The Ghost Festival Trade

"Ah—mmph!" Before Tan Wenbin's scream could fully tear from his throat, a hand clapped over his mouth, violently stifling the sound. His eyes bulged in terror as he stared at the weathered face inches from his own. The old man smiled. Just as he was about to speak, he realized the young man had already wound both arms upward, hooked both legs below, and twisted at the waist with a sudden burst of leverage. "Eh?" A note of surprised curiosity escaped the old man. He seemed to recognize it as a grappling technique meant for wrestling dead-flippers at close quarters. "Mmph?" Tan Wenbin, however, was struck with utter bewilderment. His hold had caught nothing but empty air—it was as though the old man had no solid form whatsoever. Yet, bafflingly, the hand over his mouth pressed down with unmistakable, solid weight. "Lad, I'll let you go, but don't make a racket. I'm getting on in years; I can't take all that screeching." Tan Wenbin nodded frantically. The old man lifted his hand from Tan Wenbin's mouth. "Yuanzi! Runsheng! Ghosts!" "Heh-heh." The old man was amused. He straightened up and climbed out of the coffin where Tan Wenbin lay. "Yuanzi! Runsheng!" Tan Wenbin kept shouting as he pushed himself upright, eyeing the old man with taut vigilance. Paying him no mind at all, the old man shuffled toward another coffin. He waved his hand over an incense burner resting below it. The incense ignited on its own, sending up wisps of white smoke. Taking a deep breath, the old man drew the white smoke into his nostrils in two distinct streams. "Ah..." A groan of pure relief slipped from him, and an unhealthy flush crept over his face. "Yuanzi! Runsheng!" Seeing that Tan Wenbin was still hollering without cease, the old man sighed. "Save your breath. They can't hear you." Tan Wenbin finally stopped yelling. Confused, he asked, "Who are you?" "You're sleeping under my roof, and you ask who I am?" "Your roof?" Something clicked in Tan Wenbin's mind. "Are you Yin Meng's grandfather?" "Aye, that's me." "Your lingering spirit hasn't passed on?" "What do you mean, 'lingering spirit hasn't passed on'? I'm not dead." "Not dead?" "Bullshit! If I were dead, why would my ghost hang around haunting my own granddaughter and ruining her fortunes? I haven't lost my mind." "Then what are you..." The old man pointed toward the coffin behind him. "Look there. That's the bed I sleep in." There were two coffins in the front shop and three in the inner room. Tan Wenbin had taken it for granted that all three in the back were empty; he never imagined a living person was lying in one of them. "Then what kind of creature are you? If you aren't a ghost, why couldn't I touch you just now?" "Now you've got me wondering, you thick-headed kid. Aren't you in the trade?" "What trade?" "Corpse retrieval." Tan Wenbin squared his chest, declaring firmly, "Of course I am!" "Then don't you even know you're walking the yin path right now?" "Walking the yin path?" Tan Wenbin patted down his own body. "This is called walking the yin path?" "When I stepped out, I wasn't planning to bother with you. Who knew you'd be hopping and flailing around like that? I just gave you a tug, and out of nowhere, you started shrieking." "Then what about my friends?" "When you're walking the yin path, you can't see the living. That's why shouting yourself hoarse won't do a bit of good." "That can't be..." "What can't be?" "Uh, nothing, never mind. Wait, I didn't see you out during the day. What are you doing walking the yin path at night?" "I'd love to go out during the day, but this bag of bones is done for." The old man tapped his temple. "Stroke. Paralyzed." "So you walk the yin path every single night to get some fresh air?" "Fart on that! Are you truly clueless, or just playing dumb? Whose family can walk the yin path as casually and frequently as eating and drinking?" "Can't you?" Tan Wenbin raised his hand and snapped his fingers. *Snap!* He had always thought the way Xiaoyuan snapped his fingers and closed his eyes to walk the yin path was immensely stylish. "Tonight is the Ghost Festival. I have to get up and do business." "At this hour? What ghost of a business could you possibly do?" "That's precisely what it is." Tan Wenbin: "..." "No more jawing with you. I need to open up the shop." The old man drifted through the curtain into the front room. The moment he crossed over, he froze. Standing in the front shop was a boy. The boy was watching him with a cool, measuring gaze. Startled, the old man asked, "I haven't even opened the doors yet. How did you get in?" Li Zhuiyuan did not answer. The old man scratched his head. "Hold on, you're not wearing robes... Ah, I see. You're with that thick-headed kid?" Li Zhuiyuan gave a nod. By then, Tan Wenbin had hurried out from the back room. The instant he