Chapter 82: The Seventh Day (Part 1 of 2)

Jiang Shiyu's phone call pulled me back from my haze of thoughts. That's right—Liu Ruoyi had her own path to follow, and since my lifespan had already been punished, there was no use wallowing in sorrow. What's more, Night Wanderer's cryptic message about the "Nine Dragons Gate" might still offer a sliver of hope.

"Alright. Where are we meeting tomorrow?" I asked.

"I'll come get you at six in the morning. We'll head straight to the columbarium to burn paper offerings," Jiang Shiyu replied softly.

Her tone said more than her words. I had a pretty good idea where she stood emotionally, but with my future so uncertain—and my mind still reeling from Liu Ruoyi—I figured it was better to play dumb. After all, after tomorrow, we'd likely part ways for good.

There's an old saying: The hardest thing to bear is a beauty's favor.It turns out I was facing that exact situation. I could clearly see Jiang Shiyu's feelings toward me, but… love is complicated.

And I'm stubborn by nature. Helping Liu Ruoyi was never about rekindling anything—it was to tie off my own emotional loose ends. Now that she's safe, I just wanted to see her one last time and bring closure to the past.

So when Jiang Shiyu picked me up the next morning, I avoided eye contact and steered our conversation away from anything too sensitive. What Liu Ruoyi had cried and begged me to do really stuck with me, and today, I wanted to set things straight face-to-face.Back then, I didn't go to college because I couldn't afford it. I felt ashamed, unworthy. And around that same time, I'd begun studying feng shui with my grandfather up in the mountains, so I never returned.

When we arrived at the crematorium, the gate outside was packed with all kinds of vehicles. People in the Northeast value ceremony—doesn't matter where you are. Whether it's a memorial on the seventh day or the one-year anniversary, it's always a whole parade of cars. And here, the three classmates of mine had all died on the same day.

According to tradition, the seventh day is when the deceased returns home for one last look before being escorted to the underworld by spirit messengers. Families usually prepare paper horses, effigies, and ghost money. Judging by the sheer number of offerings, it was clear the families hoped their kids could live comfortably in the afterlife.

But because my classmates had been mauled to death by a weasel spirit—a violent death—their ashes had to be kept above ground for three years before burial. In feng shui, this is done to prevent harm to the ancestral home's fortune.

There were lots of people paying respects. I looked around—most of our classmates had come. But there was no sign of Cui Hai or Liu Ruoyi. As the families began sobbing in grief, Zhou Han whispered next to me:

"Man, some people just get away with everything. This was all Cui Hai's doing, and yet he's totally fine in the end."

Zhou Han was known for being blunt. His family had some clout, so he was the only one who dared talk about Cui Hai so openly.

Another classmate chimed in, "Yeah, totally. Cui Hai was the one who killed the weasel. He even ate it. Guangbin, Jianhua, and Wang Yu just joined in the fun—and they were the ones who ended up dead. That's just wrong."

Someone else added, "I saw Cui Hai yesterday. He had a whole truckload of Buddha statues delivered to his house. I heard he's planning to build a temple in Sujiatun. Apparently, some monk gave him divine guidance and saved his life."

Then he looked at me and asked, "Zhang Dabao, you were with Cui Hai that day, right? What really happened? Tell us."

"Yeah, we saw you talking to that weasel spirit in the mountains. Everyone was seriously impressed," Zhou Han added, staring at me intently.

I couldn't reveal the truth behind Cui Hai's survival—it wasn't my place. I could only say it was fate, or perhaps some karmic reward from his ancestors. After all, how else would someone like Yicheng insist on protecting him?

I glanced at the mourning families and then back at our classmates. "Do you guys believe in karma?"

"Karma? Cui Hai looks fine to me," someone muttered under their breath.

I chuckled. "Anyone feeling brave? Want to see something spooky?"

That got Zhou Han and four others excited immediately.Jiang Shiyu whispered, asking what I was up to, but I didn't answer. I pulled the five aside and explained my plan in hushed tones.

Zhou Han blinked. "Come on, Dabao. You're messing with us, right?"

"You'll see. I know this crematorium well. The paper burning won't start for a while. Head over to the boiler room—everything we need is there."

Driven by curiosity, they rushed over and came back five minutes later, each carrying a small stool and one worn-out monkey-performance gong.

In front of the gathering crowd, I had them set up the stools beneath three paper horses. The families were still chanting with the yin-yang priest, too focused to notice us. I grabbed a handful of ashes near the furnace and scattered them where needed, then had each of the five cover their seats with yellow talisman paper.

"When the priest shouts 'Send them off,' bang the gong," I instructed. "He'll say it three times. First time, hit it three times. Second, two times. Third, once. Then throw the gong on the ground."

"That's it?" Zhou Han blinked.

"Just follow my lead," I said.

The ceremony began shortly after. As the priest sang in a thick Shaanxi-style wail, his voice echoed: "Send them off!"

Clang clang clang!Zhou Han struck the gong three times.

All eyes turned toward us. But since it was a critical part of the ritual, no one said anything yet...