Anping was shaken awake.
It was break time, and the classroom was bustling with noise.
“Class rep, you’ve really been sleeping a lot lately. You doze off for several periods at a time. If I hadn’t done such a good job covering for you, the homeroom teacher would’ve already called you in for a little chat.” His deskmate handed him a stack of worksheets. “These are the assignments for all your subjects, handed out this afternoon. They’re due tomorrow.”
“Thanks, thanks.” Anping rubbed his eyes and slowly adjusted to the commotion around him. By now, he was quite used to dreaming, but the sudden shift across a hundred years still left him feeling somewhat disoriented.
However, according to Mu Geshen, his condition was already quite good. After waking from a long dream, everything and everyone had changed. Some people took a very long time to recover.
“Oh, right. That guy’s here.” His deskmate poked him with an elbow and jerked his chin toward the back. “He didn’t show up until after four this afternoon. He just went out to get some water.”
Anping knew who he meant. Yawning, he said, “Mu Geshen has a name. Why do you keep calling him ‘that guy’?”
Recently, Mu Geshen had been showing up for class quite frequently, coming to school every other day. Even when he came, he didn’t do anything. He would sleep like the dead in the last row, occasionally chat with the girls and collect a few love letters, all while waiting for school to end so he could mooch a meal off Anping.
“That’s the school bully, after all.” His deskmate looked as though it were perfectly obvious. “You have the guts to take him in as your underling, class rep, so of course you don’t think much of it. But I’m just an ordinary underachiever. I don’t understand the joys of being a rich second-generation kid like you.”
Anping had already given up trying to explain, but he still insisted, “He’s not my little brother.”
“Then why does your little brother treat you to meals every day?”
Anping: You need to switch the subject and object in that sentence.
Lately, he had been spending a lot of time with Mu Geshen, causing a minor stir at school. High school students didn’t have much to occupy their free time, so a little gossip could be picked apart from beginning to end, embellished with all sorts of details, and then turned upside down for good measure. Anping had long since grown too lazy to care what sort of person everyone thought he was. Even his homeroom teacher had brought it up several times, more or less saying that the repeat-year school bully had finally blossomed, and perhaps there was hope he might actually graduate this time. The teacher urged Anping to help tutor him whenever he had time, so they could rid the school of this menace as soon as possible and send this great troublemaker on his way.
Anping was speechless. Mu Geshen was older than City No. 1 High School itself. Rather than tutor this “hundred-year-old senior” in his homework, Anping would much rather go to a nursing home and teach the elderly how to tackle the National College Entrance Examination.
At least people with dementia wouldn’t ask him whether a hanged ghost was a mammal while he was doing his biology homework.
A thermos suddenly appeared on the desk. Anping looked up.
Speak of the devil.
“What are you thinking about?” Mu Geshen looked at him with a cheerful smile. “Are you free to grab dinner tonight?”
His deskmate let out a strange cry and frantically waggled his eyebrows at Anping.
Anping was speechless, but still nodded. “Sure. What are we eating? The usual at the cafeteria?”
“Not the cafeteria today.” Mu Geshen said, “It’s the dead of winter. Hot pot is just the thing.”
Winter days were short, and by the time school let out, it was already dark. Mu Geshen and Anping walked out of the school one after the other, with Mu Geshen leading him all the way to West City Street.
West City Street was an old street. Although the weather was cold, many food stalls were still open for business. There were fried noodles, roasted sweet potatoes, wonton carts, and pancake stalls. Strings of brightly shining lamps hung all along the street, and the entire stretch was filled with the rich aromas of frying, roasting, steaming, and stir-frying.
Mu Geshen held a little bottle of incense ash, eating as he sprinkled it along the way. He strolled from one end of the street to the other, visiting every stall, large and small. Anping’s only jobs were paying and carrying things. Between the boneless chicken skewers, teppanyaki tofu, and candied hawthorn skewers, both his hands were completely full. In the end, he couldn’t help wondering what exactly he was doing here.
“Wait, Immortal Master. What happened to the hot pot we agreed on?”
“No rush. We’ll go in a bit.” Mu Geshen turned around with a grilled skewer in his mouth and smiled at him. “One chicken in your left hand, one duck in your right.”
Anping had a feeling that whatever came next wouldn’t be anything good. Sure enough, Mu Geshen tapped him on the forehead with a curled finger.
“And a big fat baby in the middle.”
