A motorcycle roared down the street and came to a stop in front of the City God Temple with a sharp skid. Its tires scraped against the ground, producing an ear-piercing screech.
Zhu Yin-xiao laughed loudly as he took off his helmet.
“Well? Wasn’t that exhilarating?”
“This is a no-parking zone. If you park here again, I’ll fucking write you a ticket.” Wu Bi-you jumped off the back seat. “Next time, please change the color of your ride, would you? You’re bringing shame on all Seven Houses of the Seven Sages.”
Anping sat on the threshold, watching Zhu Yin-xiao and Wu Bi-you approach one after the other. Zhu Yin-xiao absolutely loved going for rides. During the first lunar month, he went out racing almost every day. Sometimes he even helped Wu Bi-you deliver urgent food orders. Naturally, he’d also received plenty of speeding tickets.
A few days earlier, Anping had gone home for a visit. Halfway there, he’d witnessed a streak of red light speeding across the road, followed by a long line of traffic police motorcycles and patrol cars. The officers were shouting into their megaphones. The strangest part was that, trailing behind the entire convoy, there was an electric urban management vehicle playing Happy Birthday to You amid the continuous wail of sirens.
At first, Anping had thought the police were chasing a thief. He’d even taken a picture and posted it to his social media. Only after returning to the City God Temple did he discover that Mu Ge-sheng was the only one there.
“Old Five got caught street racing.” The man was lying in the courtyard, sunbathing lazily. “Three-Nine went to the police station to bail him out.”
A little while later, Chai Shu-xin called.
“You come over and explain.”
The other man paused, then said, “I can’t explain it clearly. They all think Old Five is a girl.”
Mu Ge-sheng’s expression suggested that he’d expected this all along. He struggled to suppress his laughter while putting on a concerned tone.
“Oh? Are you all right?”
“…” There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. “I don’t even know what happened. Now they think I’m involved in human trafficking.”
“Looks like you might have to come bail the two of us out now.”
Mu Ge-sheng laughed himself half to death. In the end, he went to the police station and brought them back. When they walked through the door, Chai Shu-xin was carrying a cage with a huge, multicolored bird inside.
Anping had even wondered why they’d made another trip to the bird market. Then the other person spoke.
“Big Brother, I was wrong. I’ll do it again next time.”
Anping nearly jumped. That bird was actually Zhu Yin-xiao’s original form—and a miniature version at that. Apparently, Chai Shu-xin had bought a hamster cage from a roadside shop and somehow managed to stuff him inside.
Mu Ge-sheng laughed heartily and hung the cage from the eaves.
“It’s fine. I’ll let you out tomorrow morning.”
Chai Shu-xin, however, remained perfectly composed. That evening, he simply prepared an entire feast of chicken dishes. He carried a knife into the courtyard and began slaughtering and plucking chickens. One after another, the birds let out shrill cries. Anping and Mu Ge-sheng sat in the corridor playing chess, while the cage hung suspended in midair. Inside, Zhu Yin-xiao had buried his head in his feathers and curled up like a quail.
The next morning, Anping was woken by the sound of a rooster crowing. When he went downstairs, he found Wu Bi-you standing beneath the cage, arguing with Zhu Yin-xiao.
“Zhu Yin-xiao, are you trying to get yourself killed?! You’re a Vermilion Bird, not a rooster!”
“Come on, let me out already.” Zhu Yin-xiao pinched his voice into a feminine tone. “I’m not a rooster, but a hen will do just fine, too.”
In the end, Mu Ge-sheng, who had been rudely woken from his sleep, grabbed the cage and threw it out the door. By the time Anping and Wu Bi-you went outside to look for him, he had already disappeared. The two searched all over the temple fair before finally finding him at a rabbit stall.
Zhu Yin-xiao seemed to be in pretty good spirits. He stretched his neck and stood tall and proud, attracting a large crowd of children.
Anping was speechless. “He got thrown out. Couldn’t he just transform back by himself?”
“Rakshasa Zi put a spell on him. That unlucky bastard can’t break it.” Wu Bi-you’s face was as dark as the bottom of a pot. He went over to haggle with the vendor. “Five hundred for one chicken? Why don’t you just fucking rob people?”
The vendor argued back confidently. “What would a kid like you know? These are hybrid chickens. Just look at those feathers! Aren’t they magnificent?”
