Chapter Fifty-Two: Reunion

I continued to call for the soul, but once again there was no response.

When my voice had grown hoarse from shouting, Master Wang finally signaled me to stop. His expression was strange, and he lowered his head, murmuring, "Child, you should go back. Your mother isn't here."

Only then did I notice that the coins scattered on the ground lay still, as if they had never stood upright.

Master Wang bent down again, arranging the coins anew. This time, he inserted each one into the cracks of the door and threaded a vermilion cord through the holes.

I didn't understand much about these things, but I could tell the difference now. Earlier, he was summoning spirits; now, he was warding off ghosts.

Wang Erjun remained unconscious, sprawled on the ground.

Grandmother Li set down her two cloth bags, spilling out many items—yellow talismans, a peachwood sword, a Bagua mirror, all things used by Daoists to capture spirits. There was also a handful of vermilion cords and a bottle of black-red blood.

"Child, don't blame yourself if you couldn't summon your mother's soul. So many years have passed, with countless changes that no one could foresee or control. Grandmother and Master Wang have other preparations."

I nodded and forced a smile.

Not because I failed to summon my mother, but because of that character written on the ground.

I couldn't be sure if it was another ghost or my mother herself. If it was another ghost, it was luring me home. But if it was my mother, then she clearly didn't wish to be seen by Grandmother Li or Master Wang.

If I revealed this, would my mother still come to see me? Or perhaps she had some special reason for not speaking.

I sat next to Wang Erjun, whose color had returned somewhat, and his breathing grew steady.

A few minutes later, Master Wang entered the house. His mood was visibly gloomier than before. He spoke softly, "Xie Yuan's mother's soul could not be summoned. There must be other changes in Baihu Village. She must have awakened earlier than expected. We should prepare other methods. I still need to calculate the Yin hour and attempt the summoning again. If she still doesn't come..."

Grandmother Li stood, her voice grave. "Uncle Wang, don't be so stubborn about Xie Yuan's mother. We can't pin our hopes on someone who passed away ten or twenty years ago. Too many changes have happened. And with the Ghostborn Child on the mountain, perhaps that's part of the reason."

"Every March and September, I store some of Xiao Hei's blood. This bottle of black dog blood is enough to deal with the evil spirit or the Ghostborn Child."

Looking at the bottle on the ground, my heart skipped a beat.

Suddenly, I remembered that before leaving the village, Mr. Wang had given me a bottle, but since the black cat took away the evil spirit's head, I never used it.

I quickly fumbled through my belongings and handed the bottle to Grandmother Li.

She was momentarily stunned, a spark of joy in her eyes. "Is this... corpse oil refined by Wang Chong with special methods? Wasn't the last bottle smashed? How do you still have one?"

Hearing the words 'corpse oil,' my skin crawled, and goosebumps prickled my arms.

Grandmother Li took it, her voice bright with delight. "Corpse oil is a filthy thing. Spirits never approach decaying bodies. Unless the body is fully dried to bones, they avoid it, for once stained by corpse oil, they manifest and suffer harm to their souls, and it also attracts household spirits and earth entities—animals drawn to it."

"Those things are fond of corpse oil, and they devour wandering ghosts. With this bottle, our chances against the Ghostborn Child and the evil spirit are much improved."

At that moment, Master Wang breathed deeply and spoke, "The worst case is we must confront them directly. If it comes to that, we can't deal with the Ghostborn Child—that spirit born innately from Yin energy is not easy to destroy. And even if it dies, its soul remains. Most importantly, wounding the Ghostborn Child gives White Death Liu and the evil spirit an opportunity. When we act, we must look for them."

I understood Master Wang's intention, just as he had said before.

We must not let the evil spirit reincarnate into the Ghostborn Child.

Master Wang narrowed his eyes and continued, "Xie Yuan's father and the Ghostborn Child only want to kill the people of Baihu Village, but they also seek revenge. The Ghostborn Child was slightly wounded earlier and won't confront us openly now. If we're careful and avoid direct conflict, we shouldn't have trouble. Even if the Ghostborn Child doesn't realize White Death Liu is watching, Xie Yuan's father does. If the Ghostborn Child is hurt, it will be in danger."