With that, he burst out laughing. Humming some little tune from who knew which dynasty, he kept singing and making fun of Anping, teasing him to his heart’s content.
Anping resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Suddenly, the melody sounded rather familiar. He had probably heard it at Guanshan Yue.
As the dream grew deeper, Anping learned more and more about Mu Geshen. That young master from the Ginkgo Study had grown up in military camps, overflowing with bizarre arguments. Later, he had polished himself with poetry, books, rites, and music, until he could cite the classics and argue someone into the ground from five miles away. A hundred years passed in the blink of an eye. Although Mu Geshen now carried a little more of the bearing of an old cadre than he had back then, deep down he was still a mischievous old rascal. He was nothing like a rigid old traditionalist who refused to budge. If anything, he had become even more unrestrained, doing whatever he pleased while somehow remaining perfectly reasonable in his own unreasonable way.
His stinginess had also remained unchanged for a hundred years. Aside from the few coins he used for fortune-telling, Anping had never seen him reach into his own pocket. He spent his days mooching food and drink, and did so with the utmost peace of mind.
Sometimes Anping couldn’t help asking what had happened afterward, but Mu Geshen was like a storyteller deliberately keeping his audience in suspense. He would merely smile and sip his tea, telling Anping to keep dreaming. Sometimes he would give him a few sachets of calming tea, which worked remarkably well. Anping would sleep so soundly in class that he might as well have been hibernating. Yet sometimes, when he briefly woke up, he would find himself involuntarily looking out the window.
Let the storyteller’s wooden clapper fall,
And wait until the eastern sky turns pale.
Those familiar faces from back then—
Where are they now?
Mu Geshen had finally finished satisfying his appetite. He walked farther into the old street and stopped in front of a hot pot restaurant.
“We’re here.”
The restaurant had two floors and an imposing storefront, with elegant, antique-style decor. Red lanterns hung in front of the carved wooden doors, bearing four large characters:
Ye Shui Zhu Hua.
Anping knew this restaurant. Ye Shui Zhu Hua was the most famous hot pot restaurant in the old city district, with a century-old reputation. Getting a table was notoriously difficult. Normally, anyone who wanted to eat here had to make a reservation at least several weeks in advance.
“Immortal Master, this place requires advance reservations. We might not even be able to get in…”
Mu Geshen casually patted his shoulder. “It’s fine. Just follow me.”
With that, he leisurely walked upstairs. Ye Shui Zhu Hua prohibited customers from bringing in outside food and drinks, yet Anping’s hands were full of all sorts of odds and ends, and surprisingly, no one came forward to stop them.
The two of them walked straight into a private room. Anping looked at the ruyi-patterned lattice windows, through which the entire street outside could be seen. This was the finest private room in Ye Shui Zhu Hua. The last time his father had held a business dinner here, he had booked this very room. A single meal here cost as much as Anping’s entire monthly living expenses.
Anping immediately said, “Immortal Master, please sit down first. I need to go home.”
Mu Geshen pulled out a chair. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t know you were going to eat somewhere like this. I don’t have enough money on my phone. I need to go back and get a bank card.”
“There’s no need for that.” Mu Geshen laughed when he heard this. He called for a pot of Dong Ding oolong, then poured the tea as he said, “Don’t hold back. This meal is on me. Just treat this place like the school cafeteria.”
Anping nearly dropped everything he was holding.
A stingy iron rooster plucking its own feathers, a tree blossoming after a hundred years—Mu Geshen was actually going to treat him to a meal! If this wasn’t a last meal before execution, it had to be a Hongmen Banquet.
“No, no, that’s not necessary. You really don’t need to treat me…”
“Why be so polite? You’re a junior. It’s only right for you to eat a meal paid for by your elder.” Mu Geshen held his teacup and shamelessly declared this, then set the menu aside and called to the waiter, “One Yin-Yang Hot Pot and one entire menu.”
Anping didn’t understand. “One entire menu?”
“Everything on the menu. From beginning to end. Every single dish.”
Anping nearly fell to his knees.
Seeing that Anping was about to rush out and find the waiter, Mu Geshen reached out and pulled him back. Unhurriedly, he said, “Don’t rush. It’s not just the two of us eating today. Someone else will be joining us later. You won’t be the one getting fleeced.”
Anping froze. “Who else?”
Mu Geshen pointed outside the window.
