A Visitor Arrives

Constable Luo came back late again today.

Madam Wang still brought hot water for him to wash his feet, and seeing her husband's weary face, she could not help asking:

"Still didn't catch the person?"

"How could it be possible to catch him?" Constable Luo sighed heavily. "That man is suspicious and crafty. We set several traps, but either the methods were ineffective or he saw through them in advance and simply wouldn't step in."

"What method was ineffective?"

"It was the method of the eminent man at Taian Temple."

"Over at the magistrate's side..."

"There are only a few days left on the deadline."

"If you ask me, such a hard-headed arrest simply won't work. Though that person cannot fly through the skies, he can tunnel through the earth. Sending you lot to catch him, isn't this making things difficult for you? Could it be that you can prop him up so he can't touch the ground?" Madam Wang said, meticulously washing her feet for her husband. "We still have to find an eminent man to help."

"What other eminent man is there to find? Wasn't that method of burying a circle of manure devised by the eminent man of Taian Temple?"

"Go ask some other eminent man for advice, then."

"Where else can we find another eminent man?" Constable Luo said, irritated and melancholy. "I do know a few people who banish demons and ghosts, but as you know them, they are just a bunch of bold fellows who know some folk methods, at most capable of coming up with rotten ideas. I'm afraid they can't help me."

"I see that young mister opposite is a capable person. Why not go and ask him if he has any methods?"

"That young mister? An eminent man?"

Constable Luo could not help frowning.

"That young mister moved next door several days ago, and not a trace of fear can be seen in him. He goes out and comes back normally. This evening I chatted with him for a few bits, asking him if he wasn't afraid of that female ghost in the courtyard. Guess what he said?"

"What did he say?"

Madam Wang then told him about their conversation this evening.

After hearing it, Constable Luo did not necessarily discern how much capability Song You possessed, but he immediately felt this was an interesting person.

"Not fearing wandering spirits might just mean he is bold, and even if he has skills, it doesn't necessarily mean he can help." Constable Luo lifted his legs out of the wooden basin without immediately pinning all his hopes on this. "If there are still no methods after a few more days, I will bring gifts and pay a visit."

Madam Wang crouched back down to wipe his feet.

The sun is three poles high while I sleep alone; not an immortal, yet better than an immortal.

Song You slept until noon again.

These past few days he has been waking up later and later.

Sometimes he lay in bed until noon before getting up, and sometimes he got up early, sitting in cross-legged meditation in his room until going out at noon.

This way he could save on breakfast.

In the afternoon he read books, and if the weather was good, he also went out for a stroll, bought some groceries, and cooked dinner with his own hands. In the evening he went out to catch the cool air, huddled together with the surrounding neighbors to listen to them chat about domestic trifles and experience the life of Yidu City.

Every night the female ghost in the courtyard still sang a song or two as usual, or else danced in the courtyard, and sometimes her figure and appearance could be seen clearly.

She was a woman no longer young.

After getting used to it, Song You paid her no mind at all, truly treating her merely as a diversion for a monotonous life.

Even the habit of listening to her tunes was gradually cultivated by her.

Sometimes when he met her suddenly appearing at night, he did not feel terrified; instead, Three Flower Lady was the one prone to startling, often bumping into her after passing a corner, or running into her when she suddenly appeared while she was doing something, causing her to jump up in fright.

Yet last night...

This woman sometimes wandered about indiscriminately in different rooms, and last night she actually opened the door to Song You's room, gazing at him for a long time at the doorway, undoubtedly affecting his sleep.

If his conscience hadn't gotten the better of him, he surely would have blamed the female ghost for the reason he slept until so late.

Still, this problem had to be solved.

Song You thought about it and decided to go out to buy a few sheets of yellow hemp paper, along with brush, ink, and cinnabar, to draw a few talismans and paste them on his bedroom door so that the female ghost could not draw near.

At the same time, over the past few days, more and more people had heard about his affairs and believed he was a capable person, so people had begun coming to him for advice on matters of being possessed by evil spirits and encountering ghosts. There were also those who wanted to buy talismans from him to ward off evil or ensure peace, and Song You felt this matter was feasible, as it could earn him some vegetable and meat money to some extent.

