Chapter 83: Gone Mad

Yan Xianghua had a nightmare.

In the dream, Yan Miao’s medication had worn off, and no one came to collect the payment he had prepared.

He could only watch helplessly as his daughter withered away the moment the medicine stopped working.

She reached out to him, crying, “Daddy, it hurts.”

But he was powerless.

All he could do was watch as his daughter died in agony, unwilling and in pain.

Yan Xianghua jolted awake, drenched in sweat, his pillow soaked through.

He quietly got up and went to check on his daughter. Seeing her sound asleep, snoring softly, finally eased his heart a little. He stood by her bed for a long while before stepping out onto the balcony, lighting cigarette after cigarette.

He often had nightmares like this.

Sometimes, he dreamed the medicine supply suddenly stopped, and the seller vanished without a trace—just like how they had appeared.

Sometimes, he dreamed the medicine had severe side effects that didn’t show at first, but once Yan Miao came of age, all sorts of complications erupted, turning her into something neither human nor ghost.

And sometimes, he even dreamed that the medicine was just a delusion born from his grief—that Yan Miao had died long ago.

He was constantly tormented by the uncertainty and instability of the medicine supply.

To the outside world, they looked like a happy family, but in truth, a sword hung over their heads, ready to fall at any moment…

His assistant was highly capable and had thoroughly investigated the past and present of Baiyun Temple Free Clinic.

It was a legitimate charity with a good reputation, known for curing many difficult and rare illnesses.

But it wasn’t some miracle-working place—otherwise, after all his years of seeking treatment, he would’ve heard of it.

After much deliberation, Yan Xianghua decided to bring his wife and daughter up the mountain to seek treatment.

After all, there was that one child’s case.

Safe, reliable, and a one-time cure. That was too tempting to ignore.

Once on the mountain, they were personally received by Daoist Wuwang, who arranged lodging for the family and told them to wait for treatment—without saying when it would happen.

No one on the mountain idled. If you stayed, you had to volunteer.

Yan Xianghua donated a generous sum to the temple’s merit box.

The young Daoist priest Xinghe, who was in charge of receiving guests, explained that donors could stay one night for free. After that, if they wanted to remain, they’d have to do volunteer work.

All things considered, the monk’s quarters here were more expensive than a presidential suite at a five-star hotel.

He had no choice. Used to a life of comfort, Yan Xianghua now had to roll up his sleeves and survive.

After arriving, he saw that couple’s child.

The kid was the picture of health—running, jumping, climbing trees, tough as nails. After playing for half a day, he wasn’t even out of breath.

His daughter should be like that too.

Among the many volunteer tasks, Yan Xianghua was assigned to the vegetable garden.

Weeding, fertilizing, and picking vegetables twice a day to deliver to the kitchen.

It was hard, physical labor.

But the young Daoist priest who welcomed him said, “This suits a big CEO like you. Most of the other jobs involve interacting with tourists—you might not be able to keep your temper.”

His assistant chimed in, “Why don’t I do it, CEO Yan?”

Of course not. Yan Xianghua waved him off and sent him back down the mountain.

It wasn’t so bad. While working, he could let his daughter get close to nature.

The assistant came up the mountain once a day—first, to report on the latest business matters, and second, to bring a few tutors for Yan Miao’s studies.

In the blink of an eye, Yan Xianghua had been on the mountain for nearly a week. Aside from the daily aches and pains, he was starting to find a bit of that “carefree life in the southern hills” charm.

But the temple still hadn’t said when the treatment would begin. Every time he sought out Daoist Wuwang, he was told to wait.

Wait for what? An auspicious date?

“Hmm… something like that.”

Yan Xianghua made another donation to the temple.

When he asked again, the answer was the same—only this time with an added word of thanks.

So, it wasn’t about the money.

He sought out the couple whose child had been cured. They looked even more surprised than he was. “Your kid isn’t better yet? You were the one who told us this place was a divine miracle. That’s why we brought our child and searched everywhere until we found this place… Oh well, if the Daoist says to wait, then wait.”

But Yan Xianghua didn’t want to wait. If everything in life depended on waiting, then what was the point?

He had always believed in going after what he wanted with everything he had.

So he went to “accidentally” run into Cheng Ling.

That guy, who still looked like he was recovering from a serious illness, actually said, “In that case, CEO Yan should wait.”

“The Daoist’s medical skills…” Yan Xianghua began vaguely.

