Chapter 34: The Nether Soil

We arrived at the farmers' market just as the street bazaar was in full swing. It was packed with people, and after struggling to find a parking spot, we finally entered the fray.

I rarely visited such markets when I came into town, so I had no idea there was a large shopping mall here. Yu Xiaoxue led me through it like a tourist visiting a grand garden for the first time. She seemed to enjoy pulling me along by the nose, as I was usually the one teasing her.

Xiaoxue had no eye for fashion, so she took me to the second floor of the mall, where the clothes were indeed affordable—mostly around thirty or forty yuan each. Fearing that if she bought those, I would be laughed at by Han Shanshan and Zhao Qian, I pulled her away.

On the first floor, I bought some cooked food, then took Xiaoxue to a sportswear specialty store and bought two tracksuits—one pink, one blue. Looking at the bill of over five hundred yuan, Xiaoxue’s eyes went wide, and she was so stunned she couldn't even speak properly. However, she was very satisfied with the new clothes; sportswear was practical, perfect for running and jumping, and suited her well.

After fulfilling her wish, she led me to the market's antique street. There weren't many permanent shops, but on bazaar days, people from the countryside would come to sell unusual trinkets. I had heard that someone once sold a bronze drum here, which was later bought for ten thousand yuan and auctioned off for hundreds of thousands. Of course, even if such a treasure appeared, I couldn't afford it; I could only spare a few hundred yuan at most. Calculating it now, Xiaoxue still had a thousand yuan—she was wealthier than I was.

Furthermore, I had to start worrying about her tuition. Her father was gone, and I was essentially her older brother now; besides providing for her daily needs, I was responsible for her education.

"You're in your final year of high school, right?" I asked.

"Brother Tian, I just finished my second year. Maybe I should just quit? We don't have money, and we can't go back to Xiaoyi Village. I could work in the county, wait tables or wash dishes," Xiaoxue said, sounding troubled. She had asked me about working before, but I hadn't agreed.

"No way. The walls of your house are covered in certificates; you have good grades. It would be a waste not to finish," I immediately rejected her idea. Her grades were surely excellent, but her family was simply too poor to support her. Since she was with me now, no matter how hard it got, I would see her through school.

"My grades aren't good. I'm actually ranked around fortieth. The teachers just gave me those certificates to make my family look better. Maybe I should just stop," she shook her head.

In a home so poor that there was nothing but sweet potatoes and certificates, it was impossible to expect a sensible child to want to finish school. Xiaoxue's attitude was perfectly natural. I said, "What's the difference between fortieth and first? Keep studying. I have money. I've been out these past few years and earned tens of thousands; it's enough for you to go to college."

I said this with a pretentious smile. Xiaoxue stared at me, afraid I was lying. "Brother Tian, you're lying to me... you don't have any money."

"I do. Want me to call Auntie?" I took out my phone and prepared to dial my mother's number. I knew she wouldn't dare listen even if I did.

"So you really have it? You're not tricking Xue?" she looked at me, aggrieved.

"I'm not. Why would I trick you? If it's not enough, we'll have Auntie chip in, and you can pay it back slowly after you graduate from college. By then, you'll be making thousands a month. If you wash dishes now, you'll barely make eight hundred. When would you ever get ahead?" I persuaded her.

"Brother Tian... actually, I lied to you. Those certificates are real. I ranked second in my grade last semester. I have to tell you, I could have been first, but that day Xiaobei said if I didn't answer the last question and let her take first, she'd give me fifty yuan. I was thinking I could buy two catties of rice wine and a plate of roast duck for Dad, so I didn't write it..."

Xiaoxue took a crumpled fifty-yuan note from the corner of her shirt and gave it to me. "Xiaobei gave me the money, but I kept it for a long time and never dared to use it..."

"Will you do it again next time?" I immediately put on a stern face and confiscated the money. My heart ached. *Sigh, Uncle Yu-gen, I didn't bring anything back to Xiaoyi Village this time, but I'll owe you those two catties of wine and the roast duck on Xue's behalf. Once I'm successful and can return, I'll definitely bring them to you.*

"I won't," Xiaoxue’s eyes turned red. Although she sometimes did foolish things—like digging up other people's sweet potatoes—that was only because she was young, ignorant, and hungry.

"That's good. Listen to Brother Tian. Finish your studies. If you can get into Tsinghua or Peking University, we'll go. We're not short on that kind of money," I said boldly.

"Okay! Brother Tian is the best!" Xiaoxue was happy. Seeing a young couple nearby almost glued together, she ran over and clung to my arm, refusing to let go. I tried to shake her off a few times, but she wouldn't budge, so I stopped caring. No one in the county knew us anyway, so I didn't mind the image.

