Chapter 13: Three Souls and White Bones (Part 5)
As was his custom, Hai Di slipped out of his spirit vessel the moment he was perched on Jiang Si’s shoulder. The puppet body was left beside the television, while his spectral form moved to occupy the single armchair.
Xiao Fengxian was nowhere to be seen, having disappeared to who-knows-where, leaving only a paper doll resting quietly in Jiang Si’s pocket.
“Do you want to eat some incense?” Jiang Si asked, taking off his dress shirt to reveal a T-shirt underneath.
“Yes.”
Hai Di’s posture was impeccable. The hem of his well-tailored suit trousers folded crisply as he crossed his legs. He rested one hand on the armrest, propping up his head as he looked at Jiang Si. He didn’t look like a lonely, wandering ghost living under someone else’s roof; he looked like a noble CEO issuing commands from a throne of immense wealth.
At first, Jiang Si didn’t sense anything wrong. He instinctively bent down to grab the incense, but then paused.
Why did he feel like he was still at work?
He looked back at Hai Di and suddenly felt a bit annoyed. “Who mooches off someone else with an attitude like yours?”
“?” Hai Di didn’t understand the sudden shift in attitude. He watched as Jiang Si sauntered closer. Taking advantage of Hai Di’s seated position, Jiang Si looked down at him from above. “Say something nice to beg me.”
Hai Di’s highlighted curly hair matched its owner’s personality—arrogant enough to curl upward defiantly. His pale, slender fingertips pressed against the desk behind him, the pressure turning the tips a faint red. Looking up, he met Jiang Si’s eyes, which feigned seriousness but hid a glimmer of amusement. From this angle, Jiang Si’s thick eyelashes were exceptionally clear, each one defined by the light of the chandelier.
“Hm?” Hai Di’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly, his expression unreadable. “What do you want to hear?”
“Call me ‘Boss’. Let me hear it.”
“Boss.” Hai Di hadn’t expected the request to be so simple. Half-amused and half-resigned, he obediently said it.
“Now say: ‘Please, Boss, grant me a meal,'” Jiang Si added.
Hai Di pursed his lips and shot him a sideways glance. “For a six-figure investment, are you sure one sentence settles the score?”
Jiang Si fell silent for a moment. A man couldn’t live on empty promises alone, but he might as well enjoy the power trip while it lasted.
“You say it first.”
“Fine. I ask that Boss Jiang,” Hai Di enunciated every word, his tone serious, “grant me a meal.”
“Mn.” Jiang Si nodded with reserved dignity, fighting down the corners of his mouth that threatened to curve upward. He turned around to get the incense.
It was indeed satisfying. And when he imagined his former employer in this position, the satisfaction doubled!
In a much better mood, Jiang Si decided to be generous. previously, he burned the sticks one by one; this time, he lit three at once.
With the soft click of the lighter, a flame danced in Jiang Si’s eyes. The curling white smoke began to rise and was immediately inhaled by the ghost opposite him.
Jiang Si had been squatting on the floor for too long. Feeling his feet going numb, he grabbed a disposable paper cup, set the burning incense inside, and stood up to stretch. Unfortunately, he had overestimated his physical condition. The moment he moved, he felt his entire leg turn into a mass of static pins and needles. Not only could he not exert any strength, but he also pitched involuntarily forward.
He fell straight onto Hai Di, his palms bracing against the ghost’s thighs. There was no soft, human flesh there—only a cold hardness, like steel covered in ice.
“Hiss—”
Jiang Si felt a twinge in his lower back and tried to push himself up, but an arm circled his lean waist, suppressing his struggle.
“Don’t move yet,” Hai Di said, his voice husky.
“Why?” Jiang Si was confused.
“I feel like… I’m not as cold anymore.” Hai Di’s voice resonated right next to his neck. At such close proximity, it sounded to Jiang Si as if the voice itself was coated in a layer of frost.
The sensitive skin on his neck instantly broke out in goosebumps.
Nonsense.
Jiang Si was about to retort when he suddenly realized that the temperature beneath his palms actually felt a bit warmer.
It really wasn’t as cold as before.
“Do you feel it?” Hai Di asked, receiving no immediate answer.
“A little bit.” Jiang Si pushed Hai Di’s hand away. “Let me check.”
Hai Di cooperated, letting go and allowing Jiang Si to examine him. He could only feel his internal state; he had no idea that his face had changed as well.
That pale, greenish complexion now showed signs of rosiness, and his lips had regained some color. He looked much more vivid, tinged with the vitality of a living person.
