As if coming back to life, Xue Xian suddenly lifted his head and asked, “Bald donkey, where are we heading?”
“First to the Death Gate, then the Life Gate.”
“If I’m not blind, this is the third time we’ve been in this courtyard.” Xue Xian’s voice was skeptical.
“This is the Obstruction Gate,” Xuanmin explained.
“So?”
“Look behind you.”
Xue Xian raised his drooping head and turned around, only to see a swath of white fabric. “Are you mocking me? The only thing behind me is your raggedy monk’s robe.”
Xuanmin didn’t answer.
Jiang Shining also gazed back at these words. He took a few quick steps before noticing something. “What happened to the people behind us? Where did they go? I just heard them howling like hungry wolves a moment ago.”
Xue Xian finally understood what Xuanmin meant. “You were trying to shake them off?”
“Mm.”
Scenery and Obstruction, the two neutral gates among the eight, weren’t without purpose. The Obstruction Gate was a place of concealment and thus the most suitable location to hide in and take refuge. Having passed through it three times, Xuanmin had successfully shaken off everyone who’d been chasing them. He then spun around and exited the courtyard through a narrow door in the southwest before striding down a long corridor.
“Isn’t that the Death Gate we stumbled into earlier?” Xue Xian was puzzled when he saw Xuanmin open the narrow door in the corridor’s corner and push Jiang Shining inside.
“The Death Gate is known as the path of ghosts. It’s auspicious for you.”
Startled by being pushed, Jiang Shining staggered through the door and into the courtyard.
During their previous jaunt here, Xue Xian and Xuanmin had led the specters of Liu Chong and Old Lady Liu away. The place was completely empty, with not so much as a shadow other than Jiang Shining.
The moment Jiang Shining stepped into the courtyard, he vanished like a puff of smoke.
“What, he left the array?” asked Xue Xian.
Xuanmin nodded and took another series of twists and turns, making a beeline for the Life Gate.
When they reached it, Xue Xian found the Life Gate’s location even more familiar.
“Isn’t this Liu Chong’s run-down little shack?” Xue Xian examined the gloomy little shed at the end of the stone path in disbelief that a location so ominous could be linked to the Life Gate. “I’d believe you more if you said it was the Death Gate.”
“It used to be,” said Xuanmin. “However, the Liu residence got inverted, so the Death Gate became the Life Gate.”
“What do you mean?” Xue Xian said with a frown. He recalled what Jiang Shining said earlier about the mole on Liu Chong’s cheek changing positions. It’d moved to the right from its original position on the left. A thought flashed through his mind. “Then… A mirror?”
Xuanmin glanced at Xue Xian’s paper head. He might have been a troublemaker, but he wasn’t stupid. “In the Liu residence, the Death Gate was located at the southwest house, the Initiation Gate at the main house in the northwest, and the Life Gate at the northeast.”
That was right. Xuanmin had asked Scribe Liu about that when they were standing at the entrance of Liu Chong’s room—the northwest house was Scribe Liu’s, while the northeast house was where his youngest son, Liu Jin, lived.
Among the Eight Gates, the Initiation Gate came first, symbolizing the establishment of a successful career. Scribe Liu aspired to rise in the ranks, so he naturally placed himself at the Initiation Gate. The Life Gate symbolized vitality and reproduction. Placing his young son there ensured his safety and smooth sailing through life. This way, Scribe Liu could rest assured about his successor.
Suddenly, Xue Xian understood why Scribe Liu had used the precept “Drawing the River to the Sea.” Poor Liu Chong, slow-witted and foolish, was completely ignorant of the world. He’d lived for twenty-odd years, but folding palm-sized paper ingots was probably the one thing he was good at. Using this meager skill of his, he’d heaped his room full of filial sincerity. In his desire to be impartial, he’d even divided them into groups and labeled them.
Gold and silver, be at peace today…
Back when Scribe Liu had been a child, had Old Lady Liu also burned ingots with him and said those words to him? But even if she had, he’d probably forgotten them all, or he would not have had the heart to cast aside his disabled son the way one might an old shoe.
Drawing the river to the sea. Liu Chong was the river. The Liu family was the sea.
However, Scribe Liu probably didn’t realize the precision a feng shui layout required. A single change could reverse yin and yang, turning misfortunes into blessings and blessings into misfortunes. The bronze mirror that Old Lady Liu and Liu Chong had buried beneath the ancient tree—“Change misfortune to blessing. May they all rest in peace”—had become that variable.
Thus, the Eight Gates had inverted, and the Death Gate became the Life Gate.
As they drew closer to that gloomy shack, the narrow door leading to the main house creaked again.
