I listened, my hair standing on end, stammering, "A-Auntie, don't scare me."
"Why would I lie to you? Is it fun to trick you?" Li Damin's mother stared at me with piercing eyes.
I rarely got stared at like this by a woman, and it made me squirm. Thinking about the dream she just described, I felt nauseous. Me, lying in a black wok, being eaten? What kind of nonsense was this? To hell with it.
I felt like I was being pulled deeper into an invisible vortex, unable to break free, my whole body restless. I stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray with force.
"When's that master coming?" I asked.
Li's mother seemed done talking to me. She leaned back on the sofa, sipping her coffee with a melancholic expression.
Li Yang coughed twice. "A few more days, I'll call you when it's time. The master's incredible, not just anyone can summon him. Our Li family paid a steep price, called in a lot of favors…"
"You guys talk, I've got things to do." Li's mother glanced at her watch, stood up, and slung her handbag over her shoulder.
Li Yang quickly said, "Auntie, let me walk you out…"
"No need, you guys chat." She strode out the door, high heels clicking. It was cold outside, and she raised her collar, exhaling a puff of white breath, her expression deeply somber. I watched her through the window, quietly. Honestly, I don't know why, but this woman intrigued me.
I'll admit it's perverse—she's twenty or thirty years older than me, a whole generation apart. But setting aside societal norms, she exuded feminine allure, mature and captivating. More crucially, after hearing about her eerie dream, I sensed an indescribable dark energy emanating from her. That darkness reminded me of poppies—vibrant, dazzling, yet brimming with an evil allure.
I was entranced watching her, vaguely sensing a premonition that I might die by this woman's hand.
Li Yang noticed my mood shift and slapped the table. "What's with you?"
I snapped back, chuckling. "Your aunt seems annoyed with me, barely acknowledges me."
Li Yang rubbed his brow. "Don't overthink it. Her son's missing, so of course she's upset. Plus, you're deeply tied to her son's disappearance. She's taking it out on you, naturally finds you irritating."
I shook my head, feeling it wasn't that simple. But I couldn't figure it out, thinking I was just being paranoid. I lit another cigarette. "Where'd this master come from?"
"Shanghai. My uncle pulled a lot of strings to get him. Supposedly a direct disciple of some Taoist sect, with family secrets, specializes in these matters, half-immortal, incredibly powerful. Right now, he's in Hong Kong, warding a mansion for some tycoon, but he'll rush here right after."
I chuckled. "This master's a big deal, even doing back-to-back gigs."
"That's called 'running the circuit,'" Li Yang said.
We both laughed. After the laughter, silence fell, and we ran out of things to say.
Li Yang put on his coat and hat. "I'm off. I'll call you."
"Call me, yeah." I felt an inexplicable exhaustion, just wanting to sit a bit longer.
"Good luck," he suddenly said in English, then hurried off.
It took me a while to realize he'd said "good luck."
Outside, dark clouds loomed, black mist spreading, and an ominous feeling rose in my chest.
I'm not great at handling stress—any little thing gnaws at me, and I overthink endlessly. These past few days, I couldn't sleep, and when I did, it was all nightmares.
Work efficiency tanked, pressure mounted, and I was often stuck late at the office. I felt like I was teetering on the edge of a breakdown.
Sometimes, sitting in an empty office, staring at the night outside, I wondered if death was really such a bad outcome. At least in that world, no worries, no fear.
I walked to the window, opened it, and cold wind rushed in. I hugged my shoulders, leaned out to look over the city, and my mind wandered to Lin Xia. My heart raced, thinking if I jumped, it'd all be over—no more troubles.
As I mulled it over, my phone rang. It was Li Yang, telling me the master had arrived in town. Tomorrow was the ritual, and I needed to be ready early at home; he'd pick me up.
I mumbled that I had work tomorrow.
"Take leave!" He hung up.
That jerk, so rude. I exhaled a cold breath and shut the window. No work tomorrow, so screw overtime. I grabbed my coat and left the office building.
It was freezing outside. Thinking about tomorrow, a sudden pang of dread hit me, so intense I could barely breathe. Would I die tomorrow? Li Damin's mother's image flashed in my mind—graceful, mature, every curve radiating allure. My body reacted involuntarily.
This perverse desire, mixed with fear of death, was suffocating. Yet, this tangled emotion was oddly thrilling.
