Chapter 3: The Youjing Soul — Master, You Can’t Be Gay!

The three cigarettes burned even faster than the one between Lu You’s fingers. He Zhuchun swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the three cigarette butts standing perfectly upright on the paper. The ash on either side of each butt had cracked into several shapes, forming little slabs of ash, yet the whole length of ash never fell.

Lu You’s pale pupils swept over it once, and he understood the situation at a glance. He lit another cigarette for himself.

“Process it?”

“Bro—big brother, if I didn’t want it handled, why would I have spent all this time playing around with you?” He Zhuchun circled the spot twice, then found a place to sit down. “You tell me how to handle it, and I’ll cooperate fully.”

Lu You flicked his ash. “Because some idiots, once they learn there’s a female ghost on them, ask us to go easy and hold off on the exorcism so they can ask all sorts of nonsense instead.”

He Zhuchun felt a flicker of realization, but still asked: “Like what?”

“Like whether the female ghost is pretty, whether she has a good figure, and even whether she’s a virgin.” At the thought, Lu You seemed to find it especially funny himself, the corner of his mouth curling as he said mockingly, “People like that don’t need an exorcism, they need a neurologist. Or someone should check whether they left their brain in the Underworld when they reincarnated.”

“You handle reincarnation issues too?”

Lu You exhaled another mouthful of smoke. In the swirling haze, their eyes met before either could avoid it. Before He Zhuchun could look away, Lu You asked flatly, “Can you not tell nice words from sarcasm?”

He Zhuchun said, “…I was just asking.”

Lu You couldn’t be bothered with him anymore. He clamped the cigarette butt between his lips, freed his hands, pulled out a clean sheet of draft paper, tore off a piece roughly the size of talisman paper, and began writing and drawing on it with a pen.

He Zhuchun watched him first mark three dots, then write a line of “By Daoist Command Edict” beneath them; the rest was hard to make out from his angle.

Lu You’s hands were quick. A few strokes and he paused to admire his work for a couple of seconds, then pinched the cigarette in one hand and drew something in the air above it, murmuring incomprehensible incantations under his breath as he drew. Finally he blew a puff of smoke onto it, folded the paper a few times into a triangle, and tossed it over.

He Zhuchun caught it on instinct, gripping the talisman in his palm. The instant his hand closed tight, he felt a lightness on his shoulders, then a wave of unstoppable ease through his whole body. His legs felt nimble, his shoulders no longer ached, his mind was clear—he felt like he could run a thousand meters on the track and then sit the college entrance exam right after.

That long-unfelt lightness made his eyes shine.

“Great Immortal, does that count as the exorcism being done?!”

Lu You stubbed out his cigarette, walked to the window and opened it for air. A damp breeze drifted in along the sill and brushed He Zhuchun’s face, making the whole world feel as if it had been rinsed clean.

“I’ve only knocked her off you for now. The real exorcism has to wait until I go back and file the Memorial Petition. Once the petition is submitted, your matter is closed.”

A Memorial Petition was the written token that a Chuma Shaman Disciple used to communicate with their Patron Spirits; the spirits would only set off to work once the petition was in hand.

He Zhuchun nodded to show he understood. “Then when will you go back and file it?”

A problem that had plagued him for nearly twenty years, solved just like that—he couldn’t contain his excitement.

“No rush.” The cigarette went out; Hu Tianjiao loosened her possession and slipped out the window, back to the Altar Hall, and a faint weariness gathered again between Lu You’s brows.

Outside of working hours he always seemed tired. Each month he would set aside one fixed week solely for sleeping, and that week was always the most anxiety-inducing one for Qin Shuheng—his Master was completely unreachable, and everything had to be done personally. Whatever couldn’t be solved got piled up until the Master had slept his fill and could deal with it all at once.

Now Lu You walked to the table, pocketed his cigarettes and lighter, collected the butts, ash, and used paper into the trash, then turned around: “Buy me dinner.”

The mood shift was so obvious that He Zhuchun guessed something and nodded hastily, opening the door: “Of course, of course. What would you like to eat?”

“The cafeteria is fine. Also—” Lu You paused, “I need a drink. Carbonated.”

What a simple request!

He Zhuchun agreed readily: “No problem.” He handed his meal card to Lu You and ran off to the campus store, grabbing one bottle each of the four or five kinds of soda on the shelf, paying, then heading back to the cafeteria to find him.

The two had dawdled in the dorm for quite a while, so by now most of the students in the cafeteria had finished and left, and many of the windows had closed for the day, only a scattered few still open. When He Zhuchun walked in, Lu You was unhurriedly eating a bowl of noodles.

He lined the sodas up on the table. Lu You picked one at random, twisted it open, and set it aside.

