Folklore and Strange Tales: At the Start, You Retrieve the Sea-Suppressing Black Iron

Chapter 134 Sixty-Year-Old Ash Suppresses the Bottom of the Jar, Xin Jin Suffers Backlash, His Hands Congeal into Iron Blue

"I'll go back and see how much trouble my dad has left me."

As soon as Cheng Xiaojin finished speaking, Tieguai Li slung his toolbox over his shoulder, and the five-cent pliers inside the box clashed against the wrench with a loud clang.

"Whether it's expensive or not is another matter, but if you really want to open the vat, you have to stay three feet away from the table."

2

Cheng Xiaojin glanced at him sideways.

"Three feet? Do you think I'm setting off firecrackers for the New Year?"

Tong Kexin followed, carrying a small aluminum kettle. "If you dare touch it, I'll throw you over the wall."

Han Shaobai held the account book, with a red stamp stuck inside, and the cuffs were torn as if a dog had chewed on them.

He glanced at Cheng Xiaojin's arm.

"Brother Cheng, if your hand is really ruined, Boguzhai will save you a grand master chair."

Tang Wanqing didn't reply. She walked to Cheng Xiaojin's left, holding the silver needle box in her palm, the edge of the lid stained with dark blood.

Every two steps she took, her gaze fell on Cheng Xiaojin's medicated cloth.

The outside of the medicated cloth was still fairly dry.

The bluish ring above the wrist bone was visible through the cloth.

As we passed the intersection of Liulichang Street, Aunt Wang called out from behind.

"Cheng Xiaojin, the steamer lid has rendered a great service; this is clearly stated in the accounts!"

Cheng Xiaojin didn't turn around, but raised his hand and waved. He raised his hand only half an inch before lowering it again.

Tang Wanqing saw it, and um—Tong Kexin saw it too.

The witty remark that Tieguai Li was about to say stuck between his teeth and didn't come out.

The night was deep in Panjiayuan. Two of the lights in the alley were broken. An old light bulb hung at the entrance of Master Ma's courtyard, and many small insects flew in its yellow light.

The gate to the courtyard was unlocked, and the smell of tobacco was wafting out from under the door.

Master Ma sat in the courtyard, an enamel teacup placed on the left side of the stone table, the lid on, with two white marks on the rim.

Zhou Banxian squatted against the wall, his compass resting on his knees, the needle still trembling.

He had a pipe stick in his mouth, but he didn't light it.

As the group entered, Master Ma first examined Cheng Xiaojin's hands.

With just one glance, he took the pipe from his mouth and tapped it on the sole of his shoe.

"Used it again?"

Cheng Xiaojin stepped over the threshold, his toes avoiding the dust, and gave a vague answer.

"I didn't touch it."

Grandpa Ma tapped the cigarette ash into the cracks between the blue bricks. The ash particles fell down and were caught by Old Ash in the yard, preventing them from dispersing.

"sit."

Tieguai Li placed the toolbox next to the stone table, opened the lid, and laid out the items one by one.

A pair of broken pliers, an alloy steel pipe, half a piece of scrap iron wire stained with black oil, and a screw stuck together with fried liver sauce.

He picked up the pliers; the jaws were wider, and a black sawdust was stuck inside.

Tieguai Li tried to pick at it with his fingernails twice, but couldn't get it off.

"Okay, five cents to kill the skeletons from Southeast Asia, then the value will increase to seven cents."

Han Shaobai placed the account book on the corner of the table, not daring to approach the main room. The cover of the account book was covered with black watermarks, ink stains, and fried liver stains.

The cracked red stamp was tucked inside the pages, revealing half of the wooden handle. The mold in the crack was growing along the wood grain.

Han Shaobai rubbed the pen against the edge of the ledger.

"If my dad sees this ledger, he'll ask me if I used it to pad my coffin."

Tieguai Li said, "Just say that this ledger slapped Shen Jiulou in the face."

Han Shaobai nodded. "That's a valuable argument."

Tong Kexin placed the small aluminum kettle on the ground. As soon as the bottom of the kettle touched the blue brick, white steam rose from it.

"There's not much soup left."

Master Ma looked at her.

"Where's the Huguosi hot pot?"

"Aunt Wang, Uncle Li, Xiao Xing, stay here."

Tong Kexin leaned the long spoon against the wall.

"He Xiulan's mutton soup pot is still hot, and the ninth light hasn't gone out."

Zhou Banxian shook his compass needle, causing the pipe rod to tap against the edge of the compass.

"Liulichang is temporarily stable, but Deshengmen has retreated half a step."

Cheng Xiaojin sat down on the stone bench, and as soon as he relaxed his shoulders, Tang Wanqing was already standing in front of him.

