Chapter Fifty-Three: The Strange Case – Standing Chopsticks

My master sat beside me for a long time without uttering a word. I gazed into the emergency room, feeling anxious and uneasy. Suddenly, my master leaned in close and whispered, “Kid, something’s not right. Did you notice anything?”

Suspicious, I turned to look at him, and he added, “Think carefully. I have a feeling there’s something off about all this.”

I furrowed my brow, replaying everything that had just happened in my mind, including the man’s words. After a moment, I slapped my thigh and whispered urgently, “I’ve figured it out, master!”

He looked at me, and from each other’s eyes, we shared the same realization. He nodded and said, “We’ll check inside soon. If we can help, we should.”

I nodded in agreement. After what felt like ages, the emergency room door finally swung open, and a doctor stepped out, removing his mask as he asked, “Which of you is the family?”

The man and woman hurried forward. “We’re the parents. Doctor, how is our son?”

The man wiped sweat from his brow, and the doctor replied, “We’ve done the tests. Your son shows no symptoms; all his data are normal. At first, we suspected polio, but ruled it out. He needs to stay for observation for a few days.”

Hearing this, the man breathed a sigh of relief. “Really? My son’s alright?”

“We’ve checked everything. He’s not in any real danger. Don’t worry. You can go see him now.”

With that, the doctor passed between them and walked off. The couple exchanged glances and rushed inside. My master gave me a look, and I nodded, following closely behind them.

As soon as the woman entered, she rushed to the bedside, stroked her son’s face, and cried, “Xiaoxue, oh my dear Xiaoxue, you nearly scared your father and me to death, sobbing.”

She broke down in tears, but suddenly her expression changed to alarm. “Wait, why is he still so cold? Didn’t the doctor say he’s fine? Old Zhou, go call the doctor back! Hurry!”

She anxiously pushed the man named Zhou, whose newly steady nerves were fraying again. He was about to dash out when my master stepped beside me and blocked him. The man froze, and asked, “Benefactor, what’s wrong?”

My master shook his head, pointing at the child in bed. “Your son’s illness can’t be cured by ordinary medicine.”

Perhaps the woman was too distraught, because she exploded, “What nonsense are you spouting? What do you mean my son can’t be saved? Old Zhou, ignore them. Get the doctor! Hurry!”

She was genuinely desperate, her face a picture of despair and panic. She stood up, trying to push the man out, but my master spoke again, “Calm down. Your son’s illness truly can’t be cured by conventional medicine.”

“Can’t be cured? Benefactor, you brought us to the hospital, and I thank you. I’d kneel to you, but why do you claim my son’s illness is beyond cure? What do you mean?” Zhou asked.

My master sighed, but the woman shouted, “Old Zhou, don’t listen to them! Get the doctor! If anything happens to our son, I won’t go on living!”

Old Zhou nodded quickly and turned to rush out, but my master moved faster, darting to the door and closing it, saying, “I have a way to save your son. If you trust me, let me try. If you don’t, your son won’t make it if you delay. It’s your decision.”

He looked at Old Zhou and stepped aside for him to choose. Old Zhou was stunned, while his wife sat on the floor, hopeless. My master waited patiently for Old Zhou’s reply. After a long pause, Old Zhou, half convinced, half uncertain, said, “You… you can save my son? Are you a doctor?”

My master shook his head. “I’m not a conventional doctor, but I specialize in situations like this. Your son’s been ill too long. If you keep waiting, you’ll only regret it. If you truly want to try, just do as I say.”

He patted Zhou’s shoulder to comfort him. Zhou fell silent again, brows tightly knit, looking between his son and wife. His son’s illness had lasted so long, and the doctors couldn’t find the cause. Any further delay, and he would surely be lost. After a moment, Zhou seemed to reach a decision. “If you can really save my son, I’ll do anything to repay you. We’re not wealthy; he’s our only hope. If anything happened to him, Lan Fang and I wouldn’t know how to go on. Can you really save him? Can you honestly?”