Lu You ate with refined, delicate motions—perhaps that refinement came from his half-dead attitude toward life and his sluggish, negative state of mind. To He Zhuchun, he looked like he was suffering as he ate: he poked at the noodles forever without any going down, while the soda was already empty. Lu You picked up his bowl and headed for the food-scrap counter.

He Zhuchun couldn’t help calling after him: “Are you full?”

Lu You turned back, expression blank. “Full.”

“You got full on soda.” He Zhuchun pointed at the noodle bowl. “Not to your taste?”

“It’s fine.”

“Let me take you out to eat.”

“No need.”

“Hotpot?”

“Not eating.”

“Stir-fry?”

“Not eating.”

“Western food?”

“Not eating.”

……

“Korean food?”

“Japanese?”

“Any regional cuisine?”

Lu You remained unmoved. He Zhuchun refused to give up: “What about barbecue? I know a skewer place that’s really good.”

Lu You’s departing figure paused, the weasel Huang Kuaipao’s tail on his shoulder perked up, and the little dark face turned around to look at him.

The Great Immortal pondered a moment, then asked: “Would a barbecue place even be open at this hour?”

“No.”

He Zhuchun let out a breath of relief, knowing he’d guessed right, and thought, Great Immortal, if you had a craving you should’ve said so earlier!

And so the two pocketed their sodas and hurriedly hailed a cab to go eat barbecue.

Barbecue joints usually open in the late afternoon. Perhaps business was too brisk, and the season suited it well enough—the two arrived just as the staff were opening the door.

Lu You looked up at the sign—Gagaroma Authentic Northeast Skewers.

The shop name was… very down-to-earth.

They found a seat on the first floor, and He Zhuchun scanned the QR code to hand over the electronic menu. The shop didn’t have many items; Lu You ordered a few kinds of skewers and handed it back. He Zhuchun glanced at it, added some more, and placed the order.

While they waited, a few more tables of customers came in and the shop gradually grew lively. Lu You sat across from him fiddling with his phone, fingers typing nonstop, looking rather busy. He Zhuchun was waiting in boredom when a familiar female voice rang out from the shop entrance.

“Senior Martial Brother! What a coincidence, you’re here too!”

Liu Yingying hurried over in a few quick steps, holding by the hand a little girl of about six or seven who wasn’t very tall.

He Zhuchun gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes: “Helping the professor babysit again?”

“Yep.” Liu Yingying leaned in close. Now that they were indoors, in the enclosed space the scent of her aromatherapy rolled over him, making He Zhuchun’s head ache.

He Zhuchun had been sharp in all seven apertures since childhood, unusually sensitive to gazes, smells, and sounds alike.

He couldn’t help scooting inward, frowning. “You went for a massage again?”

He Zhuchun knew Liu Yingying frequented a massage parlor with a very heavy aromatherapy smell, and the scent lingered on her for days each time.

Yet Liu Yingying was simply too dull to sense anyone’s distaste, and she shared eagerly: “Yes, my shoulders have been inexplicably sore these past few days, so I’ve been going more often. Maybe I’ve overdone it, because even after the massage it still doesn’t feel better.”

Then she turned, tugging the little girl’s hand to greet Lu You too: “Handsome, you’re here as well!”

Only at her words did He Zhuchun notice that at some point Lu You had lifted his face from his phone and was staring straight at his junior sister.

Some guesses formed in He Zhuchun’s mind—nothing more than that she was probably carrying something on her too, which was why she kept feeling unwell. A Spectral Illness can’t be cured by treating the body.

Lu You stared at Liu Yingying for quite a long time. Just when He Zhuchun thought Lu You was about to display some divine ability and heroically save her like he had saved him, Lu You instead waved over a waiter and said flatly:

“Add thirty more lamb skewers, packed together with the rest.”

Waiter: “Very good, sir.”

Clearly a “not welcome” attitude.

Cold to the point of being almost mean.

Having pressed a warm face to a cold rear, even the densest person knows they’re unwanted. Liu Yingying gave a couple of awkward laughs, a little embarrassed: “Then we won’t disturb you any further, Senior Martial Brother. We’ll head off.”

He Zhuchun, still preserving some fellow-disciple goodwill, waved a hand.

Liu Yingying had deliberately booked a private room on the second floor—probably with funding the professor had approved in advance. Only after watching her walk far off did He Zhuchun turn to Lu You: “You don’t like her?”

It was a casual question, but to his surprise Lu You nodded.

“Mm.”

He Zhuchun: “So you saw some flaw in her character?”

Lu You: “I’m not that idle.” He paused, then added, “That junior sister of yours—her magnetic field is filthy. Being near her makes me uncomfortable.”