"hand."

"Have a sip of tea."

"hand!"

Cheng Xiaojin twitched the corner of his mouth.

"Miss Tang, your tone sounds just like you're pressing for a debt."

Han Shaobai peeked out from behind the ledger.

"Brother Cheng, I'm good at collecting debts. This is called overdue payment reminder."

Tang Wanqing ignored them and directly removed the bandage.

The first layer of medicated cloth was peeled off, and the part of the cloth that was touching the skin had hardened. She used a silver needle to pry open the edge, revealing Cheng Xiaojin's wrist underneath the medicated cloth.

The bluish-black color crept over the wrist bone and crawled half an inch down the forearm. The color was deep in the flesh, branching along the tendons, forming lines where they were thin and as wide as the tip of a chopstick where they were thick.

A soft grinding sound could be heard from beneath the skin, a sour sound like metal objects grinding against each other.

Han Shaobai couldn't hear clearly, but he saw Tang Wanqing's fingers pause for a beat, and his expression immediately changed.

"medicine."

Tong Kexin handed over the small porcelain bottle.

Tang Wanqing poured out the medicinal soup, and as soon as the soup touched the bluish-black veins, a layer of white frost immediately formed on the surface.

The frost crawled outwards along the wrist bone, instantly freezing the medicine into a thin shell.

The thin shell, clinging to the skin, cracked open with a snap.

The medicinal smell dissipated, leaving only the metallic odor.

Tieguai Li put down the pliers.

"This medicine used to work."

Tang Wanqing crushed the white frost with her fingertips, and the frost particles fell onto the stone table without melting.

"You can't get in now."

Cheng Xiaojin looked down at his hands.

The finger is still there, but the color is ugly.

The edges of the nails were stained black, and half of the smooth lines on the fingertips had been swallowed up by rust.

He raised his index finger and stopped it above the stone table.

The rusty screw on the table clicked softly.

Cheng Xiaojin heard it; the sound came from the screw core, thin and short, carrying the hollow of a rusted cavity.

Tang Wanqing stared at him.

What were you just doing?

"I listened to it."

Tong Kexin slammed her hand on the edge of the stone table, causing the teacup lid to bounce.

"Are you still listening?"

Cheng Xiaojin looked up, and the corner of her mouth twitched slightly.

"If I don't listen, and next time Shen Jiulou uses my dad's voice to fool you, I'll be the one applauding him!"

Grandpa Ma placed his tobacco pipe across the table.

"Don't make a sound."

The courtyard quieted down.

The withered vines on the wall were brushed by the wind, and two dry leaves fell down.

Master Ma looked at Cheng Xiaojin's hand, then at Tang Wanqing.

"The medication isn't working?"

Tang Wanqing stuffed the porcelain bottle back into her sleeve.

"If the regular herbal decoction is no longer effective, using it will only push the blue line into the bone."

Tieguai Li spat.

"Those bastards from Southeast Asia, they're all about underhanded tactics."

Cheng Xiaojin slowly turned her left hand over.

The blue on his palm had deepened, and the old lines in the middle of his palm were no longer clearly visible.

He used two fingers of his right hand to pinch the fingertips of his left hand, holding it for a while before raising his eyes.

"The pain is deep in my bones."

Tang Wanqing asked, "Sour or numb?"

"acid.

"

"Why is it sour?"

Cheng Xiaojin looked at the pair of pliers that Tieguai Li was holding.

"If you try to file iron with a dull file and it won't budge, you still have to file it."

Tieguai Li's cheeks tightened.

"Stop gesturing, it's making my teeth hurt."

Cheng Xiaojin placed her hands on her knees.

"Southeast agarwood, copper plate, black magic oil, and bone corpse voice transmission wire, all of these have been used by my hands."

He looked at the blue thread on his wrist.

"The stuff is too mixed up, and it's all crammed under the leather and fighting over it."

Tang Wanqing immediately said, "Stop."

"You can stop your hands, but you can't stop the work."

Tong Kexin looked at him.

"Don't try to shut me up with that."

Cheng Xiaojin stopped joking and looked at Master Ma.

"Is the ashes still on that bronze plaque with the character 'Shen' in the courtyard?"

Master Ma raised his eyelids slightly.

"What are you going to do?"

"Use drastic measures."

Tang Wanqing stood in front of him.

"no."

Cheng Xiaojin looked at the bloodstains on her cuffs caused by the red thread.

"Miss Tang, if you try to stop me now, you can only stop me tonight."

"We'll take it one night if we can."

"The third section of Huguo Temple is still 70% unsealed, the seventh gate is missing a key, and Shen Jiulou has broken a plate, so he might not be able to relax and drink morning tea tomorrow."

