding the evening breeze.
Runsheng steadied his breathing, on high alert.
Movement finally appeared.
Ten meters ahead of Runsheng, a human back slowly surfaced above the water.
Tan Wenbin held Li Zhuiyuan's Yellow River shovel in his right hand while his left poked Li Zhuiyuan's back incessantly.
*A dead-flipper! A dead-flipper! A dead-flipper!*
*Heavens! Dad, your son has finally made something of himself—I'm finally seeing a real dead-flipper!*
Li Zhuiyuan glanced back at him rather helplessly. Binbin's face was a mixture of wild excitement and sheer terror, looking as though he might faint at any second.
It reminded Li Zhuiyuan of hysterical fans catching sight of a singer at a concert in the Workers' Stadium.
On the river's surface, the back began to turn over.
Soon, a human face emerged. It was ghastly pale, as though caked in a thick layer of wall putty—slimy, white, and dripping continuously down the chin.
When he opened his eyes, streams of thick white fluid oozed from the corners, completely veiling his pupils.
Li Zhuiyuan drew two sheets of yellow paper and folded them into a taper.
Beside him, Tan Wenbin had frozen solid.
"Zhuangzhuang!"
"Here!"
Purely by reflex, Tan Wenbin struck a match, helping Li Zhuiyuan light the yellow paper.
Li Zhuiyuan waved the burning paper, muttering low incantations under his breath, before plunging the half-burned paper into a large bowl of yellow rice wine by his feet.
Tan Wenbin went around lighting the small candles they had arranged in advance.
The position of each candle had been carefully calculated, and the layout of the ritual altar could not be altered. The three spikes had been pulled, but not all of them, leaving room for negotiation.
This gesture was intended to offer a sweet date after delivering a slap.
If he was willing to talk, they would talk. If he refused, leaving him here meant he would eventually go mad and become a menace, which would leave them no choice but to clash head-on.
Li Zhuiyuan lifted the bowl of wine and poured it across the river's surface.
Then he extended his left arm for Tan Wenbin to support while he closed his eyes, seeking a half-asleep, half-awake state to walk the yin path.
Many incantations were genuinely useful, including his great-grandpa's mutterings and jingles, but their sole purpose was communication.
Yet what method could communicate more effectively than walking the yin path directly?
When you could plug values straight into the formula, there was no need to laboriously derive the steps from scratch.
"We mean no harm. We only came to speak with you. First, we ask that you do not surface to alarm the living. Second, we ask that you tell us who taught you this arrangement.
"If you cooperate, the spikes will be driven back in, and we shall each go our separate ways between yin and yang. If you do not cooperate, starting tonight, one of our sides will have no path left to walk."
From the moment Li Zhuiyuan had extended his arm, Tan Wenbin had been silently counting down in his head. Finally reaching the count, he shook the boy vigorously.
Li Zhuiyuan was forcibly awakened, breaking his shallow trance. This was a safety precaution he had set for himself.
Although he had learned the method to control dead-flippers, he was still a novice; he was not reckless enough to use it outright just yet.
His head felt slightly dizzy and achy—the symptom of being jarred out of walking the yin path by external force. Fortunately, compared to the splitting agony he had endured with Ah Li, this minor discomfort was nothing.
The message had been delivered. What followed depended entirely on Zhou Yong's choice.
Zhou Yong slowly turned around, presenting his back to everyone, and began wading forward through the river.
"Brother Binbin, why don't you head back?"
"No, absolutely not! I have to protect you."
"Fine. It's your choice. Don't regret it."
"How could I regret it? Never!"
Li Zhuiyuan pointed at the setup on the ground, gesturing for Tan Wenbin to pack it up. Then he followed along the riverbank while Runsheng waded through the water.
Tan Wenbin scrambled on all fours to snuff out the candles, dumped the bowls and miscellaneous items into a burlap sack, and slung it over his back to sprint after them. He had no intention of missing out again.
Fortunately, Runsheng was in the river. No matter how much of an elder brother Xiao Yuan acted like, he couldn't very well tie Binbin up and toss him into the reed marsh on his own.
After walking some distance, Zhou Yong came ashore.
Evidently, he was heading home.
Li Zhuiyuan tugged on Runsheng's vest, signaling him to slow down. As their pace slackened, Zhou Yong ahead slowed down as well, waiting for them.
He wanted to lead the three of them to his house.
Understanding his intention, Li Zhuiyuan patted Runsheng's back, and the three resumed a normal pace.
Arriving once more at the small courtyard before Zhou Yong's house, the trio came to a halt. Zhou Yong stood before the front door.
*Thud... thud... thud...*
He gently knocked on the door with his head.
Moments later, a light turned on inside.
Through the wide gaps in the wooden door, a figure could be seen within, followed by the crisp rattling of a lock being undone.
