In the evening, when Yi Sa came out after her shower, Zong Hang was gone again.
He couldn’t have gone to practice again, could he? Yi Sa opened the window to check. This hotel faced the street – not suitable for practice.
She left the room.
He wasn’t in the hallway either. She walked all the way to the stairwell door at the end and pressed her ear against it: found him, he was there.
Yi Sa thought about pushing the door open but changed her mind. She took the elevator up two floors, entered the stairwell, and walked down quietly, step by step.
There he was, panting heavily, practicing enthusiastically – kicking his legs up, throwing punches, occasionally attempting clumsy flying moves. After each leap, he would glare fiercely at the air, as if he were something.
Yi Sa stopped at the landing facing him, crossed her arms, and watched to see how long it would take him to notice her.
It didn’t take long. During one of his leaps, Zong Hang caught a glimpse of a woman “floating” in the dim stairwell from the corner of his eye. He yelped “Mom!” and stumbled back several steps upon landing, nearly falling through the stairwell door into the hallway.
Then he recognized her and became embarrassingly tongue-tied.
He had harbored a small wish to improve through diligent practice, to make a name for himself when the time came, to show Yi Sa his butterfly-from-chrysalis transformation – but he didn’t want anyone to see the ugly struggling-in-the-cocoon phase before the metamorphosis.
Yi Sa came down step by step and asked him: “Do you know what you did wrong?”
She glanced at his T-shirt, which was soaked with sweat and clinging to his body.
Zong Hang hung his head and said: “I came out to practice without permission.”
Yi Sa didn’t know whether to laugh or cry: “Nonsense!”
When did he need her permission to eat, drink, or do anything else?
She cleared her throat: “First, I came down from upstairs, walked to this section of stairs, and stood there for a full five seconds without you noticing. Do you know what it means to ‘watch six directions, listen to eight ways’? Martial arts require focus – focus on techniques, but also on your surroundings. Neither can be neglected.”
This must be what they call “enlightenment,” Zong Hang listened attentively.
“Second…” Yi Sa pondered for a moment. “Come, hit me with that straight punch you were just practicing. Use all your strength, hit me.”
Zong Hang nodded, clenched his fist, gathered himself for a moment, then threw a punch at her face.
Yi Sa tilted her head, placed her hand on his arm, and without much effort, pulled him forward. Caught off guard, Zong Hang yelped “Ah!” and lost his balance, nearly headbutting the wall.
“Your punching posture is wrong. When others punch, their torso is like a planted root, the arm extends at ninety degrees from the body. When you punch, half your body follows your arm – no matter how much force you use, it’s easily deflected.”
Zong Hang blushed.
“Third…”
Yi Sa walked in front of him, smiled at him, then suddenly hooked her toe around his ankle and pulled back.
Zong Hang fell forward like a wooden board. He had to desperately grab for support – fortunately, his arms were long enough to catch the bottom railing, though he still ended up half-sprawled on the ground.
Yi Sa said: “Your stance is too unstable – one hook and you fall. Why do martial artists always talk about ‘sinking qi to the dantian’? When qi sinks, the weight presses down, and a person becomes like a rooted tree – unmovable even when pushed. Why do beginners start with horse stance, practicing hundreds or thousands of straight punches? Do you think it’s torture? This is called fundamentals. One gives birth to two, two gives birth to three, and three gives birth to all things – one is the foundation. No matter how many fancy techniques you learn, they all come from this one. Come, practice again.”
She went up a few steps, blew off some dust, then sat down.
Was she going to watch him practice? At first, Zong Hang felt a bit awkward, but after throwing a few punches, he got better. And her pointers were truly enlightening – those few sentences were far better than blindly practicing on his own.
Yi Sa watched his practice like watching chess, speaking only when necessary.
“Don’t raise your shoulders.”
“Lower your fist.”
“Retract with force too – retracting is like drawing a bow, only when fully drawn can the shot be powerful…”
Midway through speaking, she suddenly looked down and with a “pak” sound, slapped a mosquito that was biting her leg.
She brought her palm up to her eyes – the mosquito was completely flattened. Disgusted, she scraped it off with her fingernail and blew it away.
Summer was annoying for this reason – that was already the third one.
Early the next morning, the car arranged through the hotel arrived. Following Yi Sa’s instructions, it came with a driver since she wasn’t as skillful driving cars as motorcycles, and it was a pickup truck with enough space in the back for the motorcycle.
Before leaving the city, they made a special trip to the market to buy fish for Wu Gui to eat on the road.
The fish market was a bit dirty, with water puddles everywhere. Yi Sa complained: “If I had known we wouldn’t need it for opening the Jin Tang, I wouldn’t have brought it along – such a hassle.”
This reminded Zong Hang of something: “When I got off the boat, I saw many Wu Guis. Do all three families have one each?”