Tieguai Li slammed the toolbox lid down.

"Talk about strong medicine."

Cheng Xiaojin pointed to the base of the wall.

Beneath the west wall of Master Ma's courtyard, there was a broken earthenware pot.

The earthenware pot was covered with an old piece of iron, and the edges of the iron had black ash left from the broken bronze plaque with the character "Shen" on it.

Master Ma hasn't swept that thing since he brought it back last time.

"The ashes of the bronze plaque with the character 'Shen' on it."

Cheng Xiaojin said, "Add some of the old tobacco oil from your pipe."

Zhou Banxian almost dropped his tobacco pouch.

"Are you crazy?"

Han Shaobai hugged the account book to his chest.

"Brother Cheng, this stuff isn't billed through pharmacies, is it?"

Tieguai Li said, "Using filth to control filth?"

Cheng Xiaojin nodded.

"The bronze plaque with the character 'Shen' identifies the dark materials from Southeast Asia, and Master Ma's tobacco oil is recognized by the threshold of this courtyard."

He paused.

"By mixing the old and new smells together, you can force the stray green threads to come together."

Tang Wanqing asked, "The price?"

Cheng Xiaojin looked at his palm.

"A portion of the sense of touch has been lost."

No one spoke in the courtyard.

The enamel mug lid was gently brushed by the wind, the porcelain edge hitting the iron edge with a dry sound.

Tong Kexin took the long spoon down from the wall and twirled the handle halfway around in her palm.

"How much did you lose?"

"I don't know right now."

"Don't play dumb."

Cheng Xiaojin looked up.

"As long as I still have my hand, it's fine."

Tong Kexin stopped using the spoon handle.

Tang Wanqing pressed the silver needle box onto the table, and wiped away the blood on the edge of the lid with her thumb, leaving a red mark.

"Cheng Xiaojin, listen carefully."

She stared at the blue thread on his wrist.

"If the Shenmen Ash enters the meridians and recognizes its master, the blue thread will appear on the shoulder."

Cheng Xiaojin said, "Then you can give me acupuncture."

"Not enough needles."

Han Shaobai immediately rummaged through his pockets.

"I have money, I'll have it delivered now."

Tieguai Li scolded him.

"Do you think silver needle mushrooms are like cabbages, something you can buy wholesale at a midnight market?"

Master Ma raised his hand.

"Shut up, all of you."

He got up, walked to the base of the wall, and lifted the old sheet metal.

Beneath the black and gray background lies half a bronze plaque with the character "Shen" on it. The plaque is cracked, and only the top half of the character "Shen" remains.

Master Ma used copper tongs to pick it up, then put it back, replaced it with a bamboo stick, and shoveled the black ash into a small porcelain dish.

He picked up his pipe again.

The cigarette holder has been used for many years, and the mouthpiece is worn shiny from being chewed.

Master Ma turned his pipe upside down and tapped it three times on the edge of the dish.

The first drop was dry ash.

On the second tap, a little dark brown e-liquid dripped out.

The third time, the e-liquid is drawn into a thin thread and hangs on the side of the bowl.

Master Ma scraped it off with a bamboo strip.

The smell spread immediately.

Old tobacco leaves, damp wood, medicine cabinets, bedding dried in the yard, and a hint of bitterness from broken tea leaves.

Cheng Xiaojin's throat bobbed when he smelled the aroma.

When he was a child, he would come to Master Ma's courtyard and Cheng Shouyi would sit at this stone table and smoke.

Master Ma scolded me twice for flicking cigarette ash onto the lid of the teacup.

Master Ma didn't scold him the third time because Cheng Shouyi had left.

Cheng Xiaojin took the cigarette out from behind his ear, put it on the table, but didn't light it.

"bring it on."

Tang Wanqing grabbed his arm.

"I'll do the work."

Cheng Xiaojin shook his head.

"If you touch this dust, the red thread will get dirty."

"Are my hands more valuable than yours?"

"You still need to save my life."

Tang Wanqing stared at him, pressing the silver needle box with a click.

Tong Kexin placed the long spoon on the table.

"I'm dead."

Cheng Xiaojin looked at her.

"You are the fire in the pot, don't get covered in Shen's soot."

"Then who's flopping?"

Cheng Xiaojin raised his chin and nodded at Tieguai Li.

Tieguai Li was stunned for a moment.

"I?"

"Your hands are rough."

Is that a compliment or an insult?

"It doesn't matter."

Tieguai Li grumbled and cursed, but still walked over.

He pulled out a piece of old sheet metal from the toolbox, but Cheng Xiaojin stopped him again.

"Don't use iron."

