Chapter 9: Three Souls and White Bones
“No matter how good something is, it’s still just a thing. If you let it sit around, it’ll go to waste sooner or later.” Jiang Si felt no guilt about his favoritism. “His situation is special, you know that. And don’t you bully him from now on.”
“…” Xiao Fengxian was so jealous her eyes were turning red.
“On what grounds!” she protested, pointing at Hai Di. “Don’t you humans talk about being gentlemen? Ladies first!”
Hai Di was equally curious why Jiang Si was treating him so differently and looked over with anticipation.
He then heard Jiang Si say, slowly and deliberately, “He’s wearing a limited edition Brioni suit.”
“What does that mean?”
Jiang Si explained, “That’s a six-figure suit. This is an investment, you understand?”
He then turned to Hai Di, his smile exceptionally sincere. “When you come back to life, remember to carry me to the top with you!”
Xiao Fengxian got it. Her gaze toward Hai Di now held a clear trace of pity. This poor, naive fool. Did he really think the world was full of genuine kindness?
Hai Di was speechless.
Alas, the hypocrisy of humanity.
Jiang Si got up and retrieved some ordinary incense sticks from the storage cabinet, setting them up for Xiao Fengxian as well.
The human and his two ghosts began to eat their respective meals in comfort.
A few days passed like this, until Jiang Si received a call from a friend who was filming in the mountains.
Wang Zhao’s voice was as booming as ever, piercing through the phone’s speaker with enough force to echo for days.
“Old Jiang, we’ve got a situation!”
His ears ringing from the noise, Jiang Si’s face went numb. He held the phone a little further away before asking, “What happened?”
.
The trouble had started three days ago.
Wang Zhao was on location as the screenwriter for a film. The set was a semi-developed mountain, sparsely inhabited. The head director, Director Zhang, decided to take advantage of the late summer weather and start filming scenes from the middle of the script. The crew set up their equipment inside a cave, but as soon as they started rolling, Director Zhang noticed something on the monitor: a human figure was constantly moving around behind the actor.
Securing the location and getting the actors in the right emotional state had been difficult enough. Director Zhang had no intention of wasting time on such a low-level mistake. After four or five takes were ruined by the same issue, he lost his temper.
He threw down his script, got up, and stomped over to the actor, planning to drag the troublemaker out himself.
But as he got closer, he saw that there was no one behind the actor at all—just the empty, gloomy expanse of the cave.
Before Director Zhang could process this, the assistant director walked over, his voice echoing in the cavern.
“What’s wrong?”
“Is there no one behind him?” Director Zhang was confused. He had seen it clearly on the monitor; a figure had definitely been moving.
“What person? I don’t think so. When I was blocking the scene, Hou was the last one in the line,” the assistant director said, baffled.
The actor, nicknamed Little Hou, was just as mystified. He added, “No, I’m positioned at the very back for this scene. Director Zhang, did your eyes play a trick on you?”
“That’s bizarre.” Director Zhang scratched his head, turned around, and went back to the monitor. The figure was gone.
I must have just been seeing things, he thought. No more late nights. I need to get some rest.
“Alright, everyone get ready! Cave fight scene, take one, shot two! Action!”
As the screenwriter for this scene, Wang Zhao was naturally present. After witnessing the whole exchange, he suddenly felt the temperature drop, raising a layer of goosebumps on his arms. He rubbed his arms, puzzled, and was checking his script when a scream tore through the air.
By the time he looked up, several people were already rushing forward. Little Hou, who had been lifted into the air by a wire harness for a planned flip, had suddenly plummeted to the ground. He was lying flat on his back, tears of pain streaming down his face, his expression a crumpled mess as he cried out.
“Aaaah! Don’t touch me, don’t move me, it hurts! Son of a bitch, someone pushed me! I’m sure of it, I felt someone push me.”
The handsome young heartthrob was now grimacing in agony, his face contorted.
The faces of everyone who saw it turned grim.