caught sight of Li Zhuiyuan, he waved his arms in sheer excitement. "Brother Xiaoyuan, I'm walking the yin path! I'm doing it!" His exuberance was like that of a child who had just figured out how to ride a bicycle. Stroking his chin, the old man studied the boy. "So you're the real deal." "What's that supposed to mean?" Tan Wenbin asked curiously. The old man pointed toward the boy. "I didn't even realize he was standing here earlier. That proves he is remarkably sturdy." "Sturdy?" "Big fish eat little fish, and little fish eat tiny shrimp. You're a tiny shrimp." "And you're the big fish?" The old man glanced back at the boy and replied quietly, "A little fish." Li Zhuiyuan had sensed the stirrings inside the house long ago. He had slipped onto the yin path well before this, overhearing the conversation in the back room. He knew the old man was Yin Meng's grandfather, but he had not let his guard down simply because of that. Now, however, he could confirm the man was harmless—because he had yielded ground. In truth, for the past while, the dilemma running through the boy's head had been: *Should I pounce and bite him?* He truly had no idea how to fight while walking the yin path. Back in the village of road bandits, when facing that little girl in the red dress, he had relied on scattered powder to disperse her. None of the texts by Wei Zhengdao that he had perused so far explained walking the yin path in detail. It was likely a foundational subject, something so elementary Wei Zhengdao had not bothered to write it down. Yet Li Zhuiyuan happened to lack precisely that foundation. It was as if he could solve advanced calculus, but 'didn't know' basic addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. He could make it work, of course—though he did not grasp what the basic operations truly meant, he had memorized the answers to the arithmetic. That was why he frequently overexerted himself to the point of nosebleeds. While his youth and underdeveloped body played a part, the primary reason was that his opening move was always calculated on a massive, heavy scale. "You're Brother Yuan, aren't you?" The old man clearly adopted a different posture toward Li Zhuiyuan, adding a respectful touch to the title, unlike the way he dismissed Tan Wenbin as a thick-headed kid. "Yes," Li Zhuiyuan replied. "Greetings." "I am Yin Fuhai, stationed at the Fengdu wharf. Might I ask which wharf you occupy, Brother Yuan, or which Dragon King you pay homage to?" As he spoke, the old man performed a sequence of river gestures. Not every trade developed its own argot and hand signs. Such exchanges of lineage were originally meant to resolve friction and avoid bloodshed. The other group well known for striking such postures was bandits. 'Wharf' referred to a local power, while 'stationed' implied he was merely a member of that wharf, not someone lording over it. 'Dragon King' referred to the grand masters upon the waters. Li Zhuiyuan rarely encountered authentic peers in the trade; he had deduced the meaning of these terms purely from their literal phrasing. But he had no idea how to answer. What sort of position did his own Great-Grandpa hold? Stationed at the Nantong Rolling River wharf? In reality, where Great-Grandpa lived was still quite far from the rivers in the city proper. More importantly, no one had ever taught him the local hand signs. He couldn't just parrot the old man's gestures back at him, could he? It was all because Great-Grandpa was so thoroughly unreliable, leaving his own great-grandson unable to even announce his lineage when traveling abroad. By comparison, Li Zhuiyuan suspected Grandpa Shan from Runsheng's family might know a bit of this. But Grandpa Shan had never exchanged such formalities with Great-Grandpa—perhaps he had never viewed Li Sanjiang as a true peer in the trade. The only ritual Li Zhuiyuan knew was the inner sect greeting of the Qin and Liu families. But performing that felt rather inappropriate. Seeing that the boy offered no return greeting, the old man took offense, his tone sharpening: "If you look down on someone stationed at the Fengdu wharf, why stay beneath my roof?" Helpless, Li Zhuiyuan could only return a set of the Liu family inner sect greeting. With this greeting, there was no need to speak one's lineage aloud. The old man clearly knew his business. The instant he recognized the return gesture, his entire form turned translucent. He had been so frightened that he nearly slipped out of the yin path entirely. Presumably, even his paralyzed body lying in the coffin, ravaged by a stroke, gave a twitch or two. It took a long time for the old man to regain his composure. When he spoke again, not only had his previous anger vanished without a trace, but it was replaced by a deferential expression: "A member of the Liu family graces