Fortune 024: The Big Truck

Guo Xingxian ran to the Apricot Temple, hands trembling even as he pulled out his keys. He stumbled as he entered, nearly falling over the threshold.

He remembered Nan Shi’s instructions perfectly—crying and scrambling over the barrier, he clung to the rough trunk of the old apricot tree and began to wail, “Godfather, help! When I went to a funeral, I saw a ghost all in red—it scared the life out of me, am I going to die?!”

“Godfather, my buddy Nan Shi said someone is invading your turf, they’re wreaking havoc on your territory, sob sob, I don’t even know what that means, I don’t care, just let me hide here. I think they’re following me.”

“And there was one in white, with no face on either side. I’m going to die! If I really die, please have my grandma bury me under your tree!! This is too damned terrifying!”

The breeze rustled the apricot tree, whose petals swirled gracefully through the air, settling on Guo Xingxian’s shoulders.

After howling himself hoarse, he realized his legs had gone slack and sat down against the trunk, muttering, “So ghosts really do exist in this world… Godfather, if you can hear me, go save Nan Shi, please. He kept telling me to run and not leave Apricot Temple until he came for me. I knew you had to be real; please, I beg you, godfather…”

Nan Shi could still joke with vengeful ghosts—afraid though he was, he had gotten used to it.

But those two ghosts put even the usually unflappable Qing Ying on edge. Nan Shi had once asked the ghost bride, and she’d said Qing Ying could fight ten of herself at once, which showed just how terrifying those two ghosts were.

“There are lots of police over there, some from our own village, who also offered you incense as kids…”

Apricot blossoms fell like rain, covering Guo Xingxian’s head and shoulders. A few petals landed right over his eyes, and he reflexively reached to brush them away—only for someone to gently still his hand.

Someone enveloped him in a gentle embrace, cool hands covering his eyes and blocking his vision. He felt a weight settle on his shoulder, as though someone’s chin pressed there.

The voice sighed in his ear: “All right, I know.”

“Don’t be afraid, A Yun.” Apricot Immortal held him, resting his head against Guo Xingxian’s shoulder with a familiar intimacy. “Nan Shi is Lord Chi’s inner disciple. It’s only two wedding and mourning ghosts. If true trouble arose, Lord Chi himself might as well die all over again.”

For a moment, Guo Xingxian was speechless, stammering. “You… I…”

“Don’t be afraid. I’m your godfather.” Apricot Immortal gazed at his ears, still flushed from his mad dash, lips drawing close but just missing by a hair. “You’ve seen me before. There’s nothing to fear.”

“Mm…” Guo Xingxian murmured. One hand was still caught under the immortal’s, so he placed his other on the immortal’s wrist: “Godfather, could you go take a look… Please. Nan Shi is my roommate, my friend—I can’t let him die here.”

“I will,” Apricot Immortal said. “Stay here. Do not leave the temple. I’ll bring your friend back—understand?”

“I promise, I won’t go out!” Guo Xingxian replied at once, afraid any hesitation might change the immortal’s mind.

In the next moment, the arms holding him vanished, and his back met the solid trunk again. The bark, polished by time, was as smooth as jade. For some reason, Guo Xingxian turned around and hugged the tree, a sense of calm settling over him.

So his godfather really did exist… Nan Shi hadn’t lied.

The voice was so familiar—he must have heard it before.

Why couldn’t he remember when?

---

“Ahem!” Nan Shi picked up another portable speaker and tested the mic.

He’d already got the national anthem on loop on one, thanks to the festivities and a full battery—at least three hours of runtime. Qing Ying stood by, helping him aim it into the courtyard.

Leaning against a patrol car, Nan Shi cleared his throat and declaimed in perfect Mandarin: “Colorful banners flutter, lucky clouds float, wishing you a happy Spring Festival! May happiness and health follow you, may all evil retreat, and good fortune attend everything you do!—Best wishes for an early New Year from Lingnan Village!”

Unsure if it helped, he also found some popular Taoist exorcism chants online and had those playing along with the anthem and new year’s greetings—whatever worked, be it science or superstition, as long as something happened!

Thank heavens both a wedding and a funeral were held today, leaving plenty of firecrackers. Nan Shi lit a cigarette and went around lighting them off—pity, if they hadn’t held the ceremonies together, none of this would have happened in the first place!

They say firecrackers scare off ghosts, too. Qing Ying, not wanting to be accidentally deafened, silently stuffed her ears with cloth.

With the thunder of firecrackers, the national anthem, Taoist chants, and holiday well-wishes, the atmosphere was positively auspicious.

Soon, things began to stir in the courtyard; the front gate creaked open, and several unconscious officers were helped out by their still-standing comrades. Nan Shi, mid-firecracker, heard one officer yell, “Enough already—my ears are ringing!”

He quickly popped his cigarette in his mouth and made a beeline for the exit—now if ever was the time to vanish!

He had no wish to be grilled by the authorities.