"Then what should we use?"

Master Ma handed him a piece of bamboo.

"bamboo."

Tieguai Li stirred the porcelain dish with a bamboo stick.

When Shenzi ash is mixed with old e-liquid, it turns black with a yellowish tinge and emits a pungent, old smell.

Han Shaobai covered his nose.

"Even Shen Jiulou would return it if he smelled this."

Cheng Xiaojin placed both hands on the stone table.

Palms facing up.

The medicated cloth was completely removed.

The bluish-black color gleamed coldly under the light.

The edges of the knuckles no longer resemble flesh and skin; instead, they look like old iron covering human skin.

Tang Wanqing pulled out a silver needle and inserted it into the inside of his forearm.

The needle tip wiggles gently.

Another needle was inserted above the wrist bone.

As soon as the needle touched the skin on the third insertion, frost immediately formed.

Tang Wanqing flicked the needle's end with her fingernail, shaking off the frost.

"If you can't take it anymore, just say so."

Cheng Xiaojin smiled.

"I'm poor, so I buy cheap things."

Tieguai Li used a bamboo stick to pick up the clump of grease.

Which one?

"Left hand."

Why?

"Keep your right hand for swearing."

Tieguai Li smeared the bamboo strip on the thickest part of the blue line on his left wrist.

The moment the grease touched his skin, a short crack came from under Cheng Xiaojin's wrist.

The sound of nails being screwed into wet wood.

He gritted his teeth but didn't make a sound.

The silver needle in Tang Wanqing's hand had deviated by half an inch, so she immediately pressed it back down.

"Don't bite your tongue."

Cheng Xiaojin squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth.

"I can't afford it, meat is too expensive."

Tong Kexin stood to the side, the handle of her spoon against the ground.

She didn't scold him, but simply turned on the small aluminum kettle, letting out steam to ward off the cold in the hospital.

The gray oil licked inwards along the blue line, while the chaotic blue color under the skin pushed outwards first, causing a small tendon to bulge out of the wrist bone.

A delicate, sweet aroma of Nanyang agarwood wafted from the Shenzi ash, but it was quickly suppressed by the bitter taste of Ma Ye e-liquid.

Two old energies collided beneath the skin, and Cheng Xiaojin's left fingers grew cold one by one.

Index finger, middle finger, ring finger.

The little finger was the slowest, and it took two breaths for the blue color to fade.

Tieguai Li's eye twitched.

"Still burnt?"

Cheng Xiaojin nodded.

"Right hand."

Tang Wanqing said sternly, "Wait until your left hand is steady."

"Once it stabilizes, Shen Jiulou will be able to have breakfast."

Tong Kexin finally spoke.

"If you say another sarcastic remark, I'll make sure you really don't get to eat."

Cheng Xiaojin shut up.

Tieguai Li applied the second swab of ash to his right wrist.

This time the reaction was even more severe.

The screws, pliers, and wire on the stone table all clicked at the same time.

The sound emanated from the metal belly, forming a thin line that pierced Cheng Xiaojin's ear.

Cheng Xiaojin's vision went black for a moment, and the yellow light from the light bulb in the yard shrank and then slowly brightened again.

Tang Wanqing inserted four needles in succession, each one following the edge of the blue thread.

After the silver needle was inserted into the skin, the tip of the needle was covered with white frost.

She flicked her fingers back and forth, blood seeping from her fingertips and staining the needle tip.

"Han Shaobai."

Han Shaobai shuddered.

"exist."

"Bring the account books over."

"what?"

"Padded under his arm."

Han Shaobai glanced at the account book, then at Cheng Xiaojin's hand, gritted his teeth, and pushed the account book towards him.

"Brother Cheng, if my ancestors scold me, you take the blame for me."

Cheng Xiaojin pressed his wrist against the edge of the ledger, and the black watermark on the cover hissed and smoked under the pressure of the green mist.

Han Shaobai felt a pang of heartache seeing this.

"This ledger is really emitting black smoke from its ancestral graves tonight."

Tieguai Li said, "Stop talking nonsense, your ancestor is also joining the battle tonight."

Mr. Ma stood across the table, a pipe of tobacco held horizontally in his palm.

He didn't smoke; he just gently tapped the table with his pipe.

Each strike resonated with the old gray spirit in the courtyard.

Cheng Xiaojin's hands were getting warm.

My fingers started to get cold, then my palms, and by the time they reached my wrists, the warmth in my flesh had vanished.

The bluish-black color stopped climbing.

It stopped two inches above the wrist bone, and the color deepened, slowly turning into a whole patch of iron blue.

Tang Wanqing pulled out a silver needle.

The needle tip is blackened.