At the far end of the long street, an electric three-wheeled cart was slowly approaching. The driver wore a red armband, and a loudspeaker was mounted on the front of the vehicle. Its background music was Happy Birthday to You. The crowd parted on both sides as the tricycle made its way toward the entrance of Ye Shui Zhu Hua.
Only then did Anping get a clear look at what was piled in the trailer—a heap as tall as a small hill. It contained everything from scrap materials to drainage pipes, along with shared bicycles.
“Whoa, another whole cartload.” Mu Geshen burst out laughing. “Diligently collecting junk for a living. You’re either a city enforcement officer or a beggar.”
Anping was still trying to figure out what Mu Geshen was up to when the private room door suddenly opened, letting in a gust of cold air. He couldn’t help sneezing. Only then did he get a clear look at the newcomer.
The other person seemed to be about his age, dressed in a thin black outfit with a row of white buttons fastened all the way up to his throat. His collarbones were prominent, and his eyes were startlingly bright, carrying the chilly, austere quality unique to a youth, like the biting cold of early spring.
He swept into the room like a gust of cold wind, found a seat as far away from Mu Geshen as possible, and, without even glancing at the two of them, lowered his head and started playing a game.
“Allow me to introduce you.” Mu Geshen seemed completely oblivious. He sipped his tea as he spoke. “This is Wu Biyou, a city enforcement officer on West City Street. He’s probably a little younger than you, Anping.”
With a sharp crack, Anping saw the other person crush his phone screen with his fingers. Xiao Qiao, who had been halfway through unleashing her attacks, was promptly beaten to death.
“He’s also the owner of Ye Shui Zhu Hua,” Mu Geshen added with a beaming smile. “And my daughter.”
Anping spat out a mouthful of tea.
He had almost shouted out loud: What the hell? Daughter?
“Don’t fucking call me your daughter!” The young man immediately exploded. He stood up and was about to flip the table. “Even a dog is your daughter!”
“Child, why are you insulting yourself?” Mu Geshen shook his head. “I always say there’s nothing good about dropping out of school early. Without nine years of compulsory education, your brain just doesn’t work properly. By the way, daughter, do you still have your kindergarten graduation certificate?”
Anping didn’t have time to criticize Mu Geshen. His mind was completely occupied by that word, daughter. He recalled that Mu Geshen had just said the young man’s name was Wu Biyou, and couldn’t help asking in shock, “Is this person from the Wu family?”
Wu Biyou shot him a sidelong glare. Mu Geshen replied, “Yes.”
“Did you marry Wu Zixu?”
This time, Mu Geshen was the one who nearly choked to death. He stretched out an arm to stop Wu Biyou, who was about to charge forward and beat someone up, and shoved him behind himself. Coughing and laughing as he slapped the table, he said, “Anping, your imagination is incredible… Third Brother doesn’t have that particular ability.”
Anping asked, “Then do you?”
“Absolutely not.” Mu Geshen waved both hands repeatedly. “I’m her godfather. She’s Third Brother’s biological daughter.”
“Where did you find this idiot?” Wu Biyou sneered. “What, after living for all these years, have you finally decided to die? Started looking for a disciple?”
“Your father has been dead for ages. The underworld doesn’t take disciples.” Mu Geshen tapped Wu Biyou on the head with his chopsticks, then said amiably, “It was just a coincidence. He’s older than you, so hurry up and call him Brother.”
Wu Biyou was about to open his mouth and curse, but Anping hurriedly tried to smooth things over. “No need, no need. It’s our first time meeting. You can call me whatever you like. My name is Anping.”
“I know you. Your father often comes here to eat.” Wu Biyou looked Anping up and down, raising the corner of his eyes. “You’ve got a perfectly good life as a rich second-generation kid. Why are you hanging around with this old ghost? Did he swindle you?”
Anping was momentarily speechless. He didn’t know where to begin. “…It’s a long story.”
The atmosphere became rather awkward for a moment. Mu Geshen continued sipping his tea unhurriedly, showing no intention of explaining or stepping in to save the situation. Just as Anping began to suspect that the man was simply enjoying the spectacle, the private room door opened, and the hot pot and dishes finally began arriving.
Mu Geshen ladled himself a bowl of broth before speaking. “Stop standing there like an idiot. Young people shouldn’t discuss topics that are hard to digest while eating. Otherwise, daughter, you’ll never grow any taller.”