Back at the Taoist temple, this was also a major source of income.

Near the Tile House there seemed to be many vendors selling odds and ends; after eating he could go have a look.

Thinking thus, Song You crawled out of bed.

The leftover pickled cabbage porridge from last night had not been finished yet; he went and heated it in the pot, which served as his midday lunch, and it was quite flavorful too.

After finishing and washing the bowls, Song You walked straight out, merely saying to the Three Flower Cat in the courtyard:

"Three Flower Lady, I'm going out for a bit. I entrust looking after the house to you."

"Understood."

The Three Flower Cat played with single-minded devotion, not even turning her head.

Song You went out and walked down the small alley.

Not having walked far, he came upon a patch of Tile House.

As mentioned earlier, this was a comprehensive entertainment venue for eating, drinking, and making merry, relying on the prosperity of Yi Capital. Although it was daytime, it was very lively.

All the way through, besides those performing operas, there were also storytellers, wrestlers and martial artists, and people playing pitch-pot and archery, each with their own views and ways to play.

Even though Song You had clearly come to buy yellow paper, he was momentarily unable to resist being attracted by the old storyteller, and sat down right here.

He even ordered a pot of tea.

"That A Yanqi led a throng of elite troops chasing from water to land, with what you call relentless pursuit, determined to kill Marshal Ma here! At the critical moment, Marshal Ma escaped onto a narrow path, and A Yanqi hastily gave chase, only to see a formidable general appear on the road ahead!

"What a majestic and awe-inspiring formidable general!

"Black helmet, black armor, black battle robe, black tiger-head battle boots on his feet, holding a red-tasseled spear in his hand, straddling a speckled beast, with a face like jade and eyes like cold stars!

"Behind the general were five hundred saber-wielding officers, all growing to the same height, each holding a broadsword in hand. That sword was five feet long, with the blade two and a half feet and the hilt two and a half feet. The broadsword was wide in the body, thick at the spine, and razor-thin at the edge; the spine was an inch thick, the edge a thread thick, flashing brightly, brilliantly, starkly white, and chillingly cold, retaining a pressing chill even from several zhang away. On each person's back was also slung an iron-frame bow with eagle-feather arrows, each one resembling a fierce tiger growing dual wings, or a horned dragon swimming in the sea...

"None other than General Chen Xin, Chen Ziyi!

"A Yanqi was immediately struck with great astonishment: how could Chen Ziyi appear here?

"What was even more crucial was: right now, among his own subordinates, who could withstand Chen Ziyi? And who could withstand this troop of Chen Ziyi's elite soldiers?"

This was a genuine piece of history in this world.

It happened just a few years ago.

At that time, a war broke out in the north of Great Yan, and Marshal-General of the Three Armies Ma Hong unfortunately fell into an ambush, resulting in a crushing defeat for his army. Just as he was about to be captured by the enemy commander-in-chief, General Chen Xin—who currently enjoyed soaring popularity in the storytellers' mouths—arrived. Rumor had it that he practically single-handedly shouted down A Yanqi's pursuing troops, rescued the marshal, and left behind a legendary tale.

This old storyteller narrated the story in a very impassionate tone; of course, with some artistic embellishment.

Song You was very interested in such stories.

He reckoned that such a legendary story would surely be recorded in the annals of history, so many years later, when future generations read history, most of them would probably read this story too? They would read the exact same story he had heard of a millennium ago. For him, a person stranded in ancient times, this could also be considered a kind of comfort.

Thus he listened all the way to the end before getting up to leave.

He had not forgotten the purpose of his outing.

Subsequently, he wandered around the inside and outside of the Tile House, successfully finding a shop that sold yellow hemp paper.

Drawing talismans did not necessarily require yellow paper, but for a long time, Buddhist and Taoist sects as well as folk strange folk had formed a habit, with the majority of talismans being drawn on yellow paper.

Neither did it necessarily require hemp paper.

Generally speaking, either rattan paper or hemp paper could be used; bamboo paper was rarely used, and Xuan paper even less so. Usually, different places had different habits; for instance, places that produced hemp paper mostly used yellow hemp paper to draw talismans, places that produced rattan paper used rattan paper to draw talismans, and Yizhou was abundantly rich in bamboo paper and hemp paper.

