Chapter 36

The motorcycle roared as it sped down the street, drifting to a stop in front of the City God Temple, the tires screeching sharply against the pavement.

Zhu Yinxiao laughed heartily as he took off his helmet. "So, how was it? Exciting, wasn’t it?"

“This is a no-parking zone. If you park here again, I’ll fine you.” Wubi You jumped down from the back seat of the car. “Next time, please change the color of your ride, thanks. You’ve embarrassed the entire Zhuzi Seven families.”

An Ping sat on the doorstep, watching Zhu Yinxiao and Wubi You walk one after the other. Zhu Yinxiao loved cruising; during the first month of the lunar year, he went out racing almost every day. Sometimes he even helped Wubi You deliver urgent orders, though he was no stranger to speeding tickets.

A few days ago, An Ping went home and saw a streak of red light speeding across the street, followed by a long line of traffic police motorcycles and patrol cars. The officers were shouting through megaphones. The strangest part was that behind the entire convoy was an electric city management vehicle playing “Happy Birthday” amid the rising and falling sirens.

At first, An Ping thought it was the police chasing a thief and even took photos to post on social media. But when he returned to the Chenghuang Temple, he found only Mu Gesheng there. “Old Wu got caught racing,” he said, lying in the yard soaking up the sun, lazily adding, “Went to the station to bail him out in the dead of winter.”

After a while, Chai Suxin called, "Come over and talk." The other side paused, then said, "I can't explain it clearly; they all think Lao Wu is a girl."

Mu Gesheng’s expression seemed as if he had anticipated this, stifling a laugh while forcing a concerned tone: "Ah? Are you okay then?"

"..." Silence on the phone for a moment, "I don’t even know what happened. Now they think I’m involved in human trafficking."

"Looks like you might have to come over and bail the two of us out."

Mu Gesheng laughed himself silly, and in the end went to the police station to pick the person up. When he came in, Chai Suxin was holding a cage with a flashy big bird inside. An Ping was curious about why they had gone to the flower and bird market again, when the other spoke up: "Brother, I was wrong, I’ll dare to do it again next time."

An Ping was startled—the bird was actually Zhu Yinxiao’s true form, albeit a smaller version. It was said that Chai Suxin had bought a hamster cage by the roadside and somehow managed to stuff him inside.

Mu Gesheng chuckled as he hung the cage from the eaves, “It’s fine, I’ll let you out tomorrow morning.”

Chai Suxin, however, remained calm, but that night he prepared a whole chicken feast, carrying a knife to the yard to slaughter and pluck the chickens. The chickens’ cries of misery rang out one after another. An Ping and Mu Gesheng sat in the corridor playing chess, the cage hanging in midair, where Zhu Yinxiao nestled his head in his feathers, curled up like a quail.

The next morning, Anping was woken up by the crowing. When he went downstairs, he found Wubi standing under the cage, arguing with Zhu Yinxiao. "Zhu Yinxiao, are you trying to die? You're a Vermilion Bird, not a rooster!"

"Let me out quickly," Zhu Yinxiao croaked in a falsetto, mimicking a female voice, "Not a rooster, a hen works too."

In the end, Muge Sheng, who had been woken from a late sleep, grabbed the cage and threw him outside. When Anping and Wubi went out to look, he was nowhere to be found. The two of them wandered around the temple fair for a long time before finally spotting him at a rabbit stall.

Zhu Yinxiao looked quite spirited, stretching his neck proudly and attracting a crowd of children. Anping watched in disbelief. "He got thrown out, can't he just change back on his own?"

“The curse under the Rakshasa, this damn thing can’t be undone.” Wubi’s face was as black as the bottom of a pot as he went to haggle with the boss. “You’re selling one chicken for five hundred? Why don’t you just go rob someone then?”

The boss argued confidently, “What does a kid like you know? This is a hybrid chicken breed. Look at its plumage, isn’t it magnificent!”