our door... An honored guest, a rare visitor. Ah, how wonderful! After all these years, someone from the Liu family walks the river once more." Though deferential, there was no vulgar flattery in his expression. Li Zhuiyuan asked, "You know of the Liu family?" "Any old bastard of a turtle who's spent years on this river has heard of them." "What I mean is, you know there is no one left in the Liu family?" "I know," the old man answered frankly. "It is precisely because I know how the Liu family perished that I revere them all the more." "My surname is not Liu." "An outer-door disciple of record?" "Yes." That night at the Ding family banquet in Shancheng, Granny Liu had pushed him forward to return the formal greeting. Though he had not yet undergone a formal apprenticeship ceremony, becoming a disciple of record in the future was an unspoken understanding between both sides, waiting only until Ah Li's illness was cured. "That makes no difference. Honored guest, please forgive me—this old man cannot entertain you in the flesh." "Don't treat me as an outsider. I'll call you Elder, and you can call me Xiaoyuan. It will be more comfortable for both of us." "Honored guest... ah, no, Brother Xiaoyuan, are you a friend of my Mengmeng?" "You could say that. But I came to return a favor owed to Yin Zhiwang." "An ancestor? Ah, I see. Then your seniority is exceedingly high!" "Elder, aren't you going to do business?" "Ah, yes, of course, of course." The old man walked up to the shopfront. When closing up for the night, Yin Meng had slotted the doorboards back in place. Rather than shifting the boards, the old man rested his hand against a mirror hanging on the wall and gave it a gentle twist. The thick wooden doorboards instantly became translucent. Both Li Zhuiyuan and Tan Wenbin saw that out on the street, which should have been dead silent in the dead of night, dark human figures were drifting about. Interspersed among those dark figures were a few bright, vivid shapes. Those had to be living people—two drunks stumbling with their arms around each other's shoulders, and two others walking alone. When nothing was pressing, it truly was best not to wander solitary streets late at night, for the street might be far more bustling than what met the naked eye. The old man sat back down behind the counter, seemingly waiting for customers. Tan Wenbin stood at the far corner of the counter, warily studying the 'pedestrians' outside. Li Zhuiyuan walked over to stand across from the old man. "Is this unique to Ghost Street?" "I used to hear that a few other regions had something similar, but I've never traveled there and don't know the specifics. Places like our Ghost Street in Fengdu, though, can't be many." "Are they... ghosts?" "They are, and they aren't. Whenever the Ghost Festival arrives, they emerge onto this street at night." Tan Wenbin asked, "Haven't you ever caught one to examine?" The old man waved his hands dismissively. "Whoever crosses the threshold is a guest. I'm not running a den of thieves." Just then, a dark silhouette drifted inside. His form was blurred and indistinct; one could only tell in a general sense that it was a person. He stood before the counter. The old man muttered in low murmurs to him, speaking words Li Zhuiyuan could not make out. Before long, the dark silhouette turned to leave. At the shop doorway, he dropped a piece of paper currency that fluttered down into the water vat. The moment the currency hit the water, it dissolved into black ash and dispersed. A smile touched the corners of the old man's mouth as he stroked his beard. Only then did Li Zhuiyuan understand the true purpose of the water vats sitting before every shop. Yet Yin Meng herself had not known, repeating an erroneous superstition instead. Li Zhuiyuan asked, "What did you trade?" The old man chuckled. "Lifespan." *What?* "If this body of mine could still move, I could personally craft a few items to sell on the counter tonight, or run errands to fulfill someone's dying wish. But now I can only sit here walking the yin path. I can't do a shred of practical work. The only thing I have left to sell is this bit of lifespan. "Paralyzed as I am, I still have quite a few days left to me. But in my condition, living an extra day only means burdening Mengmeng for another day. I might as well sell off these cumbersome days in exchange for some hidden merit for her. "My granddaughter is a good girl, but she has far too much stubborn pride. Bitterly guarding this coffin shop for my sake is completely unnecessary; it only squanders her youth." The old man's devotion to his granddaughter reminded Li Zhuiyuan of his own Great-Grandpa. "How much can you sell it for?" "Not much. Anyone with great merit wouldn't end up as a lonely wandering ghost, after all." "True enough." "Still, every little