Chapter 43: An Uninvited Guest

For the next few days, I stayed holed up in the shop. Most of the businesses in the Outer Eight Trades are soaked in blood, and even after years in the game, my Fourth Brother still moves with caution. I had no choice but to be extra careful myself, watching my back every step I took.

But maybe I was being too paranoid. I couldn’t even step out for a meal without dragging Lu A’yao along, or I’d just have one of the shop hands bring food straight to me. Most days, I either brewed tea for myself in the shop or lay on the bed reading.

This routine went on for more than half a month. By the end of the month, still no one came looking for me, and Fourth Brother hadn’t returned. I called him every morning out of habit, and every morning, as usual, no one picked up.

Aside from that, everything else in life seemed perfectly normal—maybe I really was just overthinking things.

After the New Year, the weather kept getting colder. There wasn’t the slightest sign that spring was on its way. I was wrapped in a thick quilt, sitting on the bed in the back room, flipping through an old book on modern steel-structured mechanisms.

The window in this room was right beside the bed, offering a view of the courtyard where Fourth Brother had planted a few wintersweet trees. The yellow blossoms stood beside a large, abandoned water vat, now covered with a thin layer of ice. In winter, the scene had a certain poetic charm.

Wintersweet blooms best in the cold. Last month, there wasn’t even a bud in sight, but this month, the branches were already bursting with flower buds. Fourth Brother never cared much for tending them—he’d just toss the seeds somewhere and let nature take its course.

That was a lot like my grandfather. He used to say that only flowers that grow wild have the spirit to brave wind and frost. Wintersweet, he said, only truly shines when it blooms in the snow.

The snow was falling heavily. I was staring blankly at the book in my hands when I heard a knock at the door. I turned around and saw Lu A’yao standing at the threshold. He glanced at the wintersweet outside the window, then shifted his gaze to me and said, “Someone’s here.”

My heart sank. So it had finally come. Whoever it was, they were here for me.

Dragging myself out from under the covers was no easy task. I bundled up in my down coat, rubbing my cold hands as I walked out. As I passed Lu A’yao, I noticed he was still standing there, staring intently at the blossoms outside. He seemed completely absorbed, so I didn’t bother calling him and went out on my own.

The moment I stepped into the front hall, I saw Hou Jinshan sitting in a chair, blowing on a cup of tea. I immediately felt like I’d been played for a fool these past two weeks. No way was I letting this old fox trap me into another night of ghost stories.

I strode up to him, not bothering to hide my irritation. “What are you doing here?”

Hou Jinshan, slick as ever, smacked his lips after finishing his tea. “Hey, I came all the way to Henan. Wouldn’t it be rude not to drop by? Word gets around, people might say the old man doesn’t know proper etiquette.”

This time I didn’t bother with pleasantries. Last time on the train, he’d spent hours spinning ghost stories with no proof to back them up. I wasn’t about to indulge him again. I grabbed his arm, ready to throw him out.

“Thanks for dropping by, but you’re out of luck. The owner’s not in. If you’re dying to tell stories, I’ve got an old table I’m about to toss—go talk to that instead. Just don’t loiter in my shop.”

“Hey now, Young Master Gan,” Marquis Hou slapped my hand away. “Far as I know, this shop isn’t yours. That makes me a customer. I’m here on business. You kicking customers out of Chen Si’s shop? What if the neighbors see? Not a good look, is it?”

Damn this sly old fox. There were still a few customers outside discussing yin dwellings with the shop hands. I hadn’t even made it past the second doorway before he saw right through me. I could only stand there and watch as he leisurely sat back down in his chair.

Frustrated, I sat across from him and took a gulp of tea, trying to keep my temper in check. “You’re right. My Fourth Brother isn’t here. And if you’re here for business, I don’t have the authority to make any decisions. You’d best be on your way.”

Nothing good ever comes from dealing with him. And my instincts are usually spot on.

Hou Jinshan didn’t rush. He acted like I wasn’t even there. He waved a hand for another cup of tea, blew on it, took a sip, and finally looked up at me with a smug expression.

“I’m here to borrow a few capable hands for a job. Once it’s done, I’ll settle the bill.”

“I already told you, the shop’s not mine. Until my Fourth Brother gets back, you’re not taking a single person.” My patience was wearing thin.

Hou Jinshan sneered, his face darkening as he slammed his cup down with a loud *thud*.

“You really are a greenhorn, kid. Don’t even know who I am on the street. I gave you some face because you’re Gan Rukui’s grandson. But let’s be real—your grandfather’s long gone, and dead men don’t protect the living. Don’t push your luck.”

