Volume 1, Chapter 36: Observation, Auscultation, Inquiry, and Palpation

This old man was the village’s go-to expert, well-versed in funeral rites. Whenever there was a death in the village, they had to invite someone like him to oversee the proceedings.

This was his livelihood, and it seemed our interference had upset him.

The burly man reached over from the kang bed, grabbed a pack of cigarettes, handed one to the Taoist priest, and even lit it for him. The priest’s eyes kept drifting toward the young woman, bloodshot and wild, giving him a rather frightening appearance.

The burly man lit one for himself and said, “Brother, this girl’s been ill for over a year. The family’s saved up about sixty thousand yuan, but it’s all gone. They’ve even resorted to begging during famine times. The money’s all been paid to spirit mediums, but the child’s still no better. Don’t take offense.”

The Taoist said nothing, his gaze still fixed intently on the girl.

The man pressed on, “At first, I believed it too, but just spending money hasn’t helped. Old Lady Meng in the village is good at these matters, but even she couldn’t fix the child, and she’s still asking for money. Damn it.”

The Taoist let out a low hiss, “Where has this child’s spirit gone? Only one soul and two ghosts remain. Something’s wrong, very wrong.”

The girl’s mother panicked, shaking the priest’s arm and pleading, “Master Ma, please take a good look. Tell us how much it will cost. We’ll sell everything, even our pots and pans, to pay you.”

“I don’t want money. Just tell me, why has the child become like this?”

The mother glanced at the burly man, who looked puzzled. She replied, “There was no warning, it just happened suddenly.”

“Suddenly? No signs at all, and now she can’t get out of bed?”

“No, no signs.”

“Is she married?”

“No.”

“What does she do for work?”

“She works as a kindergarten teacher in the county town.”

The Taoist took a deep breath, muttering to himself, “That’s strange. The spirit isn’t nearby.”

“Can she be saved?”

The burly man offered the Taoist another cigarette.

The Taoist accepted it, saying, “Right now, I can guarantee the girl won’t die. But not finding the spirit is a problem. Think carefully—were there any symptoms or unusual events before the illness?”

“No symptoms,” the couple replied almost simultaneously.

“It’s definitely a spiritual illness, but a tricky one.”

“We have money. We’ll sell the house,” the woman said urgently.

The Taoist replied calmly, “This isn’t about money. I don’t want money. Even if you gave me a mountain of gold, without finding the cause, it’s all useless talk.”

The parents looked terrified.

The Taoist instructed, “Go buy two bundles of yellow paper, a pack of yellow incense, and two jin of white liquor—sixty degrees or higher.”

The burly man immediately agreed, “Alright, I’ll go now.”

“No, don’t go. See if someone outside is free. Have them run the errand.”

“Okay, okay.”

Then the Taoist said to me, “Boy, bring me a bottle of boy’s urine.”

“Got it.”

I was just about to relieve myself, so I found an empty wine bottle in the yard, though the mouth was too narrow.

I have to say, ever since I started following the Taoist, my lifestyle has improved dramatically—even my urine turned a deep yellow.

The Taoist took the full bottle and gave me a look, sneering, “You’ve got quite the flow.”

“I was holding it in.”

“Really damn yellow.”

Without hesitation, the Taoist poured some of the urine from the bottle into his palm and rubbed his hands together, then used my urine to draw a circle around the girl.

“You should eat vegetarian for a few days. Your urine’s too pungent. This bed will grow dog urine moss by spring.”

“I’ve been a bit overheated lately.”

After completing the ritual, the Taoist went to wash his hands. By then, the girl had fallen asleep, her breathing steady.

The couple and I were stunned by the Taoist’s actions.

The burly man asked, “Master, any other instructions?”

“No more.”

“When the yellow paper arrives, shall we burn incense and invite the spirits?”

“No, no need to invite spirits. This isn’t the work of stray ghosts. I suspect someone cursed your child. Have you offended anyone?”

“No, just farmers. We haven’t wronged anyone.”

“Think carefully.”

“Definitely not.”

The Taoist glanced at me, and I quietly slipped outside.

I asked the neighbors about the couple’s character. They all spoke highly of them, praising their honesty and friendliness. Both were simple farmers who got along with everyone—no disputes over farmland or houses.

I returned and nodded to the Taoist.

He muttered, “This is difficult. Wait, let me think it over.”

I suggested, “Maybe try some ghost ginseng?”

“That’s not the issue.”

The couple looked anxious.

The Taoist reassured them, “Don’t worry, I guarantee the girl won’t die. Wait until nightfall. I’ll see what’s going on then.”

By now, the girl’s breathing was steady, and a flush had returned to her face.

The Taoist instructed, “She won’t die, no problem. Take off the burial clothes—living people don’t wear those.”

“Alright, alright.”

The woman didn’t hesitate and began undressing the girl in front of us.

Of course, we couldn’t watch. We sat on the edge of the kang with our backs turned.

The burly man asked, “Master, since there’s a curse, how do we cure it?”

“It’s not easy. The girl’s spirit isn’t nearby.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Wait. When it’s dark, I’ll burn some paper and ask the stray ghosts.”

“Okay.”

The Taoist stood and walked to the center of the yard, smiling first.

“Everyone, old and young, the girl is fine for now. You all should leave. Too many people bring strong yang energy, which is bad for her.”

The crowd dispersed in small groups.

Soon, the neighbors brought food. The burly man apologized, “Look, I’ve been so busy I forgot. Come, have something to eat.”

The woman tried to pay the neighbors, but they pretended to be annoyed. “Don’t fuss. Everyone has troubles. You focus on your daughter. I’ll cover your meals. Whatever we eat, you eat the same.”

Though they said this, the food was far from ordinary—there was a plate of pig’s head meat, a dish of sausages, a pot of pork belly stewed with sauerkraut, and a plate of stir-fried chives.

No ordinary rural family could afford four dishes in one meal, let alone pig’s head meat.

This spoke volumes about the couple’s character.

That night, the Taoist and I went to the village entrance.

He sat cross-legged, spreading out yellow paper and placing two porcelain bowls.

Following his instructions, I poured wine into the bowls and lit the one opposite the Taoist.

He lifted his cup and said, “Don’t be afraid of what you might see.”

“Oh, you’re being modest again. What demon or ghost can be scarier than you?”

“You little rascal, so young yet so sharp-tongued.”

“Don’t flatter me. You’re my master. I learned it all from you.”

I then asked earnestly, “Master, can you really cure her? We don’t want to waste time.”

“The only thing I can’t do is have children. Everything else, yes.”

“Alright, alright. As long as you can cure her. I’m worried they might chase us out with a big broom.”

As we spoke, a flock of sparrows suddenly took off from the trees with loud chirping. Everyone knows sparrows must find shelter at night because they can’t see in the dark.