[Nightmares]
Of course, what Daoist Cheng Xuan meant was not the kind of “Yang-harvesting” found in supernatural folk tales like Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio [1]Author: Pu Songling (蒲松龄, 1640–1715). Era: Written during the early Qing Dynasty, but it collects and composes stories set in the Ming and Qing periods. Content: It’s a collection of … Continue reading jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_1641480_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_1641480_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });. It followed the same logic as building a school on top of an old graveyard: when the “Human Yang” is vibrant, evil spirits find it difficult to draw near.
Lu Ting’an’s current situation was dire, but in Lu Chenhu’s mind, if he could buy his son even one more day of life, it was worth it.
Lu Chenhu scanned the room and frowned. “Could it be because there are too many women in the house? Master, I’ll replace everyone with men today. Do they need to be big, sturdy lads? Young men have vigorous energy and heavy Yang spirits.”
Lu Ting’an recalled that the original owner had actually mentioned this before—he didn’t want to see so many women around the house and asked his father to hire a few handsome young men as servants. At the time, Lu Chenhu had refused.
His son was too used to following his whims and was notoriously flirtatious. Lu Chenhu couldn’t control the “wild men” his son met outside, but surely he could control the ones living under his own roof?
Now, after Cheng Xuan’s tip, Lu Chenhu’s heart was green with regret. If he had hired male servants earlier, wouldn’t Lu Ting’an be much healthier by now?
Daoist Cheng Xuan saw exactly what Lu Chenhu was thinking and immediately raised a hand to cut him off. “Boss Lu, you misunderstand. Not just any male possesses heavy Yang energy. ‘The Yang energy is like the heaven and the sun; if it loses its place, one’s lifespan is cut short and their vitality wanes.'” After a slight pause, he added, “What Young Master Lu needs to be near are people with positive energy and assertive, upright personalities.”
As he finished, Cheng Xuan’s expression became somewhat subtle.
Lu Chenhu didn’t notice, but Lu Ting’an saw it clearly—it was a look of downcast, silent mockery.
Lu Ting’an knew why Cheng Xuan was disdainful. Birds of a feather flock together, and Lu Ting’an didn’t have a single “positive” bone in his body. If he weren’t a rich heir, he wouldn’t even qualify as a “playboy”—at most, he’d be considered social refuse. Likewise, how could anyone truly upright and righteous be willing to associate with a piece of trash like him?
Lu Chenhu’s brow furrowed as he urged, “Don’t play riddles at a time like this. Just tell me who the best candidate is, and I’ll go fetch them immediately.”
Cheng Xuan: “…”
He hesitated, then finally reached to his waist in silence and pulled out a small bronze compass.
The bronze compass had a square outer plate and a circular inner plate that could rotate 360 degrees, with different layers inscribed with various information. In the center, the magnetic needle pointed steadily North.
As the inner plate spun, Lu Ting’an watched the compass change rapidly. After a full thirty seconds, the needle and the symbols aligned. The characters pointed to by the needle were, in order: Xu Jiu Shao (Fire), Wei Shi Liu (Fire), Zi Ren, Po… [2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luopan jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_1641480_1_2').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_1641480_1_2', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });
Lu Chenhu leaned in nervously, getting dizzy just looking at the tiny characters. “What does it mean?”
Daoist Cheng Xuan pondered for a moment before explaining, “Combining the Young Master’s horoscope with the secrets of the compass, there may yet be hope. ‘Fire’ represents prosperity; ‘Chen’ indicates the seven o’clock direction… Ten kilometers down Tianji Road is Anning Street—” He paused with an eerie silence for two seconds before spitting out two words: “The Police Station.”
“Are you joking?” Lu Chenhu cried out in shock. “No matter how reckless my son is, I can’t just send him to rot in a jail cell!”
Cheng Xuan: “…”
After being stared at by the Daoist with a strange look for a few seconds, Lu Chenhu had a sudden epiphany. “Oh! You mean I should let my son go to the station to burn off the Yin energy?” He slapped his forehead. “Of course! Talk about positive energy—who can compete with those officers? Every one of them is a daredevil fighting for justice!”
Once prompted, Lu Chenhu’s mind immediately began to race.
According to Cheng Xuan, the longer Lu Ting’an spent with the police, the better. To this end, Lu Chenhu thought of two plans. First, “righteousness over family”—simply throw his son in jail. As the saying goes: If one does not enter the police station, how can one obtain Yang energy?
However, he crushed that idea as soon as it popped up. Not to mention that his precious son couldn’t handle the hardships of prison, what kind of “good” energy could be found among the inmates? They were all criminals; he’d be lucky if they didn’t infect his son with their wicked ways.
With Plan A rejected, Lu Chenhu immediately pivoted to Plan B. It wasn’t hard to loiter at a police station—he’d just make Lu Ting’an a member of the force. A police officer staying at the station was perfectly natural and justified.
