Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

The house is indeed nice.

The two-story building has blue brick walls, a red tile roof, and dark green window frames. Although the paint has peeled off in some places, you can still tell that the materials used in the past were of high quality.

In front of the building is a small courtyard, about forty or fifty square meters, paved with blue bricks. In the corner is a withered grapevine, under which sits a stone table and several stone stools.

The courtyard wall was only a little over a meter high, with broken glass stuck on top, glittering in the sunlight.

Chen Mo stood in the courtyard and looked around, but didn't find anything unusual.

The location here is indeed excellent, several times better than the previous No. 7 Courtyard.

The tramway is right outside the door, and you can see the silhouettes of tall buildings in the concession area in the distance.

The streets were bustling with people—vegetable vendors, cart pullers, and delivery drivers—it was very lively.

Not far away was a police post, where a policeman in a black uniform was leaning against the door smoking.

"For this location, six thousand yuan is indeed not expensive," Chen Mo said honestly.

The middle-aged man rubbed his hands together and laughed, "Of course! It's just that the original owner left in a hurry. If you like it, shall we go back and write a contract now?"

"Let me take another look."

Chen Mo carefully walked to the well.

The well rim was made of cement, covered with a thick wooden board and weighed down with several bricks.

He walked over, lifted the wooden board, and peered inside. It was bottomless, but he could smell a damp, cool breeze rising up.

Nothing unusual.

He put the wooden board back on and dusted off his hands.

"Has this well been used before?"

"I've used it, I've used it. The original owner's family relied on it for drinking water." The middle-aged man said, "Even after the tap water was connected, it was still very convenient for watering flowers and washing clothes."

Chen Mo nodded and then walked around the building again.

The first floor consists of the living room, kitchen, and storage room. The floor is made of parquet wood, and although it makes a slight noise when you step on it in some places, it is generally sturdy.

There are three rooms on the second floor, all of which have been emptied. The windows face the street corner and have good natural light.

He came downstairs and stood in the living room for a while, thinking.

The middle-aged man waited on the side, his smile almost breaking.

"Okay." Chen Mo was too lazy to haggle over the price. "Five thousand five hundred, I can pay you today."

The middle-aged man was taken aback for a moment, then overjoyed: "Deal! Deal! Let's go back to the brokerage firm right now to write the contract!"

. . . . . .

By the time Chen Mo emerged from the real estate agency with the brand-new property deed, the sun was already setting.

The middle-aged man personally saw him out, calling him Mr. Chen repeatedly, his smile never fading.

"Mr. Chen, please take care! If you need anything in the future, feel free to come to me—whether it's renting or selling a house, or asking for help, anything is fine!"

Chen Mo nodded and put the heavy bunch of keys into his pocket.

Although we've got the house, we can't move in right away.

He made several trips before he finally bought everything before dark.

After manipulating several paper figures to clean the house inside and out, Chen Mo took out a bag of salt from his pocket and sprinkled a thin white line on the inside of the threshold.

It wasn't a big deal, just a message to tell those unclean things that someone lives here and they shouldn't go near it anymore.

The threshold is the mouth of the house; anything can get in.

According to older generations, salt is believed to ward off evil spirits.

Sprinkling a line of salt is like locking that mouth.

After sprinkling the salt, Chen Mo took the bag of rice into the kitchen, grabbed a handful, and scattered it in front of the stove.

He grabbed another handful and scattered it in the corners of each room on the second floor.

Rice is something that requires more attention than salt.

Salt is used to ward off evil spirits, and rice is used to worship the gods.

The deities being worshipped are not the gods in heaven, but those on earth.

The earth's veins possess spirit, and the foundation of a house is inhabited by a deity. Wherever a house is built and people live, there is a house deity underground.

It's not the kind of solemn deity enshrined in a temple, but more like the spirit nurtured by this land, which has gained sentience over the years.

If you live here, it will keep you safe; if you offend it, it will make your life miserable.

Scattering rice during a move is considered an offering to the spirit.

Tell it that a new resident has arrived, and from now on we're all family, so please take good care of it.

After sprinkling the water, Chen Mo went downstairs into the kitchen and started boiling water at the stove.

The custom of lighting a fire is called "warming the stove" in some places, "offering sacrifices to the stove god" in others, and "pacifying the stove god" in still others.

Every household knows that there is a Kitchen God in the kitchen.

Every year on the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month, the Kitchen God is sent to heaven, and then welcomed back on New Year's Eve. There are many more customs associated with this.

Water represents wealth, fire represents fortune, and starting a fire brings good luck.

The first time a fire was lit in the new house, and the water boiled, life began to settle down.

There aren't many rules here; it's just for good luck.

Chen Mo stood up and dusted off his hands.

He couldn't say for sure whether these rules were useful or not.

But when moving into a new house, going through all the necessary procedures is always a way to put your mind at ease.

After working for half a day, by the time he arrived at his room on the second floor, it was already close to midnight.

Chen Mo glanced at the blood-red moon on the horizon through the window, then squinted.

The Yin energy is at its peak at midnight, when all ghosts roam the night, making it an ideal time to cultivate Yin energy, and also when the moonlight is at its densest.

He looked down at the object in his palm.

The scalp of the painted-skin demon.

The moonlight shone on the leather, giving the pale white surface a dark red sheen.

Holding it in your hand, you can feel it moving, as if it's about to come alive; it's really a bit creepy.

He hesitated for a moment, then placed the piece of scalp on his forehead.

At first, I didn't feel anything.

I could only feel that patch of scalp against my skin, cool and refreshing, like a damp cloth.

Chen Mo closed his eyes and slowly circulated his energy according to the methods of the "Taiyin Chongxing Chapter".

As the Yin energy circulated, he could feel that thing drilling into his flesh, into his bones, and into his brain.

It wasn't a real drilling; it was an indescribable merging, like a drop of ink falling into clear water, slowly spreading and diffusing, eventually staining his entire being.

The edges blurred, the boundaries disappeared, and the painted skin of the demon was slowly merging with his own skin.

Soon, he felt an itch all over his body.

It's not just a normal itch; it's the kind of itch that seems to seep into your very bones.

He looked down at his hands. There were fine lines on the back of his hands. They weren't wrinkles, but rather something moving under his skin, creating fine lines that quickly disappeared.

He looked up at his reflection in the windowpane.

His face was changing in the shadows.

One moment young, the next old.

It's a man one minute and a woman the next.

One moment he's like himself, the next he's like someone else.

Those unfamiliar faces flashed across his face in quick succession, so fast that they were almost indistinguishable, like countless skins stacked together, peeling off one by one.

The itch spread from my face to my whole body.

He pulled open his shirt and looked at his chest.

The skin on my chest is also changing, with lines appearing and disappearing, as if something is moving under my skin, trying to find an exit to come out.

Finally, the patterns gradually became clear.

They are faces.

Some were laughing, some were crying, some were contorted, and some were hollow.

His chest was densely packed with countless things.