A vein bulged at Wu Biyou’s temple. “Shut up!”
“Look at you. You’re all grown up, so why are you still like a wild cat, bristling at the slightest provocation?”
Mu Geshen’s mouth was as sharp as a murderer’s blade. While he leisurely sharpened it on Wu Biyou, Anping took the opportunity to study the other person.
If he looked only at their features, Wu Biyou really did resemble Wu Zixu quite a bit. Both had refined, delicate features. Give him a folding fan, and he could easily pass for a handsome young gentleman with the beauty of jade.
However, their temperaments were worlds apart. Wu Zixu was as gentle and mild as water, whereas Wu Biyou was like water with chili added to it, a whole river of raging, boiling red.
Much like the split hot pot on the table: one side clear broth, the other red oil, completely different. But considering that Mu Geshen was his godfather, such a genetic mutation wasn’t particularly surprising. It was already a blessing that the child had turned out alive.
“All right, that’s enough father-daughter bonding. Let’s get down to business.” Mu Geshen cut off the conversation. “What time is it?”
Anping froze, then checked his watch. “Ten thirty. What’s wrong?”
Mu Geshen picked up a teacup, rinsed it, and set it aside. “Anping, do you know the story behind the split hot pot?”
“I bet you don’t,” Wu Biyou said, picking up his phone, its screen full of cracks, and starting another round. “This old bastard specializes in cheating and swindling people. Unless he’s on the verge of death, there’s not a single truthful word that comes out of his mouth.”
Anping was indeed completely bewildered.
“The split hot pot is also known as the ‘Yin-Yang Hot Pot.’ The living eat from the red broth, while the dead eat from the clear broth. The two sides face each other in one pot, separated by the boundary between yin and yang.” Mu Geshen began rinsing another set of tableware. “If you eat split hot pot the proper way, you can share a table with the dead and bring yin and yang together.”
“This old bastard didn’t tell you, did he?” Wu Biyou said. “The hot pot you ate today was a Yin-Yang Hot Pot.”
The chopsticks in Anping’s hand fell to the floor with a sharp clatter.
Even though Anping had seen quite a lot over the past while, he couldn’t help being startled when someone suddenly appeared out of thin air beside him. He looked at the person who had appeared at his left without him noticing.
“Y-You are…?”
“Allow me to introduce him. This is Cui Ziyu, one of the Four Great Judges of Fengdu and the Chief Judge of the Office of Yin Law.” Mu Geshen pushed the tableware toward him. “Judge Cui, have some tea.”
“I wouldn’t dare trouble you.” The newcomer wore a blue-green gauze robe and a black gauze hat. His complexion was ghastly, and he spoke in a faint, eerie voice. “This subordinate has come to verify a matter concerning the Three Crossings.” As he spoke, he looked toward Anping. “This must be the young gentleman who accidentally wandered into it?”
Cui Ziyu had a pale face and bluish-green lips. He had the ghostly appearance of someone whose age was impossible to determine. He spoke in a shrill, pinched voice, dragging out the ends of his words. It was hard to tell whether he sounded more like a eunuch singing onstage or a vengeful ghost wailing about an injustice. Either way, they shared one characteristic: they could scare the piss out of you.
Anping was startled, but quickly recovered. He looked toward Mu Geshen and whispered, “Is this man a hanged ghost? Or was he castrated when he was alive?”
Mu Geshen gave him a light smack. “Don’t go saying things that are too true.”
“Fengdu is here because of what happened at the Three Crossings last time.” Wu Biyou, who was playing a video game, kicked the chairs of the two men. “Hurry up and get this over with. I still have the accounts to settle tonight.”
Cui Ziyu took out a scroll and unrolled it. “Anping, seventy-sixth-generation descendant of the An family, eighteen years of age, parents both living…” He proceeded to recite Anping’s family genealogy going back eighteen generations, along with a full account of his life over the past seventeen years. Finally, he asked, “Are there any inaccuracies in the above?”
Anping shook his head. Still astonished, he looked at the scroll in Cui Ziyu’s hand. “Is that the Book of Life and Death?”
“It’s only a copy.” Cui Ziyu wagged his index finger. His fingernail was long and dark green. Then he took out a sheet of yellow paper and handed it to Anping. “Please take a look, Young Master An. Does anything written here differ from your own experience?”
Anping stared at the page covered in what looked like ghostly scribbles. “…I can’t read this.”