“You really are better,” Jiang Si clicked his tongue in wonder. Seeing the three incense sticks on the table burned down to the very end, he wasn’t surprised. He explained, “I added a special ingredient to the incense—rhino horn. Legend has it that this stuff can revive the dead and flesh out white bones. It’s just a legend, of course, but it seems to have some effect.”
“Rhino horn?” A news report he’d seen recently flashed through Hai Di’s mind, and his expression turned strange. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“It’s just medicinal material,” Jiang Si said. “Besides, I used a very, very small amount. Just a pinch.”
He held up two fingers, indicating a microscopic distance to emphasize his point.
Since they had nothing else to do, Jiang Si continued his lecture. “Have you heard of Rhino Horn Incense? There’s an idiom: ‘Burning the rhino to illuminate the dark.’ The ancient text Baopuzi records a type of rhino horn called the ‘Sky-Connecting Rhino.’ Legend says burning it allows you to see ghosts and monsters, and wearing it allows you to walk through water. But that’s the stuff of myths; no one knows where to find a Sky-Connecting Rhino. I just used ordinary rhino horn—obtained through legal and compliant channels!”
“So, the rhino horn acts like your eyes?” Hai Di stood up gracefully and moved closer, his burning gaze fixed on Jiang Si. Very few people knew the secret behind those amber eyes.
Such beautiful eyes, made all the more mysterious by their ability to bridge the gap between yin and yang.
“Naturally, my eyes are more precious than that,” Jiang Si said, pointing at himself. “These are priceless.”
Hai Di smiled silently, watching as Jiang Si turned to answer a phone call.
Wang Zhao had the waiter deliver lunch to Jiang Si’s room. The two friends decided to hang out together, eating while discussing Jiang Si’s script.
“Everything else is fine, but have you thought about how to execute the effects? Paper effigies are a fresh concept, but visually, people might get aesthetic fatigue if they see too many of them,” Wang Zhao said.
“I thought about using traditional opera to tie it all together. Rongcheng is a thousand-year-old city, so using opera to bridge the past and present wouldn’t feel out of place.”
As Jiang Si spoke, a muffled clap of thunder suddenly exploded outside, resounding through the sky and shaking the windowpanes.
“Whoa! That was loud.” Wang Zhao joined him in looking out toward the balcony. The torrential rain had been pouring for hours with no sign of letting up. It was noon, yet the sky was as dark as midnight, forcing them to rely on indoor lighting.
In the distance, the green mountains were veiled by the curtain of rain, barely visible as ink-wash shadows.
“Let’s eat,” Jiang Si said. “It’s not like you guys can continue filming anytime soon anyway.”
The thunder cut off their conversation, and they both fell silent. The only sound remaining was the distinct patter of the rain.
Suddenly, Jiang Si’s ears twitched.
Someone was walking back and forth in the corridor. The stomping was heavy. The footsteps gradually shifted from walking to running—running back and forth as if fleeing for their life.
There were no screams, no sounds of struggle. Just the ceaseless sound of running, from one end of the hall to the other, over and over. Listening to it for too long created a strange resonance, the thud-thud-thud of the steps falling in rhythm with the beating of one’s heart.
“Wang Zhao.” Seeing his friend still eating, Jiang Si couldn’t help but ask, “Do you hear that noise?”
“Noise?” Wang Zhao blinked. “What noise? You mean the rain?”
Jiang Si set down his chopsticks and walked to the door, holding his breath to listen to the corridor. At that moment, there was a rhythmic knocking on the glass door of the balcony.
He whipped his head around. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a woman in a red dress with long hair plastered to her face, clawing at the glass.
Perhaps due to being scared so often in his childhood, Jiang Si had a peculiar habit: he didn’t scream when terrified. No matter how fearful he felt, his body remained calm. His soul and body would decisively split in those moments—one side panicked, the other coldly rational.
It took a moment for the sensation to return to his icy limbs. Jiang Si slowly realized it was Xiao Fengxian who had returned.
He walked over, opened the door, and quickly shut it again.
Xiao Fengxian floated in, complaining immediately. “What is going on? Why couldn’t I just come in directly?”
Wang Zhao looked at Jiang Si like he was insane. Jiang Si had been pacing the room silently, and now he was opening and closing the balcony door, letting in a spray of rain.
“Old Jiang, what’s wrong with you?” Wang Zhao asked, perplexed.
Jiang Si shook his head, signaling him to be quiet. He walked to the wall adjacent to the balcony door and began to inspect it.
