Chapter 096: I Wear Short Sleeves Outside, While She Turns on the Heater Indoors

I cannot say whether Song Zhong will turn out to be my benefactor, or if I will escape misfortune thanks to him. All I know is that he seems to embody the spirit of Fortune itself.

It’s not that he gives me money—just that, with him around, business truly seems to arrive on its own. Ever since Song Zhong started working here—in fact, from the very moment he first stepped into the shop—the flow of customers has been ceaseless.

People come seeking funeral services, buying graves, paper offerings, urns, and so forth… Though these are scattered, minor transactions, the income from a single day now rivals what used to be earned over half a month.

All of this, I must admit, is thanks to Song Zhong.

He shed his security uniform, donned a black suit, and after a haircut, styled his hair with a neat part. He wears spectacles perched on his nose, and when he looks at people, his gaze always seems a bit listless, mysterious—giving him an inscrutable air.

I’ve told him countless times that the things he picked up from street vendors aren’t much help, but he uses those tricks to leave customers bewildered and impressed. Coupled with his past work experience, he handles the full spectrum of funeral services with remarkable ease.

I never expected this man to have such a colorful history—not only was he a security guard at a cemetery, but he’s also worked at a crematorium, prepared corpses, sold funeral homes and shrouds, and even worked as a grave laborer. The most baffling of all, he once paid out of his own pocket to learn the art of makeup—specifically, for the dead.

As Song Zhong puts it, he hasn’t spent a penny from his family since he set out; everything he’s earned has come from his own hands.

He dreams of mastering real skills. He genuinely wants to become a true expert. Every time he looks at me, I see undisguised envy in his eyes.

“Jiang Huai, when will I ever learn real skills? Every day you make me greet customers, you say what I learned from street vendors is useless, yet you tell me to use those tricks when speaking to clients. Isn’t that contradictory? Aren’t you making me deceive people?”

Whenever Song Zhong presses the point, my answer is always solemn.

I tell him, sometimes people don’t want the truth. A well-placed lie may bring better results than the truth ever could.

“Those who come to us are mourning family members. Do you think spending money on funerals is for the dead? It’s for the living. They pay for dignity, for peace of mind.”

I point to both myself and Song Zhong. “Our job is to make sure people feel good about the money they spend. Of course, if something real does happen, we must deal with it—we’ve taken their money, after all.”

Song Zhong quickly picks up on something in my words. “Something real? Like what happened in the hollow that night?”

“Exactly…” I begin, but just then my phone rings.

I glance at the screen, puzzled—it’s Principal Liu calling.

I answer, mostly listening as Principal Liu explains. He asks if I have time; a friend of his needs my help with something strange. Principal Liu knows about my background, so after stating his purpose, I ask directly.

Originally, he was supposed to accompany me, but he’s tied up with other matters and can only send me alone. It turns out the person in need is his college classmate, Xu Nan, a veteran educator at the neighboring college. Apparently, Xu Nan’s daughter is in trouble.

“Sunshine Garden, Building 17, Unit 303, Xu Nan…”

I repeat the address as I jot it down.

After hanging up, I see Song Zhong writing down the address as well.

He doesn’t comment on his handwriting, but instead points to the address.

I grin and say, “You wanted to know what a real case is? Maybe this one is.”

After a pause, I look at him. “Well? Do you have the courage to take a look?”

Song Zhong’s expression shifts—probably recalling that night—but he knows that to truly enter this profession, he must get used to such things. “Let’s go! Isn’t this exactly why I’m here?”

I laugh, pack the essentials into my backpack, sling it over my shoulder, and head out to fetch the electric scooter. Song Zhong locks up.

He rides pillion, and seems unimpressed with my mode of transportation. He keeps quiet most of the way, and once we arrive, he finally says, “You should take time to learn how to drive.”

What does he mean? Is he planning to buy a car for the shop?

Knocking politely three times at Xu Nan’s door, after a moment, an aunt about Principal Liu’s age answers.

She must be Xu Nan. Even with worry etched across her face, there’s an aura about her, distinct from ordinary women. How to describe it? Gentle and cultured—that’s the only phrase someone of my education can think of.

“Aunt Xu? It’s you?”

Before I can speak, Song Zhong greets Xu Nan—he actually knows her.

He continues, “When I saw your name just now, I wondered if it was really you!”

Xu Nan is surprised, but she welcomes us in.

The moment I step inside, I know this is a genuine case. In broad daylight, all the curtains are drawn.

The air conditioning is on—set to warm air.

It’s already warm enough outside that people are wearing short sleeves. With such intense heat blowing, neither Song Zhong nor I feel even a hint of stuffiness. In fact, Song Zhong instinctively tightens his jacket while chatting, as if feeling a chill.

It’s a bit cold!

While Song Zhong and Xu Nan converse, I stand up and wander around the house.

I notice certain spots on the walls bearing carved markings resembling talismans.

Not just one, but several, growing denser near a particular room’s door.

On that door, talismans are not only carved with a knife; an inverted Bagua mirror hangs above, a dark red cloth is stuffed into the gap beneath, and cinnabar is sprinkled atop.

Bagua mirror repels evil in the hall, four-sided Yang talismans gather spiritual light, red cloth blocks escape, cinnabar burns to ward off calamity!

This is a textbook method for binding evil, suppressing spirits, and burning yin energy.

The arrangement is correct, but unfortunately, without Yang blood, the Bagua mirror cannot be activated; without spiritual power, the Yang talismans are mere decorations.

It looks impressive, but serves no real purpose—otherwise, the air conditioning wouldn’t be necessary.

I purse my lips, reach for the door handle.

Just as I am about to open the door, Xu Nan suddenly leaps up from the sofa and shouts, “Don’t open the door! Don’t!”