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The Child Spirit No. 13 had been taken away by Li Xin. However, he couldn't tell Ding Li about it, as he had come to the Paper Craft Shop without her knowledge. Ye Chenfeng lowered his head in silence, contemplating how to break the news to her without making her unhappy.
Ding Li was checking each paper figure one by one, comparing them meticulously. She asked herself how many times she had done such a detailed check; she cared for each handmade paper figure as if they were her own children.
"It's strange. When I left, I clearly counted, and the Child Spirit No. 13 was right here. How could it just disappear?"
"Stop looking for it. Just tell me what that woman said," Ye Chenfeng said, extinguishing his cigarette and tossing the butt into the trash can, gesturing for Ding Li to sit down.
Ding Li sat down, still preoccupied with the missing Child Spirit No. 13, and spoke absentmindedly, "She came and asked if you were here. Then she looked at the paper figures with a sorrowful expression and said her child was lost. She has nightmares every night where her child is crying and calling for her mother."
"Did she leave a phone number?"
Ding Li shook her head. "She said she would come back but didn't leave a number."
Ye Chenfeng handed Ding Li a tote bag and walked her to the door. "Don't think about the Child Spirit No. 13 anymore. Go home and rest. I'll stay here today; tomorrow is Sunday. I'll buy some cooked food for dinner later, and then I'll keep watch here until that mother you mentioned comes by. Does that sound good?"
That was all they could do. As a woman herself, Ding Li deeply understood the woman's current predicament. A child is like a piece of flesh from a mother; losing one is more painful than losing one's own life.
"Alright, that's all we can do. I'll head back now." Ding Li left the Paper Craft Shop.
Ye Chenfeng watched her figure blend into the bustling crowd until she was out of sight before retracting his gaze. He scratched his scalp—a habitual action he had developed over recent years. Whenever faced with difficult situations or brain-teasing problems, he instinctively scratched his head.
The Paper Craft Shop was 15 square meters with no partitions, an open layout where one could see everything at a glance; aside from the paper figures, there was only the counter. Inside the counter were neatly arranged items that would send shivers down most people's spines: paper shoes and various trendy paper products.
Nearby the Paper Craft Shop was a repair shop and a car wash; further down was a store selling thread. Across the street was a small supermarket, with a hair salon on the left and a restaurant serving cooked dishes nearby.
To the right was the Farmers' Market.
The sounds of various vendors calling out came from that direction. Ding Li loved to wander around the Farmers' Market after returning home, occasionally buying some favorite vegetables and little trinkets.
The sky was overcast, with not a hint of wind.
The trees and everything else were in a state of stillness. If it weren't for one person moving about, Ye Chenfeng might have felt that the world had been frozen in time, as if even time itself had come to a halt.
Someone was walking this way, their face filled with sorrow, tears reddening their eyes.
Finally, he stood at the shop's entrance, peering down at the counter.
This person had drooping eyebrows and a pained expression. Up close, it was clear that his eye sockets were not just red from tears but also streaked with bloodshot veins. It was likely due to long-term insomnia; there must have been a recent death in his family, perhaps someone he was reluctant to part with—someone very dear to him.
Having assessed the man's situation, Ye Chenfeng stepped forward, his expression serious as he nodded in greeting.
The man returned the gesture with a polite nod and said to Ye Chenfeng, "I rarely see you around. Your wife didn't come today?"
This man was not only timid and fearful but also had a somewhat lewd demeanor. His speech lacked refinement, showing poor quality and little education, filled with meaningless chatter.
"She had something to attend to. May I ask what you would like to buy?" Ye Chenfeng's initial sympathy for this man quickly faded due to his thoughtless remark. He felt an urge to send him away as soon as possible; even spending two more minutes with him felt unpleasant.
"Your wife said that when someone dies with unfulfilled wishes, they linger on. My spouse passed away a few days ago and has been buried for some time now, yet she still appears in my dreams. It's really quite depressing."
"Do you need any help?" Ye Chenfeng asked, a hint of impatience in his voice as his fingers rhythmically tapped on the counter, producing a dull thud. He thought to himself, I haven't been an Onmyoji for many years; I'm just selling these things to pass the time. Listening to this nonsense is pointless.
"Do you know the Mausoleum Technique?"
Ye Chenfeng was taken aback by this peculiar question. He scrutinized the person before him: about 1.58 meters tall, with sparse hair, a thin build, slanted eyes, and drooping eyelids. Judging by his appearance, this man was certainly not up to any good.
Ye Chenfeng realized that this man was not a good person—not that he wasn't human, but rather that he wasn't a good human being.
"Yes and no. What do you want?" Ye Chenfeng stopped tapping and stared directly at him.
Perhaps his gaze was too intense. The man averted his eyes nervously but showed no intention of leaving. Instead, he cautiously said, "If you understand the Mausoleum Technique, I’m willing to pay a high price for your help."
Ye Chenfeng didn’t fully grasp the Mausoleum Technique, but he knew that The Ghost-Quaking Scripture contained all sorts of information. To probe into the man's intentions regarding the Mausoleum Technique, he calmly replied, "Just tell me what kind of help you need. This back-and-forth is hardly what a man should do."
The man forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and chuckled awkwardly. "Let me introduce myself first. My surname is Huang; my name is Huang Liangji. I live in Dongshan Village in the suburbs. A while ago, my wife passed away—not from natural causes but by hanging herself. Sigh! Let me clarify: her death has nothing to do with me."