“No, they’re only assigned when someone becomes a water ghost, and it depends on whether they can be raised locally. Wu Guis usually grow in the south, so the Ding family members don’t have them.”
Zong Hang still didn’t understand: “Then why bring it for opening the Jin Tang? What’s its purpose?”
“They’re strong.”
She explained to Zong Hang that a hundred years ago before pot-turning became a thing, Wu Guis were the main transporters after opening Jin Tang because some Jin Tang water surfaces weren’t suitable for boats. A hundred or so Wu Guis would gather nearby, each with copper rings around their ankles. When they heard the Wu Gui whistle, they would all dive into the water together.
Underwater, several large boxes of Jin Tang would be ready to go, covered with a hundred-headed net – “hundred-headed” meaning the net had at least a hundred hooks. When the Wu Guis came, the water ghosts would attach the hooks to the copper rings on their ankles.
Once all were hooked up, with one gesture, a hundred Wu Guis would exert force together, rising from the bottom – keep in mind, a well-trained Wu Gui could pull about a hundred jin of weight, and with many Wu Guis working together, even the heaviest Jin Tang was manageable.
Zong Hang listened with fascination, thinking the scene must have been like “Up” – each Wu Gui like a hydrogen balloon. Such a large group of Wu Guis lifting heavy Jin Tang slowly rising from the water must have been quite a sight to behold.
He wished he could see it in person.
Yi Sa seemed to read his mind: “Don’t think about it, I’ve never seen it either.”
Zong Hang suddenly thought of something: “That day when Jiang Xiaoguang took Jiang Jun underwater, it was just the two of them, they didn’t even bring Wu Guis – they weren’t really going to open Jin Tang, were they?”
Yi Sa nodded.
Jin Tang couldn’t be opened early, but it could be delayed. Jiang Xiaoguang had brought an underwater camera, probably just wanting to scout the route through Jiang Jun, but why did Ding Changsheng tag along…
She couldn’t figure it out but hoped all these puzzles would be explained in the black leather notebook Yi Xiao mentioned.
In the car, Yi Sa asked the driver about the journey time and then called Ding Yudie.
First, she asked about the results of the cross-referencing.
Ding Yudie was proudly pleased: “Almost done, there’s one match, some distance from Hukou. I was just about to drive over to confirm.”
As he said this, he was straddling his motorcycle, looking at his handsome reflection in the rearview mirror: since returning home, he had become even more meticulous – using face masks frequently, his complexion was amazing, and his T-shirt was covered in elaborate embroidery, exuding luxury.
Yi Sa made a sound of acknowledgment: “Send me the location first. I’m on the road today and should arrive tomorrow. I’ll go straight there, no need to detour through your place.”
Ding Yudie was startled: “You’re coming over?”
What was so important about some old kiln factory that she would make the trip? Was there Jin Tang buried under the kiln factory too?
Ding Yudie was curious, but his near-death experience of starvation in Lake Poyang had left him traumatized: if there was no danger, he could get involved, but if there was danger, better not.
Yi Sa made an affirmative sound: “You didn’t let Ding Changsheng know about your inquiries about the kiln factory, right?”
Ding Yudie said: “Of course not. After asking, I specially instructed them not to tell anyone else.”
Although he had always been proud and aloof, without many friends or connections, as a respected water ghost, he still commanded respect – those people had been more than cooperative, repeatedly saying “yes, yes, of course, of course.”
Yi Sa almost dropped her phone: “You specifically told them not to tell others?”
“Yes.”
Yi Sa gritted her teeth: “Yes my foot!”
Jing Xiu left early in the morning with the persimmon gold.
She had some savings, and if she could get a good price for this piece of persimmon gold, the shop’s equipment, renovation, and rent shouldn’t be a big problem.
Ding Xi said she was “playing at independence” – let him think what he wanted, she just didn’t want to use his money. With her previous status, coming here all alone, living in his place, eating his food – what would that make her? A kept woman?
She needed her place, her own money, to stand tall in a relationship. If she relied on him completely and he got tired of her one day and kicked her out, she’d be worse off than a stray dog.
All morning, she visited many antique shops. Visiting more shops helped her gauge the market price better.
They say “Three thousand years of civilization look to Shaanxi, five thousand years of civilization look to Shanxi” – this wasn’t empty talk. In the antique business, Shanxi people were the most numerous and smooth-talking, skilled at persuasion.
One handled her persimmon gold: “Fifty thousand, maximum fifty thousand, girl. Don’t be stubborn, this is the highest price.”
Another looked through a magnifying glass: “Sixty thousand at most, beautiful. This is artificially aged, the chiseling isn’t even clear, it’s only worth its weight in gold…”
One didn’t even look at the gold first, just eyed her sideways: “Your accent isn’t local, where did you get this? Let me tell you, if it’s not legitimate, the price won’t go up…”
…
It was exhausting both physically and mentally. By noon, under the fierce sun, she felt dizzy from the heat and decided to return to the hotel.
