Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Barber

I slept straight through an entire day and night, only waking up the next afternoon. Though I had slept as if the world had faded away, my rumbling stomach was impossible to ignore. I called out for Lao Liao, but all I got in return was a groan from the sofa. After everything that had happened—the bizarre haunting, not earning a penny from Xia Liang, and even ending up in the police station—it felt like a colossal loss.

Suddenly, there was a steady knocking at the door: thump, thump-thump-thump, thump. I hurried to open it, while Lao Liao stretched and sat up from the sofa. Ah Hao stood leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a black robe and wearing a conical hat.

“You two all right? I heard you spent a whole day and night in the station.”

“We’re fine, we’re fine. With our skills, who could really keep us down?” Lao Liao, apparently well-rested, was already back to his blustering self.

“I heard that lady officer is no easy character—everyone at the precinct is wary of her. You two should be more careful in business. After all, in our line of work, a lot must stay in the shadows.”

“Ah, no worries. In my experience, once Xu manages to win her over, we’ll all be one happy family.” Lao Liao nudged me playfully with his elbow as he joked.

Annoyed by his teasing, I reached out to punch him, which made Ah Hao burst out laughing.

“Ah Hao, are you leaving?” I asked, noticing several others in black robes outside, their backs burdened with bags.

“Yes, my brother’s matter is more or less settled. It’s time for me to return to Xiangxi.”

“You’re not going after the ones who hurt your brother?” I was surprised. From what I knew, Ah Hao was not one to let a grudge go. He was ruthless when it came to revenge.

“This isn’t something that can be unraveled in a short time. I can’t just linger here in Guangdong forever, can I? I’ll return to Xiangxi for now. If you get any leads, just let me know.”

I nodded. This truly was a matter that would require careful planning. I was still a newcomer in this shadowy world, inexperienced. Whether or not it involved Boss Wang, it needed to be handled with caution.

“Boss Zhang, I believe we’ll meet again in Xiangxi someday.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“The secret ghost embroidery technique you used last time felt oddly familiar to me—the power of it. I might have encountered it before in Xiangxi.”

At this, I frowned. My memories of Xiangxi were vague and distant, all from childhood. Could it be that the tradition of Yin-Yang Embroidery was somehow connected to the shadow practitioners of Xiangxi?

“My friends, we part ways here today. In this world, honor comes first. I will never forget the help you’ve given me. If ever you need me, just ask! Take care!”

With sincere gratitude, Ah Hao removed his hat, revealing his scarred and battered face. He cupped his hands at us, bowed deeply, and then straightened.

“The world is vast, but we shall meet again!” Lao Liao and I returned his gesture.

Laughing heartily, Ah Hao turned away, shaking the small silver bell at his waist as he stepped out of the shop. His cheerful laughter echoed down the hallway, growing fainter as he walked away.

“Lao Liao, wouldn’t you say Ah Hao is a true man?” I gazed after his disappearing figure, unable to hide my admiration.

“Of course. I’ve had some dealings with the shadow practitioners of Xiangxi before. When they come north, they never pay homage, just show their real skills straight away. Back then, even the masters of the Daoist sect would defer to the Miao priestesses.”

The shadow trade truly was a world of its own.

“That so-called deference from your Daoist masters isn’t worth much!” A languid voice drifted in from outside.

Lao Liao bristled at the remark, about to retort, but then saw it was Lao Jin arriving.

“Hey, Lao Jin, why are you talking down about our masters?” I felt a bit disgruntled at Lao Jin’s criticism. Given our relationship, I saw no reason to let him have the last word.

Lao Jin waved off the subject, refusing to discuss it further. Carrying a small cage of birds, he hung it from the eaves of my shop, then withdrew a wooden stick to tease the birds with amused interest.

“I heard you got caught up in a haunted house job and even ended up at the station?”

Nothing escaped this old fox.

“That’s right, Lao Jin. That house was wicked—Longling really isn’t fit for the living.”

“Naturally. That place is crawling with spirits. Even my employees who catch spirits never set foot in Longling. So, the Yin Embroidery didn’t work on the main culprit?”

“This time, I was lucky my little ghost—”

I was about to mention the marvels of the ghost embroidery, but Lao Liao quickly tugged my sleeve and shook his head at me. I took the hint; evidently, Lao Liao still didn’t fully trust Lao Jin. So I glossed over the ghost embroidery and the Four Symbols Corpse Transformation, instead making up a story about how my little Yin Embroidered ghost broke the curse.

