Chapter Twelve: The Future Wife

“Did you burn that puppet?” Zhou Yi asked again after a moment of silence.

Baozi pouted and shook his head, refusing to answer.

Zhou Yi patted his chest and let out a long sigh of relief. “That’s good, that’s good,” he said, not pressing the matter any further. He dressed quickly and followed Baozi straight to Nanshan Village.

The two made their way in silence and soon arrived at their destination.

“What’s the family’s surname?” Zhou Yi inquired, seizing the chance to check on the marriage proposal Zhou Dajiang had arranged for him—something that had weighed on his mind for some time.

“They’re surnamed Wu,” Baozi replied, not thinking much of it.

Zhou Yi was briefly startled, then shook his head with a smile. He had already asked around about the Wu family in Nanshan Village, and there was only one household with that surname.

As soon as they entered the courtyard, Baozi started calling out. “Old Wu, I, Ni Yuanchao, always keep my word! Today I’ve brought my master here. Your son’s illness will surely be cured if my master takes charge.”

Wu Guishun was overjoyed to hear that this esteemed master’s mentor had arrived. He rushed out to greet them, but the moment he saw Zhou Yi, the joy vanished from his face. Still, out of courtesy, he addressed Zhou Yi as “Master,” though his lack of confidence was obvious.

Zhou Yi paid it no mind and walked past Wu Guishun straight to the inner room. Wu Guishun’s young son was huddled in a corner by the north wall, curled in on himself. Beside him, a young maiden cradled the child in her arms—clearly Wu Guishun’s daughter.

“Where is the puppet?” Zhou Yi asked Wu Guishun.

Wu Guishun hurriedly handed over the puppet, which was the very one Zhou Yi had used to seal the wandering spirit. The talisman Zhou Yi had drawn on it was now gone. Zhou Yi extended his spiritual sense to examine it but found no trace of the malevolent spirit within.

“You should all leave now and lock the door behind you. No matter what noises come from within, do not shout or make a commotion. Do you understand?” Zhou Yi instructed Wu Guishun and Wu Qian—the young maiden’s name was Wu Qian.

Wu Qian cast one last lingering glance at her younger brother, Wu Feng, before reluctantly stepping outside. As she left, she shot Zhou Yi a meaningful look and offered him a faint smile.

“It’s you again, you stinking Daoist. To think I, an immortal, trusted you so! Yet you ordered that beast you keep to destroy my spirit. I swear, all those connected to you shall know no peace,” Wu Feng said. For a child barely into his teens to speak such words would have been chilling to anyone, though Zhou Yi had braced himself for it.

“What happened last time was my fault,” Zhou Yi replied, “but you’ve returned to harm others, and that is your wrongdoing. Come out now!” With that, he formed a hand seal and chanted, “All beings in the clouds, at peace in their forms. The disciple’s soul, five viscera in the dark. Demons and fiends, begone—”

Wu Feng let out a piercing scream, clearly in agony.

Sensing something amiss, Zhou Yi quickly changed his hand seal and shouted, “Break the spell!” The soul of Wu Feng was being drawn out along with the spirit, and if Zhou Yi hadn’t acted swiftly, the boy would have died on the spot.

The malevolent spirit burst into laughter. “You shameless scoundrel, use every trick you have! If you fail to subdue me today, I’ll make sure you suffer the pain of being parted from all your loved ones,” it taunted.

Zhou Yi gritted his teeth in anger. “Baozi, fetch black dog’s blood, glutinous rice, and human hair!” Hearing the spirit threaten his friends and family, Zhou Yi resolved to destroy it utterly.

Baozi hurried out and soon returned with the requested items. “Brother Yi, what’s human hair for?” he asked as he entered.

Zhou Yi had no time to answer. He grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped a lock of Wu Feng’s hair, holding it tightly in his hand.

Then Zhou Yi swiftly pulled down Wu Feng’s pants, placed his finger three inches below the navel, and pressed down, collecting a bowl of the boy’s urine using a technique to induce it. He mixed the glutinous rice into the urine, releasing a pungent ammonia stench.

Without hesitation, Zhou Yi pried open Wu Feng’s mouth and poured the entire bowl of urine down his throat, pressing several major acupuncture points on the boy’s chest. “In darkness and obscurity, yin and yang and the five elements, the paths of men and ghosts diverge. The yellow energy guides, and the human hair anchors the soul—” Zhou Yi chanted, then used the hair as needles, piercing them into key meridian points: the jade pillow, heavenly prominence, baihui, and others. By the end, Wu Feng’s body was studded with forty-nine locks of hair.

The mixture of glutinous rice and boy’s urine was meant to neutralize the yin energy in Wu Feng’s body. The spirit had possessed him for seven days, leaving his soul extremely fragile. The rice and urine would nourish his three souls and seven spirits, while the hair would pin the soul in place for Zhou Yi to perform his ritual.

Seeing all was prepared, Zhou Yi again formed hand seals. “All beings in the clouds, at peace in their forms. The disciple’s soul, five viscera in the dark. Demons and fiends, begone—” A stream of black mist began to rise slowly from Wu Feng’s crown. As the boy screamed in agony, sweat the size of soybeans rolled down Zhou Yi’s forehead; the soul-searching ritual was draining his spiritual energy fast.

“Baozi, the dog’s blood!” Zhou Yi called, his voice strained.

Baozi dashed forward and splashed a bowl of black dog’s blood over Wu Feng’s head. Instantly, the malevolent spirit was forced out and fled through the door.

“Stinking Daoist, I am now your mortal enemy!” the spirit howled as it escaped.

Zhou Yi rushed out in pursuit, gathering all the remaining spiritual energy in his body, but after a short chase, the spirit had vanished without a trace.

With no other choice, Zhou Yi returned to inform Wu Guishun that the child was cured and would recover fully after a few days’ rest. He prepared to take his leave, but Wu Guishun insisted he stay for a meal. Having just made a dangerous enemy, Zhou Yi was in no mood to eat, but he couldn’t refuse altogether and finally accepted a silver dollar from Wu Guishun before departing with Baozi.

As they left, Wu Qian gave Zhou Yi a gentle smile, which eased his mood somewhat. At least he now knew that his future bride was nothing like the rumors suggested.

I have always wondered why such a lovely girl as Wu Qian would be so maligned. After pondering it all night, I came to two conclusions.

First: Wu Guishun likely feared that his daughter’s beauty would attract unsavory suitors, so he allowed such rumors to spread as a means of protecting her. Otherwise, he would have stepped in to set the record straight. After all, everyone in the neighboring villages had heard that Wu Guishun’s daughter was barely four feet tall, weighed over two hundred pounds, and was dark and ugly.

Second: The villagers, jealous of Wu Qian’s beauty, spread malicious gossip out of sheer envy. In truth, such rumors can sometimes be useful; in troubled times, stories about Wu Guishun’s daughter being hideous might actually be a blessing. At the very least, Zhou Yi wouldn’t have to worry about rivals for her affection.

Everything has its pros and cons. In rural China during the Republic era, marriages were often arranged without the couple ever meeting. If Zhou Yi had not seen Wu Qian himself and only heard the rumors, he would never have dared to marry her.

ps: Where are my flowers?