Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Spirit Medium

Yang Puqiao picked up the golden-repaired Jianyao cup in front of him, took a sip of water, and suddenly slapped his thigh. We were all startled by his abrupt movement.

"Yang Puqiao, what’s gotten into you? Stop with the theatrics," Xiaoxue scolded from beside him.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I can settle Xiao Shao’s matter," Yang Puqiao declared.

I chuckled at his words, shooting him a disdainful glance. "Well, well, Master Yang, have you picked up new tricks? Did you learn these shamanic arts from some old witch in bed?" I sighed and shook my head. "Honestly, the kind of witch who can pull off these tricks must be at least fifty. Your taste is…"

I hadn’t finished when Yang Puqiao spat, "Why don’t you go learn it yourself? Let’s be serious. I know a supernatural expert—a young feng shui master, barely in his twenties. I don’t believe in these spirits and goblins myself, so I haven’t gotten close to him. But I’ll give him a call." With that, he took out his phone and dialed. "Hello, Master Yu? It’s Yang Puqiao. Are you free now? Nothing much, just inviting you for a meal. Alright, see you soon."

Hanging up, Yang Puqiao grinned. "All set."

I thought to myself, would such a figure really come just because you asked? Probably another charlatan. I quickly asked, "Where did you meet this master?"

"Uh…" Yang Puqiao hesitated, catching my skeptical look. "Once, I went to a nightclub in Beijing with an associate, and this gentleman came along."

I snorted but said nothing. After a while, the doorbell rang.

Yang Puqiao glanced at Xiaoxue, hinting for her to answer the door. She glared back, "I’m not going. That guy’s always touchy-feely."

With a shake of his head, Yang Puqiao had to get up and open the door himself.

Soon, he returned with a strikingly fashionable young man. The newcomer had a head of bleached blond hair, several earrings, and a pair of golden eyes which were clearly natural, not colored contacts. Around his neck hung a string of bone beads, the lowest bearing a fierce-looking skull carved from stag antler.

"Xiaoxue, why didn’t you come greet me?" Master Yu teased as he entered.

Xiaoxue shot him a cold glare. "Don’t talk to me."

He just shook his head and sat beside her.

Yang Puqiao, somewhat embarrassed, introduced him. "Let me introduce you. This is Yu Xianzhi, a young feng shui master and the junior leader of the Five Immortals Temple." He gestured to us. "This is Mr. Qiu Tong, head of the Gentle White Cottage. And this is his, uh, secretary, Miss Mengya."

I was genuinely surprised. The Five Immortals Temple was no small matter. It referred to the five legendary immortal animals—Fox, Weasel, Hedgehog, Snake, and Rat—beings from folk tales believed to have cultivated spiritual powers. The sect fell under the broader 'Spirit Medium' tradition, itself a Shamanistic offshoot. These spirits, having attained enlightenment, would possess chosen disciples to help humanity. This faith originated in Northeastern folklore, among professional spirit mediums.

Yu Xianzhi, after hearing the introductions, barely spared me a glance; instead, his gaze lingered intently on Mengya, fixating on her chest with unnerving focus. Mengya squirmed, glancing at me for reassurance. I wondered what he was seeing—what was this fellow’s story?

At length, Yu Xianzhi shifted his gaze, smiled with a hint of scorn, and said, "I don’t care much for titles, but the young lady beside you is rather formidable."

"What do you mean?" Mengya snapped, glaring at him.

Yu Xianzhi only smiled, lounging back in his chair, then looked at Yang Puqiao. "Puqiao, I doubt you called me here just for tea?"

Yang Puqiao smiled. "It’s nothing urgent, just that—"

Yu Xianzhi raised a hand to cut him off, glanced at Xiao Shao, pointed, and smirked. "It’s for him, isn’t it?"

We all gasped—indeed, this was no ordinary person.

"Master, you must save me! Name your price, and I won’t hesitate," Xiao Shao pleaded.

"If you put it like that, I can’t help you. In our tradition, we’re forbidden from accepting money or treasures," Yu Xianzhi replied sternly.

Xiao Shao hurriedly apologized, and Yu waved it off. "No harm done. But your case is difficult. I’ll need to perform a ritual first, to consult the spirits about your situation."

"But Master, I haven’t done anything wrong—why would they target me?" Xiao Shao asked, looking innocent.

"All things are as they must be. Everything follows the hidden order of fate," Yu Xianzhi replied mysteriously, glancing at Xiaoxue, who snorted in disdain.

"Master Yu, when can you drive away the vengeful ghost for Xiao Shao?" I asked.

Yu Xianzhi waved dismissively, scoffing. "If it were truly a fierce ghost, your friend wouldn’t be here now. This is a wronged soul; it won’t harm him. What puzzles me is why it’s come to him."

Xiao Shao was equally perplexed. The room fell silent until Yang Puqiao broke the awkwardness. "Since Master Yu has agreed to help Xiao Shao, let’s not rack our brains here. I’ve ordered takeout from Meizhou Dongpo—let’s eat." He quietly nudged Zhang Yuxi beside him, murmuring, "Go."

Zhang Yuxi, a slight woman, obediently went outside alone to fetch several large bags stuffed with takeout boxes.

I wanted to help, but Yang Puqiao waved me off. "Let her do it, Mr. Qiu."

I sighed, tempted to argue, but realized she was his secretary, not mine. There was no point in making a scene.

Soon, Zhang Yuxi returned, swaying under the load. She set the bags down, unpacked the boxes onto the table, distributed rice and utensils, then sat beside Yang Puqiao, sweating but expressionless.

"Yang Puqiao, you really should accumulate some virtue. Beware the Fox Clan’s retribution," Yu Xianzhi remarked with a cold smile.

Yang Puqiao’s face blanched, and after a pause stammered, "Master Yu, I—I haven’t done anything wrong…"

Yu Xianzhi merely pointed skyward and sneered in silence.

Yang Puqiao, embarrassed, quickly changed the subject. "Master Yu, please try the braised pork."

Yu nodded. "Trying to shut me up, are you?"

Yang Puqiao broke out in a cold sweat, not daring to say more.

I couldn’t help but admire Yu Xianzhi. Despite his youth, his composure and quick wit far surpassed others his age—even I felt outmatched.

After dinner, Xiao Shao, unable to contain his anxiety, asked, "Master Yu, could we do the ritual today?"

Yu Xianzhi checked his phone, shook his head. "Not enough time today. Tomorrow, you and Yang Puqiao bring the three ‘urns’ you mentioned to my altar at Beijing TRT. The rest of you may come if you’re curious, but if you have a weak heart and die at my place, that’s not my responsibility. We do offer full funeral services, though."

I nearly spat out my drink at his morbid humor, but held back, wary of his abilities.

"Master Yu, will the wronged soul come for me again tonight? I can’t stand seeing these things anymore," Xiao Shao said, terror-stricken.

Yu Xianzhi smiled. "You’re so fated—maybe you should have another heart-to-heart."

With a thud, Xiao Shao’s knees buckled and he knelt before Yu Xianzhi, kowtowing desperately. "Master Yu, please don’t joke with me!"

Yu hurriedly helped him up, laughing. "I was only kidding. You really are frightened out of your wits." He hesitated, then took a small vial from his pocket and handed it to Xiao Shao. "Here—sprinkle this white powder at your bedroom door, and leave the urn outside."

Xiao Shao examined the vial, shaking it. "What is this?"

"No need to know. Ask again, and I’ll take it back," Yu Xianzhi replied with disdain.