Wang Zhao had glanced over just a moment before. Little Hou was suspended by the wire, and the nearest actors were a good ten feet away. Who could have possibly pushed him?
Besides—
The more he thought about it, the heavier his heart became.
Could someone have it out for Little Hou and resorted to some dirty trick? This was Director Zhang Chengyuan’s set; he despised that kind of backstabbing.
Sure enough, the next second, Director Zhang’s roar echoed through the cave.
“Who was in charge of the wire rig? Get your ass out here! Didn’t you check it before the shoot? How could it snap so easily? What the hell do I pay you for!”
Under Director Zhang’s furious glare, the crew member in charge of the wires stepped forward, his face pale. “Director, I think you should come see this for yourself.”
He had been the most terrified person when Little Hou fell. While everyone else was checking on the actor, he had immediately gone to inspect the rig. If it really was his fault, a serious equipment failure, he’d not only have to pay compensation but would also find it nearly impossible to work in the industry again.
Besides, he clearly remembered checking it that very morning. There was no way it could have failed.
Director Zhang squinted at the rig and saw that the wire Little Hou had been using wasn’t broken at all. The rope securing him to the harness had been untied, causing him to fall.
“…”
“Get him to the hospital first,” Director Zhang finally ordered.
Luckily, he hadn’t been hoisted very high, and his body had instinctively protected itself during the fall, so his injuries weren’t severe.
When the crew returned from the hospital, an unspoken tension hung in the air. This unease finally exploded when they all sat down to review the footage from the past two days.
“Go to the next scene! Look at the next one.”
“Is there a problem with the next one?”
The person who answered had a tremor in his voice. “D-Director Zhang… they all have a problem.”
“Anything shot inside this mountain has a problem.”
Wang Zhao’s stomach sank. He quickly joined the others, following the man’s pointing finger.
There, behind the actors, was a white, human-shaped figure, swaying back and forth as if blown by the wind. But the actors’ clothes were perfectly still.
Or, to put it another way, it was floating in mid-air.
As they watched, they realized the same blurry white figure appeared in every single shot, always standing in the deep background.
It was there in close-ups and wide shots alike. It was even visible in the reflection of the actors’ eyes during their close-ups.
“…”
A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room.
.
Director Zhang pulled the assistant director outside to talk. The two middle-aged men, both in their forties or fifties, just stared at each other, speechless. Neither could manage a single word for a long time.
“So, what do you think we should do?” Director Zhang scrubbed a hand over his face and squatted on the ground, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.
“How did this happen? I’ve been in this business for decades, and this is the first time I’ve ever run into… into it!”
“Do you think we disturbed something by filming here? Director, maybe we should just change locations?”
“And go where?” Director Zhang stared at the ground. “We’ve already paid the location fees and pulled so many strings to get the filming permits. Besides, do you really think it’ll just let us go in peace?”
“But we can’t keep filming. What happened to Little Hou was a warning.” The assistant director was frantic.
“Damn it all to hell.” Director Zhang abruptly stood up. “I refuse to believe it. A living person can’t be beaten by a dead one! I’m gonna find someone to deal with this thing!”
“Find who?”
As the assistant director asked the question, Wang Zhao, who was pretending to casually walk by while actually eavesdropping, wondered the same thing.
“I’ll ask around, see if I can find someone who knows about this stuff. Have them come over, burn some offerings, and ask this thing to leave.”
Director Zhang was a man of action. He immediately pulled out his phone to make a call.
Suddenly, a face flashed in Wang Zhao’s mind.
He had a connection for this!
.
“So you want me to come help?” Jiang Si was baffled. “What makes you think I can handle ghosts?”
“Hey, hey, hey! Shhh!” Wang Zhao hissed. “Have some tact, will you? ‘Confucius did not speak of the strange, the forceful, the chaotic, or the supernatural’! Be a little more subtle!”
“…” Jiang Si was truly at a loss for words.