Anping: “…”
In the end, Wu Bi-you ran back to get his urban management ID and confiscated the entire stall along with its merchandise. The two of them dragged a whole cartload of rabbits, goldfish, and chickens back to the City God Temple, only to discover that Zhu Yin-xiao was already having breakfast with Mu Ge-sheng.
The moment Zhu Yin-xiao saw Wu Bi-you, he burst out laughing and threw an arm around him.
“Come on, bro! Which chicken did you mistake for me this time?”
Wu Bi-you nearly died of anger because of this guy.
But if anyone embodied the saying quick to admit mistakes, never willing to change, it was Zhu Yin-xiao. He was a hardcore motorcycle enthusiast, constantly stepping on the accelerator and racing around at breakneck speed. A long-legged beauty on a motorcycle—Anping’s social media feed had recently been filled with candid photos of him.
Even his deskmate had sent him a message.
“Get me a delivery membership! I refuse to believe it. I’m ordering food four times a day. Let’s see if that pretty girl will deliver it to me herself!”
Anping couldn’t bear to shatter his friend’s romantic fantasy, so he asked Zhu Yin-xiao to deliver an order for him once. That evening, his WeChat was flooded with messages from his deskmate, all wailing and lamenting. He was just like Wang Baochuan, who had waited eighteen years in a cold cave, only to finally discover that her husband, Xue Pinggui, had come back.
However, as Wu Bi-you had said, Zhu Yin-xiao’s motorcycle skills were top-notch, and his fashion sense was equally impeccable. But when it came to choosing a motorcycle’s appearance, his taste was probably worth less than half a cent.
He had painted his motorcycle bright red and decorated it with all sorts of mismatched colors. When it sped along, it looked as if My Little Pony were riding on a rainbow-colored cloud.
Anping had looked at the color scheme from every angle, finding it strangely familiar. Then he suddenly remembered: it looked exactly like the multicolored chicken feathers Zhu Yin-xiao had sported before transforming into human form.
Who would’ve thought? The cross-dressing master still had a childish side.
Zhu Yin-xiao stayed for half a month. Now, it was already the fifteenth day of the first lunar month.
Over the past few days, Mu Ge-sheng had been inviting people to play mahjong whenever he had nothing better to do. Those old immortals had all cultivated themselves into formidable beings. Not one of them was easy to deal with. Wu Bi-you and Anping had lost everything, and even Zhu Yin-xiao couldn’t take it anymore.
Today, the two of them had gone out early in the morning and hadn’t returned until the afternoon.
“Bro, how did the battle go today?” Zhu Yin-xiao twirled his motorcycle keys. “Did you win back your losses?”
“No mahjong today,” Anping said, sitting on the threshold without even raising his head. “I’m doing homework.”
Anping had been sitting at the mahjong table in his mother’s arms since he was little. During the New Year holidays, he would usually play a few rounds with his aunts and uncles. This was the first time in his life he had ever lost so miserably. He was truly at his wit’s end. The only time Mu Gesheng would leave him alone was when he was holding his Five-Year College Entrance Examination Questions book.
“Then let’s not go inside either.” Zhu Yinxiao called out to Wu Biyou when he saw the situation. “There are three people inside right now. Whoever goes in will be the unlucky one.”
“Today is the Lantern Festival. Rakshasa Zi has to make tangyuan this afternoon. That old immortal won’t be able to open the mahjong table.” Wu Biyou snorted and walked straight into the temple on his own. “This old man is heading in. You two can stay here and enjoy the cool air.”
“Fine, go ahead.” Zhu Yinxiao didn’t stop him. Instead, she sat down beside Anping and took off her high heels. “I heard Fourth Brother say you’re the class study representative? You’re still doing homework during the holidays? Such a hardworking student.”
Everyone at the City God Temple was practically a half-immortal. Yet, among them, one had only graduated from kindergarten, while another had been held back for three years. For a moment, Anping didn’t know how to respond.
“Come on, we’re just chatting. No need to be so reserved, young man.” Zhu Yinxiao seemed to have guessed what he was thinking and smiled. “Although I never properly attended school either, one of my relatives knows the Star Official of Literature. When you take your college entrance exams, come find me. I’ll have him tap your forehead and bless you with top-scorer luck.”
Good heavens, was there really such a trick? Anping asked incredulously, “Then how did that half-immortal get held back for three years?”
“Fourth Brother once got into an argument with the Star Official of Literature. He lost the argument, so the Star Official secretly sentenced him to ten years without passing an exam,” Zhu Yinxiao explained. “But it was just a joke between them. Anyway, Fourth Brother was never going to study properly, so the Star Official was simply going along with it.”
