Chapter 4: A Gloomy Aura

Just as I was preparing to head downstairs, I spotted three or four people coming up. Leading them was a woman about my own age. She wore a purple short-sleeved shirt and casual trousers, her hair tied back in a ponytail, giving her a sharp and capable appearance. The burly men following her looked physically imposing, clearly people who had trained in martial arts.

Who were these people? I felt a surge of curiosity. If they were here to pay their respects, they should at least be wearing mourning clothes to show deference; who wears a purple t-shirt to a wake? Moreover, despite their older age, her companions weren't in suits, but in athletic gear.

At that moment, Liu Qingya hurried up from the stairs and joined them. It appeared they were heading to the third floor. I didn't pay much more attention and continued downstairs; perhaps it was a private matter.

...

The crowd downstairs grew steadily, though the vast majority of those paying respects were from our village. In rural areas, weddings and funerals are major social events; regardless of the occasion, they are always grand affairs. Since everyone is usually busy, these are the only times people get to gather.

Uncle Dazhuang’s passing and Uncle Wangcai’s strange behavior made me think back to the incident with the ancient tomb years ago. Viewed separately, these events didn’t mean much, but taken together, it felt like more than a coincidence. Could it be, as my grandfather once suggested, that those things were tainted, leading to these troubles? That didn't seem likely; if something were to go wrong, it usually happened within months. For something to trigger a disaster after ten or twenty years was unheard of.

"Uncle Wangcai," I said, walking up to him. "Everyone who was patrolling the riverbank with you back then to survey the dam damage—are they all here today?"

I didn't ask explicitly about the people who had dug up the ancient tomb with him, as it was a sensitive topic with so many people around. Besides, their actions constituted grave robbing, which was technically illegal.

"Why are you asking about that?" Uncle Wangcai’s expression changed. "It’s better not to bring that up ever again."

Seeing how tight-lipped he was, I knew it would be difficult to learn anything more from him. With so many mourners present, searching for the others individually was unrealistic, so I sat on a bench in the lobby, feeling restless.

Before I could even settle in, the woman in the purple shirt and her group came back down from upstairs. She didn't linger in Uncle Dazhuang’s villa, walking straight outside to a black Cullinan parked there. Once she boarded, the vehicle drove away.

Not long after, Liu Qingya descended as well. I could see that her expression was troubled, but I didn't rush over to ask her about it. Today’s events were truly baffling, and though I couldn't quite grasp the full picture, I had a premonition that this was far from simple—and that, in some mysterious way, it might be linked to me.

As the day wore on, the sky outside gradually turned dark.

...

Many people went to the hotel to rest after dinner, but my father and the others stayed behind. After all, Uncle Dazhuang was their contemporary, and they shared a close bond. Keeping the vigil tonight was, in a way, their final opportunity to spend time with an old friend.

"If you're tired, go to the hotel and get some sleep," a middle-aged voice suddenly came from beside me. It was my father. It was rare for him to show such concern.

"I’m fine, not very tired," I replied, forcing myself to stay alert.

"Then try to stay with Uncle Dazhuang’s daughter tonight. Don't leave her side if you can help it," my father said before walking away, leaving me standing there in a daze.

What was that supposed to mean? Did my father know about the mole behind Liu Qingya’s ear, too? He had already walked off before I could ask. When my grandfather had said something similar to me before, I had been confused; having my father repeat it made it even more inscrutable.

Still, I walked over to Liu Qingya. She had been kneeling before Uncle Dazhuang’s coffin for over an hour.

"Take a break. If you keep kneeling like this, you might end up crippled," I urged.

Whether it was Liu Qingya, my father, or Uncle Wangcai, I felt they were all hiding something from me but were unwilling to speak. Unfortunately, I’ve had a stubborn streak since I was a child; if you won't tell me, I can't be bothered to ask.

Hearing my words, Liu Qingya didn't reply. She stood up, rubbed her numb knees, and sat down on a nearby stool.

"Do you believe in fate?" I asked, suddenly interested in reading her fortune.

It was such a cliché, "Mary Sue" style opening that it was hard to take seriously. Liu Qingya shook her head. "No."

Her flat dismissal extinguished most of my enthusiasm. However, she then spoke up, "Jiang Chen, can you do me a favor?"

"What is it?" I didn't agree immediately. Even though Liu Qingya was quite beautiful, I knew better than to let my guard down. If it was within my power, I would help, but if not, even if she stripped naked, I wouldn't... well, maybe I would be tempted. She was a delicate beauty, after all.

"Didn't your grandfather work as a Taoist priest? Do you know how to draw a warding-off talisman?" Liu Qingya asked.

"I know how, but I've never actually done it, and I don't have the tools here. At the very least, I'd need cinnabar and rooster blood," I explained. Without the proper materials, a talisman would be useless.

"I heard that virgin blood can be used, and it has the same effect as cinnabar or rooster blood," she countered.

"Bullshit, who told you that?" I waved my hands, refusing. I couldn't do that. Not just any blood works for talismans; you must use blood from the middle finger or the tip of the tongue. That is "Yang blood"—essence blood. If you lose that, your life force and luck will wane. While Yang blood recovers over time, tonight felt different. I sensed something was about to happen, and losing my essence now would be a bad idea.

If she really needed something, I could at least offer to donate two bottles of "virgin urine," but that was as far as I would go.

A look of disappointment crossed Liu Qingya’s face. She didn't ask again and sat quietly beside me, saying nothing. The atmosphere became awkward.

Gradually, the night grew deeper.

*Dong!*
*Dong!*
*Dong!*

The grandfather clock in the living room struck three times. It was midnight. With the sound of the bell, a light breeze seemed to drift in. It was the end of August; while the afternoons were still warm, the nights brought a distinct chill.

As the breeze picked up, those wearing thin clothing shivered. I narrowed my eyes slightly. This wind didn't feel natural; it carried a faint, ominous chill. I feared that the very thing that had been unsettling me all day was about to manifest.