“Come on, Jiang. Didn’t you say you come from a long line of experts? What if Director Zhang hires some charlatan and makes things worse? Then our whole crew is screwed. I trust you more. I’ve already recommended you to Director Zhang!”
“I haven’t even agreed yet,” Jiang Si tried to protest.
“Does your shop have any business?”
“No…”
“Well, there you have it. And we can talk about your script while you’re here. It’s perfect!”
Wang Zhao sounded completely satisfied. Just as Jiang Si was about to say more, he heard a sudden commotion on the other end of the line—the sound of a panicked crowd.
“It’s happening again.” “Someone fell.” “Are they alive?” Fragments of conversation drifted into Jiang Si’s ear.
After a moment, Wang Zhao spoke again, his voice rushed. “I’m sending you the location. Old Jiang, get here as soon as you can. This is serious.”
With that, he hung up.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the crack in the door, illuminating tiny dust motes dancing in the air. Two neat rows of paper effigies smiled silently, and in the corner, stacks of gold paper ingots gave off an alluring gleam.
Jiang Si stared into the unpainted eyes of a paper figure for a moment, then sighed.
He couldn’t just stand by while his friend was in trouble.
.
Xiao Fengxian could not understand Jiang Si’s sudden decision to go on a long trip. She became even angrier when she saw that he was planning to take Hai Di but not her.
“Wait, you’re taking him but not me? Why the hell not!”
“Why do you have to go to Yanming Mountain anyway? Who’s even there?!”
Yanming Mountain was where Wang Zhao’s crew was filming. It wasn’t far from Rongcheng, only about a three-hour drive.
“It’s not convenient to bring both of you. You can stay home or go out and have fun. I’ll leave incense and paper money for you in the living room,” Jiang Si said, continuing to pack his bag without pause.
He only needed a few changes of clothes; the main thing was to bring some items for self-defense. After his little experiment with Xiao Fengxian, he’d discovered his mourning staff made for a surprisingly effective weapon. This time, he packed two.
“Hey! Aren’t you going to catch a ghost? Take me with you! I can fight!” Xiao Fengxian was sick of being cooped up here and used her silver tongue to try and persuade him.
“I can fight! And I’m experienced. What if you fall for the enemy’s tricks? We have a deal to make a movie. If you die now, who am I supposed to find to film it?”
“Can’t you wish me something good for a change?” Jiang Si fought the urge to throw her out of the house.
“You’re just too sensitive. I’ve always been this straightforward,” Xiao Fengxian said with perfect composure.
Hai Di, who had been listening quietly, finally saw an opportunity to speak up—in support of Xiao Fengxian. “Don’t you have that folded paper effigy? She can possess it, just like I do.”
Hearing this, Xiao Fengxian looked at him as if she’d seen a ghost. “Since when were you so nice?”
Hai Di ignored her, his gaze fixed on Jiang Si. What he was really thinking was that if Jiang Si ran into danger, he himself would be useless, but Xiao Fengxian could actually fight and protect him.
The expressionless man, dressed in a full suit, leaned down to meet the eyes of Jiang Si, who was squatting on the floor packing. For a split second, Jiang Si thought he was looking at his beastly ex-boss.
Of course, his ex-boss wasn’t as young, tall, handsome, or rich.
But he had a particular fondness for wearing suits.
He would stare at his employees all day with a deadpan expression, as if constantly calculating whose salary he could cut to increase his own profits.
God only knew why an animation and media company had a corporate culture as rigid as a state-owned enterprise.
The words “Yes, sir” almost slipped out. Jiang Si collected himself and held up a mourning staff to create some distance between them.
“…Stay away from me.”
“?”
“Taking you isn’t out of the question, but you have to listen to me when we’re out. Got it?” Jiang Si said. Xiao Fengxian’s eyes immediately curved into a smile.
“Got it.”
Jiang Si looked back at Hai Di, his eyes landing on the six-figure suit. His lips parted, but in the end, he said nothing.
Forget it, he thought. It would be rude to tell him how to dress.
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