Chapter 30: Foreseeing Life and Death

The entire village was mobilized, and within half an hour the fire was out. By then, dawn had fully broken.

Despite the quick response, the old house was reduced to nothing but its charred frame; nearly everything my grandmother had used during her lifetime had been consumed by the flames.

Staring at the house, so drastically changed in an instant, I felt a small measure of relief—thank goodness I had taken her treasured books and other valuables with me when I left in the night, or else they would have been lost to the fire as well.

Afterward, the villagers who had come to help all murmured that something about the fire seemed off, far too coincidental. The old house had stood for decades without incident. Earlier that very night, we had just buried Grandmother, and in the second half of the night, the house caught fire. It was hard not to suspect something unusual.

In our tradition, when someone dies, the objects they used in life are usually burned at the graveside. Someone suggested perhaps Grandmother wanted to take her old house with her, that she loved it so much she set it alight to bring it along.

I paid no mind to such nonsense and went inside to search for anything left that could still be salvaged.

I worked until after ten, but found nothing worth keeping and had no choice but to give up. After lunch, Xu Buhuo grabbed his cloth bundle. Knowing he was heading to town, I quickly changed clothes and set out with him.

On the way, I mentioned that villagers said the fire was caused by faulty wiring. Xu Buhuo chuckled, “Do you believe that?”

I didn’t know how to respond. He continued, “You’ve read much of what your grandmother left behind. Surely you’ve seen the writings about geomantic arrays—sometimes things that look natural are not as simple as they seem.”

A geomantic array, he explained, could bring fortune as silently as it could bring death and disaster. Starting a fire in a house was nothing complicated; even someone like me, self-taught and inexperienced, could set one up.

So who wanted to burn the old house?

I glanced at Xu Buhuo from time to time, wondering if he had arranged such an array in the house. If so, for what purpose? For my grandmother’s possessions?

But a fire that destroyed everything made little sense. Who else could it have been? A third party?

Xu Buhuo said little more on the road, his brow furrowed as he seemed lost in thought. I couldn’t help asking what was on his mind.

“I’ve been thinking about your grandmother’s burial last night,” he replied. “If something had happened during the funeral, I wouldn’t feel this uneasy. But because nothing happened, it feels even more unnatural. I sense something more troublesome is yet to come. And to see so many roosters die at once—that’s a first for me.”

His words made my heart pound with anxiety. I’d forgotten to ask my mother what last words my father had left before his death, or if any of them were coming true.

Once in town, I said I had errands to run. Xu Buhuo told me, “If you’re going to Xishan Village, take the left-hand road. Go straight through the village, and at the far end, you’ll see a house with a red roof—that’s Mr. Xu’s place.”

I was still stunned when he added, “You can ask about Mr. Xu’s death. If his family won’t tell you, just say you’re a friend of Xu Gandan—they’ll talk then.”

I watched Xu Buhuo walk away, needing a moment to collect myself. I hadn’t expected him to say that. Xu Gandan—that seemed to be his real name. It sounded awkward, but I still preferred to call him Xu Buhuo.

Instead of hurrying to Xishan Village, I headed for the police station, intending to ask Cao Guangshan to check on Xu Buhuo’s information. Previously, I hadn’t known his real name, but now he’d told me himself.

Cao Guangshan happened to be on duty and asked if anything unusual had happened in the village. From the look in his eyes, I could tell he was intrigued by strange happenings, so I asked what he’d do with the information.

His reason made me sigh—Cao Guangshan had another ambition: to use science to explain the unexplainable, all the folk mysteries like upright knives, rolling eggs, or spirit-calling rituals.

Since I needed his help, I gave him some inside stories: Liu the Leper turning into human skin, the corpse fiend, ghostly walls, the simultaneous deaths of the roosters.

“Chen Ziwu, are you sure all this is true?” Cao Guangshan looked skeptical.

“If you don’t believe me, come to the village. Liu the Leper’s skin is still in the coffin, and I can show you where the dead roosters are buried.”

I didn’t explain further; I knew a man of science would have a hard time accepting these things. But the truth was, not everything could be explained away.

After a few more words, I mentioned needing to check Xu Buhuo’s identity. Cao Guangshan took me to the computer, entered the name Xu Gandan, and quickly a photo appeared.

The man in the photo was young, but recognizable as Xu Buhuo. I checked the address and was momentarily stunned.