She dropped the needle into the lid of the teacup; the needle tip struck the porcelain with a dull thud.

"Move your left hand."

Cheng Xiaojin moved his left index finger.

Slow down — but it can move.

"Does it hurt?"

"pain."

Can you touch it?

Cheng Xiaojin touched the edge of the stone table with his fingertip.

It paused for a moment, then bumped into something again.

He looked up. "The smell of wood is gone."

Tang Wanqing's face turned pale.

"This is a stone table."

Cheng Xiaojin changed his tune.

"The stone is gone, too."

Tong Kexin rubbed her hand on the spoon handle.

"Then why are you laughing?"

"Not all of them were lost."

Cheng Xiaojin looked at the rusty iron nails on the table.

"I've changed how I listen to it."

He raised his hand and stopped it half an inch above the nail.

Everyone in the courtyard stared at the iron nail.

The iron nail lay on the stone table, its rusted surface a dark red, and its head slightly askew.

Tieguai Li used it to pry open the box during the day, and later casually threw it into the toolbox.

Cheng Xiaojin closed his eyes briefly, and a soft, rustling sound came from the iron nail.

The sound doesn't travel through your fingertips; it's placed directly on your eardrum.

He heard the nail tip pierce the damp wood, heard a ring of old cracks in the middle of the nail, and heard half a wood shaving stuck under the nail head, the shaving carrying the smell of locust wood.

Cheng Xiaojin opened her eyes.

"It was taken from a locust wood door."

Tieguai Li picked up the iron nail and examined it.

"Holy crap."

Han Shaobai quickly came over.

"Can you appraise something without even touching it?"

Tieguai Li picked out the wood shavings from under the nail head, put them to his nose, and smelled them.

"The locust wood, I took it from a broken door last year."

Han Shaobai looked at Cheng Xiaojin's hand, then at the iron nail.

"Charging fees remotely—this business is viable."

Cheng Xiaojin withdrew his hand, his fingers curling slightly.

"I can hear it within half an inch, but not beyond that."

Tang Wanqing put the remaining silver needles back into the box.

"cost."

Cheng Xiaojin remained silent.

Tong Kexin held the long spoon above the back of his hand, the bottom of the spoon steaming with the heat of the soup.

Is it hot?

Cheng Xiaojin glanced at her.

"I can smell it."

"I'm asking you if it's hot."

He paused for a moment.

"Almost."

Tong Kexin put the spoon away and didn't ask any more questions.

Tieguai Li bent down and stuffed the pliers back into the box, taking two tries to get it in the right place.

"Okay, from now on, we won't need to touch the samples for testing; we'll charge remotely."

Han Shaobai immediately responded.

"Bo Gu Zhai is now open for business. Master Cheng will appraise the items remotely, and the price is 8,800 yuan per session."

Cheng Xiaojin asked, "Do you think I'm worth eight thousand eight?"

Just as Han Shaobai was about to speak, Tang Wanqing glanced at him.

He swallowed his words.

Master Ma covered the remaining ash in the porcelain dish.

"Don't be so smug."

He picked up the enamel teacup and placed it in the center of the stone table.

The bottom of the vat hit the table with a deep sound, and the air in the courtyard tightened instantly.

Cheng Xiaojin looked at the teacup.

He knew that Master Ma was about to reveal the truth.

Master Ma took out a yellowed drawing from his pocket.

The paper had been folded for many years, and the edges were frayed. When unfolded, a little bit of old ash fell out from the cracks in the paper.

The picture doesn't show the typical BJ water network; the lines are strangely curved.

Several lines lead through the alleys, several lines run along the city wall, and several thin lines meander from the Deshengmen culvert all the way to Panjiayuan.

Han Shaobai craned his neck to look.

"Water network?"

Zhou Banxian's tobacco pipe rod is a little higher in the picture.

"Only half."

Master Ma shook his head.

"The sound path is also inside."

Cheng Xiaojin noticed a line of small print in the lower right corner of the drawing.

His handwriting was meticulous, with quick, sharp strokes in the vertical hooks. His bluish-white fingers remained on the edge of the table, without touching the paper.

Master Ma glanced at him.

"Drawn by Cheng Shouyi."

The courtyard fell silent for a moment.

Cheng Xiaojin picked up the unlit cigarette, twirled it between his fingers, and then put it down.

"When?"

"Twenty years ago, it was half a month before he left."

Master Ma used his pipe to touch the line at Deshengmen.

"Sound from Shenmen comes from a hidden ditch, a water cavity, old copper pipes, and an empty wall."

The pipe was moved to Liulichang.

"The copper plate is the only thing that gets started; these empty stomachs under the walls of Beijing are the only ones that get their ears to people's ears."

