“Come on out,” I said.

　　I knew Zhou Yong had been watching everything through the crack in the door.

　　He opened it slowly, stepping out with caution. “M-Mr.… Mr. Li Hongmin, he…?”

　　“Dead. His soul’s gone,” I said, holding his gaze.

　　“This…” Zhou Yong was at a loss for words.

　　“All right, let’s go.” I turned to leave, and he followed right behind me, too scared to make a sound.

　　As we passed the entrance to the neighborhood, the old man there spoke to me again. “Hey, young man, what were you doing in there?”

　　I chuckled. “Oh, nothing much, just hanging out in a dead guy’s house for a bit.”

　　I didn’t wait for him to respond; I just kept walking. Zhou Yong was beside me the whole way—he just couldn’t see me.

　　“Aren’t you curious about Xu Xiaoli?” I asked Zhou Yong without looking at him.

　　He hesitated for a moment, then finally asked, “How is she?”

　　I kept my eyes on the road ahead. “After you lost it and hanged yourself, Xu Xiaoli went mad. They put her in a mental hospital. She got a little better over time and eventually went back to River Village.”

　　“As long as she’s okay,” Zhou Yong murmured.

　　I wondered if I should tell him the truth about Xu Xiaoli—that Zhang Ming had sent her to get close to him, that she had a hand in his death.

　　Honestly, after seeing Zhou Yong’s ghost, I believed he’d been a good man in life—and a good spirit now in death.

　　So after giving it some thought, I decided not to tell him about Xu Xiaoli.Sometimes, not knowing certain things is far better than knowing. At the very least, it saves a lot of trouble.

　　Zhou Yong would soon be heading to the underworld, so I decided to let him go in peace.

　　“Sir,” Zhou Yong suddenly called out to me.

　　“What is it?”

　　“Can I go see my little brother? He should still be in Mountain City, right?”

　　I thought about it and replied, “Yes, he’s still there. You can go, but you must leave before nightfall. Got it?” I looked him straight in the eye.

　　“Got it!”

　　I took him back to the guesthouse, and when it was well past midnight, Zhou Quan and the others were already asleep.

　　I gave Zhou Yong a nod, and he turned into a shadow that slipped into Zhou Quan’s body.

　　I knew he was going to visit Zhou Quan in a dream.

　　So, I stood by the door, quietly waiting for him.

　　Around two in the morning, Zhou Quan finally came out. When he saw me, he said right away, “Thank you, sir.”

　　I didn’t know exactly what he’d told Zhou Quan, but I could see that he seemed much more at ease.

　　People always say that dreams can’t be trusted, but sometimes it's better to believe than to doubt—especially when it’s a message from someone who’s passed on. It’s not something to ignore.

　　“Let’s go. We can’t delay any longer,” I said.

　　He nodded.

　　After leaving the guesthouse, we headed westward, eventually reaching a crossroads—the most common meeting point between the worlds of the living and the dead. I took out a spirit-guiding talisman and began to chant, “Heaven’s gate, earth’s gate, doors of life now closed. Four corners of Yin, open the path. Let this restless soul cross into the Nine Hells; I call upon the spirits to clear the way for a new soul.”

　　As I finished speaking, a flick of my fingers set the talisman aflame. I tossed it into the air, watching as it burned and faded into the night.

　　The moment the talisman vanished, a dark vortex slowly emerged about ten meters in front of us, right in the center of the crossroads.

　　“Go on,” I told Zhou Yong.

　　He nodded, walking slowly toward the vortex. But just as he was about to step through, he stopped, turned back, and gave me a deep bow.

　　I said nothing, and neither did he. Whatever words were left between us, we both understood them, so there was no need to speak.

　　I watched him enter the vortex, which then slowly disappeared, leaving the night calm and quiet once more.

　　I let out a small sigh and looked up at the sky, searching for the moon in this moment of peace. Finally, I found it, resting at the horizon where the earth and sky meet.

