Chapter 37: The Dreamlike Encounter

These past few days, Li Zhuiyuan had mostly been reading.

He ignored Granny Liu’s constant hints and veiled suggestions. He didn’t bother Ah Li, nor did he try to approach her again seeking contact or an explanation.

Because he understood that clinging blindly was just a futile, self-indulgent gesture.

Ah Li had returned to her room and shut herself off once more.

But Li Zhuiyuan knew how to call her out again.

Last time, the girl emerged because the Cat-faced Granny had entered the house. So what he needed now was simply to recreate the scene.

He didn’t know whether the Cat-faced Granny had dissipated, but even if the Niu family trio were still alive, they were probably on the brink of death from filial torment.

The corpse aura on the black cat had likely mostly dispersed by now; its efficacy had probably waned.

Moreover, even if he found it again, it likely wouldn’t dare come back, fearing another encounter with a zombie in the house.

But corpses weren’t exactly cabbages on the roadside—you stumble across them when you least expect it, but they’re hard to find when you actively look.

After much thought, only Little Oriole remained as a viable option.

First of all, she lived nearby.

With the incense burner in hand and the bell in tow, he only needed to walk a short distance to lure her home. He certainly wasn’t going to catch one outside and have Runsheng haul it back with a tricycle.

Second, they’d collaborated before.

And lastly—and most importantly—Li Zhuiyuan distinctly remembered that when Little Oriole led the bearded man and his son into the pond, she didn’t emit any black aura like the Cat-faced Granny or the Zhou family’s Dead Sinker had.

He didn’t know why, but this meant she likely still lingered there—she hadn’t dissipated.

Now, the scene had been successfully recreated.

Little Oriole’s arrival caught Ah Li’s attention, drawing her back into the dreamscape, where Li Zhuiyuan could “see” her once again.

Only, after he apologized, he didn’t know what else to say.

He didn’t want to explain how Li Lan’s call had affected him, didn’t want to detail his condition, and certainly didn’t want to ask for sympathy or suggest mutual support.

If those words worked on Ah Li, her own grandmother Liu Yumei would’ve said them countless times already.

Redundant explanations only served to bog things down.

He merely needed to convey one thing: that his balcony was open again, and he hoped she would look out once more.

I have what you need, and I need to see myself in your eyes again.

Mutual need—this is the most stable bond in human relationships.

The boy and the girl stood there, silently facing each other.

Behind them, Little Oriole remained in her half-raised-arm pose. Her role tonight was mainly that of a telephone wire—connecting the two.

Beyond that, her presence allowed gusts of eerie wind and muffled wailing to swirl around them, giving texture to the atmosphere.

After a long while, Ah Li turned and went back into her room.

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t call after her, nor did he chase her for a definitive response. He simply looked up, frowning at the night sky, and waited for dawn.

But before that, he had to return what he’d summoned.

He stepped up to Little Oriole again, bent down to pick up the incense burner and bell, then turned and slowly walked backward—until those cold, wet hands once more aligned perfectly with his shoulders.

He shut his eyes, picturing himself underwater, body rising steadily… upward… higher…

As his head broke the surface, Li Zhuiyuan opened his eyes again.

He looked back and saw Runsheng standing at the edge of the dam, holding a Seven-Star Hook in one hand and the Yellow River Spade in the other, ready for anything.

Back to reality. The walk through the shade was over.

Li Sanjiang, passed out drunk inside the house, had no idea that all his elaborate Luck-Shifting Rituals to sever the boy’s shadowy ties and grant him a normal life had come to this.

And yet, through repeated practice, the boy had gradually deciphered the rules of walking the shade.

“Ding-a-ling... ding-a-ling...”

The bell rang as Li Zhuiyuan turned, with the figure in a cheongsam behind him adjusting her grip on his shoulders accordingly.

Runsheng scratched the back of his head with the flat of the Yellow River Spade.

He didn’t quite understand why Xiao Yuan had brought a Dead Sinker up from the water only to take it back again—but then, he never bothered to overthink things he didn’t get. He just waited for instructions.

No one was out this late, so the journey back to the pond behind the bearded man’s house was smooth.

“Huh?”

When he had summoned Little Oriole from the pond earlier, he’d been facing away from it. Now, returning with her still behind him, she hadn’t gone back down yet.

This gave him a chance to re-examine the pond’s original appearance, now untouched by her influence.

He’d been here before, but that was before he’d read The Liu Clan's Art of Observing Qi. Back then, he was like a kid visiting ancient ruins, unable to decipher the inscriptions.

Now, something felt off.

Even with Little Oriole no longer inside, the pond’s feng shui aura was even gloomier than before.

It should’ve cleared up without her. The reverse suggested something even more unusual was hidden beneath—and her presence had been masking it.

Could this be why she hadn’t dissipated even after getting her revenge?

“Ding-a-ling... ding-a-ling...”

Li Zhuiyuan didn’t immediately set down the candles to send her off. Instead, he walked with her slowly along the pond’s edge, hoping to uncover its true secret.

But as they walked, no new insights emerged. In fact, Little Oriole behind him grew increasingly restless.

He knew why—he’d kept her above for too long.

The hands on his shoulders shifted from a light hold to a firm grip, their damp chill soaking into his body.

The discomfort muddled his focus. His qi-viewing technique faltered, stuttering like when he’d first resumed reading the scrawl-filled Art of Observing Qi.

Then suddenly, a spark lit in his mind.

He raised a hand, trying to observe the pond’s feng shui with the same disjointed perspective he used when reading those chaotic scrawls.

Amid the warped, chaotic currents, previously hidden details emerged.

“Taiyin Angling, Solitary Pond Reflecting the Moon, Auspicious for Burying Noble Women, Gathering and Channeling Fortune.”

An ideal site for water burial. If a noblewoman were laid to rest here, she could protect and bless her descendants.

Ancients avoided water burials due to shifting hydrology—it complicated mourning rites and could disrupt feng shui.

But water burials had long existed—for rare tomb sites, to deter grave robbers, or for special individuals who wanted to remain hidden.

This pond, though significantly damaged, retained its fundamental feng shui structure.

Li Zhuiyuan hadn’t noticed before because the damage misaligned with standard interpretations. Applying conventional teachings was like using the wrong answer key—it didn’t match.

But in feng shui, unless newly constructed, perfection is a myth.

In this case, messiness was the key to real insight.

So, his earlier guess had been wrong. The calligraphy wasn’t sloppy due to haste—it was a deliberate encoding of field experience into the script.

A high-level skill, almost unimaginable.

He had copied someone else's work—but understood it better than the original author.

How could he be sure it was copied?

Because if the Liu family themselves had this practical insight, they wouldn’t keep writing in neat script, making comprehension harder for future generations.

And that day, Liu Yumei glanced at the book with the torn-off cover and only saw messy writing—she hadn’t recognized it as her family's Art of Observing Qi.

Now Li Zhuiyuan was truly curious—who was this mysterious copier?

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