My right hand clenched into a fist on the armrest. Ever since I got into college, I’d barely set foot in the shop. Hou Jinshan must’ve done his homework—he knew I had no real say here, and now he was trying to use seniority to pressure me. Seeing that smug face of his, I regretted ever speaking to him respectfully, ever treating him like an elder.

What a joke. Just a cowardly old bastard who bullies the weak and fears the strong.

But come on—me, a grown man, getting threatened by some geezer over fifty?

I stood up from my chair. “I’ll say it one last time. Chen Si’s not here, which means I’m the boss of Ying Gan Hall. And I’m telling you, we don’t have that kind of rule. We don’t lend out our people. If you don’t believe me, go ahead and try something!”

I’d meant to scare him a little. Usually, people back down when I get serious. But Hou Jinshan didn’t even flinch. He sat there like a mountain, and I knew immediately—this was bad.

Before the words were even out of my mouth, a large group of men rounded the corner and flooded into the shop, cigarettes dangling from their mouths, smoke filling the room in an instant. Xiao Wu, who had been wiping porcelain near the door, quickly led a few guys to stand behind me.

I’d never seen anything like this before and froze on the spot. This wasn’t borrowing people—this was a full-on raid.

Ying Gan Hall holds a prestigious place in the Central Plains Geomancer circle. Even with Fourth Brother gone, business had been booming. If the shop got trashed, our reputation would take a massive hit.

And me—I’ve always had a strong sense of responsibility. With Fourth Brother away, it was up to me to hold the fort. My knees were shaking a bit, sure, but there was no way I’d let the shop get wrecked on my watch.

I’d been in plenty of fights growing up. If it came to blows, I wasn’t scared. But it was just after the New Year, and we were short-handed. With only a dozen or so people, we might not be able to hold out.

Hou Jinshan finished his tea and stood up, walking over to the burly thugs. He pulled out a long-stemmed pipe from behind his back and took a puff before turning to me.

“Young Master Gan, you see the situation now. I’ve got a good job lined up. If it works out, I’ll make sure Ying Gan Hall gets a nice cut. But you had to run your mouth and make things difficult. Was that really necessary?”

Xiao Wu stepped forward, grabbing a long broom from the corner. “Cut the crap! Our boss isn’t here, and we don’t lend out people. If he didn’t give the order, we don’t take the job. You lot can get the hell out!”

The leader behind Hou Jinshan stepped up as well. I saw the others start reaching into their pockets. I knew then—there was no avoiding a fight. And dealing with thugs like these? Even calling the cops might not get them to back off.

I reached for the nearest porcelain vase, gripping it upside down and ready to swing.

Just as things were about to explode, I heard a crisp clink at my feet. I looked down and saw an old copper coin, tarnished with rust, rolling across the floor. It stopped right at Hou Jinshan’s feet, spinning a few times before falling still.

Hou Jinshan and I both turned to look at Lu A’yao. He had stepped over the threshold from the back room. The moment he appeared, I noticed Hou Jinshan and all the thugs behind him instinctively took a few steps back.

What struck me even more was that Hou Jinshan’s reaction was identical to Han Jian’s before—except this time, it wasn’t just fear. It was disgust, as if Lu A’yao carried some kind of filth they didn’t want to touch.

That’s when I suddenly remembered what He Yu had said over drinks—the “curse.” Could it really be that? Was that why they were so spooked?

“Well, well. Yin Pozi’s here too. What a strange year—seeing the dead walk around in broad daylight,” Hou Jinshan said, puffing on his pipe as he looked at Lu A’yao, then at the coin on the ground. “What kind of reading is this?”

Lu A’yao slipped his hand into his coat pocket, his face expressionless. “It’s for you.”

“Oho! A reading from Yin Pozi himself—now that’s a blessing eight lifetimes in the making.” Hou Jinshan bent down, picked up the coin, and blew the dust off. “So what’s the reading say? What’s the meaning? What did you divine?”

Lu A’yao stepped between us. All the thugs behind Hou Jinshan instinctively backed up another half meter, faces twisted with visible disgust.

He took the coin from Hou Jinshan’s hand. I noticed the red talisman markings on his face looked darker than before. Then he spoke—something I hadn’t expected.

“I read your life span.”

“You won’t live out the year.”

———

Yin Pozi (阴婆子) is a mocking nickname for someone (male or female) who deals with ghosts, yin energy, and death. Literally it means “yin hag/old crone,” but in use it’s more of an insult—calling the person creepy, unmanly, and associated with the dead. In the text, it’s Hou Jinshan jeering at Lu Ayao, basically calling him a ghost witch / death hag.