Part 3
“Priests can get married too.” Hai Di pulled on his wrist. They were so close he could see the fine, soft hairs on Jiang Si’s skin. After watching for a while, he felt a sudden urge to bite him.
However, he restrained himself, as Jiang Si’s exposed skin was already covered in marks.
Jiang Si slept for another half-day to regain his energy. He set a time with Wang Zhao to meet Director Tong Yong and began working on the Shuilu paintings for Old Zhao.
Shuilu paintings originated during the Three Kingdoms period as religious works created for Buddhist “Water and Land” Rites. Later, with the fusion of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism, they became a shared religious culture for both Buddhist and Taoist Shuilu rites.
Whenever a Shuilu rite is held, Shuilu paintings must be present, hanging high before the ritual grounds.
The characters in the paintings aren’t limited to one faith; they can be from any of the three teachings, though most are Buddhist and Taoist deities.
When Hai Di asked out of curiosity, Jiang Si explained, “This actually falls right within my expertise. Old Zhao really found the right person.”
“How so?”
Jiang Si smiled and tapped a character on his drawing tablet with his stylus. “Old Man Jiang used to specialize in Shuilu paintings when he was young. I followed him and learned for several years. Do you know who the patriarch of our trade is?”
Hai Di adopted a listening posture.
“Wu Daozi, the Sage of Painting. But Shuilu paintings eventually declined, and to this day, not many people know how to paint them anymore.”
“That impressive.” Hai Di really didn’t know the intricacies. “No wonder you studied art later.”
“…That wasn’t actually why.” Jiang Si fell silent. “Mostly, it was because I didn’t want to be treated like a lunatic because of these eyes.”
After an eerie silence, Hai Di’s train of thought connected with his, and he suddenly burst into laughter.
“You really are… a genius.” He shook his head, still laughing.
Jiang Si was not at all modest. “I think so too.”
After talking for a bit, Jiang Si found him too distracting and told him to go play in the living room so he could focus. He put on his headphones and hunched over his work.
The day Director Tong Yong arrived in Rongcheng, it was raining. A fine mist dampened half his shoulder as he placed his umbrella by the door and pushed his way inside.
The humid heat of the outdoors was instantly swept away by the cool shade of the interior. Everyone who entered felt a sense of being transported to another world.
Jiang Si was alerted by the wind chime. He looked up and realized who the middle-aged man was after a few seconds of eye contact. “Are you Director Tong Yong?”
“I am.” Tong Yong nodded and took off his sunglasses. “You must be Jiang Si. I’ve heard much about you. A pleasure to meet you.”
For a world-renowned director to make a special visit would be an immense honor and a thrill for anyone in the industry.
But Jiang Si was an exception. He had a very clear sense of self—everything was for the sake of making money, regardless of who the person was. He gave a faint glance and nodded in greeting. “Hello.”
“You don’t seem very surprised.” Tong Yong’s hair had been intentionally dyed white, making his thick, dark eyebrows stand out even more. He wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses and was dressed in a simple black-and-white hoodie and trousers. Judged by appearance alone, he didn’t look like a man in his fifties.
“Since we already had an appointment, why would I be surprised?” Jiang Si gave a polite smile. “Please have a seat. I’ll pour some tea.”
“Hahahaha.” Tong Yong laughed heartily. “You’re right; I overthought it. In the past, too many people would do anything to make me remember them the moment they saw me. I thought you might be one of them.”
Jiang Si raised his cup in a toast. “Well, you’ve definitely remembered me now.”
Tong Yong laughed even louder, then held his neck and coughed a few times before taking the water to soothe his throat.
“I’ve seen your films. They’re very interesting.”
Jiang Si smiled. “Thank you.”
Tong Yong stopped him. “No, no, I don’t mean that your techniques are sophisticated or the storytelling is great. I’m not analyzing them from an audio-visual language perspective. I want to ask—what exactly are you filming?”
He had drunk most of the warm water, and he toyed with the remaining bit in his glass, his eyes staring intently at Jiang Si. “You’re filming ghosts, aren’t you?”
Jiang Si’s smile faded. “What are you getting at?”
“I think your idea is excellent—extraordinary, even,” Tong Yong said seriously. “It’s a waste of talent to only make short films. I want to invite you to collaborate with me. We can truly film a movie about gods and ghosts together—one with humans, gods, and all sorts of spirits. It would be far more breathtaking than any CGI special effects.”
“Just for that?” Jiang Si raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you afraid of ghosts?”
“Quite the opposite. I believe these spirits that humans rarely see are the highest form of art. We’ve become accustomed to the art around us; only these unknown realms are worth exploring.”
“Interesting.” Jiang Si casually picked up a paper figurine and made it look Tong Yong in the eye. “Care to guess if there’s a ghost on this?”
“Eh?” Tong Yong was blank. He studied the paper figurine seriously; it had a stiff smile and bright red cheeks. “Maybe?”
“This paper figurine hasn’t had its eyes dotted, so it can’t be possessed. You guessed wrong.” Jiang Si put it down and asked curiously, “How did you tell that the actors I film aren’t human? Who told you? Was it Wang Zhao?”
“No.” Tong Yong shook his head. “No one told me; I felt it myself. I’ve always enjoyed researching these things, and the moment I saw your short film, I realized—this was the very thing I had been researching but had never seen. My sixth sense has always been accurate. I trust myself.”
“Your proposal is good, but I don’t have the time to film a movie,” Jiang Si said. “Thank you for the invitation.”
“Won’t you reconsider?” Tong Yong asked. “I’m a guarantee for the box office; you definitely won’t lose money.”
“No time,” Jiang Si refused. “We can talk about other things. After all, I’ve taken your money, so let’s not waste time on meaningless topics.”
Tong Yong sighed in disappointment. He looked around and then asked, “Can I ask how I can see these ghosts and spirits? I’m truly very curious.”
Jiang Si was genuinely surprised now. He hadn’t expected a man in his fifties to have such a penchant for seeking trouble.
“I suggest you don’t try. You have no way to protect yourself, and seeing things you shouldn’t see comes at a price.”
“I really want to try.”
Jiang Si smirked. “Was your previous trip to Southeast Asia to get a Buddha amulet also for the sake of seeing these things?”
Tong Yong was stunned. “How did you know? There were no news reports on that.”
“…” Jiang Si gestured for him to look down. “Your amulet is showing.”
A corner of a black rectangular tablet peeked out from his collar, hung on a cord with several black prayer beads. Jiang Si had noticed it since he entered the shop. Initially, he thought it was just for making a wish.
Tong Yong awkwardly tucked the amulet back into his clothes and was about to speak again.
Jiang Si continued, “Also, there’s a little ghost sitting on your neck.”
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