But just as I thought this, a familiar figure suddenly appeared at the edge of my vision!

"Yidan!" I shouted, breaking free from Xiaoxue’s grip and chasing after him like a whirlwind! Xiaoxue was stunned, but seeing me run, she followed.

The crowd was too dense, and fearing for Xiaoxue's safety, I stopped, watching from afar as Zhang Yidan's figure disappeared into the edge of the market.

"Brother Dan? How could it be?" Xiaoxue asked in surprise; she hadn't seemed to see him.

"Maybe I saw wrong. It's impossible, impossible," I told myself, then gave Xiaoxue a wry smile. Zhang Yidan was clearly dead, killed by my ghost infant. For him to appear in broad daylight? It was impossible. A fierce ghost possessing a body might make sense in a dark forest, but here in a sea of people? Absolutely impossible. The county had eight hundred thousand people; it was normal for someone to look similar. I sighed, thinking perhaps the memories Xiaoxue stirred up had made me think of my childhood friend.

"Brother, you're going to the antique street, right? It's right there, see?" Xiaoxue pointed to the intersection where the person who looked like Zhang Yidan had emerged.

"Yeah, I see it. Let's go," I said. My heart, which had just calmed, began to ripple again. Did 'Zhang Yidan' go to the antique street?

I shook my head and followed Xiaoxue into the antique street. It was really just an alley, even selling chickens, ducks, and geese. I found a shop with a kind-looking owner and asked if he had old yellow paper, high-quality cinnabar, and brushes. In an old county town like this, such things were never in short supply, and the owner quickly brought several varieties out.

I wasn't buying these because Zhao Qian didn't have any, but because I couldn't use items that someone else had touched; it would affect the accuracy of my spells. I picked the oldest paper and the most expensive aged cinnabar. The cinnabar cost dozens of yuan per gram, and I spent over four hundred just on a little bit. The aged yellow paper wasn't cheap either, and with the special brush, six hundred yuan was gone just like that.

I reflected on the saying: "Wealth, Dharma, Partners, and Land." It was true. You couldn't dabble in these things without money. Playing with this was playing with your life; how could things that touched your very life be cheap? First, you needed money; only then did you look at the strength of your Daoist techniques, followed by finding fellow practitioners, partners, and a site for cultivation. Only after these factors stood the test of time could one become a master of the Dao.

"Boss, did a young guy in his twenties, wearing factory clothes, pass by here or buy anything?" I asked on a whim, describing Zhang Yidan.

"Oh, him? Hey, it's strange. Why are you young people all playing with this stuff lately? That guy came to me earlier, asking for cinnabar and brushes just like you. He bought the brush, but when I brought out the cinnabar, he said it wasn't right and went to buy it from that street vendor across the way. Hehe, that vendor makes his own stuff; can you really use that?" The owner didn't hide anything, pointing to the stall across the street.

I immediately ran over to the old woman at the stall and asked if she had done business with a young man. The old woman didn't say a word. She looked in the direction Zhang Yidan had disappeared, pointed at the cinnabar, and held up one finger. I figured I wouldn't get any information without buying her goods, so I took out fifty yuan: "Give me five grams."

The old woman smiled, but it was eerie. She revealed a mouth with severely missing teeth, but what was worse was that her tongue was cut off halfway! She was a mute. Xiaoxue and I were so startled we took two steps back. Her tongue had clearly been cut out by someone!

"Young man, it's a hundred per gram!" The shop owner across the way, seeing me frightened, kindly reminded me.

I realized I wouldn't get any answers, and this cinnabar had already turned a brownish-purple—I had no idea how to use it—so I pulled Xiaoxue away.

With only two or three hundred yuan left, I realized I still needed a spirit urn and prepared to head to other antique shops. A spirit urn was essentially an urn for storing the ashes and bones of the dead. But the modern urns, no matter how beautifully carved, were useless; even those made of gold or jade were no good to me. I needed to find clay urns. Unfortunately, after checking many shops, the owners told me they were all crafts, and even cheap imitations cost hundreds.

My heart sank. It seemed Xijun's home wouldn't be settled today. I carefully recalled my grandmother's process for making spirit urns. Before making one, she would always go out, and upon returning, she would have gathered various materials. These materials weren't particularly special—just ordinary mud—but she never intended for me to play with them, saying it was bad for me. And she always fired them by hand, but I didn't have the conditions for firing pottery now.

My grandmother was a master, capable of finding pottery clay to make the urns, carving talismans into them, and then firing them. The ghosts raised in such urns were incredibly powerful. Could I do it?

"It's ghost soil!" As I hesitated, that term popped into my mind, making me decide to abandon the antique street altogether. I decided to make the pottery myself.