Cheng Ling, however, was anything but vague. “Unparalleled. I’ve never seen anyone better. If Daoist Wuwang tells you to wait, there’s a reason.”

By now, Yan Xianghua knew that Cheng Ling and his wife were both volunteering here. Cheng Ling even drank a bowl of thick herbal soup every day.

That gave Yan Xianghua some peace of mind.

At lunch, his wife told him that the housekeeper had called. While out grocery shopping, she found a medicine bag tucked into the vegetable basket.

By the calendar, the current dose still had a few days left before wearing off.

So… should they give it to her?

The couple hesitated.

Yan Xianghua was so anxious he developed blisters on his lips.

He tried to casually ask the young Daoist priest Xinghe.

Xinghe simply said, “Oh, let me take a look for you.”

At the time, Xinghe was sweeping the path outside the monk’s quarters.

He set the broom aside and walked off.

It was the most hopeful answer Yan Xianghua had heard in days, so he immediately started praising him to the skies.

Xinghe was Daoist Wuwang’s grand-disciple—one of the more favored among the third generation.

Yan Xianghua assumed he was going to ask the senior Daoists.

But instead, Xinghe put down his broom, lifted his robe, and darted back into the monk’s quarters.

Yan Xianghua thought he was going in to grab something or change clothes, so he followed closely behind—only to see Xinghe stop under the eaves.

There, on the far right side, a few waist-high clay jars stood against the wall, dusty and unremarkable.

When he first arrived, Yan Xianghua had thought they were just decorations.

Now, Xinghe was crouched in front of one, lifting the thick wooden lid and peering inside.

Doing the same beside him was Zhang Haochen, who had been playing in the courtyard. The little boy had to stand on tiptoe to see in.

“Wow, smells amazing,” he said.

Yan Xianghua could even hear the kid gulping.

Xinghe reached into the jar, rummaging around. When he pulled his hand out, he was holding a plump, orange-red persimmon.

He brought the fruit to his nose and sniffed it twice. Then, lifting the hem of his Daoist robe, he wiped the skin clean with the inside of the fabric. With a quick twist of his hands, the persimmon split in two with a crisp crack.

Xinghe casually handed half to the child, who eagerly clutched it and began licking the soft center.

Yan Xianghua thought the couple must truly be indifferent—to just toss their child into the courtyard and let someone take care of him so roughly.

He honestly couldn’t bear to watch. If the nanny at his house had dared to feed Miao Miao like this, she would’ve been fired on the spot.

But over there, both the man and the child seemed completely unbothered.

Xinghe took a bite himself, tasted it thoughtfully, and muttered, “Almost there. One more night and it should be just right.”

Then he put the wooden lid back on the jar and said to Yan Xianghua, “Won’t be long now. Tomorrow or the day after.”

Yan Xianghua felt like he was being played. He couldn’t take it anymore and said in a low, stern voice, “I was asking about the time for my daughter’s treatment, not the ripening of persimmons.”

There was a trace of anger in his voice.

Xinghe shot him a look. “Same thing.”

Then, still chewing on the persimmon, he walked off to continue sweeping the front steps.

When Yan Xianghua tried to question him again, Xinghe no longer responded.

The child sat on the doorstep, holding his half of the persimmon, munching away noisily.

Noticing Yan Xianghua looking at him, the little rascal mimicked Xinghe’s serious tone and nodded solemnly, “Tomorrow, or the day after.”

Yan Xianghua: “…”

However, the very next morning, Daoist Wuwang informed him that the treatment would officially begin that afternoon.

The entire process felt like a dream.

Even in his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined something so surreal.

So this… was what a Daoist doctor was?

When he walked out of the treatment room, Yan Xianghua was still wondering if he’d been hypnotized.

But that sensation—something warm flowing through his body, then slowly being drawn out—was undeniably real.

The second day after the treatment was when Yan Miao’s last dose of medicine was supposed to wear off. The couple discussed it and decided not to give her the new pill just yet.

They wanted to see what would happen.

That night, neither of them slept. They stayed by their daughter’s bedside, watching over her.

Yan Miao, unaware of her parents’ worries, slept soundly—so soundly she even slept in, which was rare for her.

By the time she woke up, the effects of the life-sustaining medicine had long since worn off.

Yan Xianghua quickly asked how she felt.

Yan Miao said, “I feel amazing! I haven’t slept this well in forever. I feel like my whole body is full of energy.”

Just like that? She was better—just like that?

After comforting his wife and daughter, Yan Xianghua solemnly went to thank Daoist Wuwang.

