Chapter Sixty-Three: The Ghostly Play of the Child Actor

I squinted at Old Ma, scrutinizing him, "You're not trying to trick me, are you?"

Old Ma huffed and rolled his eyes at me, "Why would I trick you? Besides, I never said I could lift the ghost curse completely. I only promised to keep you alive. Let me be blunt, not even someone three or five times more skilled than me could break this curse. If it weren't for that divine seal, I wouldn't bother with you at all!"

He continued, "Your fate should have ended long ago. Somehow, you survived—maybe you were just lucky, or maybe someone risked everything to save you. That's how you managed to grow up safely. Entering this trade will only benefit you. What's with that look? You need to see further ahead. You're clever enough, but your vision is too short—never looking to the future!"

"I'm just an ordinary person. I don't care about the future. I just want a peaceful life," I replied. I had never imagined stepping into Old Ma’s world. Though my grandfather had deep ties to this line of work when I was young, he passed away early. All these years, I grew up under the influence of science and culture. Even after everything, I still longed for the rationality of science.

I walked out from beneath the red cloth, put out the red candles, and began to tidy up.

Old Ma spoke irritably, "So what do you mean now? Are you joining or not?"

"Do you have any other way?" I retorted without looking up.

The old fox, hearing this, naturally understood what I meant. No matter how reluctant I was, there was no choice—unless I wanted to die a year from now.

"At least you've got some sense," Old Ma grinned, his tone holding a hint of cunning, making me feel everything was part of his plan.

"Master, I’ll give you my card number later. Don’t forget the one hundred and fifty thousand," I said.

"Weren't you just saying you didn't want it?" Old Ma reacted sharply.

"That was before. Now that we’re master and apprentice, I’ve done my part—how could I refuse? I'm sure Lord Wei gave you a decent sum, so I won't quibble. The rest is for your trouble helping me this time."

Old Ma grumbled, "You brat, already scheming against your old master! I wonder what Old Chen sees in you! Pack your things, and bring the divine seal Old Chen gave you to my room later!"

With that, Old Ma stormed off toward his room.

I carefully put away the red candles and cloth, and roughly gathered up the rest. I meant to clean up further, but Sister Mei appeared, indicating she would take care of it.

I returned to my room, wiped off the blood stains, didn’t bother to put on a shirt, grabbed the divine seal, and bare-chested, headed to Old Ma's guest room.

"Couldn't you at least put on a shirt? Such slovenliness!" Old Ma complained.

"I still need to wash up—putting on clothes would just be a hassle," I replied.

Old Ma frowned but said no more. He had found a small incense burner and filled it with white rice, signaling me to place the divine seal behind it.

"Come and formally acknowledge your master, give your respects to the ancestral founder, and you’ll be a disciple of our lineage," Old Ma said.

So there really were these rituals. Following his instructions, I knelt before the incense burner. He picked up three sticks of incense—there was no lighter nearby. Just as I was about to ask, he muttered something and with a flick, the three incense sticks lit up instantly.

I was startled. He had such abilities?

He handed me the incense and told me what to do next.

I took the incense, knelt before the burner, and bowed three times, as he directed. Then I proclaimed loudly, "Wang Luo, seventh-generation head disciple, pays respects to all ancestral deities!"

I shuffled forward and inserted the incense into the rice in the burner. Perhaps it was just me, but the smoke from these three sticks seemed unusually straight, rising vertically without dispersing.

Old Ma nodded with a hint of satisfaction, then picked up the divine seal from behind the burner and solemnly declared, "From today onward, you are the head disciple of our lineage. By tradition, this divine seal is passed down to each generation’s head disciple!"

With that, he held the seal out to me.

Suddenly, everything was clear—the strange feeling I’d had made sense! So Old Chen handed me the divine seal from the very start with this in mind: for Old Ma to take me as his disciple!

No wonder Old Chen gave me such a look when he handed over the seal, and Old Ma reacted as he did when he saw it. No wonder they dragged me along to see Lord Wei. The moment I received this seal, I was already a disciple-in-waiting! Perhaps Old Chen knew from the start that Old Ma couldn’t save me. Regardless, I couldn’t help feeling I’d been manipulated.

I took the seal, displeased, and asked, "Is that it? Can I get up now?"

Old Ma waved his hand, letting me rise.

I stood, "I’ve paid my respects and recognized my master. What’s next?"

"Nothing more. You can go. Get a good rest tonight. Tomorrow we’ll head to the site together."

"Isn’t there any scripture or secret manual for cultivation?" I remembered the village priests having many such books when I was young. Since I’d joined the trade, I wanted to work hard to save myself.

"Where would I have such things? Besides, I travel light—how could I carry them? Just follow me. I’ll teach you hands-on. With enough experience, you’ll learn."

I had my doubts. At this rate, how many trials would it take to become proficient?

"Enough, enough—get out. The smell of blood you’ve brought is stinking up my room. How am I supposed to sleep tonight?" Old Ma drove me out without ceremony.

I left his room, doubts weighing heavily on me.

The next morning, I finally met Mr. Meng. I’d expected a portly man, but he was thin—almost as gaunt as Old Ma. He looked to be around fifty, tall and slender, dressed in a neat suit, clearly someone of status. Yet his face was weary, with heavy dark circles, as if he hadn’t slept all night.

He exchanged pleasantries with Old Ma, suggesting they were indeed well acquainted.

After the greetings, they wasted no time and led us straight to the car, driving toward the site of the incident.

On the way, Mr. Meng explained the situation. It happened at a primary school he had funded. The school had stood for ten years, sending off batch after batch of students, never a problem. Until recently, when ground was broken for a new building—a dormitory and cafeteria for students from far-off homes—trouble began.

At night, people heard faint, lingering opera singing, eerily similar to the voices of child performers from before the 1950s. Some dared to investigate, only to find the school lights blazing. Approaching, they saw children in opera costumes singing on stage!