Previous Chapter 5
"Shouldn't we leave some kind of safeguard?" I asked after they disappeared into the night.
My uncle pulled off his mask, his gaze locking onto mine. “No need. Spirits don’t break promises,” he said, his tone serious. “But remember this: we’re here to solve problems, not create new ones. Don’t give them a reason to hate you. Even if they can’t touch you now, they’ll wait. They’ll strike when you’re weak. And if they can’t reach you, they’ll go after your kids, your grandkids. They’re patient. And they don’t forget.”
I nodded slowly. Those words stayed with me, as a mantra, a guiding principle I carried long after that night.
The next morning, a jubilant shout startled me awake.
“My leg! I can walk!”
Heart pounding, I scrambled out of bed and rushed outside.
Aunt Shen stood barefoot in the yard, pacing in her pajamas. "I can move every single toe!" She turned in a slow circle.
Zheng Yu stood frozen in the doorway, also in his pajamas. A choked sound escaped him, half laugh, half sob, like he couldn’t decide whether to cry or smile.
My uncle stepped outside. “You’ll catch a chill,” he said evenly. “Go put on some clothes.”
He was the only one who remained calm.
After breakfast, Dr. Wu called again. Shocked that Aunt Shen could walk, he bombarded her with questions and insisted on a follow-up checkup. He wouldn’t let her off the phone until she agreed to come in later.
"Dr. Wu is such a good doctor; we're lucky to have him here." Aunt Shen put down the phone with gratitude.
My uncle settled into a chair, took a sip of water, and grinned. “He won’t believe what I’m about to say.” He turned to Aunt Shen. "Your leg should be fine from now on."
Aunt Shen exhaled, as if releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
"Zheng killed a weasel patrolling the yard," my uncle continued, glancing at Aunt Shen, who nodded stiffly, her fingers clenched in her lap. "But that wasn't just any weasel. It was a Yellow Spirit, the father of the cubs you discarded. He had only cultivated for a few decades, still vulnerable, easily killed. Zheng’s accident… that was the mother's revenge. She trapped him in a hallucination."
Aunt Shen’s knuckles whitened. Zheng Yu shifted uncomfortably.
"After Zheng's passing, it should have been over. But when you tossed out those cubs, you unknowingly stirred up trouble again. One of them got hurt, and that reopened the elder spirit's grief and anger. So it came looking for payback, again."
Aunt Shen’s lips parted as if to respond, but no words came.
"Fortunately," my uncle continued, his voice softening, "we reached an understanding last night. This may not feel like justice, but it’s better than letting things spiral into endless retaliation.”
"But…" Zheng Yu was about to speak, but Aunt Shen cut him off, "Your uncle Ma is right. We'll end it here." The wooden floor creaked faintly as she shifted her weight.
"Tomorrow, clear out the storage shed in the corner of the yard and plant some shrubs in front of it. That space now belongs to the Yellow Spirit family. For the next year, neither you nor Zheng Yu should pass the shrubs. The cubs need a safe place to grow. After that, they’ll leave on their own."
Aunt Shen swallowed hard, then nodded. "I understand, we’ll do whatever you say."
Leaning back, my uncle’s tone grew gentler. "As for your dream of Zheng, it was likely a half-illusion, a trick of the Yellow Spirit to stir your emotions. Don’t dwell on it. I’m confident he is at peace. If you and Zheng Yu miss him, honor him by burning paper offerings occasionally."
For a long moment, no one spoke. The tightness in Aunt Shen's expression gradually softened, gratitude warmed her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said firmly. “We'll do everything you've said.”
"Oh, one more thing," my uncle added, his voice serious. "Never invite yellow spirits again. The old saying is true. If treated well, they repay kindness. But their way of 'giving back' is unpredictable. Even when they mean no harm, their gifts can bring misfortune. They don’t think like us. What they see as a favor might cause more trouble than you can imagine."
"But… but we never invited them," Aunt Shen said, her voice rose in surprise. "Before this, we didn’t even believe they were real."
"The spirit mentioned an invitation from the restaurant. If it wasn’t you, then... may I take a look?"
Inside the small restaurant, six tables stood neatly arranged, each ringed by four chairs. My uncle scanned the room, saying nothing, only observing. His silence stretched, making me nervous. I recognized that look. It meant testing questions were coming.
So I scanned the room too, my thoughts racing. Formations? Talismans? Everything seemed normal, just a typical small restaurant.
"The chairs," my uncle said at last. "Were they always left on the ground at night?"
Aunt Shen was confused. "Zheng used to turn them upside down on the tables every night after we closed. It was just a habit… But a few months ago, he twisted his waist, so I told him to stop to avoid straining himself. I offered to do it, but he wouldn’t let me… because of my arthritis." She lifted her left arm slightly, as if to prove her point. "We thought it wouldn’t matter, just for a short time. Cleaning was a little harder, but it was better than either of us getting hurt."
Paused a second, she asked suspiciously, "Why do you ask? What’s wrong?"