Lu Chenhu glanced at Cheng Xuan, then secretly pulled Lu Ting’an aside, whispering, “This is about your life, so you have to listen to Dad this time. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to work at the police station.”
Lu Ting’an didn’t mind, but he was curious. “Can I really just walk into a police station and get a job?”
Lu Chenhu said, “You might not get into the Special Task Force or the Major Investigation Team, but surely you can get into Logistics? Besides, how could I let you go out and catch criminals? That’s far too dangerous. I’ll pull some strings and set everything up. You’ll just sit in an office and take it easy.”
Lu Ting’an blinked. It was his first time experiencing what it felt like to be a “nepo baby.” [3] A “nepo baby” (short for nepotism baby) is a person, often in entertainment, fashion, or business, whose career success is aided by their famous or influential parents jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_1641480_1_3').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_1641480_1_3', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });
Seeing him silent, Lu Chenhu thought he was unwilling and began to persuade him earnestly. “Dad knows you feel wronged, but there’s no other way. Your mother passed away early, and you’re the only seedling left in the Lu family. If anything happens to you, I won’t be able to face her when I go down to the afterlife.”
As he spoke, Lu Chenhu managed to squeeze out two “cat’s tears.”
Lu Ting’an watched him, his brow twitching. “I never said I wouldn’t go.”
The original owner had long since dropped out of school and had zero interest in learning how to manage the Lu family business. He spent his days drinking and carousing with “fox-friends and dog-associates.” Lu Ting’an didn’t know those friends and couldn’t be bothered to pretend he did. So, for the time being, he really had nothing to do besides stay at home.
Going to work at the police station was actually a good thing for the current Lu Ting’an. If there was one place in Hong Kong with the most gossip, it was definitely the police station. The strange anecdotes and case files would allow him to quickly understand this new world.
Lu Chenhu scrutinized his son’s face. Once he was certain Lu Ting’an was being sincere, he broke into a grin. “Good! Excellent! I’ll go make the arrangements right now.”
Soon, Lu Chenhu led Daoist Cheng Xuan away. Before they left, he let the Daoist choose a priceless antique from his private collection as a token of his gratitude.
……
With Lu Chenhu away, the villa became unnervingly quiet. The maids didn’t dare make eye contact with Lu Ting’an; they kept their heads low and their footsteps light whenever they passed him.
Lu Ting’an didn’t feel awkward. After eating breakfast in the dead silence, he slipped wordlessly into the study.
Only after a long while passed without him emerging did the maids dare to huddle together and whisper.
“That scared the life out of me just now. I thought one of us was going to get thrashed or cursed at again. But don’t you think the Young Master has become… strange? I’ve never seen him this quiet.”
Another maid, clearing the table, chimed in. “He’s probably had the soul scared out of him. I heard Daoist Cheng Xuan is a prestigious guest of Mr. Lu—his predictions are so accurate they say he’s the reason the Lu family is thriving. When a Master like that says the Young Master hasn’t got two years left to live, it’s no wonder he’s gone speechless.”
Hearing this, several of them flashed looks of suppressed schadenfreude.
Every one of them had been on the receiving end of Lu Ting’an’s abuse. When they first joined the household, they had seen his handsome face and secretly dreamed of marrying in like a “Cinderella” finding her prince. However, they were “disenchanted” on day one. Lu Ting’an had the fair, angelic face of a cherub, but a personality more wicked than a demon. If the slightest detail in the house didn’t suit his whim, vases, belts, or even stools would become his tools of torment.
“It’s not that I’m being spiteful, but someone like the Young Master is better off dead. I don’t know why the Daoist pointed out a way for him to survive. Truly, ‘scourge lives for a thousand years.'”
“Alright, alright,” an older maid who had been with the family for years waved them off. “Is going to the police station really such a good thing? Don’t forget, those officers hate people like Young Master Lu the most. They aren’t going to give him an easy time.” She paused, playing the peacemaker. “Mr. Lu treats us well. I know you’ve all suffered, but say less of such things. Evil meets its own reward.”
The maid was about to say more when a sudden *THUD* echoed from the study upstairs, sounding like something heavy had smashed onto the floor.
Their faces drained of color instantly. With a collective buzz of panic, they scattered in all directions.
On his second day in the book, Lu Ting’an was adapting reasonably well. The only unresolved issue remained the nightmares.
That night, his dream was no longer bizarre and shifting; instead, it repeated a single vision: he saw a woman.
She wore a goose-yellow embroidered cheongsam, a red string tied around her waist, and held a white feather fan. Her hair was swept up, adorned with a swaying hairpin and two flowers. With every step, she made a crisp, melodic clink-clink sound.
What kind of woman was she? At first glance, Lu Ting’an found her beautiful, but more than her face or figure, he liked her aura. She was no longer young; as she passed him, he could even see the fine lines at the corners of her eyes. Yet, these traces of time gave her an air of intellectual, mature charm. Lu Ting’an had seen countless people, but she was one of the few who left an impression—not out of romance, but pure aesthetic appreciation.