Anping: "......"

In the end, Wubi went back to get the urban management permit, and along with it, the entire stall was confiscated. The two of them dragged a big cart full of rabbits, goldfish, and chickens back to the City God Temple, only to find Zhu Yinxiao having breakfast with Mu Gesheng. When the other saw Wubi, he burst out laughing and pulled him close. “Come on, come on, which chicken did you mistake for me this time, man?”

Wubi nearly died of frustration from this guy.

But the type who actively admits their mistakes yet stubbornly refuses to change is probably someone like Zhu Yinxiao. This guy is a hardcore motorcycle enthusiast, speeding every day with the throttle wide open. A long-legged beauty paired with a motorcycle—Anping’s social circle has recently been flooded with candid shots of him. Even his deskmate sent him a message, “Got the delivery membership sorted, I don’t believe it—dude, I order four meals a day, just waiting for the girl to bring me food!”

Anping couldn’t bear to burst this guy’s romantic bubble, so he begged Zhu Yinxiao to deliver once for him. That night, his WeChat was flooded with messages, all his deskmate’s wails and cries, like Wang Baochuan who had waited eighteen years in a cold chamber finally reunited with Xue Pinggui.

But as Wubi said, Zhu Yinxiao’s riding skills are top-notch, and his fashion sense is excellent; however, his taste in motorcycles is probably worth only half a cent—this guy painted his bike bright red, adorned with a chaotic mix of colors, making it look like My Little Pony riding a rainbow cloud when it zooms by. Anping looked at it from every angle, feeling the color scheme was very familiar, and then suddenly remembered—it was strikingly similar to the scruffy chicken before Zhuque transformed.

Who would have thought, this cross-dressing big shot still has quite a childlike heart.

Zhu Yinxiao had stayed for half a month, and now it was the fifteenth day of the first lunar month.

A few days ago, Mu Gesheng would invite people to play mahjong whether he had something to do or not. Those old rascals had all become crafty, not one of them was easy to deal with. Wubi and Anping lost so badly that even Zhu Yinxiao couldn’t handle it. This morning, the two of them ran out early and only returned in the afternoon. “How did the game go today, gentlemen?” Zhu Yinxiao swung his car keys. “Did you break even?”

“Not playing today.” Anping sat on the doorstep without looking up. “Doing homework.”

Anping had been brought to the mahjong table by his mother since he was a child. Usually, during the New Year, he would play a few rounds with his distant relatives, but this was the first time in his life he had lost so badly. He was truly at a loss; only when he held a five-three did Mu Gesheng keep his distance from him.

“Then let's not go in either.” Zhu Yinxiao saw the situation and called to Wubi You, “There’s one missing inside now; whoever goes in is out of luck.”

“Today’s the Lantern Festival, and the Rakshasa will be making tangyuan after noon, so the old bastard can’t open the card table.” Wubi You snorted and went into the temple by himself. “I’m off. You two can stay here and cool off.”

“Alright, then please go ahead.” Zhu Yinxiao didn’t stop him and sat down beside Anping, slipping off her high heels. “I heard from Old Fourth that you’re the class monitor? Still doing homework during the holidays, that’s some dedication.”

The City God Temple was full of half-immortals, but among those with formal education, one had only graduated kindergarten and another had repeated a grade three times. Anping didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

"Just chatting, man, don’t be so stiff." Zhu Yinxiao seemed to read his thoughts and smiled, "Although I never really went to school properly, my relatives know the God of Literature. When you take the college entrance exam, come find me, and I’ll have him help you become the top scorer."

Well, that’s quite a flashy move. An Ping couldn’t believe it and asked, "Then how come that half-immortal repeated a grade for three years?"

"The Fourth Brother once had a quarrel with the God of Literature. The deity didn’t win the argument and secretly sentenced him to ten years without passing." Zhu Yinxiao said, "But it was all just a joke. Anyway, the Fourth Brother wouldn’t study seriously, so it was just going with the flow."

