Chapter 7
Scatter the ashes into the sea, let the surging waves dilute them, ensuring you never meet again, even at the ends of the earth.
Upon hearing this, Wang Fuyang knelt before his father’s memorial tablet, unable to rise. He imagined himself crouching by the Pacific Ocean, tears and snot streaming down his face, holding a black umbrella in one hand and an urn of ashes in the other, and felt he might not be able to resist jumping into the sea.
Wang Fuyang sniffled: “I don’t even know if someone as fat as me could sink.”
It was too fake; even Wang Ping could see he was playing the victim.
Xie Yubo had done his homework; tilting his head, he said, “Isn’t there such a thing as sea burial these days?”
Wang Fuyang: “There is a way, but changing it midway doesn’t seem right. Before my mother passed away, my father promised that his tomb would be connected to hers. Young Master, do you have any other solutions? I’ll do whatever you ask.”
Xie Yubo rummaged in his pocket and pulled out two talismans. Borrowing a water-based pen from Wang Fuyang, he scribbled the murderer’s name onto them with casual, messy strokes resembling a schoolchild’s doodles.
Boss Wang crouched beside Xie Yubo, seizing every opportunity to praise him: “Your calligraphy flows like clouds and dances like dragons! Truly, you are a divine being!”
Xie Yubo curled the corners of his lips, his eyes crinkling with delight as he boasted proudly, “Of course! I learned this from Bao—”
“Nothing much.”
Wang Ping stretched his neck to take a skeptical glance; when had his young master ever written anything before? How good could it possibly look?
The characters on the yellow talisman were indeed flowing and elegant—in short, so ugly they were illegible.
While cursing Wang Fuyang for his shamelessness, Wang Ping suddenly realized that the young master couldn’t write beautifully because he was blind, and his heart instantly ached with pity.
If the young master’s eyes were normal, his calligraphy would undoubtedly feature perfectly horizontal and vertical strokes, as sharp as iron and as elegant as silver hooks!
To prevent the young master from suspecting him, Wang Ping immediately echoed Wang Fuyang: “In the style of Zhang Xu and Huaisu!”
Xie Yubo didn’t quite understand, but he firmly believed that Uncle Wang was praising him.
He went straight downstairs and lit a stick of incense in the massage room.
In the leaping flames, it seemed as if evil spirits were tearing and struggling; their shadows cast upon the wall by the firelight twisted into grotesque shapes.
When the yellow talisman turned to ash scattered across the floor, the lingering chill that had permeated the massage room for years finally dissipated with a gust of wind.
Xie Yubo handed the remaining talisman to Wang Fuyang, saying, “What I did just now was only a temporary remedy. Open the urn, ignite this talisman, and let it burn completely inside. Only then will the evil thoughts be unable to arise—this is the true cure.”
“Rest assured, this talisman bears the murderer’s name and poses no harm to your father. Once completed, remove and discard the foreign object from within, then reseal it properly for burial.”
“Good, good! Thank you, Young Master.” Wang Fuyang proved himself quite astute. “Young Master used three talismans; while the paper has a price, the kindness is priceless. From this day forward, you are the other owner of this massage parlor! Tonight, I’ll search through the videos my late aunt left behind and surely find the essential materials on blind massage for you to study.”
Xie Yubo slowly uttered an “Oh.” Actually, I’m not very keen on learning. Still, it never hurts to have the materials on hand just in case.
“Thank you.”
Wang Fuyang added, “Tomorrow I’ll have a new signboard made called ‘Wang-Xie Massage Hall.’ How does that sound?”
Xie Yubo replied, “Not ideal. As the old poem goes, ‘The swallows that once nested in the halls of Wang and Xie now fly into ordinary homes.’ I merely offered a helping hand; there’s no need for you, Boss Wang, to share your family fortune with me. Just teach me a skill to earn my living and help cover my whereabouts, and that will suffice.”
With talisman papers averaging less than five cents each, an investment of fifteen cents would make even the Grand Imperial Astrologer feel embarrassed.
“Young Master is truly a man of culture! You saved two generations of our Wang family; even if my grandfather were still alive, he wouldn’t object. Very well, let’s keep the name unchanged for now, but we must split the profits—surely that’s acceptable?”
Xie Yubo could not decline any further, so he accepted; he was quite happy to have money coming in.
Early the next morning, Wang Fuyang solemnly kowtowed three times before his father, then went to his mother and kowtowed three more times.
