Chapter 79: The Bai Family Matron

After the sacrificial rite ended, Xue Liangliang was in charge of cleaning up the ashes of the burnt paper offerings. He’d always been meticulous in his tasks.

When he came back, he saw Li Zhuiyuan watching him.

“Liangliang-ge, check your arm.”

At his words, Xue Liangliang immediately rolled up his sleeve and saw that the marks were completely gone. His face lit up as he asked excitedly,

“Not a trace left! Xiaoyuan, how about you?”

“Mine are gone too.”

“Whew…” Xue Liangliang let out a long sigh of relief. “So that means we’ve succeeded?”

“Yeah, looks like it. But Liangliang-ge, your classmate…”

Now that their side had severed the connection, the Bai Family Matron could focus all her attention on taking revenge on that classmate.

But Xue Liangliang didn’t seem too upset. Instead, he tapped his forehead and both shoulders with his hand and said,

“The Lord will protect him.”

Li Zhuiyuan’s lips twitched—he almost laughed.

He could tell that Xue Liangliang had been genuine in wanting to help his classmate. But once he realized just how terrifying and serious things were, he had no problem letting go of the whole ‘savior’ complex.

Xue Liangliang reached out and tapped the tip of Li Zhuiyuan’s nose.

“You’ve gotta let things go. If you want a happy life, you’ve got to stop draining yourself emotionally.”

With that, he turned and asked, “The shower room’s out back, right? I’m gonna rinse off first.”

Watching his back disappear through the door, Li Zhuiyuan slowly sank into thought.

That one sentence from Xue Liangliang struck a chord with him.

Maybe, just maybe, the more he tried to play a version of himself for others, the further he drifted from who he really was.

…

Li Sanjiang’s bedroom walls were plastered with portraits of deities.

He had bought them all in one go at the temple fair the year before last. They’d sat unused in a cabinet ever since—until today.

One portrait in particular featured an old man with a benevolent face and a sage-like presence. Li Sanjiang had placed it in the center of the wall.

He thought it was Laozi.

It was actually Confucius.

After a full day of work, he was exhausted. Once the room was set up, he went to bed early.

Then he had a dream.

Strangely, ever since doing the Luck-Shifting Ritual with Little Yuanhou, his dreams had become unusually frequent.

This time, the dream wasn’t set on the rooftop of the town clinic, but on a road.

When he turned to his right, he saw a familiar gate. Next to it hung a plaque he’d kissed multiple times during the day.

Behind him came the sound of footsteps.

Li Sanjiang turned around and saw a small figure slowly emerging from the shadows, thick with resentment.

Without hesitation, he ran straight into the police station.

The girl stood outside, her expression full of venom, her lips moving constantly.

The first night he’d dreamt of her, her threats were crystal clear: she wanted him dead. When he’d nodded off on the tractor, her voice was already harder to make out.

Now, he could only see her lips moving nonstop. He couldn’t hear anything, but she was probably cursing up a storm.

“Heh.”

Li Sanjiang chuckled, then lay down on the bench.

If he met someone who could be reasoned with, he didn’t mind swallowing his pride, pleading, even kneeling and kowtowing.

But malevolent spirits had once been people too. Some could be communicated with—others, not at all.

With those kinds, even acknowledging them was a waste of energy.

At least in dreams, Li Sanjiang had seen the world.

He was, after all, once the leader of a zombie parade in a dream version of the Forbidden City.

So, he just lay back down, hands folded over his navel.

He was tired. He went to sleep.

Back in the real world, Xue Liangliang came out of the shower, drying his hair. He glanced curiously at the willow tree just across from the house.

Its branches were swaying constantly, as if caught in a breeze—but strangely, he couldn’t feel even a hint of wind.

“That’s odd. Why isn’t the wind coming in?”

He didn’t dwell on it. The day’s events had been too bizarre for him to worry about wind patterns.

Back in the bedroom, he saw Li Zhuiyuan at the desk, reading under the lamp.

Peering closer, he saw the pages were packed with tiny text—unreasonably tiny—and couldn’t help but worry.

“Reading such small print at night is bad for your eyes.”

“It’s fine, Liangliang-ge. I’m used to it. I just sweep over it by feel and can recognize the words.”

“That’s incredible.” Xue Liangliang believed him without question and climbed into bed.

The old wooden bed was notably spacious.

“Xiaoyuan, you want to sleep on the outside or the inside?”

“Either is fine.”

“I’ll sleep on the outside then. Kids sleep better when they feel secure on the inside.”

“Okay.”

“When are you planning to sleep?”

“I’ll read a bit more, then wash up and go to bed.”

“I think treating this stuff as a hobby is fine, but you should still focus more on your studies.”

“I know.”

Normally, Xue Liangliang would’ve nagged a bit more, but tonight, he found himself at a loss for words. After all, today he’d genuinely benefited from one of those so-called useless books Li Zhuiyuan had read.

So he changed his tone and said,

“Xiaoyuan, thinking about it now, it’s kinda wild. Just a couple days ago, I never imagined any of this could be real. And yet, somehow, I’m not that scared—not really panicked either.”

“Fear comes from the unknown. Liangliang-ge, you figured out the Bai Family Matron’s old address. What’s left to be scared of?”

“True. Say, do you think I should read some of those books too? Got any recommendations?”

Li Zhuiyuan hesitated.

“They’re my great-grandpa’s. I don’t have the right to lend them—you’d have to ask him first.”

“Then forget it. Your great-grandpa’s a professional in this stuff. Those books must be his treasures—he wouldn’t lend them out easily.”

But Xue Liangliang was wrong on that point.

For years, Li Sanjiang had just left those boxes of books gathering dust in the basement.

“Xiaoyuan, what’s your village’s phone number? Let’s exchange contact info.”

Li Zhuiyuan recited the number for the village committee, then added the one for the local store.

Usually, villagers used those two places for calls. If someone from outside wanted to reach a resident, they’d call one of those numbers, say who they were looking for, then hang up to give time for someone to fetch them, and call back fifteen minutes later.

Li Zhuiyuan had memorized the numbers, always hoping his mom might call.

She hadn’t. Not even once.

“Forget it, I’ll write it down.”

Xue Liangliang got out of bed, walked over to the desk, wrote down the numbers, and sighed.

Li Zhuiyuan kept reading without lifting his head, but still managed to multitask.

“Liangliang-ge, are you gonna say that someday, every household will have its own phone?”

“That day will come. Do you believe it?”

“I do. But right now, I think pagers are more popular.”

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