Chapter Ten: They Are Eavesdropping

Two hours later.

Le Dong sat on a chair at the police station, cradling a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. Opposite him, the officer closed his notebook with a complex expression.

"Mr. Le, are you saying that you were strangled by a red handkerchief, and your friend here was controlled by a pair of leather shoes?"

Le Dong knew how absurd this sounded. He kept his head down, his expression pained. "Yes! Those shoes and that handkerchief were right near the van!"

The officer sighed and spoke a few words into his walkie-talkie. A moment later, a younger officer walked in. "Captain, we checked the area around the van. We didn't find any leather shoes or handkerchiefs. And..." He hesitated. "We pulled the surveillance footage from the roadside..."

The young officer pulled out a tablet from behind him and pushed it forward.

On the screen, even though the distance was great and the light dim, Le Dong could clearly see himself clawing at his own throat, his back pressed against the door as he kicked Cai Kun away with his feet. Further on, it showed Cai Kun alone on the ground, scrabbling at a bowl of noodles. There wasn't a shadow of anyone else anywhere.

"No, no! What about the woman!?" Le Dong’s emotions flared. He slammed his hands on the table to hoist himself up, tilting his chin to show the police the non-existent strangulation marks.

"Hey, hey, hey! What do you think you’re doing? Do you know where you are? You—" The young officer barked, but the older officer raised a hand to stop him, casting a cryptic glance at Le Dong and pointing a finger at his own head.

The implication was clear.

"Alright, alright. We’ll look into this case further. I’ve already notified your family. Once they arrive, you can head over to the next room to collect your friend and head home."

With that ambiguous dismissal, the two officers gave Le Dong a look of pity and turned to leave.

Staring at the empty room, Le Dong’s heart sank. It was clear that the police likely viewed him as a... psychiatric patient.

He rubbed his weary face, his mind flashing back to Cai Kun’s eerie, grinning face and that floating red handkerchief.

"I managed to escape this time, but what about the next? And the time after that?" Le Dong muttered, filled with dread. Suddenly, he remembered the sweet noodles he had thrown on the ground.

It seemed... the appearance of the noodles was what stopped them!

As Le Dong pondered, he found the situation increasingly suspicious. The noodle shop owner’s strange offer of a free meal and the extra portion suggested he had anticipated something.

"That owner... he might be a master!"

A spark of hope ignited in Le Dong’s eyes. He looked at the pale light of dawn outside the window and rubbed his hands together, eager to visit the owner.

Eight-thirty in the morning.

On the hard bed of the reception room, Le Dong stretched his aching limbs and followed the police out to find his father, who was waiting anxiously in the lobby.

"Dong-dong... are you okay?"

Le Dong forced a smile and offered some words of comfort, but his father hesitated before offering some advice of his own: "Listen to Dad, go to the hospital and see a psychiatrist. The police said you..."

"Dad, Xiaobao is in the hospital, and Juanzi is too. If I go in there, this family will fall apart. I know my own body; I’m fine. Please, don't worry."

Le Dong rubbed his brow helplessly; he didn't know how to explain it to his father.

Just then, in another reception room, Cai Kun rubbed his sleepy eyes and stumbled out, looking dazed. He greeted Le Dong’s father, but his eyes darted toward Le Dong, his fleshy face looking unnatural.

"The footage from last night... did you see it?" Cai Kun whispered to Le Dong as they left the station.

"Yeah."

"Damn it, this ghost thing really won’t let go!"

"Quiet. Let's get back to the hospital first. I have a feeling that noodle shop owner is no simple man!"

The two whispered, careful not to let Le Dong's father hear. They hailed a taxi and didn't arrive back at the hospital until after ten.

After dropping off his father and declining his suggestion to see a doctor, Le Dong told Cai Kun his theory. They rushed to the noodle shop, only to learn from inquiries that the old man had gone out to meet a friend that morning and no one knew when he would return.

Not wanting to wait around, Le Dong decided to check the west side of the city as Cai Kun had suggested.

Twelve o'clock noon.

Cai Kun withdrew some cash, parked the van in front of an old residential building, and led Le Dong up to the fifth floor, knocking on a door adorned with a faded "Fu" character.

The person who opened the door was a tall, handsome man in his twenties. The only flaw was his milky, sightless eyes—he was blind.

"Who’s there?" the young man asked.

"Uh, hello. I’m looking for Fan Biao, Master Fan."

"My master is with a guest. Tell me what you need."

"No, we’re here for *that* kind of business. We need to speak to your master; it's urgent. Please, just pass the word."

