Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Earthen Jar

A strange cry suddenly rang out, and the ghostly child was flung backward.

“Ah!” The woman staggered and fell back, but I stepped forward quickly, catching her around the waist. An overwhelming scent of perfume hit me.

I looked at her face—her wide, startled eyes were fixed on me in disbelief.

I steadied her, then turned my gaze to the ghostly child lying on the ground, struggling, the talisman pressed to its body flickering with sparks. It was clear the charm wouldn’t hold it for much longer.

“We need to go!” I said, grabbing the woman and making a dash for the wall.

As we scrambled up, a sudden sound made me glance back. The talisman had burst into flames! So, even Old Ma’s tools weren’t so reliable after all, though admittedly, they worked better than the woman’s own charms.

I jumped down the wall, pulling the woman with me, and we sprinted along the main road. Though Old Ding’s house wasn’t far, there was no time to run back for Old Ma and the others.

I spotted a side path, pulled the woman along, and hid us in a corner. I drew her close into my arms.

“What are you doing?” the woman gasped, trying to wriggle free.

“Don’t move. Stay close to me,” I whispered.

She seemed to understand and stopped resisting, pressing close to my side.

I still had the protective charm Old Ma had given me, but seeing how fierce that ghostly child was, I doubted it would do much. I needed her close to keep her within its limited protection.

Her perfume was so strong that it was almost suffocating at this proximity.

I held my breath and focused ahead. After a while, the pale, eerie figure drifted past the entrance. At the intersection, it paused, as if sensing something.

My heart sank. My hand crept inside my jacket, ready to use my last resort if things turned bad.

The ghost child hovered for a moment, then continued on its way. I dared not relax, keeping a sharp eye on the path and listening for any movement around us.

After what felt like an eternity, there was no sign of the ghostly child returning. Finally, I let out a breath and released the woman.

She glanced at me with a sly, half-smiling look. “So, you’re here for that thing too? But it’s a lot fiercer than I thought. Looks like we’ll both be leaving empty-handed.”

That thing? What thing?

“This time, I owe you for saving me—but hiding in the dark to spy on a beauty really isn’t a good habit!” she teased, blowing me a kiss before sauntering off, swaying her hips with each step.

What was she looking for? Was there something in that construction site? At the very least, I could be sure she wasn’t the murderer.

I headed toward Old Ding’s house. As soon as I stepped inside, the acrid smell of burned paper filled the air—the scent of paper money burned for the dead during the Qingming Festival.

I glanced around and saw a pile of ash still faintly smoking by the gate. Who would be burning paper this late at night by the door?

I didn’t dwell on it—it was a household matter, after all. Returning to the guest room, I thought of telling Old Ma what had happened. He was lying straight on the bed, the quilt perfectly neat over him.

“Old Ma? Old Ma?” I called.

He lay there silently, so still he seemed almost dead.

I called out a few more times, but he didn’t respond. I considered shaking him awake, but then decided to let him sleep and tell him everything in the morning.

With that thought, I lay down on my makeshift bed and drifted off.

When I woke, Old Ma was gone, his backpack missing as well. Outside, the sky was gray and heavy with drizzle.

I checked my phone—it was already eleven! I scrambled up from the floor and went out.

The lady of the house was cleaning. I asked her where Old Ma had gone.

“He left early this morning,” she replied.

“He didn’t even wake me!” I muttered, frustrated—I still had things to discuss with him.

“He asked me to tell you that if you woke up, you should find him at the elementary school,” she said.

Elementary school? What were they doing there?

After a quick wash, I borrowed an umbrella and set off in the rain. It wasn’t heavy, but the wind made it cold and unpleasant.

When I reached the school, I saw a group of people digging with hoes at the construction site. Even Guo Yangyu was among them.

Old Ma and Meng Chengde stood off to the side in raincoats, next to a familiar face—the plainclothes policeman from yesterday.

I hurried over to Old Ma. The officer glanced at me, then turned to Meng Chengde. “Boss Meng, are you sure there’s something buried down there, and that it’s linked to the murder?”

Meng Chengde looked at Old Ma, then replied firmly, “I’m sure.”

I was still in the dark—what was buried under the construction site, and how was it connected to the murder?

“Sir, what’s going on?” I asked Old Ma.

He shot me an annoyed look. “Still calling me that?”

“Master, what’s going on?” I corrected myself, not yet used to being his apprentice.

Old Ma’s brow furrowed, his withered face grave. “Xiao Guo dreamed of an omen—something evil is buried here that could bring disaster. Yesterday, I thought the child’s death was strange; it’s likely tied to whatever’s buried here.”

Was he only guessing that the thing below was linked to the murder? Are dream omens really that accurate? I glanced at the policeman, who seemed calm, but I wondered what he truly thought.

Just as I was about to tell Old Ma about last night, Old Ding’s voice rang out, “Found it! There really is something here!”

Everyone crowded around. Old Ma and Meng Chengde waded into the rain-soaked, muddy ground, the policeman close behind, and I hurried after.

Old Ding carefully unearthed the object, caked in yellow mud, slowly revealing a tightly sealed earthen jar.

He tried to lift it by hand, but Guo Yangyu stopped him. Guo Yangyu handed his hoe to someone else, crouched down, and gently tapped the jar with his finger, then wiped away the mud near the mouth. There was a single character near the rim: “Gen.”

He looked up at Old Ma and nodded slightly.

Guo Yangyu gripped the jar with both hands and lifted it from the ground. It was a common type, both in shape and size. There was no telling what was inside.

“Could there be bones inside?” a middle-aged man who had helped with the digging speculated.