Ten years without passing an exam—which meant Mu Gesheng would have to keep repeating grades. If he really stayed like this, he would no longer be a school legend. He would become a myth.
Zhu Yinxiao changed the subject. “But among the Seven Schools of the Philosophers, there are still some highly educated people.”
“I know.” Anping continued working on his problems as he spoke. “Half-Immortal studied abroad back in the day, didn’t he? But that was so many years ago. By the way, do academic qualifications have an expiration date? If they don’t, how should we count someone like Mu Gesheng, an old immortal who’s been around for ages?”
“I’m not talking about Fourth Brother. I mean my elder brother.” Zhu Yinxiao waved her hand. “Fourth Brother has a bad memory. He’s forgotten most of what he learned back then. My elder brother is different. If there’s a problem you can’t solve, you can go ask him.”
Anping paused, realizing she was referring to Chai Shuxin.
Back at the Ginkgo Study, Chai Shuxin had never formally become a disciple under the Ginkgo Study Master’s tutelage. Therefore, the others had never assigned him a ranking. Zhu Yinxiao called Mu Gesheng Fourth Brother, yet referred to Chai Shuxin as her elder brother. Their tangled seniority and relationships were a complete mess.
“Has Spirit Pivot Zi actually attended school?”
“Probably around the late 1940s, my elder brother went abroad for a while.” Zhu Yinxiao counted on her fingers. “The United States, Britain, the Soviet Union… I remember he had a whole stack of academic qualifications.”
Anping listened in a daze. These were all distant memories from a past that lay beyond his dreams.
“I can’t understand this problem either.” Zhu Yinxiao leaned over to look at his chemistry workbook. “But my elder brother studied Western medicine back then. He might understand it.”
That made sense.
Anping promptly stood up. “Where are you going, buddy?”
“To ask him a question.”
Chai Shuxin was in the kitchen, kneading dough. Dried osmanthus and salted egg yolks were arranged on the stove. Today was the Lantern Festival, and they would be making glutinous rice balls with fermented rice wine that evening.
After explaining why he had come, Anping looked at him somewhat nervously. “Could you take a look…?”
Chai Shuxin didn’t say anything. He simply washed his hands, took Anping’s book, and asked, “Do you have paper and a pen?”
“Huh?” Anping was taken aback, but immediately understood. “Yes, yes!”
He hurriedly handed over some scratch paper and a ballpoint pen. Chai Shuxin looked at the problem.
“Your approach is too complicated.”
As he spoke, he wrote down several lines of equations on the paper.
Chai Shuxin explained everything very slowly, breaking down the key points in meticulous detail. He seemed very familiar with the range of knowledge covered in high school. His explanations were simple and straightforward, and Anping understood them quickly.
He practically wanted to fall to his knees and worship this top student. After traveling across countless mountains and rivers, he had finally discovered that the true master was right beside him all along.
Anping even began wondering whether he could persuade Chai Shuxin to give him a few private tutoring lessons. The price was negotiable.
Chai Shuxin explained several difficult problems to him. Anping still wanted to ask more questions, but the other man set the book aside.
“Work and rest should be balanced.” As he spoke, Chai Shuxin handed him several chestnuts. “It’s a festival today.”
As a high school student who had suffered deeply under the torment of academic pressure, Anping was so moved that he nearly burst into tears.
Holding his chestnuts, he went to find Wu Biyou. But the other man looked at him as though he had just heard a joke.
“What? You asked Rakshasa Zi to explain your homework?”
“What’s wrong?” Anping was baffled. “He explained it really well.”
“Come on, don’t give me that nonsense.” Wu Biyou chuckled derisively, chewing his chestnuts and speaking somewhat indistinctly. “Back when that old immortal first woke up a few years ago, it was Rakshasa Zi who tutored him. And what was the result? I know for a fact that he failed every year.”
Anping: “…”
Wu Biyou handed the chestnut shells back to Anping, then patted him on the shoulder with an air of profound wisdom. In the manner of an old man, he said, “There’s no end to the sea of learning. Turn back before it’s too late.”
That might be true, but wasn’t turning back in kindergarten a little too early an enlightenment?
That evening, Chai Shuxin served everyone tangyuan. Zhu Yinxiao practically scooped half a jar of honey into her bowl. Anping watched in astonishment, wondering whether a Vermilion Bird could get cavities.
“Then we’re leaving.”
Wu Biyou noisily gulped down his tangyuan, then dragged Anping out with him. They were going to visit the Ghost Market tonight.
