Chapter 49: The Starving Ghost

Runsheng swallowed several times in quick succession. He was hungry.

Little Yuan had called them dead fish. Was that a hint? Did it mean he could eat the fish if he felt hungry?

Runsheng entered the river.

He ignored the dismembered corpse chunks and the dwarf, paid no attention to the mother and daughter. He had only one goal—Zhou Yong.

He dragged Zhou Yong toward him. The man’s head was barely clinging to his neck, ready to fall off at any moment.

At the town market, anything too spoiled to sell was best dealt with by eating it yourself.

Runsheng bent down and bit into him.

Then he immediately pushed Zhou Yong away, scrambled up the riverbank, dropped to his knees, and started dry heaving.

Utterly disgusting.

Why had it gone like that?

The answer came quickly—he had rearranged the feng shui layout here just as Little Yuan instructed, which had boiled all the Yin aura out of Zhou Yong’s body.

Runsheng got up and returned to the river.

This time he wasn’t hunting for food. He felt around the dwarf’s corpse and found a barbed rope—its material was unusual. He also retrieved some soaked yellow talismans and a few scattered trinkets.

He checked the shredded clothes nearby, but besides some wet cigarettes and a bit of cash, there was nothing useful.

After stashing everything away, Runsheng left.

The village’s small shop was about to close; half the doorboard was already latched up. Runsheng called out while running, grabbed the phone, and started dialing.

…

Tan Wenbin had slept through the entire day. When he woke, he realized that his stomach deflated faster than his face.

He was starving. Aunt Liu had cooked noodles that evening, ladling out a whole basin just for him.

He was nervous at the first bite, glancing at the corner where Runsheng had left his “scallions.”

Once the noodles went down smoothly, he relaxed and began scarfing them down.

He cleaned the entire basin and still wanted more.

He was surprised at himself—since when had he developed such an appetite?

“Want some more?” Aunt Liu asked. “I could cook another batch.”

“No, no, that’ll burst my stomach.” He was already too full to sit comfortably, so he stood up and waddled around the courtyard. “Where’s Little Yuan? Isn’t he coming down for dinner?”

“He’s still asleep.”

“Still asleep?”

“Yeah, might sleep for a long while. Not sure he’ll even wake up tomorrow.”

“Damn, that bad? Well, makes sense. He really burned himself out.”

Just then, across the rice paddies, a voice called out from the village path.

It was Aunt Zhang, whose voice was always recognizable and piercing. She would usually start with several drawn-out “Aye~ Aye~” calls, prompting nearby villagers to perk up. Then she’d name the household who had a phone call waiting.

Hearing her, the villagers would dash out to their courtyards and shout back “Aye~ Aye~” in kind, followed by “Coming~ Coming~.”

Flatlands had no mountains, but they still had voices fit for singing to the hills.

This time Aunt Zhang was calling for “Zhuangzhuang.”

Liu Yumei looked puzzled. “Did she get the name wrong?”

Tan Wenbin jogged off cheerily toward the sound.

Aunt Liu brought a small dish of pickles to Liu Yumei and smiled. “Zhuangzhuang is the new name Uncle Sanjiang gave the boy.”

“Oh.” Liu Yumei nodded. “The kid’s a decent one.”

“Good upbringing, solid character.”

“How’s Little Yuan doing?”

“His eye’ll be no good for a month. I think he’s known that for a while, though. Took it in stride, even said it’d keep him from missing school.”

“That boy always does things with measure—even losing his mind.”

“He’s the kind that eases your worries. Parents like that are lucky.”

“Sure, if you’re the kind who drops your kid off and doesn’t raise him yourself, then yeah, lucky—get to pick fruit when he’s grown.”

“Ah Li is still staying with him?”

“Of course. One minute washing his towel, the next spooning him water. Later, make some congee and cool it down properly—bring it to Ah Li so she can feed it to him.”

“That rascal. Blinds himself in a fit, and even that helps Ah Li’s condition.”

Liu Yumei smiled as she said this.

Aunt Liu chimed in, “Those two really are fated. Just, seeing Little Yuan like this, Ah Li must be heartbroken.”

“Not at all—she’s been grinning all day. You should’ve seen her dimples.”

“I don’t get it anymore.”

“We’re too old. Young folks have their own way.”

“Want me to go poke around?”

That made Liu Yumei pause, chopsticks mid-air.

Aunt Liu explained, “Just worried the kid didn’t finish the job—might’ve left some fish behind.”

Liu Yumei picked up the vinegar and said, “If he didn’t say anything, we’ll act like we don’t know. Don’t pry.”

“Got it.”

Just then, a figure appeared on the second-floor balcony, towel in hand, heading for the water vat to wash it.

“I never got pampered like that.”

Liu Yumei set down the vinegar—her noodles were already sour enough.

…

Tan Wenbin answered Runsheng’s call and learned what had happened.

Honestly, he was shaken. No wonder Little Yuan had worked himself to the bone last night—sure enough, the fish bit the hook the very next day.

Problem was, there were too many fish. Not easy to handle. Time to call his dad.

But before doing that, Tan Wenbin hesitated. Based on his dad’s usual habits, if he saw a call from his son, he might ignore it if he was busy—or even if he wasn’t.

So, he sent out a message: “Uncle Tan, this is Little Yuan. Please call back.”

No sooner had he hung up and struck a match for a cigarette than the phone rang.

“Shit!”

Tan Wenbin stuffed the cigarette back and picked up.

From the other end came his father’s warm, kindly voice: “Little Yuan, is something wrong? Don’t worry, tell Uncle, I’ll help you fix it.”

“Dad.”

“You little shit.”

Tan Wenbin: “……”

He figured the only thing still holding their father-son bond together was that blood tie.

If not for the fact that his dad’s old photos looked just like him, he might’ve thought he was adopted—or that some soap-opera-style drama had gone down back in the day.

“Dad, got something to tell you. I was gambling in Xiting Town.”

Silence on the other end.

“Want to come catch me?”

Still silence.

“Pick me up in Shinan, then we go to Xiting to bust me for gambling.”

“Little Yuan put you up to this?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Click. The line went dead.

Tan Wenbin paid for the call and grabbed some bubble gum.

Not long after, a motorcycle pulled up.

Tan Wenbin waved and walked toward it.

The bike skidded to a stop, kicking dust into his face.

“Ptooey, ptooey!”

“Get on.”

“Oh, okay.”

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