The police got the wounded into cars, gasping for breath; one, breaking down, covered his face with a sweaty hand, cold droplets dripping from his hair.

Suddenly, someone asked, “…Who was that just now?”

Was he really trying to save them?

The anthem worked, yes, but the firecrackers completely drowned it out. And with all those new year greetings and mumbo-jumbo incantations—was that for real?

In the end, everyone simply broke out singing the anthem; nobody knew why, but passion rose, police batons swinging as they charged. The ghosts, seeing the tide turn, simply vanished.

“No idea… must have been a neighbor at the wedding and funeral.”

“Let’s check later.” All agreed, and someone reached for their walkie-talkie. “Anyone seen Dr. Feng, the medical examiner? Where is he?”

“Haven’t seen him—he should be out by now. I’ll stay to look, you take the others to the hospital.”

“Alright. Prepare the cars; sirens on, head for the nearest hospital.”

With the comatose and wounded, they paused half a minute more to steady their nerves and avoid an accident from shaking hands.

“Copy—let’s go!” came the response, as engines started and the cars roared off to the hospital.

Naturally, those still feeling on edge quietly kept the anthem in the playlist.

Nan Shi arrived home to find the door locked—then remembered Guo Xingxian was surely still at the Apricot Temple. He wasn’t sure whether his godfather would step up, but the people he wanted to save were safe now; the rest was none of his concern.

Before he ran, he’d checked everyone’s faces again; mercifully, most of the black haze had dissipated, though those carried out could probably expect a bout of sickness—they hadn’t escaped entirely.

Qing Ying, unbothered by such restrictions, floated into the house and came out with two bottles of water and a couple of little cakes. Nan Shi downed half a bottle at once, ate a cake, and finally felt better.

He hadn’t even realized his clothes were soaked through.

He still needed to fetch Guo Xingxian… but with the car gone, it was his own two legs or nothing.

---

By the time the Apricot Immortal arrived, he caught Nan Shi mid-escape. Seeing Nan Shi unhurt and with company, the immortal paid him no further heed, heading inside instead, where he quickly dispatched the two wedding and mourning ghosts, crushing them to fragments and scattering them forever.

Nan Shi was right—who dared run wild on his territory? Did he have any face left otherwise?

Before leaving, he spotted the ghost bride sitting atop her coffin. She shot to her feet. “Hello! I’m the victim here; whatever happened outside, it wasn’t me! I really can only protect one person.”

“My revenge certificate hasn’t arrived yet; I didn’t raise a hand this time! Senior Immortal, please don’t blame me!”

To prove her innocence, she lifted the coffin lid, revealing that what should have been her corpse inside was actually Dr. Feng, sleeping peacefully.

The Apricot Immortal nodded and quietly departed.

Those with a revenge certificate were permitted to exact justice; rarely would anyone bar their way.

Nan Shi only knew of the certificate; what he didn’t know was that it came with a price—take vengeance by hand, and after, serve a hundred years in Wangsi City. Kill one, serve a century; kill ten, a thousand years.

And what was Wangsi City? Just a special city, really: residents had ordinary lives, except wages were lower, holidays fewer, and every night, they had to relive their own death.

No matter how painful or awful, it had to be endured.

Most people lost their minds before the first decade and opted for oblivion.

Such was the cost of rewriting the Book of Life and Death.

The Apricot Immortal returned to his temple; Guo Xingxian, using the tree root as a pillow, was sleeping soundly. The immortal replaced the root with his lap, and with a sweep of his sleeve, a soft red blanket of petals covered Guo Xingxian.

Even in midwinter, he wouldn’t catch a cold.

He poked Guo Xingxian’s cheek, then bent to press a kiss between his brows.

When Nan Shi finally made it to the temple, he was instantly force-fed a mouthful of dog food.

“Qing Ying, I feel like I picked the wrong time,” he muttered, disheartened. “They’ve got beauty, luxury, and someone’s lap to rest on—why am I even here?”

Qing Ying smiled demurely. “Young Master, you came for the keys.”

No sooner had she spoken than something flew at Nan Shi, hitting him squarely on the shoulder. He instinctively caught it—sure enough, it was the house keys. The Apricot Immortal gestured toward the door, his meaning clear.

Keys in hand, off you go.

Nan Shi: “…Okay, I’m going, I’m going… Uh, Uncle, our Guo’s fate is fine in every respect, except his bones are a little light. Take it easy, okay!”

And with that, Nan Shi fled, not giving the Apricot Immortal the chance for the slightest revenge.

He hadn’t lied!

Having light bones wasn’t an insult—in physiognomy, everyone’s bones have a certain heft, the heavier, the more “precious” their fate; the lighter, the more “base.”

Some people with a noble birth chart but light bones find themselves unable to bear their own destiny, and suffer from sickness or early death. Survive that, and it’s smooth sailing; fail, and it’s an early grave.

Others with a light fate and heavy bones—think of the “Solitary Star”—bring misfortune to those around them, but emerge unscathed themselves.

