Volume 1, Chapter 3: Multiple Identities

Before entering the village, the Taoist took off his robes. To my utter shock, underneath he was wearing nothing but flip-flops, oversized shorts, and a white tank top. He looked no different from any of the old men hanging around the village entrance, shooting the breeze.

"Master," I asked, puzzled, "why did you take off your robes?"

"I’m acting as a shamanic medium now. Don't go spouting any nonsense."

As he spoke, the Taoist tore off his hair; it turned out he was bald. I cursed inwardly: *Damn, this is just an old con artist. Stick on some hair and he's a Taoist; tear it off and he's a monk; and now, he’s a shamanic medium, for God's sake.*

"Don't you say a word, kid. Just watch. Whatever I tell you to do, you do."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Stop asking, damn it! If you do a good job, I’ll let you have a meal of chicken stewed with mushrooms."

"Don't you worry, I can handle this," I said with absolute certainty.

Chicken stewed with mushrooms held an infinite allure for me. I hadn't eaten it in years; I had almost forgotten what it tasted like.

The Taoist led me to a house that looked quite wealthy. The courtyard was spacious and enclosed by a red brick wall—back then, most households didn't have walls, and the diligent ones would just stick branches in the ground to make a fence.

The family seemed to have been waiting for the Taoist. As soon as we knocked on the iron gate, the whole family came out—three generations, six or seven people in total.

"Master Ma, you've arrived! Come in, please, come inside."

Only then did I learn the Taoist's surname was Ma. The title "Master Ma" almost made me laugh, as the television show *Ma Dashuai* was currently a massive hit.

We were ushered into the house. The floors were tiled, and the most impressive thing was a massive projection television. In my village, even the village chief’s TV was just a bulky, old-fashioned model. This family was clearly well-off.

In the center of the room, a table was set with over a dozen dishes. Some were covered by plates, but the savory scent of stewed meat was unmistakable.

"Master Ma, come, let's eat first."

Master Ma waved his hand. "Young Liang from the other house said there’s something going on here. Tell me, what’s the situation?"

The host’s smile froze. He lit a cigarette and sighed, "Sigh, I really don't know how to put this."

Master Ma exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Tell me in detail. Start from the beginning. Take your time, there’s no rush."

"Early this spring, my daughter went up the mountain to pick wild vegetables. When she came back, she didn't say a word. I thought she’d just had a spat with some other girl, so I didn't pay it much mind. But after a few days, she started acting stranger and stranger. Not only did she stop speaking, but she stopped wearing clothes. A sixteen or