Like a naive kid stumbling upon their parents' intimacy, the twisted, adult darkness overwhelmed a child's psyche—both seductive and reeking of soul-crushing death, like a sea of blood-red spider lilies blooming along the banks of the underworld's river.
Swaying in the wind, a field of red flowers, breathtakingly beautiful.
I didn't take a cab, walking against the cold wind, my body warming as my mind churned over tomorrow.
That night, I barely slept, dozing off only in the wee hours. Just as I was dreaming, the phone woke me. Groggy, I answered, and Li Yang shouted, "You up? I'm downstairs!"
"Hold on." I crawled out of bed, washed up quickly, and was pulling on pants when the door was pounded. Opening it, I saw Li Yang, frosty and anxious, checking his watch. "Can you hurry?"
"What's the rush?" I said, dressing.
"It's a long drive, and the master wants us there early. He said this is complicated, might take a while."
I yawned. "Whatever, we've got all day."
"No way," Li Yang said. "The master said this 'yin descent' ritual can only happen during daylight, not past sunset."
"Damn." I cursed. "Bunch of hocus-pocus."
I grabbed my coat, and we left. We got in his car and soon left the neighborhood.
The sky was overcast, faint thunder rumbling, looking like rain.
The car was quiet. Li Yang seemed preoccupied, driving silently without talking.
I leaned back, gazing out the window. Dark clouds churned, whirlwinds kicking up debris. Raindrops pattered on the windshield.
It was raining.
The gloomy weather matched my mood, and I dozed off.
I don't know when, but I jolted awake, finding the car still moving, now on a bumpy dirt road, far from city skyscrapers.
"Where are we?"
Li Yang kept his eyes ahead. "My uncle's countryside house. He comes here to farm or raise chickens after retiring. The master said the ritual can't be done in the city, needs a remote place. This old tile-roofed house fits perfectly."
Fine, whatever. My 100-odd pounds were in their hands today—do what you will.
After another half-hour drive, we entered a village. Li Yang signaled to get out. Stepping out, I saw vast fields on both sides of the village road, barren in winter, with occasional weeds dancing in the wild wind—a desolate scene.
The rain was heavy, and without umbrellas, we covered our heads and ran down the village path.
It was called a village, but the place was eerily empty, not a soul in sight.
At a courtyard gate, Li Yang gestured for me to follow. In the empty yard, a few people stood, men and women in their forties and fifties, huddled under umbrellas, talking.
Seeing us, they came over. A middle-aged woman said, "Xiao Yang, you're finally here. Your aunt and uncle are going crazy waiting."
Li Yang didn't respond, turning to me. "This is my eldest aunt. Aunt, this is Damin's friend, Liu Yang."
The woman nodded. "Xiao Liu, thanks for coming. We won't hold you up—go inside."
I was in a foul mood, my chest heavy as if crushed by a boulder, too drained for pleasantries, just nodding at them.
Li Yang opened an umbrella, pulling me through the yard to the house's entrance.
Stepping inside, we entered a kitchen, stark and cold. It still had an old-fashioned stove, the floor bare earth, the air damp and chilly.
Li Damin's mother and father were there, along with a man in his early thirties, dressed in white shirt and black pants, standing beside them.
Li Damin's mother shot me a cold glance, scolding Li Yang. "You're finally here."
Li Yang shook water off the umbrella. "I had to drive to pick him up. It's far, and the roads are bad."
Li Damin's father approached, patting my shoulder. "Young man, thanks for the trouble. Finding Damin rests on you."
His father, a former soldier, was burly, still imposing at fifty, like a black iron tower. I forced a smile. "Uncle, no problem. I hope we find him."
He turned to his wife. "Everyone's here, let's get started. Safety first—if anything happens, call me."
Li Damin's mother gave a gentle smile. "Got it."
The white-clad man stepped forward. "You're Liu Yang?"
I flinched. This was the master? He didn't look impressive.
I nodded.
The man said, "Liu Yang, Li Yang, Ms. Tang, follow me."
Through a side door, we entered a small room with a staircase to the second floor. The man said, "Liu Yang, Li Yang, head upstairs. Ms. Tang, please change in here."
Li Damin's mother didn't hesitate, entering the room and closing the door.
I was dizzy—change clothes? But the oppressive atmosphere left no room for questions. Li Yang was already climbing the stairs, so I followed.
Halfway up, I glanced back. The white-clad man stood at the door, feet apart, hands crossed below his navel, still as a mountain.
"Why isn't he coming?" I whispered to Li Yang.