Unorthodox methods, cultivating immortality relies on rich women

To find Tang Yonghui's soul, one must go to the place where he lost it.

This place is the old Tang family house, which was originally the machinery factory residential area.

Although decades have passed, the bricks and tiles bear the marks of time, and various illegal structures are everywhere, but people still live here.

"The environment here is poor and the transportation is inconvenient. Everyone wants to leave, but not everyone can," Tang Shaoyou lamented.

"This area is quite large, has the government never planned to develop it?" Jiang Haichao asked, looking around.

He didn't have to come along, but he was very curious about this "exorcising ghosts and catching demons" thing, so he came along.

Shen Qingzhou didn't care about any of that, and Tang Shaoyou was even less likely to kick him out.

"Yes, how could there not be? They've been saying this place is going to be demolished for over ten years, but there's still no sign of it being demolished," Tang Shaoyou said.

He naturally hoped for the demolition, so he could receive compensation.

Tang Shaoyou's home is in Courtyard No. 2 of the Machinery Factory Dormitory Area, which indicates that the Machinery Factory Dormitory Area has more than one location.

The entire community was quite quiet, similar in style to the dormitory buildings of the "Third Front Factory" that Shen Qingzhou had visited before.

They are all Khrushchev-style buildings, with a strong Soviet influence.

"Back then, everyone liked living on the ground floor because it had a yard where you could build your own things..."

Tang Shaoyou led the two of them inside, introducing them as he went.

Shen Qingzhou was also looking around. He hadn't seen a single young person along the way; they were all elderly people.

They carried small stools and sat in the corners of the walls or under the shade of trees, chatting. Some of them even recognized Tang Shaoyou and greeted him with smiles.

Tang Shaoyou's old house is in Building 6, Room 306. The architectural layout of the house here is different from that of modern houses, with a corridor running all the way to the end.

The corridor is very spacious, enough for two people to walk side by side. It has clothes drying racks, running water, a washbasin, shoe racks, etc. This design is quite clever and brings great convenience to the residents.

The only downside is that if the residents are not well-mannered and there is too much clutter in the passageway, it will affect walking and thus trigger conflicts.

However, nowadays, many residents have moved out, the houses are empty, and the doors are not closed, allowing people to come and go as they please.

Some doors still had couplets pasted on them, and the windows were adorned with exquisite curtains. Shen Qingzhou even saw someone who had set up a flower stand and planted green plants and succulents. This showed that they knew how to enjoy life.

"We're here, this is my home."

Tang Shaoyou stood outside his own gate, looking at the faded couplet on the door, feeling deeply moved.

After graduating from university, he was assigned to a machinery factory. Although he was later transferred away from the machinery factory, he still lived here for nearly thirty years. He spent all his best years here, and this place is full of his memories.

Jiang Haichao, following behind, looked at the faded, somewhat white door couplet in front of him. He saw that it read: "Hearts are tied to loved ones hoping for their awakening; love warms the sickbed and drives away the chronic illness."

Horizontal scroll: The whole family hopes for good things

At this moment, Tang Shaoyou had already opened the door and turned on the light next to him.

"Please come in," he said, turning around to greet the two.

Upon hearing this, Shen Qingzhou and Jiang Haichao stepped into the house and immediately felt a refreshing coolness.

"It's so cool in this room," Jiang Haichao blurted out.

It's June now, the hottest season in southern Anhui, but stepping inside feels like entering autumn.

"This room layout is great, it's well-ventilated from north to south. I haven't opened the window opposite yet, but it will be even cooler once it's open for cross ventilation," Tang Shaoyou explained with a smile.

Jiang Haichao, however, did not think so. As if realizing something, he turned to look at Shen Qingzhou.

"Mr. Shen, is there anything wrong with this house?" he asked curiously.

I don't know if this old man is just genuinely curious or if he has some other motive.

Shen Qingzhou had already noticed that he had been trying to get closer to her.

Tang Shaoyou then realized what was happening and said, "Master, could you please take a look?"

Shen Qingzhou didn't respond to the two. She walked a few steps in the living room, her gaze sweeping around before finally settling on a small room next door.

"That used to be Yonghui's bedroom," Tang Shaoyou explained immediately.

Shen Qingzhou pushed open the half-closed door and went inside.

The room was cramped and narrow, only wide enough to fit a bed and a desk vertically; they couldn't even be placed side by side.

A few rays of sunlight shone through the only half-window, but the room was devoid of warmth and exuded a chill.

Jiang Haichao and Tang Shaoyou also came in, watching Shen Qingzhou's movements with curiosity.

He flipped his palm over and produced three incense sticks from somewhere, quickly forming hand seals with his fingers.

The next second, the incense sticks spontaneously combusted without a flame, and wisps of blue smoke rose up.

Shen Qingzhou held the incense stick high and bowed three times towards the north.

The smoke that had been slowly rising seemed to be drawn by some invisible force, suddenly shooting into the air and exploding, scattering throughout the room.

The three incense sticks shrank rapidly at a visible speed, and more thick smoke spread out, enveloping the small room.

Tang Shaoyou was the first to realize something was wrong.

The once empty bed frame now has a neatly folded set of bedding, and on the dusty desk are books, school supplies, and a photo frame.

On the empty walls on both sides, there are some celebrity posters.

A gentle breeze carried a fallen leaf in through the half-open window, landing it on the desk. The sunlight streaming in brought a touch of warmth to the room.

Everything around was shrouded in a faint orange-red hue, as if it had returned to the old days of many years ago.

Tang Shaoyou opened his mouth to speak, but his wrist was suddenly grabbed. He turned around and saw Jiang Haichao.

Jiang Haichao gently shook his head at this moment, indicating that he should not ask for the time being.

Tang Shaoyou then remembered that the scene before him was exactly the same as the furnishings in his son's room more than a decade ago.

Just as he was filled with doubt and uncertainty, he heard voices coming from outside the door.

Tang Shaoyou recognized the voice all too well; it was the voice of his son, Tang Yonghui.

"Mom, I won't be eating at home for lunch. I'm going out with some friends later," he said.

Then he pushed open the door and entered the room.

"Yonghui?"

Looking at the spirited young man before him, Tang Shaoyou, his heart pounding with excitement, couldn't help but shout out.

However, Tang Yonghui ignored the warnings as he entered the room and went straight to the desk to sit down.

Then he took out paper and pen from the side and started writing and drawing non-stop.

He had a faint smile on his lips and his eyes were full of tenderness; it was clear he was painting his beloved girl.

Shen Qingzhou, who had been silent until now, immediately stepped forward, and Jiang Haichao and Tang Shaoyou followed suit.

Then they discovered that Tang Yonghui was painting, but he wasn't painting a young girl; instead, he was painting an ugly, fierce-looking old woman.

Her face was deeply lined, her complexion was dull, her scalp was thin, a few strands of dry hair clung to her forehead, her face was sallow and her hair was bluish, giving off an indescribable chill.

A pair of murky eyes stared straight ahead with a fierce look, as if they were about to burst out of the painting.

Jiang Haichao and Tang Shaoyou, who came over to watch, were startled.

But Tang Shaohui painted with exceptional care, as if he were painting his lover. His brushstrokes were delicate, his fingertips gently caressing, and every tiny movement seemed to carry a sense of love.

"Is your taste really that strong?"

Shen Qingzhou's lips twitched; this guy was even less picky about food than him.