Chapter Fourteen: Life as a Gamble

If negotiation doesn’t work, then force is the only option. But that’s easier said than done. If this female ghost were so easily dealt with, Old Chen wouldn’t have bothered inviting her for a discussion in the first place.

When the topic came up, Old Chen’s expression grew complicated, and Wen looked at me, wanting to say something but hesitating. Their demeanor made it clear that something was amiss, and certainly nothing good.

Coming here, I’d already grown wary of this look—especially when it was directed at me. Instinctively, I sensed trouble.

Old Chen asked Wen to step outside, and Wen understood, glancing apologetically at me, his words layered with meaning: “If there’s something you don’t want to do, you don’t have to.”

That surely meant they wanted me to handle something. Just negotiating with ghosts had already worn me out. I’m practically a dead man walking, and this so-called “life extension” hasn’t even begun. Yet they’re still piling this on me—how shameless!

Wen left the room, closing the door behind him. Now, only Old Chen and I remained.

Old Chen looked at me, sighed apologetically, and seemed unsure how to begin.

“Just say what you need to say,” I told him. His sighing made me uneasy, even vaguely anxious, as though something monumental was about to be revealed.

“To deal with that ghost is not so simple,” Old Chen said.

“I know. You mentioned before that if it were easy, you wouldn’t have had me clutch that straw rooster last night.” So? I know it’s not simple—what’s his point?

“To deal with her, you must first invite her out,” he continued.

She’d already been summoned once last night, and aside from being mysteriously possessed, nothing much happened. If it were only about summoning her again, he wouldn’t be so hesitant and roundabout.

My suspicions deepened—what exactly was Old Chen planning? He’d even sent Wen away. And Wen obviously knew what Old Chen was about to say.

I spoke directly: “Old Chen, I’m counting on you to help extend my life. If you need my help, just say so—no need for hints. I’ll weigh the risks myself.”

He still seemed reluctant, pausing for a long while before continuing: “Last night, the ghost was summoned to negotiate. Now that talks have failed, she won’t come so easily if summoned again.”

Of course not. Her attitude was resolute—she insisted on taking a life. She wouldn’t just show up again unless… Wait—take a life! Old Chen never said it had to be Xiao Chao’s life. If she won’t come easily, then as long as…

I was almost shocked, staring directly at Old Chen. He turned his face away, sighing—his reaction confirmed my suspicion!

I didn’t spell it out, but said with meaning, “Old Chen, everything has its limits, doesn’t it? I’m just an ordinary man, not some saint.”

“To summon the ghost again, we must feign agreement to her demand. No one else has offended her, so she can’t easily take another life. The child’s fate is already in her grasp. Using the child as bait is extremely dangerous. If you don’t agree, I can’t force you. I wanted to speak alone so no one would pressure you.”

Old Chen seemed cultured enough—knowing about pressure and all. He must realize his request is excessive. He wants to use my life to lure the ghost! What did I do to deserve this? Last night’s effort was already taxing, and I only did it because of Wen. Refusing was my right. Now he wants to use my life as a wager!

He’d said from the start this task was tricky. If he truly isn’t a match for her, I might end up as company for that self-combing ghost!

“I’ll try to find another way,” he said, heading for the door.

“If the female ghost is lured here, how confident are you in dealing with her?” I asked.

He paused: “Seventy percent.”

“And if I don’t help?”

“Forty percent—and the child is likely to die.”

Seventy percent…

Night had fallen. Everyone else had been sent away, leaving only Old Chen and me in the vast house.

Summoning ghosts is done outside; expelling them inside.

Tonight, I’d play the part of the benevolent—though not purely out of self-sacrifice. After all, I still needed Old Chen’s help to extend my life. He was here mainly for Xiao Chao and the other afflicted children; I was incidental. Helping him was a favor, not a duty. And if he suffers too much for Xiao Chao, he won’t be able to help me. Seventy percent odds are better than forty—I’ll risk it.

Old Chen set up a table in the hall, laid out wine, meat, and rice, along with ritual implements: sacred seals, a bell, a spiritual knife. There were also some unlit incense sticks. I sat cross-legged beside the table, holding a straw rooster in my arms, with a dead rooster tied to my toes. This time, the rooster hadn’t been bled—it was hanged.

I’d noticed before that Old Chen didn’t use orthodox Daoist methods, which wasn’t surprising. Most folk priests like him blended Daoist and shamanic practices. The term “Nam Mo” was common for these practitioners—the phrase comes from Buddhist sutras, but since people couldn’t distinguish between Buddhism and Daoism, they called such folk priests Nam Mo men. Strictly speaking, Nam Mo men aren’t true Daoist priests.

Old Chen handed me a talisman: “This is a ghost-suppressing charm. Holding it will keep the ghost from harming you.”

I examined the talisman—it was old, looking as though it had been kept for years. “Is this thing really effective?” I asked.

“It was left by my master. I only have this one. I’m sorry for what you’ve endured—I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”

It sounded legitimate enough. I tucked the talisman close to my body, feeling slightly reassured.

Night had fully fallen. Old Chen lit incense and candles, and began to shake his bell.

I kept my senses sharp, growing tense. Tonight was different from last night—yesterday was just negotiation; at worst, talks would fail. Tonight, if things went wrong, anything could happen.

Old Chen’s rituals were different too. Besides ringing the bell, he mumbled incantations, leaping and hopping around.

This time, there was none of the mind-confusing feeling from last night. Only an uncanny silence settled around us—the distant sound of cars vanished, leaving only Old Chen’s noises.

Nervous sweat broke out on my forehead. What a way to spend the Mid-Autumn Festival! If I hadn’t come, none of this would have happened. Hindsight is priceless!

Sweat trickled down my brow. I clutched the straw rooster, too anxious to wipe my face, keeping a vigilant eye on my surroundings.

A chill crept into the air, cold drafts swirling around me. Mist began to spread outside the window, the yellow streetlights turning hazy. This sensation felt strangely familiar.