*Creak...*
The door swung open.
Standing inside was Zhou Yong's wife.
The woman stood there quietly.
During the day, they had seen her lying beneath the sleeping mat among the cotton batting.
Now, by the light inside the room, they saw that tufts of cotton were sprouting like weeds not only from her eyes, but from her nostrils, ears, and fingernail beds as well.
It seemed as if the cotton batting were not merely clinging to her body, but growing directly out of her flesh.
The woman stepped aside, and Zhou Yong walked in.
She remained by the door without closing it, seemingly waiting for the guests to enter.
Runsheng looked at Li Zhuiyuan, who nodded.
They had come to establish contact and converse. Since their host had brought them to his doorstep, there was no reason not to enter.
The moment Runsheng stepped inside, he glanced to the right, and his body gave a visible shudder. He was clearly startled.
This was the first time Li Zhuiyuan had ever seen Runsheng react that way to such a scene. He stepped into the house and looked to the right as well.
The little girl had climbed out of the rice vat. She stood there as though welcoming her father home.
Her eyes were wide open, densely packed with raw grains of rice.
At the same time, grains of rice were embedded across the exposed skin of her arms, legs, hands, and feet.
These pristine white grains were constantly sloughing off, yet their numbers never diminished, as though rice grains were sprouting one by one from every pore on her body.
The sight made even Li Zhuiyuan's breath hitch.
Tan Wenbin was the last to enter. Lagging behind from packing the gear, and knowing it was night, he had conscientiously taken up the rear while Runsheng led, sandwiching Xiao Yuan between them for protection.
Once inside, Tan Wenbin looked to the right as well. His mouth fell open, and before a scream could escape, he shoved his fist into his mouth and bit down hard.
He bit with genuine force, drawing blood. There was no helping it; the sheer terror rendered him numb to the pain.
Zhou Yong walked over to the dining table and sat down.
The table was old, patched with numerous nailed wooden slats, and the chairs were rough and uneven.
However, because the floor was packed dirt full of pits and hollows, having level chairs would have made little difference anyway.
Li Zhuiyuan sat down across from Zhou Yong. Runsheng took the seat to his left, and Tan Wenbin sat to his right.
The woman and the girl headed into the kitchen.
Soon, the sound of bellows pumping and spatulas clattering against a wok drifted from the kitchen.
Yet no firelight or rising steam could be seen through the kitchen doorway.
Seated on the chair, Zhou Yong kept his head slightly lowered.
*Drip, drop, drip, drop...*
It was the sound of pus continuously dripping from the corners of his eyes.
The pitted dirt floor made it easy for small puddles to gather, and soon the sound became a crisper, clearer plop.
Li Zhuiyuan extended his hand to Runsheng, who understood and took hold of it.
Li Zhuiyuan lowered his head, attempting once more to walk the yin path.
Liu Yumei had warned him that walking the yin path too frequently was harmful and made it easy to lose oneself. He knew this well, yet he could not help it—much like advising a smoker to quit cigarettes or an alcoholic to quit booze. The advice was heard, but the smoking and drinking continued as usual.
Li Zhuiyuan's attempt succeeded, for when he raised his head again, Runsheng and Tan Wenbin on either side of him had vanished.
Yet Zhou Yong remained seated there with his head down, motionless—silent, unresponsive, making no gesture.
The only dynamic change was in the kitchen: firelight and rising steam had appeared, accompanied by the sizzling sound of food frying in hot oil.
*Nothing chills the mortal heart quite like the hearthfire of the underworld.*
Li Zhuiyuan vaguely guessed that something very unpleasant was likely about to happen.
Waiting a moment longer, Zhou Yong still did not speak. That meant he had no intention of communicating just yet.
He seemed to be waiting on a formality, an unvarnished custom of hospitality:
*Before we talk business, we eat.*
A sharp pain shot through Li Zhuiyuan's palm. Knowing Runsheng was pinching him, he closed his eyes, searching for the sensation of floating upward. When he opened them again, he had returned to reality.
He pulled his hand back from Runsheng and gently rubbed it to ease the sting, signaling to Runsheng that he was back.
Glancing at Tan Wenbin on his right, he saw him sitting ramrod straight. In all likelihood, he had never sat with such pristine posture even in the classroom.
At that moment, the anticipated development arrived.
The woman approached, carrying two plates of food.
Both were meat dishes, though it was impossible to tell what kind of meat they were made from; Li Zhuiyuan could see bits of fur and tails on top.
The woman returned to the kitchen and brought out two vegetarian dishes. Their color was not green, but resembled sautéed tender bamboo shoots, with tiny splits visible upon closer inspection.
Most people had experienced finding a strand of their mother's long hair in their food at home.
Here, however, it was the cotton batting growing from the woman's body that had drifted into the dishes, cooked into those strange shapes.