Grandmother Li nodded. "If we don't meet it head-on, we can avoid it."

"Let's wait. The Yin hour has passed today. We'll wait for tomorrow." Master Wang sat against the wall and opened his cloth bundle, taking out an ancient-looking box.

His gaze was complicated, as if recalling something, and he fell silent.

Grandmother Li hesitated, then sighed. "Child, see if there's anything edible in the kitchen. We've brought plenty of dry rations, but if there's something to eat, that's much better."

I nodded and walked into the courtyard, then turned to ask Grandmother Li what the Yin hour was.

She told me that the hours of the underworld are opposite to those of the living. The Yin hour is three quarters past noon in the mortal world. Now, Baihu Village is like a ghost town; at three quarters past noon, the outside world is at its peak of Yang energy, but inside the village, the Yin energy rises to its highest, and that is when soul summoning works best.

I entered the kitchen, intending to find something to eat.

A faint aroma of rice wafted through the air.

My heart skipped a beat as I lifted the lid of the stove pot.

A large pot of steamed rice let out a cloud of fragrant steam.

The scent made tears stream instantly down my face.

This was rice sent by my mother!

So much time had passed—from my childhood to now, over ten or twenty years.

But I could never forget the taste of her cooking.

Nor her gentle warmth.

I grabbed a mouthful of rice, and my tears mixed with it as I ate.

My mother had come!

She simply didn’t wish to see Grandmother Li or Master Wang, so she didn’t show herself.

There were no ghosts outside just now.

My mother called me to the house.

Home should be safe.

I crept to the kitchen door. Grandmother Li was sorting her items on the ground, and Master Wang still hadn’t lifted his head.

I glanced at the open kitchen window; with just a stool, I could climb out.

Quietly, I closed the kitchen door and blocked it with a stool.

It would take only a few minutes to run back home, see my mother, hear what she had to say, and then return!

The moment the thought arose, I couldn’t suppress it.

I slipped out the back window, icy wind chilling my skin, fear melting away.

My house was close by. I hurried back to the yard.

It no longer looked as it did when we left.

By the well sat a bench.

Beside it, an old bamboo basket with skeins of yarn.

A small stove stood in the center of the yard, a tiny iron pot bubbling with steam.

My mother used to sit by the well, mending clothes.

She couldn’t do much farm work, but she kept the house in perfect order.

Tears streamed down my face, and I called out, voice trembling, "Mother!"

Suddenly, a hand covered my mouth from behind.

My first thought was that it was my mother.

But in the next instant, every hair on my body stood on end.

The hand pressed so tightly it was as if trying to snap my neck. Panic seized me, and I tried to struggle, but I couldn’t break free; it lifted me right off the ground, my legs dangling.

"Die!"

The voice sounded vaguely familiar—it was Liu Dagen from the village.

Everyone here was dead. Liu Dagen was a ghost!

Just then, a gentle voice rang out.

"Disappear—"

The hand covering my mouth vanished.

I crashed to the ground.

All that remained behind me was a straw shoe. I recognized it—it was Liu Dagen’s shoe.

Another hand stroked my cheek.

Terrified, I shuddered and tried to push her away.

But a gentle, soul-stirring voice whispered, "Xiao Yuan, it's your mother. Don’t be afraid."

That hand embraced me, pulling me into her arms.

I trembled all over, the voice striking deep within my soul.

I looked up and saw the face I had not seen for nearly twenty years.

My mother looked as she did in her thirties, with delicate crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes and pale, smooth skin.

She smiled gently, wiping away my tears. "Xiao Yuan, you’ve grown so big, but you still cry so easily. How could your mother ever rest easy?"

My tears flowed even harder, choking my voice.

"Mother—is it really you? I never dreamed I’d see you again—"

"Xiao Yuan, hush—don’t speak—"

She suddenly pressed a finger to my lips, gently motioning toward the doorway.

I quickly fell silent and didn’t dare move, watching as White Death Liu passed by the front door carrying a bamboo basket.

He seemed not to see us, stopping in the middle of the road and staring toward the Wang carpenter’s house.

Inside his basket, there was a head.

It was no longer a child’s head, but had become that of a young man.

And one ear was missing.