Chai Shuxin reminded Zhu Yinxiao, “Be careful. Don’t resort to violence too easily.”
“Fighting is fine,” Mu Gesheng said lazily. “Just don’t come back if you lose.”
Zhu Yinxiao smiled and agreed. “Got it. Don’t worry, you two.”
The three of them went to Ye Shui Zhu Hua. Wu Biyou swiped his card to activate the elevator, which took them directly to the eighteenth underground floor.
A revolving lantern hung inside the elevator, its lights and shadows shifting in a dazzling display. It was as though floating silhouettes were dancing all around them.
Anping had imagined what the scenery outside the elevator would look like. He had thought it would be like the place where Mu Gesheng and the others had gone back in the day, somewhere near the banks of the River of Forgetfulness or the Gates of Hell.
However, the moment the elevator doors opened, he was completely stunned.
What reached his ears wasn’t the sound of flowing water, but the announcement broadcast after a bus came to a stop.
“Sanshengfang Station has arrived. Passengers who need to get off, please make sure to take all your personal belongings with you…”
Zhu Yinxiao tore open a lollipop wrapper, stuck the candy in her mouth, and turned back to smile at him. “Welcome to the twenty-first-century Fengdu.”
It was an enormous transportation hub. Beneath its glass ceiling were flying eaves and interlocking brackets, supported by massive vermilion pillars. People came and went in an endless stream. The entire station was divided into three levels. Suspended overhead were elevated trains running along bronze tracks. In the middle was an elevated bus station, with buses coming and going. The bottom level was filled with rickshaws. Their drivers, wearing melon-skin caps, gathered in small groups, white towels draped over their shoulders as they smoked long-stemmed water pipes.
Anping noticed that they had emerged from an enormous mural. The mural was carved onto a circular pillar in the center of the entire station, resembling an elevator that extended straight up into the sky. Painted on the wall were women dancing seductively, adorned with beaded necklaces and holding bells and ritual pestles in their hands. One of them noticed Anping looking at her. Her eyes shifted alluringly, and she gave him an ambiguous smile.
“This is the Sixteen Heavenly Demons Dance,” Zhu Yinxiao explained. “This elevator is the new Yin-Yang Ladder. The old one had been in use for several thousand years, but something went wrong with it in the last century, so it was sealed off. The Ten Halls of Yama built a new one here and assigned Heavenly Demon Maidens to guard this place, just in case anyone with ill intentions tries something.”
“Enough of this long-winded nonsense. Hurry up and move.” Wu Biyou said impatiently. “The Ghost Market is about to open.”
Fengdu Station was very close to Sanshengfang, practically right next to the Ghost Market. The moment the three of them stepped out of the station, Anping was immediately overwhelmed by the vast sea of lights.
Colorful lanterns hung high overhead, and dazzling neon lights illuminated every corner. Magnificent ships were moored along the banks of the River of Forgetfulness. Light filtered through yellow cotton-paper windows, revealing the faint silhouettes of women with their heads slightly lowered. From the water came the clanging sounds of cymbals and gongs played before an opera performance began.
This place was completely different from the Fengdu in Anping’s memories. It was like a magnificent shadow-puppet theater constructed from brass and steel, telling an ancient story through electronics and machinery. It was filled with an eerie yet vibrant vitality.
Anping followed them aboard a large ship, only then discovering that the once bustling marketplace, where boats had crowded together like clouds, had all been relocated onto a single vessel. The cries of vendors hawking their wares rose and fell one after another.
“Shops with lanterns hanging outside are old establishments. Check the color before you go inside.” Wu Biyou hurriedly tossed out that warning before running off. “If anything happens to you, don’t expect me to take responsibility!”
Anping watched Wu Biyou’s hurried retreating figure. “What is he in such a rush to do?”
“Ghost Three Princesses are holding a concert on the top floor tonight.” Zhu Yinxiao shrugged. “He’s the leader of their fan support group.”
Weren’t they supposed to go clubbing? Anping was speechless.
As if she had guessed what he was thinking, Zhu Yinxiao casually put an arm around him and led him upstairs.
“We’ll have to wait until the second half of the night to go clubbing. Ghost Three Princesses’ concert ends at midnight. After that, they’ll release lanterns. It’s really beautiful.”
“Then what are we doing now?”
“I reserved a good spot at a teahouse for watching the lanterns. Let’s go listen to some storytelling first. Tonight’s story is The Elegant Tales of Painted Souls. There’s a chapter in it called The Young Wanderer. You’ll definitely like it.”
