Chapter 39.4: Wind and Fire

At first, the voice on the other end of the phone was polite, acknowledging the information and hanging up, almost like doing it just for show.

An hour later, the phone rang again—this time with much more excitement. Several people were shouting at once, asking Tan Yunlong if he was sure it was that gifted youth program.

They promised that if everything checked out, they could process the paperwork right away, with the principal and directors personally assisting, and even offered a slew of special privileges.

Tan Yunlong knew Li Zhuiyuan wanted to enjoy his summer break, so he didn’t give them the boy’s name or address, instead saying he’d bring the child in before the new school term.

But one thing became clear to Tan Yunlong: this wasn’t some elementary school affiliated with a university.

Runsheng was getting ready for bed. He looked at the guy across from him and thought, This one might be even dumber than me.

Tan Wenbin, meanwhile, chuckled to himself.

“Hey, did you know, when Xiaoyuan first told me he liked retrieving the dead, I idiotically asked if that was some kind of snack.”

No sooner had he said it than he saw Runsheng’s eyes light up.

Then came a voice, loud and firm but with an aftertaste of something inexplicably lingering:

“Tasty. Delicious!”

That night, Tan Wenbin slept curled under the covers, too scared to even get up and pee.

…

At dawn, Tan Wenbin groggily saw a girl in a red dress carrying a bowl of medicine walking past him and up the stairs.

When he arrived last night, Ah Li had already been coaxed to sleep by Li Zhuiyuan, so this was his first time seeing her.

“What a pretty little girl. Even prettier than the celebrities on posters.”

Runsheng sat up, rolled his neck, and reminded him, “Don’t go near her.”

“Why not?”

“No one but Xiaoyuan can get close to her.”

“There’s a rule like that?”

“It’s not a rule.”

Runsheng had always been sensitive about such things. He remembered the first time he went upstairs and tried to approach Xiaoyuan and Ah Li—how Ah Li had started trembling.

The feeling she gave him then was scarier than any Dead Sinker he’d ever met.

“Time for breakfast!”

Aunt Liu’s voice rang out like a punctual alarm clock.

Li Zhuiyuan and Ah Li came downstairs. He hadn’t let Ah Li feed him medicine today, so he hadn’t washed his hair either.

Tan Wenbin, all smiles, tried to sidle over for breakfast.

“Binbin ge…” Li Zhuiyuan quickly grabbed Ah Li’s hand in warning.

“You eat with me!”

Runsheng yanked Tan Wenbin by the neck like lifting a chick, dragging him over to his own eating corner.

Tan Wenbin forgot how he even ate breakfast—all he remembered was his eyes were red afterward, the incense stinging a bit.

From early morning, Big Beard’s place was a raucous affair, drums and loudspeakers blaring.

The village head had announced it the day before: a former overseas Chinese villager was returning to settle down and was hosting a housewarming feast—no gift money needed, just show up.

That brought out the whole village, young and old, eager for the spectacle.

Li Zhuiyuan and Runsheng went too, trailed by a very curious Tan Wenbin.

“What do we do with him tonight? He’s really curious.” Runsheng asked while miming a chopping gesture in front of Zhuiyuan. “Knock him out?”

Zhuiyuan’s eyelid twitched. He was afraid Runsheng would get too into character and accidentally kill the guy.

“No need for that. Just tie him up.”

“Got it.”

Li Zhuiyuan began surveying the feast setup.

So many guests had been invited that the courtyard and first floor couldn’t contain them. The tables spilled down into the fields, covered with makeshift tents.

The opera troupe’s stage was built by the fish pond, complete with speakers and drums.

Zhuiyuan knew this was to mask the noise during the tomb raiding at night.

A full-day banquet meant loud music and performances all day and night—opera for the living by day, for the dead by night.

It was a way to handle both the yin and yang, wishing for smooth days ahead.

But such banquets were rare now. Night performances cost far more than daytime ones, and ordinary families didn’t want to waste money entertaining ghosts.

With all the noise—drums, loudspeakers, amps—no one in the village would think it odd even if the ruckus lasted all night.

Li Zhuiyuan couldn’t help but admire the professionalism. They’d gone all in: buying a house, feeding the whole village.

The opera troupe had already started. Crowds surrounded the stage. Zhuiyuan, feigning curiosity, led Runsheng around it once, then took him to the quieter far side of the fish pond for a bathroom break.

Really, it was to mark the flags’ positions.

“Got it memorized, Runsheng ge?”

“Relax. All in my head.”

“I’ll carry two; the rest are up to you.”

The flags were heavy. Zhuiyuan could only manage two.

“What about me?” Tan Wenbin appeared, already undoing his pants. “How many do I get?”

“You’ll handle the rest,” Zhuiyuan assured him.

“Mission accepted!” Tan saluted, clueless what the mission even was—just eager to join.

At noon, the feast began.

Zhuiyuan brought Tan Wenbin to sit with Li Sanjiang on the first floor.

“Where’s Runsheng? Why’s he not eating?” Wenbin asked.

“Runsheng ge eats at home. Also, don’t talk.”

“Understood.”

Wenbin gave an “ok” sign.

Runsheng needed incense to eat, and that always drew attention. Whenever he attended feasts with his great-grandpa, they’d prepare his food separately, letting him eat in a corner.

Today’s crowd was no place to risk suspicion from the Water Monkeys.

The food was top-notch, prepared by local chefs. Once Wenbin shut up, he devoured it with greasy satisfaction.

After the meal, many villagers—feeling guilty—tried to offer money, but were refused. Instead, they went home to fetch gifts.

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching performances. At night, when the living steered clear, only the performers remained.

This troupe was top-tier: singers, dancers, acrobats, bone-folding contortionists, even stone-breaking chest acts.

Zhuiyuan noticed the techniques were real—genuine Anti-Dead Sinker moves.

These weren’t just entertainers. Had the first two fish pond contractors not been killed by the Earth-Yin Red Fiend, the police would’ve struggled to catch them.

This affirmed Granny Liu’s assessment: these Water Monkeys weren’t amateurs—they were seasoned pros.

After all, your average grave robber wouldn’t bother mastering such specific martial arts.

If Little Oriole were to face them, who’d win was anyone’s guess.

Watching the noisy festivities, Li Zhuiyuan felt a pang of melancholy.

The first time he saw Little Oriole had been at a similar event—she was performing on stage.

She had delivered, to his newly rural eyes, a shock of raw, rustic aesthetic.

His gaze drifted to the fish pond. Was Little Oriole down there, watching the show?

Surely, she harbored some resentment against the funeral troupe that had abandoned her for cash?

Just then, Secretary Jin—now in tight black stagewear—stepped forward with a mic after finishing a song.

“What song do you all want to hear? Feel free to shout it out!”

But rural folk were shy. No one answered the first time.

Zhuiyuan raised his hand.

Secretary Jin recognized him and waved with a smile, beckoning him closer. “Come, little one, tell me—what song do you want?”

She crouched and held the mic to his mouth.

Facing the pond, Zhuiyuan said in a clear, bright voice:

“Hmm…

I want to hear

‘Thousands of Songs.’ 《千千阕歌》” 

I think this is the song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=koVj7r0-h_g

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