Daoist Wuwang waved him off. “No need to thank me. If you think about it, you saved her yourself. The child was in relatively good condition during the treatment, so there’s no need for her to stay at the temple like the other patients. Go on back—she still has school.”

Just like that? Yan Xianghua wasn’t reassured.

“I’d still like to stay on the mountain a bit longer to observe Miao Miao… It’s not that I doubt your medical skills, Master, it’s just—this is how parents are. And thank you for your concern, but Miao Miao’s schoolwork won’t be delayed.”

Daoist Wuwang gave him a sidelong glance and said bluntly, “I’m not worried about your kid’s schoolwork. But your family has drivers, assistants, and a whole bunch of tutors coming and going in the back of the temple every day—it’s excessive. This kind of extravagance doesn’t belong in a place of quiet cultivation.”

The disdain in his tone was unmistakable.

Yan Xianghua had no comeback—he even blushed a little.

Daoist Wuwang waved his hand. “Enough, enough. Just go. We need to free up the Monk’s Quarters for someone else.”

Yan Xianghua had never been treated with such disregard.

And yet, oddly enough, it made him feel grounded. Smiling, he said to the Daoist, “Baiyun Temple has done my family a great kindness. Please, Master, allow me the honor of gilding the temple’s statues.”

“No need for that. The Patriarch doesn’t care about such things. As long as they’re decent, it’s fine.”

Daoist Wuwang didn’t even hesitate before refusing.

“And don’t bother donating to the merit box again. You’ve already thrown in plenty these past few days. If you truly want to do good, go down the mountain and help others. Don’t make money through unjust means. Spend your wealth on those who really need it. That’ll make the Patriarch happier than dressing him in a hundred golden robes.”

Yan Xianghua stood up and bowed deeply, sincerely.

“Thank you for your guidance, Master. I will do my best to do good and accumulate virtue. One more thing—if I meet others in need of healing, may I refer them to Baiyun Temple?”

“You may,” Daoist Wuwang replied without hesitation. “But understand this: unless they are people who have done good and accumulated virtue, they will only receive ordinary treatment. We can only do our best.”

Yan Xianghua understood.

“I’ll be mindful of that, Master.”

After leaving, Yan Xianghua let out a long breath, as if expelling all the murky air from his chest.

The phrase “Three feet above your head, the gods are watching” wasn’t just some moralistic warning. Doing good truly accumulated virtue—and virtue could save lives.

He thought again of that unused pill.

It had all been a miraculous experience.

He couldn’t help but feel that Baiyun Temple truly lived up to its reputation as a place of orthodox Daoist practice. It was nothing like those shady sects.

Some places treated healing like a joke, charged astronomical fees.

Here, they healed generously, took no money, and encouraged people to do good.

Since the temple refused payment, Yan Xianghua decided that once they were down the mountain, he would establish a medical aid foundation in Miao Miao’s name. He planned to allocate a portion of their annual profits to this fund, which would work directly with hospitals to help families who had to give up treatment due to lack of money.

Miao Miao was still young and couldn’t do much yet, but as her father, he could help her do good and accumulate merit.

He only hoped that after this ordeal, her life would be smooth and filled with light.

Not long after returning to the Monk’s Quarters, while he and his wife were packing up to leave the mountain, the young Daoist priest Xinghe showed up. He glanced around and said, “Oh, already packing? Good. I don’t have anything else—just here to check in. Master sent me to remind you.”

Yan Xianghua: “…”

Baiyun Temple really didn’t give them any face. They even sent someone to supervise their “discharge.”

He was such a big-time investor—wherever he went, people treated him like a VIP, flattering and fawning over him. Who would’ve thought he’d be treated with such disdain?

But thinking about it, aside from being rich, he didn’t have much else to show for himself. Even when he first tried helping in the vegetable garden, the others had found him more of a nuisance than a help.

With that thought, Yan Xianghua felt as if he’d been reborn. His heart was clear and open. He even bought a few Daoist scriptures from the temple to take home with him.

Still, one thing continued to puzzle him: what did those persimmons under the corridor have to do with the treatment?

Before leaving, he made a point to go check. All the jars that had once held persimmons were now empty.

So… persimmons were actually a key ritual item in the healing ceremony? That’s kind of strange—Qin Qing didn’t remember seeing any persimmons during the treatment.

This question would probably remain one of the great unsolved mysteries of Yan Xianghua’s life.

—

Qin Qing had gone up the mountain to help someone redeem merit points, and came back with a bunch of fragrant, intoxicating persimmons.