Walking through a quiet street, just about to turn a corner, suddenly her neck was grabbed from behind, yanked by her dress collar into an alley. Before Jing Xiu could understand what was happening, a knife was at her throat: “This is a robbery! Got any money?”
Two men, both wearing low-brimmed baseball caps. The one with the knife was stocky, and beside him stood a thin one with a cigarette in his mouth.
Jing Xiu tremblingly opened her bag, one hand covering the persimmon gold, the other taking out several bills: “I… I don’t have much, just this…”
The one with the knife took the money, shook it, and stuffed it in his pants pocket. Just as Jing Xiu breathed a sigh of relief, the smoking one smirked, spat out his cigarette butt, and lunged for her bag.
Jing Xiu screamed: “No, not this…”
She desperately held onto the bag strap, clutching the bag to her chest. In the struggle, she took a punch to the face and was kicked to the ground. Everything went black, her ears buzzing. When she looked up, she only saw four legs quickly walking away.
Had someone passed by? Were they not taking the bag? The strap was still in her hand. She frantically pulled it back, pulling until the end, and her heart sank.
The strap had been torn off – the bag was gone, only the strap remained.
Ding Xi was answering his phone while using his key card to enter the room.
The frosted glass door of the bathroom was closed, with water running inside – Jing Xiu seemed to be washing her face. On the phone, the person wouldn’t stop talking.
“Damn, dressed up like some demon queen, riding off on a motorcycle. We thought he must be up to something important, so we quickly followed. But he just went for a barbecue, then bought milk tea, got a bucket of popcorn, and spent the whole morning watching old men fish by the city moat… Brother Xi, Ding Yudie is just crazy. Should we keep following him?”
Ding Xi said: “Keep following, see what other tricks he can pull.”
After hanging up, the water in the bathroom also stopped, but Jing Xiu didn’t come out, probably applying face cream.
Ding Xi took out a set of keys and threw them on the table with a clatter: “I’m going out on business, and probably won’t be back for a few days. If you want, go stay at my place, it’s more convenient than here.”
Jing Xiu still didn’t come out, just gave a soft “mm” in response.
Ding Xi felt something was off. After thinking, he pushed open the door: “What’s wrong?”
Jing Xiu kept her head down, hair covering her face, uncomfortably saying: “Nothing, just too hot today, feeling a bit heat-struck, not feeling well.”
Not feeling well? If you’re not feeling well, why aren’t you lying in bed instead of hanging your head by the sink like you’re being punished? Ding Xi put his hand on her shoulder and turned her to the side. Jing Xiu couldn’t resist his strength, stumbled back several steps until her back hit the wall, and looked up in shock.
Ding Xi frowned at her face, then surprisingly smiled.
“What happened to you? You went out to look at shops and came back like this? Did the real estate agent do this? Are they that rough nowadays?”
Jing Xiu uncomfortably turned her face away. Half her face was swollen like a steamed bun, her eye reduced to a slit. Having cried earlier made it even more red and swollen: “No, I was robbed.”
“Robbed for money? Do you look rich? They’d have better luck robbing you for your looks.”
What kind of thing was that to say? Jing Xiu yelled at him: “What’s it to you?”
As soon as she yelled, tears came down.
Being beaten up was bad enough, but losing both money and the persimmon gold – now all the cash she had wouldn’t even cover the hotel fee.
“Did you report it to the police?”
Jing Xiu wiped her tears: “No.”
She had meant to, but then remembered the words about “illegitimate sources” and held back: she didn’t know where Yi Xiao got this persimmon gold – what if it was stolen, robbed, or dug up from a grave? One police report could get her in trouble instead.
“Where did it happen?”
“On the street.”
“There are hundreds of streets out there.”
This lukewarm spectator’s tone nearly made Jing Xiu lose control: “I don’t know, I’m not familiar with this place!”
Probably pointless to ask more. Ding Xi gestured to the keys on the table: “Keys are there if you want to stay over.”
After saying this, he went straight downstairs where a Grand Cherokee was waiting.
Once in the car, the driver Ding Xi asked: “Brother Xi, straight to the kiln factory?”
Ding Xi grunted in agreement.
Ding Xi started the car. It was the lunch rush hour and traffic was a bit jammed. Ding Xi waited impatiently, looked up, and happened to see the surveillance camera at the intersection.
“Every road has cameras, right?”
Ding Xi nodded: “That’s how it is in the city area. Even if there aren’t any on the street, some shops have them installed.”
Ding Xi said: “Alright, put the kiln factory on hold. Help me check the surveillance footage, starting with… the street outside the hotel.”