Xu Buhuo’s family was also in Xishan Village. For a moment I wondered if he could actually be the very Feng Shui Master Xu my grandmother had wanted to consult—supposedly dead, but perhaps only faking it?

The records from the police station couldn’t be wrong. With the address memorized, I hurried to Xishan Village to confirm for myself.

Cao Guangshan, fascinated by our village’s mysteries, said he’d visit someday to see for himself—and explain everything with science. I told him he was welcome, then left to find a three-wheeled motorbike to Xishan Village.

At the village entrance, I asked someone about the address. The man glanced at it and said, “That’s Mr. Xu’s place—he just passed away a week ago.”

Could Xu Buhuo really be Master Xu, the Feng Shui expert?

With this question in mind, I jogged to the far end of the village and found the house with the red roof. White mourning couplets hung by the door, and pine needles were strewn on the ground—a home in mourning.

“Hey, who are you looking for?” called a voice behind me as I was about to enter. Turning, I saw a girl about my age.

“I’m looking for Mr. Xu,” I replied.

She looked me over. “My grandfather passed away a week ago. What did you need him for?”

So this was Master Xu’s granddaughter. I said I knew he’d passed, but had some questions.

She called me inside, where her parents were sitting. Once I gave my name, her father, Xu Lei, immediately recognized my grandmother’s name. Learning I was her grandson, he became more cordial, saying he’d met my grandmother years ago with Master Xu.

It was a relief to find acquaintances. Remembering Xu Buhuo’s words, I asked the reason for Master Xu’s death. Xu Lei answered calmly, “He was old, had many illnesses, and died suddenly of acute heart failure.”

But recalling Xu Buhuo’s strange warning, I knew this was just a story for outsiders. “Brother Xu, is that really how it happened?”

Xu Lei’s eyes grew cautious. “What are you implying?”

At this point, I knew I’d have to mention Xu Buhuo. “I’m a friend of Xu Gandan.”

At the mention of that name, Xu Lei’s expression changed noticeably. His wife and daughter also looked at me, startled.

This confirmed they knew Xu Buhuo, though I did not yet understand their relationship.

Xu Lei was silent for a moment before saying, “My father did not die of heart failure. He was murdered.”

Murdered, yet telling outsiders it was illness? I looked at Xu Lei, realizing there must be a reason, and waited quietly for him to continue.

That day, Master Xu was fine in the morning. After lunch, while resting in the courtyard, he suddenly shivered and hurried into his room. When he emerged, he was dressed in his burial clothes. Xu Lei, seeing this, sensed something was wrong and was about to ask when Master Xu told him not to—his time had come.

Like my grandmother, Master Xu seemed to know his own death was approaching. He told Xu Lei that his fate was sealed long ago, that he had offended certain people in the past, and now they had come for him. To prevent harm from befalling his family, only his death could bring the matter to an end.

Knowing his son’s temperament, Master Xu forced Xu Lei to swear never to pursue the matter. Xu Lei agreed, and only then did Master Xu smile and give his final instructions.

Realizing his father was about to die, Xu Lei stayed by him. Around three in the afternoon, a paper figurine, cut in human shape, drifted in from outside. It landed upright on the floor, staring at Master Xu. The moment Xu Lei saw it, he felt frozen and bitterly cold, then everything went black.

When he awoke half an hour later, Master Xu was dead, and the paper figurine had vanished.

As Master Xu’s son, Xu Lei knew well that some means of harm defy explanation. However much he wished to avenge his father, he could not—Master Xu had been clear. If Xu Lei pressed the matter, his wife and daughter might meet a silent end as well. He had no choice but to swallow the pain.

Xu Lei’s eyes reddened and he wept silently. To watch one’s father murdered and do nothing—I understood the helplessness.

What happened to Master Xu made me wonder—was my grandmother’s death the same? Otherwise, why would she leave me that letter with instructions for her funeral?

If so, she would have worn her burial clothes in advance, or spoken to me and my mother about her last wishes. But aside from the letter, she showed no sign she was about to die. After all, she’d only recently promised to cure my lost soul and the birthmark on my face.

By the timeline, Master Xu died during the day; my grandmother, that night. Master Xu went first. With my grandmother’s abilities, she surely would have foreseen this, yet she still wrote in her letter for me to seek his help in handling her affairs—she must not have known he had died only hours before her.

At that realization, a chill ran down my spine. Suddenly, I understood what the letter truly meant.