Chapter 13: Karma: You’re the First Man My Master Ever Brought Back to the Shop

Wang Jianguo’s body went limp and slumped down, unmoving.

Under the worried eyes of the Chen mother and son, Lu You only said, “It’s nothing. He’s only asleep.”

Chen Zhuzhuo let out a breath and asked, “Master, what do we do now?”

“Since soft methods won’t work, we go hard.” There was a thread of weariness between Lu You’s brows. “I’ll go back to my Altar Hall and prepare. I’ll come find you again tonight.”

The three of them left the residential estate and got back into Chen Zhuzhuo’s secondhand Volkswagen. Chen Zhuzhuo asked, “Master, shall I drive you straight home, or what?”

Lu You: “Back to the workshop. My e-bike’s still there.”

Once He Zhuchun had climbed onto the e-bike’s rear seat again, Lu You checked the battery.

Fully charged—not a single bar lost this time.

Early in the ninth lunar month, the weather was at its most pleasantly cool. He Zhuchun curled into the rear seat, poking half his face out to enjoy the wind. For once he was thoroughly at ease, his body jolting up and down with every pothole and rut in the road, occasionally knocked forward against Lu You’s back whenever they braked to a sudden stop.

Lu You had put himself in a white casual jacket today, the fabric very soft. After knocking into it a few times, He Zhuchun couldn’t resist reaching out and giving it a feel.

“Where’d you buy this jacket?” he asked. “It feels nice.”

Lu You watched the green light ahead, crossed the intersection, and said, “Qin Shuheng bought it. You can ask him.”

“Does Qin Shuheng manage your food, clothing, and lodging? Wearing clothes he bought.” He Zhuchun thought a moment, then asked, “Are you two—what, a live-in housekeeper arrangement?”

Lu You ignored him.

He Zhuchun, bored, picked idly at the raised pattern on Lu You’s jacket, then asked, “How did you come to take this disciple of yours?”

“Predestined Affinity, I suppose.” Lu You’s airy voice was carried back on the wind to He Zhuchun’s ears.

He Zhuchun said, “Do the two of us count as fated, then?”

Lu You thought of the Paper Slip Huang Kuaipao had brought—the man’s name written directly onto it by the Patron Spirits. That couldn’t count as natural affinity. Forced affinity, more like.

So he told him, “It counts.”

He Zhuchun gave a short laugh. “I thought so too—we’re quite fated, the two of us.”

Done laughing, he asked, “Where do you suppose the source of this affinity comes from?”

Lu You answered him, “Previous Lives.”

He Zhuchun: “Samsara and rebirth really exist, then?”

Lu You gave an “Mm.” “They really do.”

“Fair enough. Since there’s a Netherworld, there must be Samsara too.” He Zhuchun said, “Maybe we even met in a previous life.”

Lu You said, “Possible.”

Lu You stopped the bike before a row of fruit stalls, got off, picked out a few apples and tangerines, and added a bunch of Shine Muscat grapes.

The kickstand wasn’t down, so He Zhuchun braced a leg against the ground, keeping bike and rider balanced. When Lu You came back, he sneaked a tangerine out of the bag.

“You only offer fruit at your altar, then?” He Zhuchun peeled the tangerine, sniffing the citrus fragrance bursting into the air.

Lu You said, “We offer flowers and meat as well—especially around the festivals, when things get quite lavish.”

Even as he spoke, he got back on and turned the bike toward the shop.

He Zhuchun was in rare form today, question after question. He asked again, “What festivals do the Patron Spirits observe?”

“The Third of the Third Month, the Sixth of the Sixth, the Double Ninth Day.” Lu You swerved around a manhole cover in the road. “Human festivals too—Mid-Autumn, Spring Festival, that sort of thing.”

He Zhuchun laughed. “You celebrate quite the full set.”

When Lu You and He Zhuchun carried their purchases into the shop, Qin Shuheng was just pressing his freshly copied scripture down at the Altar Hall. Seeing the two of them, he called out “Master” first.