She hadn’t shown herself directly during the ritual to save Yan Miao. Instead, she sat behind a reed-woven screen in the meditation room where the ceremony took place. She planned to keep doing it this way from now on.

Better than ending up like Cheng Ling, who gave her weird looks every time they crossed paths.

And then there was little Zhang Haochen, who kept calling her “Daoist Big Sister.” The kid was so young, he’d already merged Qin Qing’s image with characters from the cartoons he’d watched. In his eyes, she was now someone even more powerful than Ultraman or Pleasant Goat.

{T/N: Pleasant Goat is the main character of the hit Chinese animated series Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf (喜羊羊与灰太狼). He’s a smart, brave, and cheerful goat who constantly outwits a clumsy wolf named Wolffy. The show, hugely popular in China and abroad, features fun adventures, teamwork, and humor for kids and families.}

The Daoists were truly generous. They didn’t keep a single one of the first batch of ripened persimmons—they gave them all to Qin Qing.

To make it easier for her to take them home, they even moved several jars from the Dining Hall kitchen to the Monk’s Quarters.

There was a side door behind the Monk’s Quarters, so she wouldn’t have to be seen by the tourists, munching and carrying food at the same time.

Baiyun Temple also wanted to give her a cut of the incense donations Yan Xianghua had made.

Qin Qing declined. It wasn’t part of the original agreement anyway.

The elderly Daoists looked genuinely guilty.

They thought she was selfless and kind-hearted, and their attitude toward her became even warmer.

They treated her like a beloved younger member of the family. Now, when she came up the mountain and missed mealtime, Daoist Wutun would even fire up the stove again just to make her a quick fried rice or a bowl of vegetarian noodles.

In their eyes, Qin Qing was doing all this work for nothing.

But in reality, she earned a commission from the merit point redemptions.

Each of the recent healing cases had brought in 5 to 10 merit points.

So far, Qin Qing had accumulated over 130 merit points.

That was far more valuable than money. Besides, she still relied on Baiyun Temple to bring her clients.

All in all, she wasn’t losing out.

As for the fruit she brought back—

There was no way she could eat that many on her own. She left some for her little fan Zhang Haochen, brought some back to share with her studio, her parents, and even gave a few to the police department.

Of course, there wasn’t enough to go around—each person only got one or two at most.

Not long ago, the Taiyi Ziwei Sect case had helped clean up the city’s order, uncovering quite a few criminals.

The Bureau Chief had even returned from a meeting with a verbal commendation from the municipal bureau.

But internally, the department knew the case had fizzled out. It had started strong but ended weakly, leaving everyone frustrated.

The sketch of Shao Shu was basically useless now, and the case had been shelved.

With no leads and no way to find Shao Shu, the investigation had hit a dead end.

For most people in the department, their interest in the case outweighed their sense of duty. There were plenty of other criminal cases with actual casualties that took precedence over this weird, cult-like mystery.

Monday, at the studio’s weekly meeting.

Everyone gathered to review the client list for the past week.

Qin Fanghao and Yang Sang took turns presenting the background of each case and scheduling appointments to invite clients in.

Qin Fanghao said, “Next one—this request came in just last night. The client is a young man named Zhou Lin. He’s asking for an exorcism. The person involved is his wife, Yang Guangmei. According to him, they were childhood sweethearts, deeply in love. Both families know each other well, and there’s no history of mental illness in either family.

“Their parents were friends to begin with, and after the marriage, the families got along great. They’re financially stable, no money issues. They have a three-year-old daughter—healthy and adorable. Yang Guangmei herself is a cheerful, optimistic person. Zhou Lin gave us all these details to convince us that Yang Guangmei is genuinely possessed, not suffering from a mental breakdown caused by psychological or psychiatric issues.

“He emphasized that Yang Guangmei went to bed perfectly fine one night, and then woke up the next morning completely insane…”

At that, Qin Qing suddenly looked up, the pen she’d been twirling between her fingers snapping to a stop with a crisp click.

Qin Fanghao paused and turned to her, waiting for her to speak.

Qin Qing didn’t have much to say—she just found the phrase “woke up suddenly” eerily familiar.

When she and Lin Feng had visited the families of those two people who’d died suddenly from acute heart attacks, their relatives had kept repeating that exact sentence.

“He was perfectly fine the night before—he even acted all cute and asked me to make stir-fried rice noodles for breakfast the next day. Then I woke up, and he was just… gone.”