Stepping onto a stage in strappy high heels, the spotlight hit her face. She swayed gracefully to the slow music, her clear, elegant voice drifting into the ears of the audience.
Lu Ting’an vaguely guessed her profession.
The decadent, glamorous environment and the moving song were easy to get lost in, but Lu Ting’an’s inner tension didn’t relax for a second. He had never been to this club, nor had he ever seen this woman. Combined with his experience of the past two nights, he knew this dream would not be simple.
‘Did the nightmare realize my nerves are tougher than the original owner’s? Is it upgrading the ghosts and the scenery tonight?’
Just as he thought this, an anomaly occurred on stage. The microphone suddenly toppled to the floor as if knocked over during a struggle, emitting a piercing, high-pitched screech.
The woman’s fan dropped; her hairpin went crooked. She was hoisted into the air by an invisible force, her feet kicking desperately at the empty air. She couldn’t break free, so she began to claw at her own neck with all her might, as if trying to pull something away.
Her fair face flushed a deep red, gradually turning a bruised, liver-purple, until finally, her eyeballs bulged outward…
Lu Ting’an’s face turned grim, and he surged up from his seat.
He tried to rush forward to help, but it felt as though an invisible wall stood before him; he couldn’t get close. He watched helplessly as the woman breathed her last, her liver-purple skin staining with the pallor of death.
The dead woman no longer hung in the air. She crashed heavily to the ground, her body twisted at a grotesque, unnatural angle.
“…”
Lu Ting’an looked at her in silence. He couldn’t quite describe the feeling—it was a bit like regret.
This nightmare was truly impressive; the ghost it conjured was far more realistic than yesterday’s, and it even knew how to manipulate his emotions. He hated seeing a beauty wither away.
As if sensing his gaze, the woman’s neck gave two “crack-crack” twitches. She slowly and stiffly turned her head toward Lu Ting’an. The moment their eyes met, her neck elongated at a frightening speed, carrying her head all the way to his face.
“You saw it,” the woman’s voice was no longer clear and bright. It was raspy, sounding like sandpaper on concrete, emanating from her chest further away. “Who killed me? You saw who killed me!”
Lu Ting’an: “…”
‘Huh?’
‘Opening her mouth just to spread rumors, was she? What did I see? What could I see? Aside from the two of them—one man and one ghost—there wasn’t so much as an ant at the scene.’
He wisely kept his silence, which only made the woman more relentless. Her questioning voice grew increasingly shrill…
…
The next day, Lu Ting’an was awakened by Lu Chenhu knocking on his door. When he opened his eyes, his breathing was heavy and ragged.
Thank God he woke up; otherwise, he would have been strangled to death by that woman’s stretching neck. He wasn’t sure if dying in a dream meant dying in real life, but he could confidently say that watching a glamorous woman transform into a long-necked ghost on repeat was not his idea of a good time.
Lu Ting’an got out of bed and opened the door. Standing there, looking full of energy, was Lu Chenhu, who promptly shoved a set of police uniforms into his arms.
“It’s your first day on the job. Dad thinks it’s best not to be late. You’ll have to make do with these clothes for a few days.”
Lu Ting’an nodded, clutching the uniform.
…
When Lu Ting’an reappeared downstairs after changing, everyone in the hall froze. The Young Master of the Lu family had been many things—wicked, foolish—but he had never been ugly.
Lu Chenhu had picked a large size. On Lu Ting’an’s 1.81-meter frame, the uniform fit perfectly. The stiff, structured fabric of the police gear compensated for the slightly loose fit, making him look broad-shouldered and long-legged. Gone was every trace of his usual effeminacy.
Lu Chenhu nodded in satisfaction. “That’s my son. You’d look handsome even if you were wearing a burlap sack. Hurry up and eat breakfast; once you’re done, I’ll personally drive you to work.”
Lu Ting’an sat down and took a bite of a steamed bun. Across from him, Lu Chenhu, who was reading the newspaper, suddenly frowned. “How could something like this happen?”
“What is it?” Lu Ting’an looked up.
Lu Chenhu slid the paper over. “Hong Kong really hasn’t been peaceful these last two years. You love going to the Baihui Club to listen to music, don’t you? Well, don’t go for the next few months. Stay focused at the police station and stay home.”
In 90s Hong Kong, newspapers were still black and white, with different sections marked by varying font sizes.
Lu Ting’an’s eyes immediately locked onto the bold, oversized headline on the front page: HEADLESS FEMALE CORPSE DISCOVERED IN PUBLIC TOILET; SUSPECTED TO BE BAIHUI CLUB SINGER!
At the mention of a “singer,” Lu Ting’an—who had spent the entire night listening to a loop of her songs in his head—felt his heart skip a beat. When he looked further down at the photos, the bun finally slipped from his chopsticks and landed on the table with a dull thud.
‘That cheongsam… the red string around the headless corpse’s waist…’
‘How could they be so familiar?!’
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