Lu You answered, spread the fruit bag open, and arranged everything on the Altar Offering Table.

Qin Shuheng asked, “You were out for ages. Did you find the person you were looking for?”

Lu You answered, “Found him.”

He Zhuchun sprawled grandly into the Executive Chair, a tangerine segment in his teeth. “Not only found him—your Master’s a very polite man. Before anyone even asked, he’d gone and volunteered his whole household’s troubles to us.”

“Volunteered again, huh.” Qin Shuheng was long since used to Lu You’s habit of giving away his labor for free; he sighed a simple sigh and was hardly surprised. “What’s the job this time?”

Lu You said, “A Vengeful Immortal.”

Qin Shuheng said, “A Vengeful Immortal?!”

His expression was startled past all measure; He Zhuchun sensed something off and asked, “What about a Vengeful Immortal?”

Qin Shuheng didn’t answer right away; he turned first to ask, “When are you going to subdue that Vengeful Immortal?”

“The Great Immortal Lu said tonight.” He Zhuchun’s puzzlement only deepened. “What exactly is the problem?”

“‘What’s the problem, what’s the problem’—all you know is asking!” A nameless fire surged up in Qin Shuheng, and he lashed out without discrimination: “You went out with my Master, and whatever he says to do, you just do it? Can’t you rein him in a little? If he wants to take this lousy job, you just let him take it?”

Having vented his whole tirade, he paced back and forth across the shop, and only when he finally stopped did he ask, “He didn’t take any money again, did he?”

His tone carried a desolate, dead-hearted resignation.

He Zhuchun, having taken the brunt of the outburst for no reason, wasn’t even angry. He said, “Didn’t look like he intended to charge anything.”

Then something else surfaced in his memory: “He didn’t charge me for the Evil Exorcism either.”

Qin Shuheng said, glum, “Aren’t you his partner? Why would he charge you?”

“…Not exactly, actually.” He Zhuchun smacked his lips. “How do you even remember that?”

The truth was, back then he’d only meant to ride along with Lu You’s offhand remark and turn it into a joke. After the exorcism, Lu You never brought it up again, and he hadn’t taken it seriously—yet who would have thought this kid had apparently carried it in his heart all this while.

He said, “That was me teasing you. It’s fake.”

“Fake?” Qin Shuheng glanced at Lu You, still fussing about before the altar, and deflated. He said quietly to He Zhuchun, “But you’re the first person my Master ever brought back saying he wanted to date.”

That meme was far too old.

He Zhuchun’s face said plainly he didn’t buy it: “Playing the loyal-butler routine with me, huh? ‘You’re the first woman the Young Master has ever brought home’—next line would be ‘the Young Master hasn’t smiled in ages!'”

He was midway through his snickering when his voice abruptly turned serious: “You think I don’t go online? That meme’s older than dirt.”

“…No.” Qin Shuheng was exasperated beyond words. “Can you spend less time on your phone? It’s addled your brain.”

He Zhuchun: “No personal attacks.”

Qin Shuheng was genuinely worked up now, brows slanted, eyes drooping.

He Zhuchun pressed him about the Vengeful Immortal again: “So what exactly is the problem? Explain it clearly.”

Qin Shuheng asked him, “Do you know why Spiritual Consultation and Ritual Services charge money?”

He Zhuchun thought a moment. “To make a living?”

“Wrong!” Qin Shuheng’s expression turned solemn. “Divination and resolving affairs must be paid for—it’s the rule our ancestors handed down. Ever heard of the Three Exemptions?”

He Zhuchun knew such a thing existed, but had never studied the specifics; he raised a hand, a gesture for him to continue.

Qin Shuheng told him, “Three cases where the Divination Fee is not to be taken: one already fated to die; one facing an unavoidable calamity; and one whose good fortune has run dry.”

“Heard of it.” He Zhuchun said, “I assumed it was con-artists’ patter for fooling suckers—those street charlatans online love parroting it.”

Qin Shuheng shook his head. “Not entirely.”