Ten years without passing—so that means Mu Gesheng would have to keep repeating grades. If this went on forever, it wouldn’t be a school legend anymore; it would be a myth.

Zhu Yinxiao shifted the topic: "But among the Seven Masters, there are still some outstanding students."

"I know," An Ping said, working through a problem. "Half-Xian’er studied abroad back in the day, but that was many years ago." Does academic qualification have an expiration date? If not, then how do we account for someone like Mu Gesheng, who’s old but still kicking?

"I'm not talking about the Fourth Brother, I mean my elder brother," Zhu Yinxiao waved his hand. "The Fourth Brother has a poor memory; he’s forgotten most of what he learned back then. My brother is different—if you have any questions you can’t solve, you can ask him."

An Ping was momentarily stunned, realizing he was talking about Chai Suxin.

Back then at the Ginkgo Study, Chai Shuxin had not formally become a disciple under the head of the Ginkgo Study, so no one ranked him. Zhu Yinxiao called Mu Gesheng the fourth elder but referred to Chai Shuxin as his elder brother; the tangled hierarchy was a confusing mess.

“Ling Shuzi went to school?”

“Around the late 1940s, my brother went abroad.” Zhu Yinxiao counted on his fingers, “America, Britain, the Soviet Union... I remember he had a whole stack of diplomas.”

Anping listened in a daze, overwhelmed—these were all events beyond the scope of his dreams.

“I can’t make sense of this question either,” Zhu Yinxiao leaned over to look at his chemistry test, “But my brother studied Western medicine back then, maybe he’ll understand.”

Makes sense. An Ping decisively stood up, “Where’s the guy?”

“Problem.”

Chai Suxin was kneading dough in the kitchen, with dried osmanthus and salted egg yolks on the stove. Today was the Lantern Festival, and they were going to make sweet fermented rice balls for the evening.

Anping explained his purpose, looking at him somewhat anxiously. "What do you think...?"

Chai Suxin didn’t say much. After washing his hands, he took the book from him. "Do you have paper and pen?"

"Huh?" Anping was momentarily stunned, then realized. "Yes, yes, I do!"

He quickly handed over some scratch paper and a pen. Chai Suxin glanced at the problem. "Your approach is too complicated." Saying that, he wrote a few lines of formulas on the paper.

Chai Suxin spoke very slowly, breaking down the key points in great detail. He seemed very familiar with the knowledge range of high school students, explaining things simply and clearly. An Ping understood quickly—he was almost ready to kneel down and worship the top student. After traveling far and wide, it turned out the expert was right beside him.

An Ping even began to consider whether he could have Chai Suxin tutor him for a few lessons; the price was negotiable.

Chai Suxin explained a few difficult problems to him, and An Ping wanted to keep asking questions, but the book was set aside by the other.

“Balance work and rest,” Chai Suxin said, handing him a few chestnuts. “Today’s a holiday.”

As a high school student deeply tormented by academic pressure, An Ping almost cried upon hearing this. He held the chestnuts and went to find Wubi You, who looked at him as if hearing a joke. "What? You asked Luocha Zi to explain the problems to you?"

"So what?" An Ping was baffled. "He explains them very well."

"You're just talking nonsense." Wubi You sneered, chewing on a chestnut and mumbling indistinctly, "A few years ago when the old man first woke up, it was Luocha Zi who tutored him. And what happened? I know he failed every year."

Anping: "......"

Wubi You handed the chestnut shell back to An Ping, patted his shoulder with a mock solemnity, and said like an old man, "The sea of learning is boundless; turn back and you'll find the shore."

What you say is true, but going back to kindergarten—isn’t that a bit too early to have an awakening?

That night, Chai Shuxin handed out tangyuan to everyone. Zhu Yinxiao almost scooped half a jar of honey into his bowl. An Ping watched in amazement, wondering if Zhuque might get cavities.