bit counts. Even a mosquito leg is meat." Li Zhuiyuan pointed toward the inner room. "Aren't you going to wake Yin Meng?" "She can't be woken for this. Not just anyone can walk the yin path. She isn't capable of it." Hearing that, Tan Wenbin immediately grinned. That meant Runsheng couldn't do it either, whereas he had succeeded! "Can it not be learned later in life?" "Some are born with the knack; others encounter strange events later on and manage it by twist of fate. But it can indeed be learned." "So you deliberately chose not to teach her?" "Aye. What purpose does learning this serve? Being able to see these things isn't necessarily a blessing. In times of peace, this trade won't prosper. "To tell you the truth, I only hope she lives a joyful life, finds something she loves to do, marries a decent man, has a child, and lives an ordinary life." Great-Grandpa had harbored the exact same hopes for him. "From what I've seen, she's learned quite well on her own." "Think of it as physical conditioning. A girl who knows how to handle herself won't be bullied easily." At that moment, Tan Wenbin spoke up: "Brother Xiaoyuan, my head is so dizzy... it hurts." The old man said, "Thick-headed kid, go back and sleep. If you stay on the yin path too long, your body won't take it. You don't want to lose control and drift out into the street—you'll end up a wandering ghost." Frightened, Tan Wenbin asked, "Uh... how do I end it?" "Every lineage has its own incantation." The old man looked toward Li Zhuiyuan. "You haven't taught him?" Li Zhuiyuan said, "Close your eyes. Imagine you're at the bottom of the sea, floating upward." The old man: "..." Tan Wenbin obediently closed his eyes and began to visualize. He even rose onto his tiptoes, gently paddling his hands up and down. After a moment, Tan Wenbin opened his eyes, his expression contorted with pain. "I can't wake up, Xiaoyuan! My head hurts even worse! Ah..." Li Zhuiyuan was out of ideas. He turned to the old man. "Elder, do you have a method?" "I..." The old man got up, stepped in front of Tan Wenbin, mumbled a low chant under his breath, and then slapped Tan Wenbin square on the forehead. Tan Wenbin flew backward, passing right through the wall into the inner room. Awakening inside the coffin, Tan Wenbin felt a splitting headache and overwhelming exhaustion. Yet he forced himself to climb out, pushed the curtain aside, and returned to the front room. There, he saw the wooden doorboards firmly in place. There was no sign of anyone else. Only then did he realize what was happening. He clapped a hand to his forehead, crawled back into the coffin, closed his eyes, and promptly began to snore. "There, he's back. If that kid really never learned this before, he actually has some natural talent. Has he been through harrowing encounters?" "He has." "Ah, then it was triggered by running into too much strangeness." "Does staying on the yin path for long tire you out?" "You wouldn't feel tired, of course. You are remarkably sturdy." "Sturdy in what way?" "You must have stood outside the inner room for quite a while earlier, listening to our conversation, yet I never sensed your presence the entire time." "Could you be more specific?" "This... you truly don't know?" "Do I look like I'm pretending?" "No, which makes it all the more astonishing. If you didn't know, how did you temper yourself?" "By running into too much strangeness as well." The old man shook his head. "No. Experiencing events can only open your faculties to walk the yin path. What you have has clearly been forged and tempered." Li Zhuiyuan thought of Ah Li. If it was forging, it must have come from entering Ah Li's 'sight' to gaze upon the scenery. Every time he 'emerged' after viewing the scenery, he would suffer a miserable daze for quite a while. But after doing it enough times, the side effects had grown smaller and smaller. After waiting for a long time, no second dark silhouette crossed the threshold. Li Zhuiyuan asked, "Business is slow?" The old man smiled. "Running a coffin shop, it's not like the place will ever be packed with guests." "Would you consider another deal? I don't want your lifespan." "Aside from lifespan, what else could I possibly offer now?" "I will give Yin Meng money in the waking world, and you teach me how to walk the yin path right now." The old man leaned back. Although he had long sensed that something was unusual, he truly had not expected such words from the boy's mouth. "Are you doubting my identity with the Liu family?" "No, I am certain of it. Because only a Dragon King temple could produce such a marvel." "Will you take the deal or not?" "I'll take it, but I cannot accept your money." "No, I must pay. What comes free often costs the most." "You misunderstand. It's just that what I can teach is merely the fundamentals—I