Li Zhuiyuan began to feel a twinge of nostalgia for the Cat-Faced Old Woman's birthday banquet. Even though the food had tasted atrocious, at least it had looked appealing.
The four dishes before them were horrifying to behold on appearance alone.
Even Runsheng frowned at this point. Runsheng had exceptionally low standards for food, but even the lowest standards had their limits.
Tan Wenbin's eyes bulged as his gaze darted back and forth across the four plates.
The woman set down the bowls: four large bowls, four small bowls, and four pairs of chopsticks.
The large bowls were heaped with rice, completely raw, likely scooped straight out of the rice vat.
The four small bowls served as wine cups, filled with pitch-black liquid, each containing a dark, earthworm-like creature writhing about.
After distributing the large bowls and chopsticks, the woman retreated to the kitchen once more, presumably to prepare further delicacies.
The little girl remained behind, a finger stuck in her mouth.
Zhou Yong lowered his head, looking at his daughter.
The girl tilted her head back, looking up at her father.
Runsheng could not decipher the exchange, and Tan Wenbin looked utterly lost, having no clue what father and daughter were communicating.
Li Zhuiyuan understood.
He stood up and said with a smile, "Let the child join us at the table. It's quite all right."
Runsheng and Tan Wenbin caught on immediately.
Runsheng: "Right, come sit at the table and eat with us."
Tan Wenbin: "Yes, yes, yes, eat with us!"
The girl walked toward the table, sucking her finger.
The boy noticed she seemed to be heading toward him.
Li Zhuiyuan immediately pointed beside Tan Wenbin. "Come, little sister, sit with this handsome big brother."
Tan Wenbin: "..."
The girl paused for a beat, then sat down on the bench right beside Tan Wenbin.
A wave of icy cold washed from the back of Tan Wenbin's head all the way down to his tailbone.
Zhou Yong raised his chopsticks and pointed at a dish.
Li Zhuiyuan, Runsheng, and Tan Wenbin all raised their chopsticks as well, pointing at the food together.
It was a silent performance, like a pantomime, yet each could inwardly supply the dialogue that ought to accompany every movement.
Zhou Yong picked up a mouthful, placed it in his mouth, chewed, and pointed at the dish again.
Li Zhuiyuan picked up a portion and placed it into Binbin's bowl.
Tan Wenbin picked up the food from his bowl and fed it to the girl beside him. She opened her mouth and ate it.
He congratulated himself on his sheer brilliance and quick wit.
However, Zhou Yong personally picked up another mouthful of food, placed it into Tan Wenbin's bowl, and then looked at the girl. The girl lowered her head, seemingly reprimanded for poor manners.
Tan Wenbin cast pleading glances at Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng, only to find both avoiding his gaze.
There was no way around it. Zhou Yong's attentive "gaze" was fixed directly on him, exerting tremendous pressure.
Tan Wenbin had no choice but to lift his chopsticks and pick up the food from his bowl. Just as it reached his mouth, he suddenly realized these chopsticks were the very ones he had just used to feed the girl, coated in her saliva.
During a normal meal, he wouldn't have cared; he wasn't that delicate.
But the problem was the way this girl looked... and he had to share a pair of chopsticks with her?
Zhou Yong extended his open hand and gestured upward.
With a smile that looked worse than crying, Tan Wenbin brought the food to his mouth with tears in his eyes and chewed.
Zhou Yong was satisfied.
The four wine bowls had been sitting in front of him all along. He picked them up to hand to his guests, offering the first to Li Zhuiyuan.
Li Zhuiyuan stood up, pointed at himself, measured his height with a hand, and said, "Uncle, I'm just a kid. I can't drink alcohol."
Zhou Yong nodded, then set the wine bowl in front of Tan Wenbin.
Tan Wenbin had no choice but to take it and set it down. He would absolutely never drink this stuff!
Yet in the next breath,
Zhou Yong picked up his own wine bowl and clinked it against Tan Wenbin's.
Then Zhou Yong raised his bowl and drained it in a single gulp.
Turning the bowl upside down, he pointed at it.
Tan Wenbin took a deep breath. As his hand reached for the bowl, he used his thumb and pinky to swiftly pinch the wriggling earthworm and flick it away.
*Fine! Drink it! Let's do this!*
Just as he raised the bowl to down it in one go, Zhou Yong snatched it away.
Tan Wenbin was overjoyed. *Right! I'm just a kid too, a high school senior! My brain is important, I can't drink alcohol!*
To his horror, Zhou Yong placed his palm over the rim of the bowl, shook it vigorously, and pulled his hand away—only to reveal over a dozen earthworms squirming inside.
Zhou Yong pushed the wine bowl back in front of Tan Wenbin, extended his hand, and thumped his own chest.
Tan Wenbin: "..."
Chapter 45