“Then we’re off.” Wubi gulped down the tangyuan in one go and pulled An Ping along as they headed out. Tonight, they were going to the ghost market.

Chai Shuxin reminded Zhu Yinxiao, “Be careful, don’t act rashly.”

"Fighting is fine," Mu Gesheng said lazily. "If you lose, don't come back."

Zhu Yinxiao laughed and replied, "Got it, don’t worry, you two."

The three of them went to Yeshui Zhuhua. Wubi swiped to open the elevator, which went straight down to the eighteenth basement level. A revolving lantern was lit inside the elevator, casting flickering shadows that seemed to dance around.

Anping had imagined the view outside the elevator. He had thought it would be like when Mu Gesheng and the others came years ago, near the banks of the Wangchuan River or the Ghost Gate Pass. But the moment the elevator doors opened, he was completely stunned. Instead of the sound of water, what reached his ears was the bus stop announcement after the brakes had been applied.

"Sanshengfang has arrived. Passengers who need to disembark, please prepare your belongings in advance..."

Zhu Yinxiao tore open a lollipop, popped it into his mouth, and smiled back at him, "Welcome to Fengdu of the twenty-first century."

This was a vast station, with a glass ceiling adorned with flying eaves and dougong brackets, supported below by vermilion pillars. Pedestrians came and went in an endless stream. The entire station was divided into three levels: suspended above were bronze tracks with sky trains, the middle housed an elevated bus station, and the ground floor was filled with rickshaws. Rickshaw drivers wearing melon-seed hats gathered in small groups, white towels draped over their shoulders, puffing on slender water pipes.

Anping noticed they had emerged from a massive mural carved onto a circular wall pillar at the station’s center, resembling an elevator shaft reaching skyward. The wall depicted a bewitching woman dancing, draped in jeweled ornaments and holding a bell pestle. One of the figures caught Anping’s gaze, her eyes flickering with a suggestive smile directed at him.

“This is the Sixteen Heavenly Demon Dance,” Zhu Yinxiao explained to him. “This elevator is the new Yin-Yang Ladder. The old one was used for thousands of years but had some issues last century and was sealed off. The Ten Kings of Hell built this new one here and stationed the Demoness to guard it, just in case of any trouble.”

“Stop babbling, it’s annoying. Let’s go,” Wubi said impatiently. “The ghost market is about to open.”

Fengdu Station was very close to Sansheng Lane, almost right next to the ghost market. As soon as the three stepped out of the station, Anping was immediately overwhelmed by the vast sea of lights—colorful lanterns hung high, brilliant neon lights everywhere, magnificent ships docked by the banks of the Wangchuan River. The light filtered through yellow cotton window paper, casting the faint profile of a woman bowing her head slightly. From the water came the clang of cymbals and gongs signaling the start of an opera.

This place was vastly different from the Fengdu Anping remembered, like a grand shadow puppet stage built from brass and steel, telling an old story through electronics and machinery, filled with a strange and dazzling vitality.

Anping followed onto the big boat and only then realized that the bustling market, once crowded with boats, had all been moved onto a single vessel. The cries of vendors hawking their wares rose and fell in waves. "The shops with lanterns lit are the old establishments. Make sure to note the colors before you go in," Wubi You threw out hurriedly before running off. "If anything happens, I’m not responsible."

Anping watched Wubi You’s frantic retreating figure. "What’s he in such a rush for?"

“There’s a concert tonight on the top floor by the Ghost Three Princesses,” Zhu Yinxiao shrugged. “He’s the head of the fan club.”

Weren’t we supposed to go clubbing? Anping was speechless. Zhu Yinxiao seemed to read his thoughts, casually looping an arm around him as they headed upstairs. “The clubbing’s later, after midnight. The Ghost Three Princesses’ concert ends at midnight, and then they’ll release lanterns. It’s really beautiful.”

“So what do we do now?”