First, he knocked a few times with his knuckles. A dull thud. Solid wall.
Then, he pressed his fingers along the surface, inch by inch, until he reached the edge and began picking at the wallpaper with his fingernail.
Wang Zhao watched for a while, unable to figure out what was happening. He was about to interrupt and ask what was going on when Jiang Si pinched a corner of the wallpaper and used his strength to slowly peel it back.
Witnessing this, Wang Zhao felt a vague sense of unease. “Why is there… another layer behind the wallpaper?”
“Heh…”
Jiang Si stepped aside, gesturing for him to look. “Take a good look at what exactly this is.”
Wang Zhao leaned forward. His pupils instantly contracted to pinpoints. His blood froze, a chill sweeping through his body, making his scalp tingle and his stomach churn.
“Holy sh*t—that is terrifying!”
“F*ck his mother, who did this?!”
Where the clean wallpaper had been peeled away, the wall beneath was plastered with dense rows of yellow talismans. Countless charms covered the entire surface, covered in crimson cinnabar spells.
Just looking at it was enough to make one tremble with fear, let alone thinking about the implications.
Xiao Fengxian floated over, equally shocked and disgusted. “No wonder I couldn’t get in! It was these things blocking the way!”
“No, I have to go ask the owner what the hell he’s thinking, putting people in a room like this!”
Wang Zhao stormed toward the door in a rage, but Jiang Si stopped him. “Don’t go. A normal room wouldn’t be like this; clearly, this specific room has a problem. But how will you resolve it if you blow this up now? It’s pouring rain outside, we’re in the middle of nowhere. If the owner kicks you out, are you going to sleep on the wet ground?”
“So you just want to keep living here?” Wang Zhao couldn’t accept it.
Jiang Si shook his head. “I’ve already stayed one day; a few more won’t make a difference. Don’t panic yet.”
The running sound in the hallway was still continuing, drifting into Jiang Si’s ears without pause.
He was planning to open the door to check the situation when Director Zhang’s roaring voice erupted at the exact same time.
The forty-something-year-old man was screaming profanities at the air, his face twisted and flushed red, spewing every foul, unbearable curse word imaginable.
“What’s happening?” Wang Zhao heard it too. Only the director and a few staff members were staying on the third floor. Since it was mealtime, only he and Jiang Si were currently in their rooms.
So, they stepped out.
“Director Zhang?” Wang Zhao called out tentatively.
Unexpectedly, Director Zhang immediately stopped cursing and whipped his head around. The sight of a middle-aged man flinging himself toward them like a lost bird returning to the forest was an eyesore, but given the eerie atmosphere, no one cared about appearances.
“Little Wang! Thank god you’re here!”
Director Zhang looked like he was about to cry. “F*ck his father, I just got out of the elevator and saw a woman lunging at me. The key thing is—she actually ran through me and disappeared!”
“Holy sh*t, that scares the hell out of me!”
“What?” Wang Zhao was startled. He quickly pulled Jiang Si back inside and slammed the door heavy shut.
“That is too scary!”
Director Zhang looked at him like he’d found a soulmate. “You saw it too?”
Wang Zhao shook his head, his face looking awful. He pointed to the peeled patch of wall. “Look at that.”
Sure enough, Director Zhang, who had just calmed down, let out a gasp identical to Wang Zhao’s, followed by five or six unique curse words.
Jiang Si couldn’t help but mentally admire the richness of his vocabulary.
“This homestay definitely has issues. That shabby ‘Master’ has issues too. This morning he swore the thing was gone, and now it’s back!”
The more Director Zhang thought about it, the more panicked he became. He grabbed Wang Zhao’s hand. “Tell me, do you think they’re all in on it? Trying to trap us here? Maybe they want to be like Sun Erniang* and leave our lives behind in this place!”
(Translator’s Note: Sun Erniang is a character from “Water Margin” who ran a tavern where she drugged travelers and made buns out of their flesh.)
“You mean… human meat buns?”
Wang Zhao synchronized with his train of thought immediately, becoming more convinced the more he thought about it.
Hearing this, Jiang Si couldn’t help but interrupt. “Stop talking.”
If they kept imagining things, they’d scare themselves to death before the ghosts even did anything.
When he opened the door earlier, he had indeed seen a white shadow. However, it was just the female ghost that had been following Director Zhang and the assistant director all along—mindless, simply following them blankly.
But if what Director Zhang said was true… that meant there was a second ghost in this homestay?
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