Chapter 2: Upholding Integrity

“Zhang Shouzheng, you little rascal, how dare you peek at me while I’m bathing! Just wait until I get out—I’ll skin you alive!”

A robust female voice echoed from within the mud-brick house. Despite the words, there was a teasing lilt rather than real anger. At the same time, a dark red slipper flew precisely out the window, only to be caught by a hand caked in mud.

A teenage boy stood outside, dressed in a tattered navy-blue Daoist robe, the fabric patched with scraps of various colors. He held the slipper, scratched his messy topknot, and grinned sheepishly toward the house.

He looked about thirteen or fourteen, his face smeared with half-dried mud—a consequence of the rain that had fallen just as he was descending the mountain toward the village. His robe’s hem was also streaked with grime.

When he smiled, his teeth shone white. He lowered his hand, clutching the slipper tightly, and instead of running off, he called into the house in an unhurried, clear voice, “Auntie Li, my master sent me here. Last time you asked him to solve your problem, but you haven’t paid him yet. I’ve come down the mountain to collect the debt and buy some daily necessities.”

His voice rang out bright and strong. The moment he mentioned collecting a debt, there was a clatter as a bucket inside toppled over. Zhang Shouzheng poked his head through the window to see what was happening.

It was a crude public bathhouse. Plastic sheeting, milky and translucent, served as partitions, through which the silhouette of a woman hurriedly dressing could be seen. There was also the faint outline of a man standing nearby. Obscured by the plastic, only his masculine figure was discernible. Seeing this, the boy suddenly shivered.

Though the man’s face was hidden, there was something oddly familiar about him. He stood there, eyes cold and intense, staring straight at Zhang Shouzheng through the water-speckled plastic. The boy’s skin prickled with goosebumps. Without hesitation, he withdrew his head, thinking perhaps Auntie Li and this man were engaged in some private affair and he’d interrupted them, which explained the man’s resentment. He chuckled at the thought and decided to wait patiently outside.

It was the height of summer. Though a downpour had just passed, the sun now blazed and cicadas shrilled. Sweat pearled on the boy’s brow. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing skinny arms, while a faint mist rose from his damp robe.

Yet after a while, Auntie Li still hadn’t come out. The house was quiet, save for the slow, rhythmic drip of a leaky tap echoing in the still air.

Zhang Shouzheng thought for a moment; the man must have left. After some hesitation, he stepped inside the bathhouse. It was empty—there was no one, not even Auntie Li.

He pouted, gripped the slipper tightly, and hurried out the back door to give chase. His master had made it clear: this trip down the mountain, he must collect the payment. Their supplies were nearly depleted; purchases had to be made. Even those who cultivated the Dao could not escape the need for worldly goods if they had not yet reached a certain state.

An orphan, Zhang Shouzheng had been found by his master and taken in. The only crumbling Daoist temple on the mountain had become his home.

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Hulu Village was the only settlement at the foot of Qinglong Mountain. Its name came from the village’s shape, which resembled a gourd. Though transportation was inconvenient, the village was unusually populous for such a remote place, home to over a hundred families—a rarity in these mountains.

The reason for such numbers, despite its isolation, was the village’s auspicious feng shui. Anyone who left Hulu Village seemed destined for fortune, whether in government or business; villagers flourished wherever they went. Yet development was difficult—life here lagged decades behind the outside world.

Zhang Shouzheng was swift on his feet. Behind the mud-brick house lay a vegetable garden, one side shaded by a trellis already overgrown with sponge gourd vines and dangling with tender gourds.

A mud-brick wall surrounded the plot. A woman in a red blouse was scurrying across the garden, her rounded hips swaying in haste as she made for the far side of the wall. Zhang Shouzheng called out, “Auntie Li, slow down! My master asked me to remind you: beware of bloodshed in the coming days!”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the woman twisted her ankle and fell flat on her face, arms and legs splayed, motionless. The porcelain basin she carried rolled aside, scattering clothes across the ground.