Anping followed Zhu Yinxiao into a teahouse. Calling it a teahouse was an understatement. It occupied a full three floors. The caisson ceiling was decorated with colorful paintings and gold detailing, while elegant bamboo blinds hung all around the room.
The ground floor was for ordinary customers. Every seat was occupied, yet the interior was exceptionally quiet. The only sound was the faint, rustling scrape of a string instrument being played.
Zhu Yinxiao had reserved a private room. The fragrance of tea lingered inside. Anping lifted the bamboo blind, and the storyteller’s voice drifted over from a distance, low, hoarse, and unhurried.
“Through countless ages, kings have risen and fallen,
Glories and ruin pass in the blink of an eye.
Dragons clash with tigers, yet none understand romance.
Today, let us revisit an old tale of love and passion,
To ease our idle sorrows.
Come, behold the young men in fine robes astride their steeds,
And listen to songs drifting from rain-soaked pleasure houses—”
The storyteller struck the wooden block on the table.
The sound was like a bird startled from its perch, suddenly taking flight and sweeping through the air before sending ripples across the surface of the teacups.
“Now, the story begins. Nearly a hundred years ago, outside the Gates of Hell, a young man entered with a sword in hand. He roamed the Ghost Market unchecked, opened a gambling house, made all the ghosts empty their purses, and caused a tremendous commotion throughout Fengdu…”
Anping found the story familiar. A moment later, he suddenly realized that this was the old tale about Mu Gesheng and Song Wentong.
Although the storyteller had used aliases, Anping could recognize them.
Back then, Mu Gesheng and his companions had come to Fengdu to look for the missing Zhu Yinxiao. Mu Gesheng had bought a mask by the water to avoid drawing attention to himself.
The reason was that the first time he had entered Fengdu, he had opened a gambling table at the Ghost Market and nearly won half the entire ghost city. In the process, he had also offended almost half the people in Fengdu. In the end, he had been wanted throughout the city and had even been summoned to the Department of Yin Law to receive punishment.
As the storyteller continued, Anping could almost see a figure calmly taking his seat before everyone’s eyes, placing a vermilion-red long saber against the gambling table.
He laughed heartily, drank wine, sang at the top of his voice, and squandered thousands of gold coins without a second thought. His brows and eyes were filled with the flamboyant, unrestrained charm unique to a young man.
You were once a wandering soul caught in the passage of time. What can time itself do to you?
“The Elegant Tales of Painted Souls is an old collection of stories that has circulated throughout Fengdu for a thousand years. Storytellers of successive generations have passed it down orally, with each generation adding their own contributions. The Young Wanderer was written by a storyteller from the previous generation. The events are still relatively recent, so the story hasn’t become outdated yet. A lot of people enjoy listening to it.”
Zhu Yinxiao took a sip of tea.
“It’s a fairly long story. They’ll probably only tell the first act tonight. There’s quite a bit of fictional embellishment in it. Those who actually know what happened would probably find it hilarious.”
As he spoke, he started laughing himself. “Still, it’s entertaining enough.”
The storyteller’s tone turned humorous as he began recounting how Mu Gesheng and Song Wentong had argued endlessly over pawning the Blood-Licking Saber.
This part was entirely fabricated. As far as Anping knew, when Mu Gesheng had wanted the saber back then, Song Wentong hadn’t even blinked. Those two had always been habitual partners in crime.
Still, the storyteller had made the embellishment quite entertaining.
Mu Gesheng had even started playing the victim, claiming that he had a marriage arrangement with someone he loved and who loved him in return. Unfortunately, the other party was currently trapped in a difficult predicament, leaving him with no choice but to come to the Ghost Market and try his luck.
He described the situation in such a pitiful, miserable, and sorrowful manner that it actually captured some of the shamelessness of the real person.
Zhu Yinxiao and Anping both found it hilarious. They laughed along with the story, but in the middle of their laughter, Zhu Yinxiao suddenly asked, “Do you know who the real-life inspiration was for Fourth Brother’s little sweetheart, the one he was supposedly engaged to in this story?”
Anping choked on his tea. “There’s actually a real-life inspiration?”
Zhu Yinxiao lowered his voice mysteriously. “It was Third Brother.”
?!?! Anping’s teacup slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor.
What the hell?!
His first reaction wasn’t anything else—
Could Wu Biyou really be the son of Mu Gesheng and Wu Zixu?