Tieguai Li stared at the picture.

"That time with the paper cart, did the sound come from Deshengmen?"

"First, lay down the culvert, then borrow empty bricks from under the old shops in Liulichang, and finally stick up the wooden signboard of Liupu."

Master Ma moved his pipe to the side of the seventh gate.

"Shen Jiulou knows how to pick his spots. He avoids the main entrance and specifically seeks out gaps or openings in the air."

Han Shaobai pointed to several short lines on the map.

"These breaks?"

"The road that Cheng Shouyi blocked back then."

Cheng Xiaojin's eyes fell on a small circle.

The small circle was drawn at the bottom of Master Ma's courtyard in Panjiayuan, with two characters written next to it.

Ash well.

"Does our compound have them too?"

Master Ma nodded.

"The old BJ yard mostly has old ash pits underneath."

He tapped the ground with his pipe.

"We've lived in this courtyard for sixty years, and the ash pit has never been cleaned. Cigarette ash, stove ash, hearth ash, tea ash, ashes from funeral paper offerings, and firecracker ash from the New Year are all at the bottom."

Tieguai Li grinned.

"No wonder this yard is so tough."

Master Ma didn't laugh.

"Shen Jiulou broke his plate tonight, so he'll definitely have to change routes."

He looked towards the main house.

"If he wants to find an ashtray, he has to measure the ash well at the bottom of the yard first."

Tang Wanqing asked, "Is the ashtray still in the same place?"

"exist."

Cheng Xiaojin asked, "You haven't moved at all?"

"Why would you touch it?"

Master Ma tapped his pipe on the table.

"That thing isn't a walnut that people casually play with."

Cheng Xiaojin stared at the blueprints without looking up.

"Master Ma, you didn't mention the road map before."

Master Ma lifted the lid of the teacup.

The tea had long since cooled, with two tea leaves floating on the surface.

He put the lid back on.

"Your hands weren't this bruised before."

Cheng Xiaojin smiled.

"So I have to offer half my hands first before I'm even qualified to hear the story?"

Master Ma looked up at him.

"If you want to hear a story, I could make one up all night."

He pressed the pipe against the edge of the drawing.

"If you want to hear the truth, don't complain about how ugly the accounts are."

Cheng Xiaojin's smile faded.

Tieguai Li reached out and pulled Han Shaobai back half a step.

Han Shaobai asked in a low voice, "What's wrong?"

Tieguai Li said, "Adults are bringing up old grievances, children shouldn't interrupt."

Han Shaobai glanced at the account book in his arms.

"How did I become a child?"

Tong Kexin ignored them and looked at Master Ma.

"Please speak."

Master Ma lit his pipe in the center of the drawing.

There is a door drawn there.

There are three nail holes next to the door bolt. The first one is written with the character "Liu" next to it, the second one with the character "Shen" next to it, and the third one is empty except for a thin vertical hook.

Cheng Xiaojin stared at the hook, his fingers remaining still, but he heard a soft sound coming from the main room.

The ashtray, the nail cap scraping against the porcelain—Master Ma heard it too, but he didn't turn around.

"Twenty years ago, the seventh door opened a crack once."

The courtyard seemed to have a stronger smell of wood ash coming from the cracks in the doors.

Master Ma continued, "The Liu family guards the door bolt, the Shen family steals the nail holes, and the Cheng family listens for the sound of the door."

He paused for a moment.

"Once the nail of the heart is lost, the Seventh Gate will find a living person to replace it."

Han Shaobai's Adam's apple bobbed.

"The one the nasal scar mentioned?"

Master Ma looked at him.

"The nose scar was right, the nail recognizes the person."

Cheng Xiaojin asked, "Whom do you recognize?"

Master Ma remained silent for a while.

His thumb rubbed halfway around the enamel mug lid.

"Recognize the first person to pull out the nail."

Cheng Xiaojin's fingers stopped at the knee.

"My dad."

Master Ma nodded.

"Cheng Shouyi has removed the nail from people's hearts."

Tang Wanqing frowned.

"After pulling it out, is it stored in an ashtray?"

Master Ma looked at Cheng Xiaojin.

"no."

These two words were written with force.

Cheng Xiaojin looked up.

The old light bulb in the yard flickered, and its yellow light swept across his face.

His face remained expressionless; he simply tucked the cigarette back behind his ear.

It took two tries to clamp it in place.

Master Ma spoke slowly and deliberately.

"He drove a nail into his own heart."

Han Shaobai almost dropped the ledger in his hand.

Tieguai Li grabbed him and held him down.

"Don't drop it."

Tong Kexin pressed her long spoon against the ground, and the spoon head gently turned half a circle.