Song You was also accustomed to using yellow hemp paper.

The paper made by this shop was quite good, thick and tough; as long as such paper was not exposed to dampness, it would not easily discolor over time.

Yellow hemp paper was even thicker than white hemp paper and also rougher, presenting a pale yellow color, with some grass stalks and paper scraps on the back, none of which affected its use. Yet when Song You picked up a sheet of yellow hemp paper and looked at it left and right against the sky, he always felt the color was somewhat off.

"Patron, what is the matter?"

"I don't know if my eyes are playing tricks on me or what, but I always feel it leans a bit reddish?"

"Aiyou! Patron truly has a discerning eye! You could tell with a single glance!" The shopkeeper immediately piled on smiles. "This batch of paper was freshly made just yesterday. When making the paper, a mischievous child in the little one's household carelessly got some pigment that dyes paper red mixed in, but ordinary people wouldn't have the patron's keen eye!"

"So that's how it is..."

"Does this... affect the patron's use?"

"The impact isn't big."

Hearing this, the shopkeeper instantly breathed a sigh of relief and boasted further: "Patron, coming to this little shop of mine can be considered coming to the right place. I'm not boasting, but the little one reckons that the hemp paper he makes has very few peers throughout the entire Yidi. Even those large shops cannot easily compare to the little one's paper. It's just that the little shop's reputation is obscure, but whoever has bought paper at the little shop is guaranteed to come back again!"

* "Make it cheaper." * "It's already the cheapest..."

After a round of bargaining, Song You bought a stack of yellow hemp paper, along with a brush, an inkstone, and an inkstick, which unexpectedly cost him over three hundred wen.

Among them, the brush, ink, and inkstone were all of the most ordinary quality; if one wanted to buy good ones, there was no upper limit.

In this era, reading and writing were truly expensive.

The cinnabar was bought after switching to another shop.

On the way back, catching sight of a butcher's stall and figuring that he had already spent quite a bit of money anyway, he cut off over a pound of pork, bought some garlic sprouts, and only then returned with satisfaction.

"Screech—"

The moment he pushed open the courtyard gate, he saw a mottled shadow flying out swiftly from the inner room, and upon seeing him, she said:

"Taoist, someone knocked on the door looking for you just now."

"Who is it? Did Three Flower Lady open the door for them?"

"It seemed to be those people encountered at the city gate that day, and also the person living opposite." The Three Flower Cat lifted her head to stare at him. "Three Flower Lady didn't open the door. You said not to let Three Flower Lady speak in front of ordinary people."

"Remembering it is good; there's no need to fear them like tigers."

"What?"

"Were there two groups of people knocking on the door?"

"Right, they even ran into each other at the doorway and chatted for a bit," said the Three Flower Cat. "They said they'll come again tomorrow."

"Understood. Many thanks, Three Flower Lady."

"No need for formalities."

"I bought pork. Does Three Flower Lady want to eat it raw or cooked?"

"Just like you."

"That's good."

Song You no longer bothered about the people who came knocking today, and carrying the meat and vegetables, he went to the kitchen and began to tidy up.

The rice was drained after boiling and put into a steamer.

Fine double-layered pork belly was boiled with Sichuan peppercorns and ginger until eighty percent cooked, then sliced thinly. The garlic sprouts were washed and cut into sections, and under the gaze of Three Flower Lady, he heated the wok and added oil anew, rendering the pork slices over low heat until they formed lamp-cup dents. Tossing another handful of firewood into the stove, he dropped in the garlic sprouts with a sizzling hiss.

Song You could complete the entire process independently.

Moreover, he was not flustered in the slightest; instead, amidst his busyness he remained orderly, searching for the tranquility belonging to his own inner self within this mortal hustle and bustle.

Without needing many seasonings, flavoring simply with fermented black bean paste and soy sauce, a delicious dish of twice-cooked pork emerged from the wok.

The rise of stir-frying in this era was only a matter of several decades, and perhaps this dish did not yet exist, but this small courtyard had already raised the aroma of food that rightfully belonged to several years in the future.