That alley wasn't a dead end. Anyone living in Hezhou knew there was a path behind it that led straight to Shanniu Slope outside the city.
And what was Shanniu Slope? That was the city's burial ground—the place where they laid the dead to rest.
The old man was dressed in a new brown set of clothes, but the hems of his trousers, the ends of his sleeves, and his cuffs were all caked with yellow mud.
Old Master Yu instinctively stepped back, pressing himself flat against the wall. The slight noise caught the old man's attention. He slowly, stiffly turned his head to look at Old Master Yu.
His neck made a creak-creak sound.
By the faint moonlight, Old Master Yu made out the old man's face—his eyes nearly bulged out of his head, his expression twisted in terror, and his whole body began to tremble violently.
The old man had a pale face, bright red lips, two heavy bluish-black eye bags, and a head of dry, messy white hair.
The old man grinned at Old Master Yu, his voice hoarse, like a broken brass bell with air leaking through: "Brother, you're out for a stroll too, eh? Cough, cough … It's nice and cool out here!"
Old Master Yu: "…"
What does he mean by 'out here'? Is it what I'm thinking?
Old Master Yu couldn't speak anymore. His expression was indescribable—somewhere between crying and panicking. But then, the next moment, he saw something that made his head explode, his legs tremble violently, his lower abdomen clench—and he actually peed himself.
The old man grinned wide, and a stream of red liquid oozed from the corner of his mouth, soon staining the little white beard on his chin, then dripping down from the beard tips.
As if savoring some delicacy, the old man stuck out his crimson tongue and licked his lips, then wiped his mouth haphazardly with his wrinkled old hand and said to Old Master Yu: "Heh heh … I just had a little something to eat."
Old Master Yu: "…"
In extreme terror, people lose the ability to speak. Old Master Yu was utterly speechless, his lips quivering. It felt as if that dripping blood had fallen not just to the ground but right onto his heart, flipping a switch. His heart began pounding wildly, his mind went blank, his breathing came in gasps, and his limbs went weak and limp.
The old man looked up, saw that the hour was getting late, and said: "Today's my seventh day, so I need to get back and check on my fulang. Can't stay and chat with you."
Old Master Yu: "…"
He pressed tight against the wall, trembling nonstop, holding on by just a thread. But the old man's next words cut that thread entirely.
The old man said: "Meeting's fate—I'll remember you. I'll come find you next time!"
Old Master Yu: "…"
The old man, leaning on his cane with his back hunched, coughed twice—sounding like he might cough up a lung—and shuffled slowly away.
Old Master Yu's whole body seemed frozen stiff. Only when the old man was far off did his heart drop back into place. He wanted to bolt home, but his legs felt like they were weighed down with lead—heavy as a thousand catties—and simply wouldn't move.
What do I do?! There's a ghost! That thing is terrifying—it's going to scare me to death!
He was so panic-stricken he just wanted to run home to his mother—when suddenly, another noise came from that little alley.
Old Master Yu froze, teeth chattering, stiffly turning his head to look. A young man with messy stubble, nose hairs hanging down to his chin, and eyes big as gongs, was dragging a child by the ankle out of the alley.
Old Master Yu's breath caught—he nearly passed out again.
The child was being dragged on the ground, his face covered in scrapes, white, glistening intestines hanging out from under his clothes, trailing on the ground. And something seemed off—it looked like part of the intestines had been bitten off. As they passed by, Old Master Yu didn't dare breathe, terrified of drawing attention. He pressed himself flat against the wall, his face pale as paper, his legs trembling so violently they were practically a blur.
But the child noticed him anyway. Slowly, weakly, he reached out a hand and said in a barely audible whisper: "Help… help me!!"
"Hehehe." The young man let out a sinister laugh: "Little kids' intestines are so tender—the tastiest. Mm, so fragrant."
"No, no, don't—don't eat my intestines, there's too many, it hurts so much, please, I'm begging you!"
"But I'm still so hungry …"
When Old Master Yu saw that young man turn his gaze toward him, his mind went blank—boom. One thing after another—he finally couldn't take it anymore. His breath stopped, his eyes rolled back, and he fainted.
The little kid jumped up, grabbed the skateboard he'd been lying on, his intestines still dragging on the ground, took a close look at Old Master Yu, then turned back happily and said: "Daddy, he passed out!"
Zhao Ger came over for a look—sure enough, the man was out cold, lying in a puddle of his own urine, completely dead to the world. Guaizai exchanged look with him, and they both found the whole prank absolutely hilarious and started giggling.
"Let's go! Find your father, and bring those pig intestines along too. We can wash them up at home and still eat them!"
"Okay!"
Fang Zichen was waiting for them at the street corner. When he saw them coming, he asked: "What about that old bastard?"
"Passed out," Zhao Ger replied with a smile.
Guaizai tucked his skateboard under his arm, hopped and skipped over, and grabbed Fang Zichen's hand: "Father, this is 'fighting fire with fire,' right?"
"Exactly."
"Tonight was so much fun! That old man even peed his pants, hehehe."
Fang Zichen put his hands on his hips: "That old coot—coward's got guts smaller than a mouse. No skills at all and he still dared to come out playing ghost tricks. But now that I've made a move, he got scared silly!"
"Right!" Guaizai was over the moon—he was still too excited to sleep when they got home.
He felt like it was all a game, and his daddy and father had played along with him—he was absolutely delighted.
The next morning, when Feng momo arrived outside the shop, she saw a crowd gathered at the door. She squeezed in and heard that a "ghost" had fainted right in front of their shop.
Now, seeing Old Master Yu in that state, who couldn't figure it out?
A man had come out to buy buns earlier, saw him lying there in white clothes, and—thinking of the ghost stories that had been spreading like wildfire—got scared out of his wits. But it was broad daylight, and with more guts and plenty of people on the street, he mustered up the courage to take a closer look. He pushed aside the ghost's messy hair—and wasn't this Old Master Yu?
Why was Old Master Yu lying here, and in that outfit…
"That shop over there—that's Old Master Yu's, isn't it?" someone pointed across the street.
Before the roast duck shop opened, people used to buy cooked dishes from Old Master Yu's place to take home. Nobody was stupid—by now, everyone understood.
When Old Master Yu woke up, he seemed unhinged, shouting in panic: "A ghost! There's a ghost!"
And he was still trying to scare people at a time like this—damn it all.
Once everyone realized it had all been a "misunderstanding" and that the roast duck shop wasn't haunted by anything unclean, they started coming back to buy again.
After a few days without it—gotta say, they'd really missed it.
Old Master Yu ended up laid up at home for days. At first he was out of it, so the family called in Taoist priests to do rituals. Later, they called a physician.
Was he sick?
Nope—he got beaten up by Lao Qian's men.
Lao Qian had been so frightened earlier that he'd actually fallen ill, insisting he'd seen a ghost. Nobody believed him—they just laughed it off as too much drinking. Later, when more people started seeing ghosts, they stopped making fun of him. But between getting mocked and being sick, once Lao Qian found out it was all Old Master Yu's doing, he couldn't swallow that anger! He led his men straight to the Yu residence, gave Old Master Yu a good thrashing, and swaggered off.
Zhao Ger had been so distracted he couldn't focus on work these past few days, constantly asking around about Old Master Yu. Hearing that he kept getting into trouble, got beaten up again, and even lost a tooth—Zhao Ger was cackling with glee inside.
But after the laughter faded, Zhao Ger felt a sudden sweetness he couldn't quite put into words.
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