"If it were related, you wouldn't be here looking for me, would you? Besides, we live in a rule-of-law country. If you've committed a crime, there are consequences, so there's no need to explain yourself to me. Just tell me what help you need," Ye Chenfeng replied.
"Well..." Huang Liangji trembled as he fumbled through his pockets until he pulled out a crumpled cigarette box. He opened it and rummaged around until he found what he considered a valuable cigarette. He handed it to Ye Chenfeng and said, "Have one. This box has all sorts of brands; this one is Great China—give it a try."
Ye Chenfeng wrinkled his brow at the dirty, twisted cigarette held between Huang Liangji's thick fingers and politely declined, "Sorry, I don't smoke."
"Oh really? You don’t smoke? You look like someone who does," Huang Liangji said as he stuffed the cigarette back into the box. After some more small talk, he got straight to the point: "My wife suffered from many ailments—diabetes, heart disease, gallstones—she had so many problems that doctors couldn't treat her anymore. They just told us to keep her at home. Eventually, she took her own life; for her, death was a form of relief. But unexpectedly, she came back in my dreams saying it’s cold down there and she feels so lonely; she wants me to join her. I’m wondering if she’s trying to drag me down with her! So I came to see if you could help me figure out how to fix up her grave site with something special so she’ll finally leave me alone."
What a cruel man.
One must understand that once a cursed object is used on a grave, the soul of the deceased can only be trapped there for eternity, never to be reborn. Moreover, the perpetrator is a close relative of the deceased; why would he go so far as to harm someone who has already passed away?
Ye Chenfeng looked coldly at Huang Liangji, his expression unreadable. "What do you want to do?"
"Hey, hey, it's best if you can help me, I’ll reward you handsomely," Huang Liangji said as he fumbled to pull out a red envelope. It looked flat and didn’t seem to contain much money.
Ye Chenfeng did not take the envelope but continued to probe, "Are you trying to ensure she can never be reborn?"
"Hey, pretty much," Huang Liangji replied, scratching his nose. A few spots marred his nose—bad luck spots; this man was destined for misfortune.
Ye Chenfeng chose not to expose him and instead maintained a serious demeanor. "I'm sorry, but what you're asking for is something I cannot do. It would harm my virtue." With that, he turned away and busied himself with other matters.
Huang Liangji lingered in front of the stall for a while, feeling disheartened before finally leaving in frustration.
By this time, dusk was approaching.
The woman Ding Li mentioned had yet to arrive.
Ye Chenfeng glanced toward the Farmers' Market. Once bustling with activity, it was now quiet. He was contemplating whether to close up shop and take a stroll through the market to buy some ready-made food for dinner when he noticed a woman walking briskly toward him.
Feigning ignorance of her presence, Ye Chenfeng buried himself in organizing his ledger. The ledger detailed the paper offerings sold by Ding Li, each item meticulously recorded along with receipts for the quantities purchased tucked inside.
The faint sound of footsteps came to a halt, and Ye Chenfeng felt that the woman was now standing right in front of him. He slowly raised his head to look at her.
The woman’s face was pale, her eyes vacant, and she walked with an ethereal grace; she was not human.
"Did you realize I'm not human?" she asked.
"Speak if you have something to say." Ye Chenfeng stopped what he was doing and turned his attention to the ghostly figure.
"I've come to ask for your help in finding my child. His name is Xiao Qiang, he's very well-behaved. That day... it was all my fault..."
The woman recounted the story of her lost child—
Her name was Zhou Fujun, and she was from another place. Her husband had come to Purple City for work with his company, and they rented a house with a red door on West Gate Alley.
Zhou Fujun enjoyed playing Mahjong.
Her husband was a small contractor at a construction site, busy all day, leaving no time to spend with her or their child.
Their son, Xiao Qiang, attended an expensive kindergarten, which required daily drop-offs and pick-ups. After dropping him off, she would go to a nearby teahouse to play Mahjong.
On the day her child went missing, Zhou Fujun had no idea that he had walked home by himself.
The kindergarten called her, but she didn’t answer as she was engrossed in her game.
When the child returned home, it started to rain, soaking their clothes and causing a cold.
Zhou Fujun, fearing her husband’s anger, took the child to the hospital for treatment.
After seeing the doctor and taking some medicine, the child seemed to improve, so Zhou Fujun resumed playing Mahjong.
Little did she know that later that night, the child developed a high fever that wouldn’t subside and even began to convulse. Zhou Fujun rushed the child back to the hospital, where the doctor informed her that the fever had progressed to pneumonia and hospitalization was necessary.
The child was admitted.
Zhou Fujun had no choice but to tell her husband about the child's illness.
He didn’t blame her; he thought it was just a natural occurrence for children to get sick and allowed the hospital staff to administer IV fluids. He only visited once, bringing some of the child's favorite fruits.
He was still very busy.
Watching the child receive treatment and improve significantly eased Zhou Fujun's anxiety. However, an unexpected incident occurred when it was time for the child to be discharged.
As she prepared to take the child home, she asked them to wait outside while she used the restroom. When she returned, the child was nowhere to be found. In a panic, she searched frantically throughout the hospital but found nothing. She even looked outside, but there was still no sign of her child.
Terrified, as night fell, she scoured every street and alley in search of her child, only to accidentally collide with a vehicle and tragically lost her life.
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