Zhang Shouzheng hurried over in a few strides, but the woman did not move. He poked her gently and asked in a low voice, “Auntie Li, are you alright?”

Still, she said nothing. Zhang Shouzheng crouched beside her, gathering up the scattered laundry, and waited quietly.

After a while, the heat forced her to push herself up. There was a bruise on her forehead, her face streaked with dust. Scowling, she smacked Zhang Shouzheng on the head, feigning anger. “You jinx, you! Didn’t we agree you’d come for the money in half a month?”

Zhang Shouzheng grinned. “It’s already been half a month.”

“So soon? My husband hasn’t come home yet, and I don’t have any money. If you really need it, I’ll borrow some from the village chief. Come with me.”

The village chief’s house was at the entrance to Hulu Village, which was nestled deep within the mountains, accessible only by winding trails. Villagers survived through their own labor. Auntie Li’s husband often worked at construction sites in Shui Town—the longer he was away, the more work and money he brought back.

All along the way, Auntie Li chatted about her husband, beaming as she patted Zhang Shouzheng’s thin shoulder. “Shouzheng, your master’s fortune-telling has already come true twice, but there’s one thing…” Her face suddenly darkened, and she squeezed his shoulder. “There’s one prediction that hasn’t come to pass yet. Maybe something really is wrong? Sometimes your master’s words aren’t so accurate.”

Zhang Shouzheng stopped and looked at her, his expression growing serious. “Auntie Li, as long as you do as my master instructed, nothing will happen.”

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His words made her even more uneasy. She bit her lip, trembling, and fished a few crumpled bills from her pocket, her breath labored as she pleaded, “I already told my husband to hurry home within ten days. He said the site is short-handed—he can earn dozens of yuan a day. He promised just three more days’ work and then he’d come back. Now it’s been one day late. Shouzheng, if anything happens to him, you must help us.”

Zhang Shouzheng was taken aback. He looked at her again, as if making a grave decision, and said, “Auntie Li, I fear this is already too late and beyond my abilities. At first I thought what I saw in the bathhouse was just a coincidence, but now I’m sure. My master’s skills in divination may be limited, but he’s usually accurate with minor matters, and he’s always careful with the important ones.”

Auntie Li clutched her chest, spat on the ground, and scolded, “What did you see? Did you really get a good look at me in there, you little rascal?”

Zhang Shouzheng shook his head, his eyes narrowing. “I saw the shadow of a man standing beside you. The plastic sheet blocked my view, so I couldn’t see his face. Since you say Uncle Shengcai hasn’t come home yet, it’s likely that shadow was just a wandering spirit—possibly even Uncle Shengcai’s own soul. Of course, it’s only a possibility, but I do have my doubts…”

He scratched his loose topknot again, oblivious as the wooden hairpin nearly fell out.

Auntie Li, terrified, burst into tears and collapsed, clinging to his Daoist robe.

Flustered, Zhang Shouzheng helped her up, blushing. “I’m not sure yet. Uncle Shengcai may not be dead—perhaps his soul has merely wandered. Sometimes, when the soul leaves the body, a person can see their own spirit. If they’re lucky, it just means a serious illness.”

A soul’s departure generally meant the body was so weakened it was near death, but the spirit rarely strayed far and could easily return if not too much time passed. If delayed, however, reunion became difficult.

At first, he’d thought the shadow might be a stranger, but recalling the chill that ran through him, he realized only things not of this world could cause such a sensation.

“Not dead? That’s wonderful! Shouzheng, if you can help me this time, I’ll let you look as much as you want!”

Auntie Li sprang up, smoothing her damp hair, her bright eyes darting as she spoke to the young Daoist.

But Zhang Shouzheng didn’t even register her words, otherwise his face would have reddened again. He was lost in thought, muttering to himself, “My master said souls don’t leave the body easily. Only when a person is utterly exhausted, at death’s door, does it happen. Uncle Shengcai was always strong—this must mean he’s in grave danger!”