They kept repeating it.

Friends and family at the scene would sigh and say, “How could such a healthy young person just die in their sleep like that?”

After hearing it so many times, Qin Qing couldn’t help but feel the familiarity.

Seeing everyone in the meeting looking at her, she casually asked, “Did he say when this happened?”

“He said it was about a month ago—around November,” Qin Fanghao replied.

“November?” It had been a throwaway question, but the mention of that month struck a chord. She pressed further, “Did he say the exact date?”

“Let me check—should be in the system.” Qin Fanghao quickly flipped through the backend data and answered, “November 12th. Zhou Lin said the night before, Yang Guangmei was still going wild clearing out her shopping cart, full of energy.”

November 12th. That date again.

The two sudden death cases had also been determined by the coroner to have occurred in the early hours of November 12th. It was an easy date to remember—both victims had gone to a singles-themed party at a bar the night before.

Was it just a coincidence?

On that same day, some people died suddenly, and someone else went mad.

What was so special about November 12th?

That damn sense of helpless familiarity came flooding back.

There was no evidence connecting the incidents, but anyone with eyes could see something wasn’t right.

Even the families had similar reactions.

Qin Fanghao continued, “Zhou Lin said they’ve seen a bunch of doctors over the past two months. The hospitals are stumped. They also tried a few spirit mediums and folk remedies—every method they could think of. Nothing worked. Zhou Lin himself is leaning more toward the possession theory. One of the mediums they consulted was adamant that it was a case of possession, but said her own spiritual power wasn’t strong enough. She told him to find someone more capable. That’s why he came to us—he’s basically treating us as a last-ditch effort.”

After finishing the summary, Qin Fanghao saw that Qin Qing hadn’t said a word, so he asked, “Boss, are we taking this case?”

“Yes. Get in touch with the family—we’ll head over this afternoon.”

Qin Qing had considered asking someone from the police to come along. This might be a new lead. But it was the end of the year, and they were already swamped with cases and reports. The department was seriously overwhelmed. So she decided to check things out herself first. If she found anything useful, she’d report it later.

Zhou Lin looked haggard—having someone go mad in your family was even more tormenting than having someone fall ill.

When Qin Qing arrived, she saw him standing at the entrance of the residential complex, seeing someone off. She recognized the person—it was one of those who had made things difficult for her the first time she met Granny Shun, part of that initial commission.

She waited until the person had left before getting out of the car.

Zhou Lin, upon seeing Qin Qing, looked a bit numb—probably because he’d seen too many so-called Mystic Sect people lately.

He only asked her one question.

“May I ask what method you’ll be using to expel the evil? I don’t want her to suffer too much, only to end up not being cured.”

Thanks to her training at Baiyun Temple, Qin Qing was well aware of the strange methods some people used.

She completely understood the concerns of the family.

“Don’t worry. I won’t make her eat anything strange, and I won’t touch her without your permission.”

Only then did Zhou Lin nod and lead them upstairs.

As they walked, he explained the situation: “Guangmei’s mind isn’t clear right now. Sometimes she even attacks people, so we’ve had to lock her in the bedroom. Most of the time, she’s quiet—she curls up under blankets, behind tables or in cabinets, like she’s hiding from something. Sometimes she even pulls the kid in to hide with her.”

“One time I was out, and the kid snuck into the room to see her mom. Guangmei pulled her into the wardrobe to hide. When the kid’s grandma came in to call her for dinner, Guangmei clamped her hand over the child’s mouth and nose so tightly she nearly suffocated.” Zhou Lin’s voice trembled with lingering fear.

“Sometimes Guangmei recognizes us—she’ll hold my hand and the kid’s and beg us to run. But when she doesn’t recognize us, she attacks anyone who gets close. She’s even picked up a knife and tried to slash people.”

Zhou Lin broke down in sobs. “My wife used to be scared to even watch someone gut a fish. And now…”

Qin Qing listened quietly, then checked his System Panel. He was telling the truth—everything he said matched up with the facts.

The elders in the family genuinely cared for Yang Guangmei, so she could rule out internal family conflict or malicious intent.

Qin Qing then switched to Yang Guangmei’s logs and began checking them day by day. Aside from some erratic behavior typical of someone losing their mind, nothing stood out.

Until she reached November 12.

That day, the log page was a vast blank.

She scrolled for a long time before any text appeared.

[November 12, 03:00 — Woke up in bed.]

[November 12, 03:00 — Mental state became abnormal.]