Guo Xingxian was the classic “noble fate, light bones” type, so he’d been sickly as a child. But with a good godfather anchoring his luck, he was fine from then on.

Why did Nan Shi tell the immortal to “take it easy?” Because light bones mean a shaky, weak aura—vulnerable to outside influences.

The Apricot Immortal might have “immortal” in his name, but with Guo Xingxian’s ghost-sensitive constitution, too much supernatural energy might cause problems.

The Apricot Immortal watched Nan Shi’s hasty retreat, snorted, and patted Guo Xingxian’s cheek.

This kid had genuine talent at fate-telling—accurate and insightful, but not exactly loveable.

Birds of a feather, as they say.

---

When dawn broke, Guo Xingxian finally returned.

He slept through the night, and when he finally called Nan Shi, Nan Shi grumbled that he’d already gone to fetch him, but couldn’t wake him, so let him come back on his own.

Guo Xingxian had been too frightened to walk home in the dark—but with flower petals warming him, he thought another nap couldn’t hurt.

Ah, having a godfather really was great!

No more fear of ghosts!

……

The high-speed train was booked for today. Nan Shi had packed out of boredom at home. The “sister next door” must have gotten her revenge certificate last night; Nan Shi had made her play cards with him all night to stall her, so by the time he left, he’d avoided any “murder scene”—after all, if he weren’t present, he couldn’t be considered a suspect.

In this village, comings and goings were rare.

After a forced breakfast with Guo Xingxian, Nan Shi dragged him to return the car, then boarded the bullet train. It wasn’t till they boarded that Guo Xingxian blinked and realized: “Hey, aren’t you going to thank my godfather?”

Nan Shi eyed him sidelong. “Shouldn’t he be thanking me? I went to warn him after all!”

Guo Xingxian spat, “How can you talk to my godfather like that, Nan Shi? Have some respect!”

“Alright, I’ll go pass him the message, Uncle!” Nan Shi instantly changed his tune, noticing how unusually respectful Guo Xingxian was toward the Apricot Immortal today. “You don’t seem yourself today.”

Guo Xingxian, recalling that the immortal really did exist and was so gentle, could have curled his toes right through the train car in embarrassment—he’d thought it was just superstition; who’d have guessed it was real?!

“I just didn’t know before,” he muttered. “You telling me to be so proper to something imaginary just felt weird… From now on, I’ll be properly respectful on every holiday.”

He pulled out his phone to make a note. “By the way, what did you say I should burn at the offering again? Tell me, I’ll write it down so I don’t forget.”

Nan Shi recited the list, and then, wicked as ever, added, “Honestly, it doesn’t matter what you send—it could be some almost-expired bread, as long as you visit, godfather’s happy.”

“We wouldn’t even be friends anymore if you keep that up!”

“Half-eaten canned peaches?”

“Piss off!”

As they joked, the bullet train reached their stop. Each hailed a Didi; waiting by the road, Guo Xingxian said, “Let’s get dinner sometime—we never ended up having a proper meal…”

“Sure, I know a couple of fantastic all-you-can-eat Japanese places. Just avoid the holidays—I need to earn a living!”

“Deal,” said Guo Xingxian, watching as a black car approached. “There’s my ride. See you!”

“Bye.” Nan Shi checked his own phone—his car had just arrived too, parked across the road. He started toward the crosswalk.

The light turned green.

Halfway across, his phone rang. Answering, he heard, “Hello? Is this 0647? I’m on the other side…”

It was his Didi driver calling.

Nan Shi waved to show where he was, then jogged over. “I’m here! Be right there!”

He’d barely finished speaking when a blare of horns sounded—then an enormous truck barreled into him from the right.

His phone flew from his hand, shattering into pieces on the pavement.

He was still bewildered—his perspective rose high, then plummeted. He saw Qing Ying on the curb, reaching for him but failing to grab hold—her face as lost as his own.

What was this?

Was he flying?

Why was he flying?

Oh, right. He’d been hit by a truck.

Crash.

Nan Shi hit the pavement.

His world went black.

---

At home.

Hot water poured over tea leaves, releasing a fresh, vivid green.

It was a fine day—the sun bright and breeze cool with no blossoms but also no snow.

Chi You lifted his cup, inhaling the faint fragrance, just as the vessel cracked in two in his hands.

Tea spilled down his robe.

Chi You slowly raised his head, his face unreadable, calm to the point of being frightening. “Where is the Young Master?”

Qing Ying knelt below. “Master, the Young Master is in the ambulance. The doctor confirmed it—he is dead.”

“Good.” Chi You tossed the cup fragments aside. “Is he back?”

“He is.”

“Then let us depart.”

“As you command.”

The servants behind them bowed and withdrew to prepare.

Chi You stared at the broken pieces, irritably peeling off his sodden outer robe, dropping it carelessly to cover the shattered cup.

He’d warned them; Nan Shi’s temperament was too unruly. If he didn’t toughen up, disaster would strike sooner or later.

And so it did.