He then took out the urn containing the ashes, lit the talisman paper, and placed it inside. The flames leaped as if engulfing something, crackling and burning it to ash.
After a while, black clumps appeared in the urn, seemingly the talisman’s ash fused with the murderer’s remains, both reduced to cinders together. He took a sieve and sifted his father’s ashes into a new urn; just thinking of the killer’s face made him so angry that he sifted them three times over.
Those black clumps were thrown by him into a trash can several kilometers away.
That night, he returned to the massage parlor and ascended to the second floor with a heavy heart. The objects that had been clattering about in the room gradually departed, and everything settled into stillness.
Wang Fuyang leaned against the doorway, feeling a tap on the back of his head, reminiscent of the force his father used to apply years ago when he neglected his homework.
“I’m sorry, Father. You’ve been here for so long, yet I have failed to comprehend your intentions. I should have listened to you and studied diligently back then.”
Since having a wife and child, Wang Fuyang had rarely cried; now, he wiped away the tears that refused to stop flowing.
Master Xie said that when a person dies, their soul disperses; what remained on the second floor was merely the lingering resentment left by his father. There was no need to cling to it; letting it go would bring true closure.
..
Meanwhile, upon returning home from the massage parlor, Xie Yubo found his mother, father, and elder brother all seated at the dining table, waiting for him to begin the meal.
Xie Yubo quickly understood: his brother, unable to withstand even three moves against him, had gone home to summon reinforcements.
“Xiao Bo, your brother says you intend to study massage?” Xue Jing asked, her gaze filled with tender affection.
“Isn’t that too exhausting? Won’t it interfere with your regular studies?” Xie Jianming frowned.
Xie Chenbo cleared his throat; where would Xiaobo even have studies to attend?
Xie Jianming quickly corrected himself: “I mean, won’t it affect your evening rest?”
Xie Yubo earnestly fabricated a story: “Dad, Mom, Big Brother. After school this afternoon, I stayed awhile at Boss Wang’s place. He’s a very kind and steady person. He said he wants to teach me his aunt’s blind massage techniques. In the future, I will follow Big Brother’s example and strive to create my own value in life.”
Brother Xie, who was sipping chicken soup: “…” Alright, I’m full.
Such a positive outlook on life is incredibly contagious, especially when it comes from his own son, whose life used to be shrouded in darkness.
Xie Jianming immediately switched sides: “Good, not afraid of hardship, just like your father when he started his business out there back in the day.”
Xue Jing: “Take your time learning; don’t rush for quick success. By the way, should Mom buy up the area around the massage parlor so we can open a larger one?”
“Thank you, Mom. I’ll make plans once I’ve achieved academic success.” Xie Yubo lifted his bowl and ate bite by bite; in this life, he would never achieve such success.
Xue Jing placed a chicken drumstick on his plate. “Eat this drumstick to gain the strength needed for your studies.”
Xie Yubo’s eyes flickered as he recalled asking Uncle Wang that morning why the Xie family had reacted so strongly to fortune-telling when he was heading to school. Uncle Wang had said that Xue Jing was in poor health.
In the final half-year of his previous life, forced to change careers, he had studied medicine under the renowned Nanpu Master and received his true teachings; perhaps he could try to regulate Xue Jing’s constitution.
After dinner, Xie Yubo persuaded Xue Jing to take a walk with him. While supporting her, he seized the opportunity to examine her pulse.
Uncle Wang hadn’t been entirely clear, but Xie Yubo gathered from his words that Xue Jing needed an important surgery, yet her frail condition and weak foundation made her unable to withstand it. However, foregoing the surgery would also lead to severe consequences. Caught in this dilemma, Xie Jianming simply resigned from all his duties at the group company to devote himself entirely to accompanying Xue Jing.
Xie Yubo used the conversation to employ all four diagnostic methods—observation, listening, questioning, and pulse-taking. Gradually, a prescription formed in his mind, yet he dared not rashly offer it.
Another day, he would ask Wang Fuyang to investigate and find a renowned traditional Chinese medicine practitioner, register the prescription under that doctor’s name, and then have Wang Fuyang introduce it to Xue Jing.
Plan accomplished.
Xue Jing felt the warmth of her younger son’s hand encircling her wrist, and her eyes inadvertently filled with smiles. This was their first time walking together like mother and son. Her heart felt light and joyful, making her steps seem lighter as well.