“This is Yin script. Please forgive this subordinate for being presumptuous.” Cui Ziyu took the paper back. “In that case, allow this subordinate to read it aloud to you.” He began reciting the opening passage, and Anping immediately realized that it was a written record of their experiences at the Three Crossings.
The sheet of yellow paper wasn’t very large, yet it took more than an hour to finish reading it. Cui Ziyu recited it with such elaborate rises and falls in his voice that Anping nearly wet himself listening.
Mu Geshen had already cooked and eaten most of the dishes on the table. Cui Ziyu put down the yellow paper and looked at Anping. “Does anything in the above differ from your own experience, Young Master An?”
Anping thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No.”
Cui Ziyu broke off one of his fingernails, which transformed into a black brush. Its tip gleamed with the red hue of cinnabar. “Then please sign your name and affix your seal.”
Just as Anping picked up the brush, Wu Biyou, who had been playing her game with her head lowered the whole time, spoke up.
“That yellow paper was torn from the Book of Life and Death. Once you sign it, if you’ve concealed anything, the price will be deducted from your lifespan. You brainless fool, think carefully before you do it.”
Anping froze. He hadn’t expected Wu Biyou to say something like that. He glanced in her direction and said, “Your Cai Wenji is about to die.”
“Fuck! Do you think I can’t see that?!”
Anping smiled and signed his name, then affixed his seal to the yellow paper. “That should do it, right?”
“Thank you for your cooperation, Young Master An.” Cui Ziyu put away the yellow paper, then stood up and bowed to Mu Geshen and Wu Biyou. “You two have been through a great deal of trouble recently. On behalf of the King of Hell in our humble office, I extend his regards.”
“Judge Cui, it’s rare for you to visit the mortal world. Are you in such a hurry to leave?” Mu Geshen pointed his chopsticks at the hot pot. “We’ve saved the clear broth for you. It’s the original broth from Ye Shui Zhu Hua. Won’t you stay and have a taste?”
“I would be remiss to refuse.” Cui Ziyu bowed deeply. “However, I still have a great many official documents piled up on my desk. I’m afraid I truly have no free time. Please forgive me.”
“Not at all, not at all.” As Mu Geshen spoke, he poured a plate of beef aorta into the clear broth. “Then we’ll eat it ourselves. We won’t see you out.”
“If you ever have time to visit Fengdu, the Office of Yin Law will welcome you with open arms.” Cui Ziyu gave a leisurely salute, and his figure dissolved into the steam.
Anping watched Cui Ziyu disappear. “So what exactly is going on here?”
“The Three Crossings appearing in the human world is no small matter. Those freeloaders in Fengdu were rather frightened, so they’re scrambling to find out what caused it.” Mu Geshen said, “I was one of the people involved, so I went to Fengdu some time ago to give a statement.”
“This old bastard has become a master of lying. Fengdu is afraid he’ll fool them, so they’re taking his account and having you verify it as well.” Wu Biyou controlled Cai Wenji and unleashed her ultimate skill. “You’d better pray he hasn’t pulled any tricks. Otherwise, tomorrow you’ll be drinking soup at the head of the Naihe Bridge.”
“Are you the current Wuchangzi?” Anping asked Wu Biyou. “Does Meng Po’s soup taste good?”
“What kind of stupid-ass question is that?” Wu Biyou looked at him in disbelief. “How about I kill you, and you can go taste it yourself?”
Mu Geshen laughed aloud. “Meng Po’s soup comes in all kinds of flavors. You can add milk, sugar, or chicken bouillon. Anything goes.”
Anping asked, “Really?”
“Don’t listen to his nonsense,” Wu Biyou snorted.
“Practice is the sole criterion for testing truth.” Mu Geshen spoke leisurely. “I’ve died before. Have you ever died, daughter?”
“I won’t die before you do.” Wu Biyou sneered. “I’m waiting to scatter your ashes into the sewer and feed the fish.”
“Daughter, you can’t let our guests hear you say that. Raising fish in the sewer… People who don’t know any better might think Ye Shui Zhu Hua uses nothing but gutter oil.”
The conversation between these two was so bizarre that Anping couldn’t help saying, “You two…”
“A loving father and filial daughter,” Mu Geshen said.
At that, Wu Biyou flung her phone into the hot pot, pointed at Mu Geshen, and sneered at Anping. “Do you know what this man did?!”
“Do you know how many people he ruined?!”