Those who serve Patron Spirits have bodies different from ordinary people’s; they are all Aperture-Opened. Once the apertures open, they can see what ordinary people cannot, hear what ordinary people cannot, speak with the horizontal bone removed to speak the spirits’ language, and with one hundred and eight apertures open, have ghosts and gods inhabit their bodies. Such people are also extraordinarily sensitive to spirits, gods, and magnetic fields.

He Zhuchun had heard of this, and immediately understood. He thought for a moment, then asked: “When you first got close to me, did I make you uncomfortable too?”

Lu You gave him an odd look and only said, “You’re different.”

As for what was different, Lu You didn’t elaborate.

He Zhuchun got revved up: “Because I’m handsome? Or because I’m a man?”

Lu You said, “Because you’re confident.”

He Zhuchun found that funny. On his own initiative he got up and went to the front to pay, and by the time he returned, everything was packed and being brought over.

Lu You had bags in both hands.

He Zhuchun felt that Lu You was always unusually proper. Though they hadn’t known each other long, he simply knew that even if Lu You looked listless and lethargic, whether sitting or standing he was impeccably composed, and when he spoke to people he was attentive—attentive to the point of stubbornness.

Now he came over with drooping eyelids, waiting for He Zhuchun to open the door. He Zhuchun’s quick hands pushed open the glass door and reached to take some of the load, but was neatly evaded.

“Let’s go to my place. I already called a cab,” Lu You said. “We’ll eat together when we get there, and afterward I’ll deal with the thing on you.”

He Zhuchun cooperated eagerly: “Orders received!”

It had rained not long before, and the taxi waded through water all the way to the shop on Wenchang Road. The unusually large manhole cover now proved its worth—at the very least it kept their trouser legs, shoes, and socks from getting soaked when they stepped down.

Inside the shop, Qin Shuheng was still copying scriptures. Seeing the glass door open and shut, he assumed it was a Patron Client and called out lazily, “We’re closed for the day today, not open for business—”

Then the packed skewers were set down right in front of him.

Lu You looked down at him: “Since when did the shop close? Why didn’t I know?”

The moment Qin Shuheng saw it was Lu You, his face changed instantly, and he bared eight little white teeth in fawning eagerness: “Master, you’re back! Did the date go well?”

Lu You didn’t bother arguing with him, only said: “Go unpack the skewers. Put a portion at the Altar Hall, and we’ll eat the rest.”

Qin Shuheng answered crisply: “Got it!” He stood and reached for the plastic bag, but out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed a tall man standing at the shop entrance, looking around, sizing up the shop’s furnishings.

Qin Shuheng asked: “Master, is this a new Patron Client?”

“No.” Lu You pulled over a stool and sat, pouring himself a glass of water. “This is my romantic partner.”

“…What kind of partner?”

Qin Shuheng’s hands froze mid-motion, and he turned stiffly, joints by joints, eyes going wide, his expression more horrified than if he’d seen a ghost. Trembling, he raised a finger:

“M-Master! Y-you, you you you, you’re…” His muscles tensed, and at last, shaking, he forced out that word: “…You’re gay?!”

That expression was far too entertaining. He Zhuchun’s belly full of mischief, he swayed over with a saunter and asked Lu You, pointedly at Qin Shuheng: “So you have a disciple? He keeps calling you Master.”

Lu You: “Mm.”

“Then he’s my disciple too, from now on.” He Zhuchun teased him: “Disciple, I’m your Master’s Wife.”

“Ha! You definitely seduced my Master!” Qin Shuheng was highly agitated: “My perfectly straight Master was fine before he left—straight as an arrow going out, how did he come back bent! It must be you! You seduced him!”

Qin Shuheng was full of drama. Having finished cursing, he threw himself over the desk and wailed: “My poor Master! A lifetime of pure desires and a heart like still water—how did this damned man steal your soul!”

Halfway through the wailing, he wiped his face and turned back to Lu You, gripping his Master’s hands with both of his, saying earnestly: “Master, you must have lost a Po Soul. I’ve heard of it—people who lose a po have their temperament completely change. Here’s what we’ll do: teach me Netherwalking, and I’ll go down to the Underworld and find your lost po for you!”

At this, Qin Shuheng was truly ready to face death: “Master, even if I get lost in the Underworld, even if I’m trapped down there until I die, even if I turn into a Living Soul, I will turn you back to straight! Master, I’ll risk my life to save you!”

Lu You was aggravated by his shouting, yet still had the presence of mind to correct him: “What do po souls have to do with sexual orientation? What determines orientation is the Youjing Soul among the Three Souls. Losing a po causes illness—the specific illness depends on which po was lost.”

Qin Shuheng grieved greatly: “Being sick and being gay—isn’t that the same thing!”

He Zhuchun couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing.

Huang Kuaipao laughed too, a tiny ball hugging his belly at the table’s edge, cackling away.

Lu You: “…”

The scene dissolved into complete chaos.