Cai Kun pulled out a few banknotes and stuffed them into the young man's hand. The latter frowned, pushed the money back, and spoke with displeasure.

"Who do you think you’re looking down on? The yin energy on you two is so thick—tell me what's wrong!"

His words were startling. Le Dong never expected this unremarkable, disabled young man to hit the nail on the head so accurately.

"Ah, this little... master, you truly have eyes of fire! Could you take a look for us?" Le Dong nudged Cai Kun aside, his tone urgent.

"Fine, come in. But let’s set the price first: fifty thousand each."

Le Dong, just stepping through the door, stumbled. He exchanged a shocked look with Cai Kun.

"Wait... why is it so expensive? We were referred by someone we know."

"Exactly, Master. Can't you give us a discount? There are two of us..."

"I see ghost energy all over your faces and the marks of death appearing. What’s more important—the money or your lives?"

The young man’s sharp retort left the two men red-faced. Just as they were about to compromise, a roar of anger erupted from the back room:

"You little brat, stop charging blind-ass prices! Damn your mother’s legs! Am I the boss, or are you the boss?!"

The man who emerged was a thin, wiry old man with gray hair tied in a small bun, his eyes glowing with an astonishing intensity. He looked at Cai Kun, then at Le Dong, his expression turning grave.

"Hah! You two really are something—you actually *are* worth that price!"

The wiry old man pulled a crumpled business card from his shirt pocket and handed it over. Le Dong took it and read: *Wangwang Coffin Shop, Fan Biao!*

"Heh, that’s the price. Whether I can actually help you is another matter, but at least it'll be enough to buy you both a coffin board—consider it a backup plan!"

Hearing Fan Biao’s irreverent tone, Le Dong’s mouth twitched, but since he needed help, he dared not lose his temper.

"Biaozi! Your old-turtle mouth is so annoying, no wonder your business is so bad!"

Before Le Dong could speak, another old man with a full beard walked out from the partition. It was the noodle shop owner!

"Hey! Uncle Noodle Shop! You’re here! We were just looking for you!" Cai Kun exclaimed, stepping forward excitedly.

"You two boys have fate on your side. You should have just come to my shop to eat; otherwise..." The noodle shop owner shook his head, set down his teacup, and sat on the sofa with his hands behind his back, smiling. "But you’ve come to the right place. Fan Biao is a famous master in Baoding City—far more capable than my two bowls of sweet noodles!"

Le Dong trusted the noodle shop owner’s endorsement; after all, a recommendation from a master couldn't be wrong. He hesitated no longer and pleaded with Fan Biao: "Master Fan, fifty thousand it is. I’ll pay you now. Please, I leave this matter to you!"

"Oh, hold your horses. Around here, we always finish the job before taking the money. That goes for coffins, too!"

Fan Biao reached out to stop Cai Kun from paying, then kicked the blind young man off the sofa, sat down firmly, and gestured for Le Dong and Cai Kun to take their seats. "Tell me the whole story..."

The two men looked at each other and began to recount everything—the ghost wedding at the villa, the transformation of his wife, the thief’s suicide, and the strange occurrences of the previous night.

The noodle shop owner and Fan Biao listened, their brows furrowing deeper until they were silent for a long time.

Finally, the noodle shop owner traced the water stains on the coffee table and spoke softly.

"You two were certainly bold, acting as groomsmen for the dead? Besides, a ghost wedding... isn't performed like that..."

"Exactly," Fan Biao chimed in, waving for the blind young man to pour tea. "Based on your description, someone used magic to deceive those two spirits. Under the guise of a ghost wedding, they used personal relics as a medium to transfer their blood debt and resentment onto you! Initially, it might have been easy to resolve, but now that the spirits have killed and have even infiltrated your wife—and who knows who else—these spirits are intangible and skilled at hiding. No one knows where they will appear next..."

"That damned Zhao the Daoist!"

"Then, Master, what should we do now?" Le Dong and Cai Kun were panicked.

"It’s difficult. Either you lose your family and your lives to them, or you find the person casting the spell and solve it at the root. Otherwise, just dealing with the shoes and the handkerchief is merely treating the symptoms, not the disease."

"As you’ve seen, whether you throw them away or burn them, they always return—it’s endless!"

"No way, Dongzi! We have to go back to that villa. This time, I’m going to skin that old bastard alive!"

"Shh!"

Just as Cai Kun was cursing, Fan Biao suddenly held a finger to his lips. He closed his eyes, tilted his head to listen for a moment, then rose slowly and walked behind Le Dong, his expression turning deadly serious.

"They... are listening in..."

As Fan Biao spoke, he reached into Le Dong's pocket and plucked out a bright red handkerchief.