Xie Yubo wanted to improve Xue Jing’s health and was eager to give her a “Strength-Enhancing Talisman,” but having just read about “post-traumatic stress disorder and stress responses” in a book, he resolved not to agitate Xue Jing with superstitious practices anymore.
Xue Jing’s poor health stemmed from her deep love for Xie Yubo. Unable to wait even a moment longer, Xie Yubo immediately began regulating her condition using his spiritual consciousness, hoping to bring her some temporary relief.
Since his spiritual energy was no longer channeled through talismans or other mediums, his Heavenly Eye—now suffering backlash—had become significantly less effective. In truth, Xie Yubo had chosen to walk this path alone, come what may.
Just as Xue Jing wondered why her son seemed to navigate the detour so smoothly, Xie Yubo stepped right off the path and into the roadside lawn.
Xie Yubo was finally helped into his room by his mother, and he went to bed early, closing his eyes.
The symptoms were still mild; a few hours of sleep would restore him.
“…Xie Yubo seeks fame through false pretenses, contributes nothing productive, serves no purpose for the nation, and harms the people. He is punished to reflect upon his faults while facing the wall within his residence, forbidden from seeing anyone without imperial decree.”
“The Great Liang dynasty enjoys prosperous fortune and requires no astrologer’s deceitful words to mislead the populace. Considering that his nature is not inherently evil, His Majesty has declared that practicing medicine to save lives can also benefit society. Therefore, one imperial physician is hereby assigned to Xie Yubo, ordering him to study diligently under their guidance, so that in the future he may redeem his past faults by healing the world.”
Two imperial edicts arrived in quick succession at the Grand Preceptor’s residence; faintly, Xie Yubo heard again the harsh, fawning voice of Eunuch Zhang, who trampled on the lowly while currying favor with the powerful.
..
The drunk-driving crash at the Zhongnan intersection continued to stir outrage online, largely because the offending vehicle was a rare supercar.
Someone posted a video captured by a bicycle dashcam. Filmed from behind, it clearly showed how the car ahead accurately anticipated the danger and braked decisively, narrowly escaping the reckless, life-threatening drunk driver.
“Drunk driving in broad daylight—the driver got exactly what he deserved.” “This made me break out in a cold sweat.” “Surviving such a close call means great fortune lies ahead.” “The luckiest driver of the year in a black car…”
The drunk driver died on the spot without causing any other casualties, so further condemnation seemed pointless; netizens then shifted their focus to Wang Ping’s unlicensed vehicle.
However, it wasn’t long before someone took issue with the title “Luckiest of the Year” and posted another video, filmed from a residential building looking downward. The footage showed that approximately thirty seconds before the sports car crash, a passenger had stumbled drunkenly out of the vehicle.
Getting off the car allowed him to dodge Death’s summons.
Netizens exclaimed: Truly fearless of death, and truly a supercar! 0-100 km/h in 2.8 seconds! Ten seconds to knock on the gates of the underworld!
Wang Ping carefully followed Xie Yubo’s instructions, closely monitoring the aftermath of the car accident. To his shock, he saw the vehicle clearly featured in an online video; fortunately, the license plate had been blurred, otherwise the owner’s identity would have been exposed!
He contacted the blogger in the car owner’s name to request the removal of the video, adding offhandedly that the person who had gotten off midway must now be just as terrified as he was.
Though he paid little attention to the passenger who disembarked, someone else certainly did.
Wang Family Massage reopened with great fanfare; Wang Fuyang invited former neighbors to liven up the occasion, offering free treatments to everyone for the day!
As Shang Yange drove past, he suddenly felt like stopping in to take a look.
After all, this massage parlor exudes a distinct Republican-era charm and is appealing in every way; who works here is irrelevant, especially since today is a school day.
Moreover, having sat in his office for too long, the CEO felt uncomfortable everywhere unless he stepped inside to walk around.
The offer of free service was highly attractive; despite the crowd pressing in tightly, Shang Yange’s striking appearance soon drew people approaching to inquire about the services.
“Not needed for now,” Shang Yange dismissed them. Glancing hastily around, he noticed that amidst the entire wall displaying the establishment’s history, there hung an incongruous picture frame.
Embedded within it was a talisman of extremely poor quality.
—It was the one Xie Yubo had pasted onto the memorial tablet, which Wang Fuyang later peeled off to keep as a memento.
Shang Yange found the talisman’s design utterly nonsensical; with a casual glance, it seemed to consist of four characters.
He thought he could recognize them.
It reads—
You idiotic tyrant.