Du Peilin was on duty, which meant he had a thousand little things to see to. He and Officer Zhao were not only keeping order at Red Conch Temple, they were also cataloguing everyone’s statements, one by one.
I took Xue Shuo’s hand and led him down the stone steps of the main hall toward Ji Chen. I’d already decided: have Ji take the little boy to the Lin household to keep Si Tong company. When Xue’s wife was discharged from the hospital, we’d bring him back.
“Assistant Ji, what are you doing?” I asked.
Behind a stand of trees, Ji Chen was squatting on the ground with no regard for appearances. In front of him lay the rooster whose comb had been slit and bled; he muttered under his breath and twitched a twig in front of the bird’s beak, drawing tiny vertical scratches in the dirt. The rooster clucked and crowed indignantly, and the little black dog in the sack began to howl. The temple, which had felt so tranquil a moment before, was now full of fowl cries and barking.
Hearing my voice, Ji sprang up embarrassed. “Miss Du—this isn’t working! It—why won’t it listen? It keeps squawking and kicking.”
He pointed at the bird flapping and threatening to flee, stuck out his tongue and sulked. “I tried to fix it for ages and it’s still like this!”
I glanced at the squiggled, worm-like scratches in the dirt and couldn’t help smiling. Who would’ve thought the man was still a child at heart, secretly picking up a parlor-trick.
“Watch,” I said.
I took hold of the rooster as it flailed, held it out in front of Ji a couple of times, then set it on the ground and pressed one hand over its head, the other over its back. I gave Xue Shuo, who stood stunned nearby, a look. “You—draw a vertical line in front of the rooster.”
The boy had been frightened all morning. He’d nearly had his life usurped by his brother’s spirit; he’d been made a pawn for that one-eyed Buddha-mother—if he followed my kind of cursed luck around, he’d only get smaller and sicker. But children are children: when they see an adult acting silly, it becomes interesting. He crouched down, fat little finger wobbling, and dragged a crooked line along the rooster’s beak. I loosened my grips.
The rooster went utterly still. It lowered its head and stopped struggling.
“No way—” Ji’s eyes went wide. He looked from the motionless bird to Xue Shuo, who was staring up at him, then let out a small, defeated puff: “I’m worse than a kid? I have no talent for this magic at all.”
I swallowed a laugh and nudged Xue Shuo toward him. “This little guy—could you take him to be with Si Tong? Keep him company?”
“No!” the boy blurted, jumping up before I finished the sentence and clutching my finger hard. “Auntie Du, I want to come with you—to help save my father.”
“What nonsense.” I patted the top of his head. The thought of him following us everywhere felt like inviting disaster. He’d already been through enough. If he came along on our search for spirits, the cold of those things would seep into his bones. Even if he survived, he’d grow up frail.
“Do you want to be a burden?” Si Jiangchen, walking a few paces behind, asked gently. “We’re going far. There will be invisible dangers. Can you protect yourself?”
The boy’s face went pale. Children have a sixth sense about people; though Si Jiangchen’s voice was soft, his presence frightened the boy. He shuffled behind me and began to whimper.
“Stop crying!” I can’t stand to hear a child sob. I stuffed another tissue into his hands and glowered at Si Jiangchen. “You look terrifying. Step back—you're scaring him.”
Si Jiangchen met my glare for a beat, then took a couple of careful steps away. I turned back to the boy. “Think about it. If we come across bad people while trying to save your father—who do you want us to save first? You, or your father?”
“Save Dad!” He almost squeaked. Snot threatened to spill from his nose; I fished a tissue and wiped his face. He gripped my finger with desperate earnestness. “Auntie Du, I’ll be good. I won’t go with you. You must get my dad back.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, tousling his hair. “You go stay with Si Tong and learn well. When your parents are healthy again, you can go to school. Won’t that make them happy?”
“Okay! I’ll study hard!” He nodded so vigorously he nearly toppled.
Si Jiangchen gave Ji Chen a small nod. Ji, ever the professional, immediately shifted into caregiver mode: he put the rooster back into the sack and handed the little black dog’s leash to Xue Shuo.
“Xue Shuo, hold the dog. We’re going to visit little Tong,” Ji said, smooth as ever.
The boy bowed to me. “Thank you, Auntie Du. Please—save my father.”
“Trust me.” I smiled, and watched Ji take the boy’s hand. The two of them—boy, assistant, dog, and the protesting rooster—headed toward the back gate of Red Conch Temple.
The police Special Task Unit, led by Du Peilin, took full control of the scene. This was the unit the nation called when ordinary explanations failed—when ‘weird’ met ‘criminal’. From the hole where Si Jiangchen had kicked through the temple’s east wall, a network of tunnels fanned out below, and officers hauled out countless skeletons.
Master Zhebu, his shoulder crudely bandaged from a gunshot, sat with his monks on their knees, intoning funeral chants for the bones. Du Peilin had made quick work of rounding up the rotters who’d colluded with Danba. Under the pretense of private blessings and fortune-changing rituals, those men had lured wealthy believers into secret chambers. There, the victims’ money was offered to some malignant idol and their very souls and desires were devoured until nothing remained but dessicated corpses—skin clinging to bone—stacked in the dark. If Si Jiangchen hadn’t smashed through the wall, they might never have been freed to receive a proper passage.
“Xiao He, do you recognize this one?” Du Peilin called as he waved us over from the ruined wall. We sat on the eaves of the main hall and watched the officers work while the monks’ low chants filled the air. Sunlight filtered through fresh green leaves, scattering pale gold across the flagstones.
From the breach in the wall Du Peilin shouted, grinning with a kind of grim satisfaction, “Hey—there’s a fresh one here!”