He explained it carefully for He Zhuchun: “Karma exists in this world. Every calamity and hardship in a person’s life is arranged in advance. The diviners of old cast their hexagrams precisely to help people evade their fated ordeals—and once a life was saved, the mortal would never encounter that ordeal or that hardship, yet karma is conserved, so the debt fell upon the diviner instead. To settle that karma, the diviner charges a Divination Fee sized to the reading—in effect, the person spends wealth of equal measure to avert a calamity of equal measure.”

He Zhuchun said, “What about those tarot readers who do lost-love reconciliations and the like?”

“That karma is faint—nearly negligible.” Qin Shuheng said, “But nobody owes you anything. If you sought a reading, you pay. Labor fees are fees too.”

He Zhuchun asked, “So by that logic, if someone skips out on the fee, only the diviner suffers, and the client bears no hardship at all?”

“Not so, not so.” Qin Shuheng, granted a rare chance to play the scholar before He Zhuchun, took it:

“As the saying goes, whatever exists is reasonable. The diviner’s very profession exists as an opportunity the Heavenly Dao designed into a person’s fate. When you encounter it, whether you can seize it, and whether seizing it resolves the disaster—none of that is fixed. It’s entirely the client’s own choice.”

“So after a divination, if the client grows malicious and dodges the fee, he’s severed his own path to life with his own hands—indirectly slapping the Heavenly Dao across the face. The Dao will then convert his tribulations, measure for measure, into another form.”

Qin Shuheng gave him an example: “To put it vividly: say you’re fated for a car crash next year. You come to me for a reading, and I point it out for you—but you turn malicious and skip my fee, then get clever and decide to hide at home all next year to dodge the disaster. The Heavenly Dao will simply erase the car crash and turn that bitter fruit into an illness—and the harm it brings you may well be far worse than the crash.”

He Zhuchun found the example far too inauspicious: “Can’t you wish me well for once?”

“I’m only trying to make it clear for you.” Qin Shuheng said,

“And here Ritual Services differ from divination. Say my Master delivers a ghost for you. The ghost is gone; you feel safe and smug, so you deliberately withhold the Ritual Fee. In that case, my Master has every right to file a complaint below. One Memorial Petition filed down, and that female Specter of yours won’t just be escorted back with full honors—she’ll probably bring you a little parting gift from down below while she’s at it.”

He Zhuchun was horrified at the words: “Maybe I should pay that Ritual Fee back?”

Qin Shuheng chuckled: “Relax. My Master has no intention of filing a petition against you. Nothing will happen.”

He Zhuchun turned the subject to Lu You: “Then your Master’s habit of resolving people’s affairs free of charge everywhere he goes—doesn’t that saddle him with enormous karma?”

Qin Shuheng nodded gravely. “Master never cares about these things. See how he’s always listless? That’s precisely Nether Karmic Debt running too heavy—Karmic Debt coiling around him and pressing him down.”

Something occurred to He Zhuchun, and he said, “Your Master is truly noble.”

Qin Shuheng shot back, “That isn’t nobility—it’s a muddle-headed man wearing himself out to ferry others across.”

Lu You, listening from the side, gave him one cool look.

Qin Shuheng shut his mouth, abashed.

Lu You opened the drawer beneath the Altar Hall and took out a rectangular red cloth bundle.

Qin Shuheng, seeing it, cried out all over again: “Master, don’t be reckless!”

He Zhuchun, curious, crowded close; guided by Lu You’s hand, he lifted half the bundle open—revealing a dozen-odd silver needles laid side by side, gleaming cold.

He marveled, “You know how to give people acupuncture too?”

Qin Shuheng, still sulking, said, “The needles my Master uses are no ordinary needles.”

He Zhuchun raised his brows and looked at him. “Care to enlighten me further, Master Qin?”

Qin Shuheng asked, “Have you heard of the Ghost Gate Thirteen Needles?”

He Zhuchun scooted close at once to listen.

Not long ago the two of them had been trading Yin-Yang barbs back and forth; now they were fast friends again. Watching them huddle together and mutter, Lu You pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling dreadfully drowsy.