would feel too ashamed to take your money." "What I lack is precisely the fundamentals." "Very well. I can teach you all Twelve Arts of Walking the Yin Path passed down in my Yin family. However, learning them takes a great deal of time. How long will you be staying here?" "We leave tomorrow afternoon." "These arts of walking the yin path contain many intricate details and taboos. Without someone guiding you step by step, it's exceedingly hard to even grasp the basics. How about you consider staying a bit longer? If you stay for a month, for instance, we can at least ensure you master one art." "It's fine. Just teach me." "Then let me lay out all twelve arts. You pick one, and we'll familiarize you with it tonight?" "No need. Start from the first." "Oh... all right then." At first, even knowing the boy was connected to the Liu family, the old man still thought he was mad, harboring ambitions higher than the heavens. But as the teaching went on, he came to realize that he was the frog at the bottom of the well. For each art, he first described it, demonstrated it, and pointed out the crucial caveats. The boy would sit on a chair, ponder for a brief moment, and then execute it. His first attempt was slightly unpolished; his second was fluent; by the third, he had attained absolute mastery. The second art, the third... all unfolded in identical fashion. Partway through, the old man even began to suspect whether the boy had already learned the Yin family's arts and had come merely to show off and cross-reference them. But he quickly dispelled that thought. Because the old man himself had not mastered the final three arts. He could only recite the mnemonics and caveats handed down through generations; he could not demonstrate them. Yet the boy remained the same as before. Sitting on the chair, he pondered for a short while, then began analyzing aloud: based on the shared principles running through the first nine arts, should the next step proceed like this or like that, and where did the vital pivot lie? And then, the boy successfully performed it. After executing it, he turned around to instruct the old man, telling him to attempt the practice. In the quiet of the night, the roles of master and disciple had completely reversed. Never in his wildest dreams had the old man imagined a day when someone else would teach him his own ancestral arts. It was utterly preposterous, yet the reality was right before his eyes, leaving him no choice but to believe. What was even more demoralizing was that once the boy mastered an art, broken it down into pieces, and explained it to him in meticulous detail, the old man felt tremendously enlightened and gained a deeper understanding—yet he still couldn't pull it off anytime soon. By the time the boy had learned them all, the sky outside was still dark, quite a while before the first cock's crow. The old man felt thoroughly defeated. Slumping dejectedly against the wall, he stared at the boy, who was still glowing with vigor, and let out a heartfelt sigh: "No wonder you belong to the Liu family." Li Zhuiyuan merely smiled in response. To him, these were truly just elementary exercises—revisiting and shoring up foundational concepts after skipping far ahead in the past. "If this were before the Liberation, once you grew up, you would undoubtedly have been the sort of towering figure who commands wind and rain." "Elder, was the Liu family very powerful in the past?" Now that the study was finished, Li Zhuiyuan was willing to chat, especially about old tales concerning the Liu family. "Listen to how you ask that! On the waters, there was always a saying: *Dynasties may flow like water, but the Canal Gang is forged of iron.* "Many of those renowned big bosses of the Canal Gang in history were merely minor deities pushed out into the limelight by Dragon Kings like the Liu family. Back then, the only name that could stand shoulder to shoulder with the Liu family was the Qin family. "Clans of that stature didn't concern themselves with petty squabbles above the water; their focus lay entirely on the secrets buried deep beneath the waves. That was where their true heritage resided." "Elder, you know a great deal." "Ha! Travelers from all corners of the world pass through here. In my younger days, I loved making friends and chatting away. Dawn is nearly here, and you ought to rest. To tell you the truth, I'm just about dead on my feet myself, heh-heh." "Yes." Li Zhuiyuan nodded. "Only two guests came tonight?" "Aye, that's right." The first guest had entered right after opening, while the second had come midway through the instruction. "However, the second guest didn't give you any money." "Ah?" The old man was startled. He remembered the boy having his eyes closed in contemplation at that moment; he hadn't realized the boy had noticed. He