Tang Wanqing looked at Cheng Xiaojin's wrist, where the bluish-black color had subsided.

Cheng Xiaojin remained silent.

Inside the main room, the ashtray made another noise.

Nail caps rub against porcelain, fingernails tap vertically with hooks.

Master Ma raised his hand, not allowing anyone to move.

"The heart-shaped nail must be nourished by the blood and sweat of a living person."

He looked at the empty nail holes on the diagram.

"When the heart is separated, the nail energy dissipates, and the seventh gate opens even faster."

Master Ma lit the pipe on the vertical hook.

"Cheng Shouyi had no choice at the time."

He looked at Cheng Xiaojin.

"He pulled out the nail, and the nail recognized him."

Cheng Xiaojin stared at the empty nail hole on the blueprint.

"So Shen Jiulou said he wasn't dead."

"There is truth in this statement."

He said my dad was waiting for me underground to bring the nails in.

"This sentence has a hook."

Tieguai Li cursed.

"The nail is already in Uncle Cheng's heart, what's the point of taking it?"

Master Ma looked towards the main house.

Shen Jiulou didn't know if the nail was still on Cheng Shouyi's body.

He paused.

"All he knew was that there were things left behind by Cheng Shouyi in the ashtray."

Han Shaobai quickly asked, "Isn't that a human nail in the ashtray?"

Master Ma shook his head.

"no."

Cheng Xiaojin's shoulders dropped half an inch.

It's only half an inch.

Tong Kexin saw his fingers, which were hanging by his knees, gently tap the seam of his trousers.

That hand is no longer very discerning about cloth.

Tang Wanqing asked, "What's inside?"

Master Ma folded the blueprint back to one corner, revealing a small line of text on the back.

Leave the bones at the bottom of the jar; listen for the sound but do not open it.

Master Ma said, "A section of finger bone."

Han Shaobai's face turned pale.

"Whose?"

Master Ma looked at Cheng Xiaojin.

"Cheng Shouyi's own."

No one in the courtyard responded. Tieguai Li took the pliers out of the box, then put them back in. The pliers slammed against the bottom of the box with a muffled sound.

Cheng Xiaojin stared at the words for a long time before speaking.

"He's willing to spend money."

Master Ma said in a low voice, "He chopped it up before leaving."

Tong Kexin took a breath and forcefully suppressed it.

She tightened the lid of the small aluminum kettle, which made a creaking sound.

Tang Wanqing asked, "Why would finger bones be used to create a secret code?"

"The Cheng family's Xin Jin remains in their bones."

Master Ma said, "When a person enters the underworld, their voice cannot pass through; their bones remain in the mortal realm, serving as half a listening device."

Zhou Banxian finally spoke.

"The ashtray is a radio station."

Master Ma nodded.

"One-way".

Cheng Xiaojin looked up.

"He's the only one who can knock it out?"

"almost."

Master Ma said, "If you force it open, even a slight misalignment of the tenon will cause the sound of the bones to dissipate."

He looked at the curtain at the main room door.

"If Shen Jiulou follows that scent into the courtyard, he can follow through the seventh gate."

Tieguai Li said, "Then we won't open it."

Han Shaobai nodded as well.

"Yes, don't open it. You shouldn't open expensive things, especially things that could be fatal."

Cheng Xiaojin looked at the main room door.

Behind the curtain, an old ashtray sat in a wooden box under the altar. Through the wall, through the wooden box, through the porcelain belly, he could now hear a faint sound.

In the past, we had to rely on our hands.

Now, he can hear iron nails within half an inch and ashtrays from three feet away, all because that bone fragment was identified as Cheng Jiaxinjin.

This wasn't a good thing; Tang Wanqing blocked his view.

"You just finished exorcising the evil spirits."

I won't touch it.

"Don't get too close either."

Cheng Xiaojin nodded.

"Listen across the table."

Tong Kexin looked at Master Ma.

"Can I listen to this?"

Master Ma put the blueprints away and placed them under the teacup.

"Wait for it to make a sound on its own."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a third knock came from the main room.

This time it's not about using nails to bluff.

It's like your fingernail tapping on the porcelain base or edge.

Short, rapid, three strokes in a row.

Cheng Xiaojin stood up, but Tang Wanqing reached out to stop him.

He raised his two livid hands. "I won't cross the threshold."

Master Ma picked up his pipe, walked to the door of the main room, and lifted the curtain halfway open.

The room was dark and silent. A corner of the wooden box under the altar was visible, with old newspapers pasted on the outside of the box, the edges of which were yellowed.

The ashtray was inside, its porcelain belly facing outwards, with a small chip missing from the rim.

