The crouching old man slowly straightened up. As he stood tall, Li Juxiang suddenly felt that his back didn’t seem as hunched as before.
“Hey?”
The old man patted his waist and thought to himself that Granny Liu really was something. They hadn’t even spoken properly yet—he had just stepped through her door—and already his body felt looser.
He didn’t linger and walked straight inside.
“Cuihou, you and Little Yuanhou go finish your meal.”
After giving her orders, she followed them into the inner room. Liu Jinxia’s eyesight was poor, and she needed to be present to help record the discussion.
“Brother Yuanhou, shall we go back and finish eating?”
“Okay.”
Li Zhuiyuan responded. Though the discomfort in his body hadn’t completely subsided, he still tried to take a step forward.
With the first step, he felt that the cool sensation brushing over his head slowed in rhythm. The icy touch against his left cheek also began to fade.But with the second step, he suddenly realized the chill hadn’t vanished. The coldness returned to his left cheek, and now his right shoulder felt like a block of ice was pressing down on it.
By the third step, the chill vanished from his left cheek again—only to shift to his left shoulder, while the right shoulder remained just as cold.
When he moved for the fourth step—before his foot even landed—the freezing sensation in both shoulders intensified dramatically.
“Hoo…”
Li Zhuiyuan trembled as he took a deep breath and slowly drew his foot back. The chill in his shoulders returned to its earlier, more bearable state.
He couldn’t see anything, but he could imagine it vividly: just a moment ago, there had been an old woman squatting in front of him. Her right hand had rested on his left cheek, her left hand brushing over his head as she whispered:
“This little lad is such a sweet one.”
As he stepped forward, she must have shifted her posture too, letting both hands slide down to his shoulders to brace herself.
If he kept walking forward, she would have clambered up—
She wanted him to carry her!
…
The shaded room on the first floor was Liu Jinxia’s office.
The room was large, yet the moment one entered, it felt oppressively cramped.
Wooden crates were stacked high, taking up seventy to eighty percent of the space. Inside each one were all sorts of ritual tools, scriptures, and statues.
Open a few, and you'd find Laojun and the Buddha with arms around each other’s shoulders—or Guanyin Bodhisattva seated not with boy attendants but with the crucified Jesus beneath her.
Years ago, Liu Jinxia had once dreamed of heeding the new era’s call, of forging a path that blended a hundred schools of thought into something uniquely her own.
Unfortunately, the backward market surrounding Shigang Town couldn’t accept such modern innovations.
She had no choice but to accept her fate and return to the image of a traditional fortune-telling crone.
So, in this room, the only usable items were a black lacquered wooden table, a few stools, and two white candles.
“Hiss…”
Liu Jinxia wiped her eyes with a handkerchief—the candle smoke stung her eyes. Seemed like she’d have to do away with the candles too.
Across from her, the old man finished speaking. His gaze toward Liu Jinxia was filled with respect.
Since arriving here, not only had his hunchback eased significantly, but his mind also felt clearer, and he could speak more fluently.
The old man’s surname was Niu—Niu Fu, from neighboring Shigang Town. Today, he had come to arrange a Deathday Rite for his late mother.
His younger brother, Niu Rui, had actually come by yesterday for the same reason. Liu Jinxia had received him before heading to Li Weihan’s house.
The Niu brothers had a younger sister. Their father died young, and their mother had raised all three children alone.
Now in their fifties, all three had grandchildren of their own.
Half a year ago, their mother passed away.
But ever since the funeral, misfortunes kept striking their families—illnesses, accidents, one after another.
At first, they hadn’t thought much of it, but the incidents grew more frequent and more serious.
Recently, Niu Rui’s son had fallen into a ditch on his way home from work and broken several ribs. If a passerby hadn’t found him in time, he might have died.
Niu Fu’s hunchback had also worsened drastically—worse than any of the elderly hunched villagers in their seventies and eighties. And just half a year ago, he’d been perfectly straight.
Coupled with recurring dreams about their mother, the siblings suspected that her spirit still lingered. They decided to hold a Deathday Rite and burn a Blood Scripture to drive away evil and pray for peace.
But the brothers were at odds. Niu Rui, the younger, wanted to host the rite at his home. Niu Fu, the elder, insisted it must be held at his place.
Outsiders might think the two were just exceptionally filial—arguing over who would handle such a laborious and draining affair to honor their mother.
Liu Jinxia wasn’t buying it. Her eyesight might be failing, but her heart saw clearer than ever.
Of the people she received, few were like Li Weihan. Most came burdened with guilt. As the old saying goes—when you’ve done wrong, you're always afraid of ghosts knocking at your door.
Still, Liu Jinxia wasn’t one to pry. She simply asked mildly:
“Don’t tell me your sister wants to do it too?”
“She does.”
Liu Jinxia raised an eyebrow.
According to village customs, a married daughter was considered a guest. If she could return a few times a year, bring her husband home for the New Year, and be present when her parents were sick or dying, that was already considered exceptional filial piety.
Since daughters didn’t inherit any family property, they weren’t expected to contribute financially to their parents’ care or funerals—just lend a hand, show their face.
But the Niu family’s youngest sister wanted to host a Deathday Rite as well… That went against all the unspoken rules. Even the most filial daughters didn’t go this far—unless the family had no sons, which clearly wasn’t the case here.
Liu Jinxia lowered her gaze and said:
“That’s easy enough to arrange. Since all of you want to be the main host, then you all can be. Borrow a patch of land on your village’s public square, set up three altars, three offerings, and burn three Blood Scriptures.”
Niu Fu blinked in surprise. “Is… is that even allowed?”
Liu Jinxia nodded. “Of course. Doing it all in one place saves your mother from running around. Your brother Ruihou already gave me his family’s birth dates yesterday. You bring yours today, and tell your sister to send hers soon. I’ll draft the ritual guide for you.”
What had started as one job had become three payments. Liu Jinxia was making a tidy profit.
Niu Fu hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, I’ll go tell them. We’ll do it together.”
“Good. Once I have everyone’s birth dates, I’ll pick an auspicious day.”
“Make it quick,” Niu Fu urged. “We need to hurry.”
“I understand.” Liu Jinxia nodded and got up to see him out.
Just as Niu Fu lifted himself from the bench, he seemed to remember something and sat back down.
“There’s one more thing. For the Deathday Rite, we need Granny Liu to perform the Ritual Fast.”
The Fast meant the ritual rite itself. Having someone “sit the fast” meant inviting someone with spiritual merit to keep the ceremony stable and prevent mischievous spirits from interfering.
What “spiritual merit” actually meant was anyone’s guess. In a pinch, even a butcher could do it.
Since Li Sanjiang’s family did paper offerings, whenever he delivered them, it was understood that he would also “sit the fast.” That way, he got a free meal and a small payment from the family.
But when you asked explicitly, rather than assuming—then it became a formal invitation, and the fee changed accordingly.
Niu Fu quickly added, “We’ll pay for the honorarium. Granny Liu, all three of our families will contribute.”
“I see…” Liu Jinxia’s heart beat faster. A sudden, inexplicable unease settled in.
“And also, please ask Uncle Sanjiang from your village. We want to invite him too.”
Liu Jinxia swallowed hard. She didn’t agree right away. Instead, she said:
“I’ll talk to Sanjianghou, but I can’t promise he’ll be free. Just bring me the birth dates first. I’ll calculate the date—we can’t delay that part.”
“Okay, okay.”
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