quickly explained, "The deal fell through, of course. Naturally, there was no need for payment." "Did it fall through? But after the second guest left, your complexion immediately turned awful." "I'm just tired, truly. It's been a long time since I exerted myself like this." "You said it yourself—these were all basic arts. Even demonstrating all of the first nine was merely lifting a finger. So, Elder, are you tired, or did you give away a massive chunk of lifespan to that second guest?" "You're joking, heh-heh..." "I know physiognomy. Your time on this earth has nearly run out." "You..." "Is it inconvenient to say?" "I'm too ashamed to say." The old man hung his head, rubbing his own face. It was half out of shame, half out of dread. The boy before him had clearly noticed long ago, yet he had deliberately held his tongue until all twelve arts were taught before finally bringing it up. Such a mind and disposition were truly terrifying. "Then don't speak of it." Li Zhuiyuan raised his hand, preparing to snap his fingers and end his walk on the yin path. Tonight had taken quite some time; he figured he would sleep until noon. Fortunately, it wouldn't delay their boat ride in the afternoon. "I'd better speak of it after all. I'm afraid if you leave later in the day, you'll still find out." "I will find out?" "My son is dead." "Yin Meng said that after her parents divorced, her father left for the south to work and was never heard from again." "I originally thought he couldn't stomach the shame of the divorce. That the moment they split, he ran off to the south all by himself, abandoning his daughter and this home." "And the truth?" "He was murdered." "Murdered?" "He refused to agree to the divorce. That woman conspired with the man she's married to now and killed him. They sank his body to the bottom of Xiwanzi." "Then how was the divorce handled?" "In a small place like ours, the rules might be stricter now, but back then, you just threw a wedding banquet and that was it—no need to register for a certificate. If you ever needed one, you just patched it up later. Divorces were even simpler: each returning to their own home was considered divorced. "At the time, he supposedly left a letter, saying he was useless, a good-for-nothing who couldn't even keep his wife, with no face left to stay at home, so he was heading south to make something of himself, telling us not to worry. He was already dead by then; the letter was a forgery." "And you never suspected a thing?" "I was foolish. I truly never suspected." "Then who told you?" "He returned himself. During last month's temple fair, he came home and told me with his own mouth. "Because they were building a bridge over Xiwanzi, his remains were dug up while laying the foundation. Too many years had passed, and the police had no leads to investigate. I was furious, so I planned..." "I'm tired. My head hurts." "Ah?" "No more talking. I'm going to sleep." *** When he woke, it was indeed well past noon. Li Zhuiyuan climbed out of the coffin. Runsheng was holding a rag, helping wipe down the counter. Seeing Xiaoyuan awake, Runsheng immediately went into the inner room and shook Tan Wenbin awake as well. "Hey, you really know how to sleep," Yin Meng said with a smile. "Mm," Li Zhuiyuan acknowledged. Tan Wenbin stumbled out rubbing his eyes. In the broad daylight of noon, he blurted out, "Yin Meng, your grandfather isn't dead!" "Of course he isn't dead! I never said he was dead yesterday. He just had a stroke and can't wake up." "Is that so? You didn't say that yesterday?" Tan Wenbin tried hard to recall. Li Zhuiyuan said, "She didn't." Yet her words and tone had made it sound practically indistinguishable from him being dead—though in truth, there was little practical difference. Tan Wenbin immediately put on an apologetic smile. "Uh, sorry about that, heh-heh, my mistake." Yin Meng asked, "Want some lunch? I'll cook." Li Zhuiyuan said, "Let's eat out. Consider it our farewell meal for you." The memory of last night's pig's trotters still cast a bit of a shadow. Just then, two boys walked into the shop. They looked only two or three years older than Li Zhuiyuan, their eyes red and puffy as they ran inside. "Sis! Sis!" "Sis!" The two boys began calling Yin Meng their sister the moment they entered. "Who are they?" Tan Wenbin asked. "Born to my mother later on." "You seem to get along with them quite well?" "Mm. When they occasionally come into the county town, I buy them snacks and give them some pocket money." Tan Wenbin remarked, "You're surprisingly kind-hearted." "Am I?" "Kind-hearted to the point of being out of your mind." Right then, the two boys rushed forward, throwing their arms around Yin Meng and wailing: "*Waaah!* Sis, something terrible happened! Mom and Dad both fell into the river pond and drowned this morning!"