“Since you’ve entered the shadow profession, there’s something I must warn you about. Even among shadow practitioners, there are ranks and halls. I’ll introduce you sometime. But for now, the most important thing is: never destroy someone else’s business lightly. Lao Liao knows this well—it only leads to more trouble.”

“So if I see someone doing something truly evil, I’m just supposed to turn a blind eye? What if the victim was your family?”

Angry, I slammed the table. Lao Jin’s words infuriated me. Just days ago, I’d seen four victims die horribly in that mansion, and now he was telling me to look away?

Lao Jin seemed surprised at my outburst. He clapped his hands and laughed, “Ha! That’s my nephew for you—already got the bearing of a true master.”

Then his face grew solemn. “If you want to take on more, then become stronger. Build your own power and influence. Because, not just in this trade, but in the world at large, might makes right.”

I stared hard at Lao Jin, searching his eyes for a deeper meaning. He seemed to sense it, paused, then slipped back into his usual careless manner.

“All right, all right. I brought you a pot of dog stew. You’ve had a rough few days—eat well and recover. If you need anything, go see Ah Mao. We’ve got plenty in stock these days.”

He set a pitch-black sealed clay pot on our table. Even before he opened it, waves of savory aroma wafted out. My mouth watered; I had just woken up and was ravenous. The dog stew had come at the perfect time.

“I’m off, see you.” Lao Liao picked up his birdcage from the beam and, humming a little tune, left the tattoo shop.

Lao Jin’s praise made me both laugh and cry. I’d only been in this business a short while, still learning the ropes. How could I worry about power and responsibility yet?

But that dog stew did smell heavenly. Steam lazily drifted from the holes in the pot lid, and Lao Liao sat beside me, eyeing it hungrily.

“Oh right, if you have time, go see Old Fu. He’s been looking for you for two days,” Lao Jin called, poking his head back through the door with the air of someone who’d just remembered something, startling us.

We mumbled our agreement, saw Lao Jin out, and then gathered around the dog stew. Lao Liao tore open the “Hu’s Dog Stew” packaging and began eating with gusto.

We wiped the grease from our mouths as we ate, praising the dog stew the entire time. Before long, the pot was empty.

“That stew was amazing. Next time, let’s order a large portion at the shop,” Lao Liao said.

I nodded in wholehearted agreement.

Once we’d eaten our fill, I suddenly remembered something. “Didn’t Lao Jin ask us to visit Old Fu?”

Lao Liao slapped his forehead, “That’s right, he’s got something for you.”

Old Fu lived in the alley behind our shop. To be precise, he was a craftsman of the shadow trade as well, though his skills were on the fringes.

Old Fu was a barber.

Barbering had a long history, passed down quietly through the ages. But now, with all sorts of beauty salons and skincare centers everywhere, people had grown more modern and image-conscious. These tiny street shops were fading, kept alive only by a few loyal old customers.

The barber’s craft was mainly divided into shaving and scraping. Shaving meant cutting hair, giving people a fresh look. Scraping involved removing dead skin and beard from the face, combined with massage techniques for relaxation and comfort.

It was said that hair and skin easily attracted evil spirits, and that barbers, using ancestral methods, could remove malignant energies clinging to the hair and skin. Thus, barbering became a fringe branch of exorcism.

Old Fu was such a barber, inheriting his craft from ancestors. The elderly in the alley loved to come to him for a shave.

“Old Fu! Old Fu!” Lao Liao and I called as we approached his little shop in the alley.

The shop was tiny—barely thirty square meters, with just two barber chairs inside. The scraping board for facial treatments was set up outside.

When we arrived, Old Fu was giving a middle-aged man a scrape, deftly gliding a fine blade along the man’s jaw, pressing gently at his neck. Once finished, he ladled some clean water over the man’s face and chin, then covered it with a hot towel, pressing softly. Only then was the treatment truly done.

“Ah, Old Fu, your technique is still the best. You can’t find this kind of skill anymore—such artistry is dying out,” the customer exclaimed as he paid. Old Fu smiled and nodded in reply.

Once the customer left, Old Fu invited us in.

“Old Fu, I heard you were looking for me?”

Old Fu rubbed his bent back and sat with difficulty on a small stool, sighing, “Ah, my grandson seems to have been plagued by a dog spirit lately. I wanted to ask if you know of any way to break the curse.”