　　I smiled. Zhang Ming had paid for his crimes, Zhou Yong’s soul had finally found peace, and the incident at Huayuan Community was, at last, over.

　　Back at the inn, I glanced at the clock on the wall; it was nearly four. I didn’t go back to bed. Instead, I grabbed my packed bag—really just a few pieces of clothing—and got ready to leave.

　　I wasn’t planning to say goodbye to Zhou Sheng and Zhou Quan in person. Instead, I left a letter on the table, saying everything I wanted them to know.

　　The world is vast and the road ahead long; if fate allows, we’ll meet again someday.

　　Next, I planned to head to Han City to find my senior sister, Jiang Xuerou. But before that, I had to make a stop at River Village. I’d promised Zhang Cuicui something, and I intended to keep that promise.

　　Living as a feng shui master, one truth is as clear to me as anything: it’s better to lie to the living than to deceive the dead.

　　By the time I arrived in River Village, it was noon. I went straight to Xu Xiaoli’s home and told her the news about Zhang Ming’s arrest. As for Zhou Yong, I didn’t mention him.

　　Xu Xiaoli seemed genuinely happy today and even cooked two dishes for me herself.

　　At the table, her mother kept trying to match us up, even going as far as to seat us side by side. But I knew that there could never be anything between me and her—or between me and any woman, for that matter. It wasn’t their fault; it was mine. I couldn’t allow it.

　　In our line of work, there’s an old, unspoken rule: if you aren’t cursed by fate, you won’t last long as a feng shui master.

　　This curse, known as the “Five Misfortunes and Three Deficits,” says that a master lacks one or more of five things—spouse, children, family, companionship, or physical health—and three blessings: fortune, status, or longevity.

　　The rule might sound absolute, but it doesn’t mean others can’t work in feng shui. It just means they likely won’t go far, and they might even be risking their lives.

　　I know what I am. That’s why I don’t let myself get too close to anyone. People call me a jinx in Yao Village for a reason; I don’t want anyone suffering because of me.

　　“Well then, Auntie, I should get going,” I said.

　　“Leaving already, Xiaofeng? Stay a little longer, won’t you?” Xu Xiaoli’s mother asked.

　　“I’d love to, but I have some things I need to get done,” I replied as I stood up.

　　“Well, make sure you visit Xiaoli whenever you get the chance!”

　　“All right.” I smiled and nodded.

　　After leaving Xu Xiaoli’s house, I headed straight to the east side of the village to Ma Daqiang’s home.In the courtyard, Ma Daqiang’s wife was washing dishes. When she saw me, she broke into a smile and came over. “Sir, you’re here.”

　　“How’s Ma Xiaodong doing?” I asked.

　　“He’s much better, Sir. We really owe you a huge thanks for everything.”

　　“Come on in, Sir, have a seat!” Ma Daqiang came out to greet me too, offering me a cigarette, which I waved away.

　　“Did you get everything I asked you to prepare?” I asked him.

　　Before I’d left, I’d told him to get some mourning clothes ready; I’d need them for the ritual to send off Zhang Cuicui and the other lingering spirits.

　　“Got everything, Sir,” Ma Daqiang said, pocketing the cigarette with a grin.

　　I nodded, considering. Just to be sure, I turned to his wife. “Could you also buy more joss paper? Get as much as you can.”

　　She glanced over at Ma Daqiang, who waved her off, saying, “What’re you standing around for? Go get it!”

　　When his wife left, I settled down in the courtyard with Ma Daqiang sitting across from me. “Sir, is all this really necessary?” he asked hesitantly.

　　“What do you think?” I shot back, my tone sharp.

　　People like Ma Daqiang... making their children pay for their own mistakes. The mess he and his father left behind—their “yin debts”—were now falling on Ma Xiaodong to pay off. If his father hadn’t turned traitor back then, if he hadn’t hired someone to seal off that place, River Village wouldn’t have ended up with a “Gulch of the Dead.” And his son, Ma Xiaodong, wouldn’t be tangled up in this disaster.