My uncle sighed. "Turning the chairs upside down isn’t just for convenience. It’s an old belief. People did it to ward off the unknown, to keep things from wandering in. Spirits see many upright chairs as an invitation. I believe I mentioned it to Zheng once, long ago."
“Hmm… right… I… I remember now,” Aunt Shen stammered. “He told me when we first opened the restaurant, but I didn’t take it seriously. I thought it was just superstition. All these years… nothing happened. He never forgot, not once, until…” She swallowed hard before continuing. “But I… I just thought it was for easier cleaning.”
The color drained from her face. Her words tumbled out in a panicked rush. “And I… I told him to stop.” She swallowed again. “If only I had…” Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table, knuckles whitening. “So that’s the reason?”
My uncle didn't answer. A beat of silence. His gaze lowered. “I should have reminded him… made sure he understood.” Then, he looked at Aunt Shen, his voice gentler. “It was his fate. Don’t blame yourself.”
He paused for a moment, shaking his head with a puzzled looking. “But this doesn’t make sense… This kind of invitation is too weak. Spirits don’t usually respond to something so minor. There must be something else.”
I leaned against the checkout counter, listening to their conversation. My fingers idly toyed with a cluster of trinkets hanging from a hook nearby, a miniature compass, a stuffed dolphin, a sun-bleached baseball cap… Then, something caught my eye.
A tiny silk brocade bag, no bigger than a baby’s fist. The fabric was black silk embroidered with golden clouds that shimmered under the light. A sudden urge seized me. Almost without thinking, I picked it up and loosened the drawstrings.
Inside was a paper talisman, or at least, it looked like one. The red symbols, drawn on yellow paper with cinnabar, swirled in patterns unlike anything I had learned in years. And the yellow paper wasn’t the kind I was used to, it felt thick, soft, far superior in quality. Like comparing a Rolls-Royce to a Chevrolet.
"Uncle, look at this." I held out the bag and the paper.
My uncle took them, turning the talisman carefully in his hands, examining it closely. “Where did you find this?”
I pointed to the hook on the wall.
"Lost items," Aunt Shen said flatly. "Things customers leave behind. We keep them there in case they come back to claim them."
"Do you remember who left it?" my uncle asked, still inspecting it.
She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No… but I remember the bag. It was so pretty. I think it was left here two or three months ago, during the tourist season. The restaurant was packed with tourists back then. What is it?"
“A Taoist talisman. A powerful invitation… and now it all makes sense.” My uncle tapped the paper lightly. “This one has been used at least once, the cinnabar should be bright red when fresh. Once the ink fully fades, the talisman loses all effect.”
We all leaned in, studying the paper. The red markings were indeed duller than the vibrant color cinnabar should be.
Staring at it, Aunt Shen spoke slowly, word by word. "So… someone left that here, and that’s what brought the Yellow Spirit’s family?"
My uncle nodded. "Very likely. Leaving it here would only attract more. I'll take care of it. "
Without another word, he slid the talisman into his worn leather satchel.
Then, his hand paused on the satchel, as if a sudden thought had struck him. "Do you have any enemies? Anyone who might hate Zheng, or you? Any serious disputes?"
Aunt Shen startled. "No. You knew Zheng, he could laugh anything off. And I...I get along with people, I think." She glanced around, and we all nodded in agreement. "This is a small town; everyone knows each other. I can't think of anyone who would hold a grudge against us. Our customers, travelers… no… no one comes to mind. Why?"
My uncle retrieved the talisman again, turning it slowly between his fingers. "This is exceptionally well-made… powerful and rare. A talisman’s strength depends not only on the materials but also on the maker’s skill. And this one... it was crafted by a master using superb materials. Something like this wouldn’t come cheap. If someone had truly lost it, they would’ve come back for it, unless it was left here on purpose."
His thumb traced the edge of the talisman. “When a spirit is invited but receives no tributes, it gets angry and punishes the summoner.” He paused for a moment, then added, “That’s why talismans like this can be used for revenge. Someone plants it in their enemy’s home, inviting spirits on their behalf. The victim has no idea… until it’s too late.”
Aunt Shen’s expression turned bewildered. "But we have no enemies…"
"And that’s what troubles me." My uncle looked around the restaurant. "You have plenty of good food here." He pointed to the counter, where an incense burner stood before the God of Wealth statue. "And you burn incense often… I assume.” He looked at Aunt Shen, who confirmed with a nodding.
“Those are offerings.” My uncle continue. “That means the spirits wouldn’t be angered by neglect. That leaves another possibility, someone was not trying to harm you."
His fingers tightened slightly around the talisman. "They were trying to get rid of a spirit."
The words hung in the air.
"Most spirits can be persuaded to leave with offerings. But some…" He explained, his voice dropped slightly. "Some refuse to go unless they find a better place. Someone wanted to send a spirit away, but it wouldn’t leave. So they led it here."
A heavy silence settled over us.
I stared at the talisman in my uncle’s hand. It was so small, yet it had set an irreversible tragedy into motion. A single object, a single choice… and a family left with wounds that would take years to heal.
No comments:
Post a Comment