Cheng Xiaojin stood in the courtyard, two steps away from the threshold.

His iron-blue hand hovered in front of him, separated by the air.

He didn't stretch forward, but only raised his wrist to chest height.

The temperature in the courtyard dropped a little.

Tang Wanqing's silver needle box made a soft sound as the remaining needles inside touched each other.

Cheng Xiaojin closed his eyes, and the sound of porcelain being broken came from under the ashtray.

Thick porcelain, old clay body, the bottom of the jar has a tenon, the tenon hides bone, the bone is not long, a little more than half a finger, and the bone cavity still retains the old smell of metal.

The old energy, usually dormant, was awakened tonight by the aftershocks of Shen Jiulou's shattered bronze plate.

The sound of fingernails coming from the bones is not from the fingernails of a living person, but from the bones tapping against the bottom of a porcelain vase.

One, two, the third time he dragged out half a breath.

Cheng Xiaojin's lips twitched.

"Vertical hook".

Master Ma asked, "Really?"

Cheng Xiaojin nodded.

"This time they pulled their tails back quickly."

Tieguai Li gritted his teeth.

"Uncle Cheng?"

Cheng Xiaojin continued listening.

After the vertical hook, another noise came from inside the porcelain belly.

The sounds of water, hollow walls, the cracking of copper sheets, and the clatter of cartwheels rolling over stone slabs at the morning market.

Han Shaobai leaned forward with the account book in his arms, but Tong Kexin pushed him back with a spoon.

"Don't make things worse."

Han Shaobai said in a low voice, "I'll just listen."

"How much are your ears worth?"

"That's true."

Cheng Xiaojin's livid fingers bent slightly in mid-air.

He heard a sound.

Retreat from the broken plate at Deshengmen, bypass Liulichang, and avoid the Seventh Gate Lantern Shadow.

The sound penetrated into the old waterway of the northern city, followed the path under the well of Huguo Temple, passed the bottom of the braised pot, bypassed the spot where Sister Zhou's pancake cart had stopped, and stopped in the gap before the first cry of the morning market.

The most dangerous time is when there's no work to do; the living haven't even started cooking yet, but the dead are already setting up shop.

Cheng Xiaojin opened her eyes.

"Huguo Temple".

Tong Kexin's expression changed.

"Wellhead?"

"Not just the wellhead."

He lowered his hand, his fingertips not touching the fabric, but hanging limply at his side.

"Morning market".

Zhou Banxian spun the compass halfway around his knee, and the needle veered northward.

"Could it be some kind of meal rule?"

Master Ma lowered the curtain.

The curtain fell back down, and the ashtray in the main room also stopped making noise.

Cheng Xiaojin looked in the direction of Huguo Temple, but ultimately didn't light the cigarette in his mouth.

"Shen Jiulou broke the plate and changed the game."

Tieguai Li picked up his toolbox.

"Walk?"

Tang Wanqing tucked the silver needle box into her sleeve.

"He just finished exorcising the evil spirits, he can't leave."

Tong Kexin picked up the old soup pot, and the remaining soup inside sloshed around.

"Huguo Temple is my fault."

Cheng Xiaojin looked at her, and Tong Kexin didn't look away.

"You sit in the yard, I'll go back and check the fire."

Master Ma raised his hand, "Don't rush, everyone."

He tapped the sound path map on the table with his pipe.

"There's still some time before the morning market opens."

Master Ma looked towards the direction of Huguo Temple.

"What Shen Jiulou wants to fight over is not the pot, but the rule for the first bite of rice."

Han Shaobai opened the account book, pen nib hovering over the page.

"How do I remember it?"

Cheng Xiaojin looked at the layer of old, unswept dust at the entrance of the main house.

"Remember, the place downstairs from Shen Jiulou is the Huguosi morning market."

He paused, then raised his bluish-gray hands.

The back of my hand gleamed with a deathly cold light under the lamp.

"Remember this: Cheng Shouyi's heart is nailed to his heart, and the letter in the ashtray is a finger bone."

Han Shaobai's pen tip touched the ground.

The paper was soaked in black water, making it difficult to write on.

"What about the last sentence?"

Cheng Xiaojin looked in the direction of Huguo Temple.

At the other end of the alley, it was still dark.

Suddenly, the metal wheel of one of the stalls made a sound on its own.

Clunk, clunk—it sounded like someone pushing an empty cart, claiming a spot in the deserted morning market.

Cheng Xiaojin stuffed the cigarette back behind his ear.

"That sentence at the end."

He took half a step toward the courtyard gate, but Tang Wanqing's silver needle pressed against his sleeve.

He stopped and smiled.

"If the dead want to grab breakfast, they should first ask the living if they agree to it."