Chapter 75 – The Puzzle

The courtyard fell into an awkward silence for a moment. Just as the Eldest Uncle was about to say something more, Wei Yang turned to the person beside him and said softly, “Brother Qi, why don’t you go upstairs first? These are just some family matters of mine. I’ll come up and join you once I’m done here.”

His voice was gentle, but there was a firmness in his tone that brooked no refusal. Zhang Xiuqi’s furrowed brows didn’t relax. He wasn’t sure what was happening here, but seeing the expression on Wei Yang’s face, he nodded and made his way upstairs. Watching that figure ascend the stairs, Wei Yang felt a weight in his heart ease significantly. A faint, almost mocking smile appeared on his face as he spoke, “Eldest Uncle, what exactly is going on? Is the three-year memorial already being prepared? Didn’t Grandma say she didn’t want me at her funeral or even visiting her grave?”

The Eldest Uncle’s expression turned grim. He stammered, “No, it’s not that… This is the Jiang family’s business. It’s… not auspicious. It’s not good for you to be involved.”

The old man sitting in the chair let out a cold snort. “You Wei family folks are always hiding behind excuses. What’s the point of all this obstruction? Ah Yang is an adult now. It’s better to make things clear to him. Ah Yang, come here, come to your uncle’s side.”

There seemed to be something else hidden in his words. Wei Yang ignored the Eldest Uncle’s attempts to stop him and walked over. Compared to a few years ago, the uncle looked much older—like a dried-up stick, his skin wrinkled and clinging to his face like withered bark. Yet his eyes were still sharp, nothing like an old man’s. Beneath his drooping eyelids, they emitted an unsettling glint.

Wei Yang was sizing him up, and the old man was doing the same. After looking the young man up and down, the old man’s lips cracked into a grin. “You really are a good child. Ah Yang, do you want to come back with me and inherit the Jiang family’s legacy?”

As soon as these words were spoken, the room fell into shock. The Eldest Uncle’s voice faltered. “Uncle, don’t talk nonsense. Xiao Yang is part of our Wei family…”

“The Wei family? He carries Jiang Han’s blood. Naturally, he’s part of the Jiang family.”

In the Jiang family, the men who practiced spirit mediumship were called Jiang Han, while the women were called Jiang Nu—a different term for shamans and spirit mediums. This wasn’t exactly a respected profession in the new society, but the old man spoke with an indescribable arrogance, much like Wei Yang’s grandmother had in the past.

Wei Yang frowned and replied coldly, “If I remember correctly, don’t you already have children and grandchildren? Why come to me to inherit the family legacy? And frankly, I’m not interested in that so-called legacy. What era is this? Is there still a future in pretending to commune with spirits?”

His words didn’t anger the old man. Instead, they made the corners of his lips stretch wider, revealing his toothless gums, which looked like some sinister dark hole. “Do you think it’s easy to serve the spirits? The great immortals are very picky. It’s rare to find a suitable successor even after several generations. In my generation, it was my sister—your grandmother. She married a man from a Yin-Yang family, and of course, that’s why she could raise a proper offering.”

The word “offering” didn’t sound like it referred to a person but rather to some kind of vessel or tool. Wei Yang’s expression turned even colder. “Uncle, you’ve got the wrong person. Not only do I have no interest in this, but even if I did, I doubt I’d have the ability. My Jiang Nu grandmother never once praised me. Do you really think you’re more insightful than her?”

“Heh heh…” A wheezing laugh escaped the old man’s lips. He smiled even more broadly, his narrow eyes almost scrunching together. “Her not praising you is exactly right. In the Jiang family, no offering would ever like their successor… Heh heh… Who would like the person who’s going to make them live a life of mediocrity and die in misery?”

Wei Yang’s face turned ashen in an instant. He suddenly remembered the way his grandmother used to look at him—always with a glare full of malice. In fact, the old man’s words weren’t even explicit enough. From a very, very early age, his shaman grandmother had hated him.

The Eldest Uncle, however, quickly stepped forward, shielding Wei Yang as he pleaded, “Uncle, please stop talking nonsense. Xiao Yang really isn’t cut out for this, nor does he want to walk this path. You should just let go of this idea. Besides, what era is this? Communing with spirits isn’t the right path anymore…”

The Eldest Uncle’s words were rambling and repetitive, lacking any focus. The old man didn’t even glance at him. His cold, piercing eyes remained fixed on Wei Yang, unrelenting. “Ah Yang, I’m old. I can’t hold this family together much longer. But the Jiang family has been serving the spirits for hundreds of years. It can’t end with me. Think carefully. Becoming an offering comes with countless benefits—far more than what that old swindler Wei Changfeng could ever give you. Heh heh, he tricked my Jiang Nu away, and now he wants to ruin the next generation of Jiang Han too?”

The old man’s voice was filled with venom, like the hiss of a snake. Wei Yang slowly composed his expression and smiled at him. “I think you should find someone else.”

His words carried a sense of finality. The old man didn’t speak again. He looked Wei Yang up and down for a long time before reaching out to the two men in white hemp robes beside him. With their help, he stood up. Only then did Wei Yang realize that his uncle could no longer stand on his own. His legs, as thin as sticks, trembled weakly, unable to support his body. Yet just two days ago, when Wei Yang had seen the bone-washing procession, the old man had been leading it. How has he deteriorated so much in such a short time?