“I’ve reserved a good spot to watch the lanterns at the teahouse. Let’s listen to some storytelling first. Tonight’s tale is from *The Record of Illuminated Elegance*, and there’s a chapter called *The Youth’s Journey*—you’ll definitely like it.”

Anping followed Zhu Yinxiao into a teahouse. Though called a teahouse, it actually spanned three full floors. The coffered ceiling was gilded and painted in vibrant colors, and elegant bamboo blinds hung all around. The ground floor was filled with casual guests, every seat taken, yet the room was incredibly quiet, broken only by the soft rustle of strings being plucked.

Zhu Yinxiao had reserved a private room, where the scent of tea lingered in the air. Anping lifted the bamboo curtain, and the storyteller’s voice drifted from afar—deep, husky, and lingering.

"Kings rise and fall through the ages, fortunes won and lost in an instant,

Dragons clash with tigers, indifferent to romance.

Today we revisit tales of love and intrigue, to ease idle sorrows,

Let us watch the young riders and horses, listening to the rain at the song pavilion—"

The wooden block struck once, as if startling a bird from the table, fluttering across the air and sending ripples through the tea cup.

“Legend has it that nearly a hundred years ago, a young man wielding a sword broke into the gates of the underworld, rampaging through the ghost market, running gambling dens, draining the pockets of a hundred spirits, causing chaos in Fengdu…”

Anping listened, feeling a sense of familiarity. After a moment, he suddenly realized this was the story of Mu Gesheng and Song Wentong from years ago. Though aliases were used, he could tell.

That year, Mu Gesheng and his group came to Fengdu searching for the lost Zhu Yinxiao. Mu Gesheng bought a mask by the water’s edge to avoid suspicion—his first time entering Fengdu, he started gambling in the ghost market, nearly winning half the ghost city, and in doing so, offended half the people of Fengdu. In the end, he was wanted throughout the city and even received punishment from the Yin Law Department.

The storyteller’s voice was murmuring softly, as if he saw a figure calmly take a seat under the watchful eyes of the crowd, pressing a vermilion long knife against the gambling table. He laughed heartily, drank and sang loudly, spending fortunes recklessly, his brows and eyes radiating the wild, dazzling charm unique to youth.

You were once a wayward traveler, how could time be so cruel.

"The 'Record of Illuminated Elegance' is an ancient manuscript that has circulated in Fengdu for a thousand years, passed down orally from storyteller to storyteller, with each generation adding their own notes. 'The Youth’s Journey' is a story written by the previous generation of storytellers; it’s still recent, not yet old, and many people love to hear it."

Zhu Yinxiao took a sip of tea. "This story is not short. Today, I’ll probably only tell the first act. There’s quite a bit of fanciful embellishment, so those who know the truth might find it amusing."

He laughed to himself as he spoke, "It's quite amusing, really."

The storyteller’s tone turned playful as he recounted how Muge Sheng and Song Wentong quarreled endlessly over pawning the Red Tongue Knife—pure fabrication, of course. As Anping knew, when Muge Sheng wanted the knife, Song Wentong didn’t even bat an eye; the two were partners in crime from the start.

But the storyteller made it entertaining, with Muge Sheng playing the victim, claiming he had a love match, mutual affection, but the other party was now trapped in a difficult situation, forcing him to try his luck at the Ghost Market. His tale was pitiful, woeful, and full of grievance—he really captured the shameless spirit of a real scoundrel.

Zhu Yinxiao and Anping both laughed heartily. Amid their laughter, Zhu Yinxiao suddenly said, “Do you know who the real-life inspiration is for the Fourth Brother’s betrothed in this story?”

Anping choked on a mouthful of tea, "There's even a prototype for this?"

Zhu Yinxiao deliberately lowered his voice mysteriously: "It's the third brother." ?!?! Anping dropped the teacup in his hand onto the floor. What the hell?

Damn. His first thought was nothing else—could Wubi really be the son of Muge Sheng and Wu Zixu?