By this point, Xue Xian was already numb to all these unexpected noises. Surely it isn’t another Liu Chong? he thought.
He leaned over Xuanmin’s waist for a glimpse, only to see that, sure enough, it was Liu Chong again!
“There’s no end to this!” Xue Xian’s temper flared. He raised his arms, ready to escape the pouch, but stopped himself halfway. Glancing sideways at the string of copper coins hanging from Xuanmin’s waist, Xue Xian realized this was his chance!
He bit his tongue before looping his hands around the string of coins. Pushing them into Xuanmin’s hands, Xue Xian looked up at him. “What are you waiting for?!”
Xuanmin pressed Xue Xian back down with a finger. “No rush. His mole is on the left cheek.”
Xue Xian was so angry he could barely breathe. He hung his head like an overcooked noodle against the pouch’s opening once more.
This instance of Liu Chong was as Xuanmin said: His mole was on his left cheek, and his robe was the grayish-blue one they’d seen that morning. From head to toe, there were no anomalies present. This was the real deal.
When Liu Chong came through the narrow door, his expression was three parts confused and seven parts frustrated. He stepped over the threshold while sneaking glances behind him, lumbering forward two steps before catching sight of Xuanmin.
He froze for a moment, then his face fell, his eyebrows pinching into a neat frown. “I just saw…saw Grandma…” As he spoke, he pointed outside the narrow door. “Right there.”
Grandma? Wasn’t that Old Lady Liu?
They’d only just shaken off their pursuers; surely this fool hadn’t brought them more?! Xue Xian, who’d been dangling in resignation, suddenly snapped back up and looked Liu Chong. “Where is she?”
“I chased after her. She left.” Liu Chong’s face was heavy with sorrow, his tone anxious. He didn’t even realize that the question hadn’t come from Xuanmin. “She didn’t look at me. I can’t find her. No matter how I try, I can’t.”
He wrung his hands, miserable and dejected. He stared longingly out the narrow door. After a long while, he spoke again. “I want to talk to Grandma…”
Xue Xian pondered what Scribe Liu and his friend had said earlier. Old Lady Liu must have passed away; according to the rumors, her death was a result of malpractice by Jiang Shining’s parents. After Old Lady Liu’s death, the Jiang family clinic had caught fire and burned down. Jiang Shining died three years ago, so Old Lady Liu must have been dead for at least three years as well.
Liu Chong had a one-track mind. If he expressed a desire for something, it must be something he yearned for day and night. For him, the past three years had been excruciatingly long and lonely.
“Let’s go.” Xuanmin waved at him, then turned and headed toward Liu Chong’s ramshackle residence without waiting.
Perhaps Xuanmin’s high-monk aura was too intimidating, or maybe it was the way he simply turned and left—either way, Liu Chong rushed after him without thinking.
“I-I want to look for Grandma!” Liu Chong stammered as he stumbled to catch up with Xuanmin.
Even Xue Xian couldn’t resist cajoling him at first. “Hey now, what’s the rush? Let’s get back to the house first.”
Liu Chong fidgeted for a while before muttering, “I’m still worried.”
“Deal with it!” Xue Xian was blunt this time.
Liu Chong stared at Xuanmin’s icy profile for a moment, looking a little scared. He endured a couple of steps, then mustered the courage to ask, “Why do you always speak with your mouth closed?”
Xuanmin just silently stared at Liu Chong.
“It’s ventriloquism,” Xue Xian lied with a straight face. “Uh, basically, I can speak from my stomach.”
Liu Chong’s eyes slowly swiveled over, his gaze falling on Xuanmin’s abdomen. He had nothing to add, apparently.
In the span of their short conversation, they’d arrived at the building entrance. As long as they passed through its door, they’d be able to leave the array. Xuanmin showed no hesitation. He raised his foot decisively, then grabbed the unsettled Liu Chong.
Liu Chong stumbled forward, and one of his feet landed over the threshold. Just as his other foot was about to cross, a knocking sound drifted over—the sound of something striking the courtyard tiles.
“Huh?” This was probably the fastest Liu Chong had ever reacted in his life. He instantly froze and cried out, “Grandma!” Tugging back his half-raised foot, he turned around and dashed back out the door.
“Hey, wait!” Xue Xian called after him.
Xuanmin lifted an arm, ready to haul Liu Chong back, but when he did so a muffled drone echoed in Xue Xian’s head. His vision darkened, and the world seemed to spin.
When Xue Xian came back to his senses, the scene before him had completely changed. They were standing by the door of Liu Chong’s shack with Jiang Shining’s pale face in front of them—but Liu Chong had vanished.
It was clear they’d escaped the array. And, at the last moment before their escape, Liu Chong had pulled back, thus remaining trapped inside.