Noticing Wei Yang’s gaze, the old man’s expression seemed to soften slightly. He rasped, “These legs aren’t much use anymore, but I can still hold on for a while. I need to make sure your grandmother’s bone-washing burial is done properly. Ah Yang, whether or not you want to inherit the Jiang family’s legacy, you should at least pay your respects to your grandmother. She’s gone now. What grudges are left to hold? The bone-washing will take three days. It’ll be at the village cemetery. You’re welcome to come anytime.”

With that, his gaze shifted to the Eldest Uncle, and he let out a wheezing laugh. “Xiao Tao, you should start preparing the mourning tent on your side too. The three-year memorial is a big occasion. You can’t let your own mother leave this world unsettled, can you?”

In ancient times, the mourning period lasted three years, hence the saying “three-year burial.” The village had a similar custom, though they treated the three-year mark as a major event, much like a funeral. On this day, they would visit the grave to offer sacrifices, burn paper money, and fill the grave with soil. Moreover, the bone-washing and joint burial process had to be carried out on a grand scale.

Faced with the elder’s instructions, the Eldest Uncle stammered, at a loss for words. Wei Yang, however, smiled and said, “Uncle, there’s no need for you to worry about this. My Eldest Uncle has it all under control.”

His words were calm and straightforward. He neither refused to attend the bone-washing nor denied the need for the three-year memorial, simply returning the conversation in a polite yet firm manner. The old man gave him a deep look but said nothing more. Leaning on one of the men’s shoulders, he turned and left the small courtyard.

Watching the old man’s retreating figure, the Eldest Uncle suddenly said, “Ah Yang, there’s been so much going on at home lately. Maybe you should leave with your friend as soon as possible, so your uncle doesn’t…”

Wei Yang slowly shifted his gaze back, looking directly at this honest, almost too honest middle-aged man. After a long pause, he said softly, “Eldest Uncle, I’m not the child I was over a decade ago. If there’s something going on, can’t you just tell me directly?”

Why keep me in the dark, trapped in this heart-wrenching puzzle?

His voice was gentle, but the Eldest Uncle shivered as if electrocuted. He forced a smile and said, “Wh-what’s there to say? Ah Yang, you’re overthinking it. Your uncle is just getting old and isn’t making sense… Haha, since you’re back, why don’t you go rest? I’ll make some food for you two…”

As if trying to escape something, the Eldest Uncle quickly disappeared into the kitchen. Wei Yang stared at the spot where he had vanished, unable to move for a long time. In just this one morning, he has unraveled more mysteries than he had in his entire life. So his parents had died from an evil curse. So the Eldest Uncle wanted him to leave because he didn’t want him involved in the Jiang family’s affairs. So his shaman grandmother had always hated him, all because of the identity of a spirit offering…

Wait! Wei Yang suddenly froze. No, his grandmother had hated him, but that hatred wasn’t jealousy toward a successor. It was genuine animosity, filled with resentment and bitterness. She had even said that he brought misfortune to the family and the spirits. If he were truly suited to become an offering, why had his grandmother never mentioned it? And why, in all the years he had spent at home, had he never seen her successfully summon a spirit to exorcise evil, instead witnessing countless humiliating failures?

It was precisely this complete “shaman” act that had convinced him there were no such things as ghosts or spirits in this world, nor any of those unimaginable supernatural beings. But now he was no longer the clueless little charlatan he had once been. He knew about things like the Yellow Husk, the Three Corpses, and Corpse Puppets. He had even been inseparable from a Little Celestial Master from Longhu Mountain. So, were the household spirits worshipped by the Jiang family real? And where did his grandmother’s hatred for him truly come from?

A chill ran through his body. Wei Yang remembered the nightmare he had had that day—the woman with the ferocious expression and the thin, withered figure with its back turned to him.

What if all of this was real?

Going deeper, he had been with his parents until he was three, when he had been in a “car accident” and lost his memory. So when had this scene from his dream taken place? Was the so-called memory loss from before he was three, or from even earlier…

The threads of clues tangled together, forming a suffocating puzzle. He thought he had uncovered many truths, but behind each truth lay an even more despairing secret. What had his grandfather, who had raised him since he was a child, hidden from him—and even from the Eldest Uncle?

Taking a deep breath, Wei Yang stopped zoning out and turned to head upstairs. As soon as he pushed open the door, the turtle master scurried out and bit the hem of his pants with a “chomp.” A smile appeared on Wei Yang’s lips as he bent down to pat the turtle’s shell. “Master, you’re full of energy again. Do you want to go downstairs for a walk?”

The turtle glared at him with its beady eyes for a while, but when it realized Wei Yang still seemed intent on letting it roam, it reluctantly released its grip and turned away, sulkily crawling toward the other end of the hallway.

This time, Wei Yang didn’t follow. Instead, he turned to look inside the room. Zhang Xiuqi was already seated at the desk, yellow paper and cinnabar spread out in front of him. His wrist was slightly raised as he meticulously drew a Soul Stabilizing Talisman, a faint, glowing light shimmering around him. Seeing that figure so quiet and focused, the turmoil in Wei Yang’s heart seemed to settle. He silently walked into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling out the old black notebook from his travel bag.

Looking at the half-filled page, Wei Yang chuckled softly. Even if this tangled mess couldn’t be unraveled, the things hidden within him paled in comparison to Zhang Xiuqi’s Heavenly Soul. Rather than dwelling on these mysteries, it would be better to dig deeper into the events of Wang Village from back then. Why had Zhang Xiuqi gone mad under that ginkgo tree? What was the true connection between him and Zhang Xiuqi? And what was the purpose of that Bone Formation…

In the room, the only sound was the soft scratching of the brush against the yellow paper. The two figures sat close to each other, yet maintained a slight distance.