As he finished, he gripped my master’s hand and shook it. My master patted his arm and nodded, “Trust me. Just follow my instructions.”

“Alright, benefactor, what should I do?” Zhou asked urgently.

My master thought for a moment and said, “Go outside and buy a bag of raw rice, a jug of water—ideally well water—a pair of chopsticks, two ceramic bowls, three sticks of incense, and some yellow paper. That’s all.”

Zhou was momentarily bewildered. These weren’t the tools of medicine, but being from the countryside, he hesitated only briefly before nodding and running out.

My master went to the windows, opening each a crack, dimmed the lights a little, and closed the bathroom door. Then he told the woman, “Don’t cry. Your son will be fine. Trust me.”

But Lan Fang paid him no heed, sitting in the corner and sobbing. My master and I sat together, looking at the child on the bed. I asked, “Master, what are you planning?”

He glanced at me and whispered, “This is called ‘standing the chopsticks’ or ‘watching the water bowl,’ a common folk method for exorcising evil. If someone falls ill inexplicably and medicine fails, it’s believed they’ve encountered a ghost.”

I nodded, then asked, “But master, aren’t we in this profession? With your skill, couldn’t you just drive the ghost away?”

My master tapped my forehead. “You forget what I told you? Look at the child—his hands and feet are cold, his complexion dull and lifeless. Clearly, he’s been entangled by a ghost. Judging by his condition, it’s been several days, but today it worsened. If I forcibly drive the ghost out, he might survive, but he’d be left a simpleton, or his intellect would freeze as it is now. I considered other methods, but none worked. This folk remedy is best.”

I nodded, scratching my head. “I see. Do you know what kind of ghost it is?”

“Usually, it’s deceased relatives or those connected to the family. The reason they cling to the child is often to ask for ghost money—spirit paper and offerings. We’ll wait for Zhou to return before proceeding,” my master replied.

I agreed. After a while, Zhou finally returned, lugging a big bag of items. My master stood up, took the bag, peeked inside, and Zhou said, “Benefactor, I bought everything, but I couldn’t get well water, only bottled mineral water. Will that do?”

Zhou wiped sweat from his brow. My master took out all the items and handed them to me. “It’s fine. You and your wife sit at the back and guard the door. Don’t let anyone in. You can watch from here or wait outside. By the way, what’s your son’s name?”

“Oh, benefactor, my son’s name is Zhou Shengxue,” Zhou replied.

My master nodded, moved the bedside table to the front of the bed, and took the ceramic bowls and chopsticks from me, setting up all the tools on the table. The couple stood by the door, watching us work.

“Zhou, do you think they can really do it?” Lan Fang sobbed.

Zhou put his arm around her. “Let’s try. The elders in the village always used folk remedies. Maybe it’ll help.”

Truthfully, Zhou wasn’t confident, but he was willing to try anything at this point. My master didn’t let them down. He placed two ceramic bowls in the center, poured mineral water into each, lit three sticks of incense, and placed them in a crack at the foot of the bed. He grabbed a handful of rice and tossed it into one of the bowls.

Once everything was ready, my master picked up the chopsticks, held them upright, and gently placed them in the water, reciting, “Blocking your path, crossing your bridge—whatever your cause of death, we meant no offense. Since you have come to Zhou Shengxue, we offer you water and rice. Release him, please.”

He slowly withdrew his hands, and to my astonishment, the chopsticks stood straight in the water, not falling at all. The couple behind us were equally stunned. Their doubt began to fade, replaced by a flicker of hope.

My master beckoned them over, but Lan Fang was too frightened to approach. Zhou came alone. My master whispered, “In your family’s last three generations, has anyone died violently, or have you added any new graves recently?”

Zhou thought for a moment. “Yes. My elder brother died in an accident on a construction site a few years ago. My grandfather passed peacefully. My aunt’s son drowned years ago, swept away by floodwater while crossing a bridge. Why do you ask, benefactor?”