On the train back, Old Wang and I looked like migrant workers returning home. After half a month in Zhoujiazhuang—confirming the construction team broke ground with auspicious dates and unsealing the Seven Xuan Guan—we boarded the train to Shenyang. He hummed casually, barefoot and ignoring the disgusted stares around us.
The village's strange illness recovered within a week. Experts confirmed the bacteria's disappearance, and villagers pooled 10,000 yuan as thanks. Professor He took the bronze pillar for research—I thought he'd report us, but he avoided Old Wang like a mouse fleeing a cat.
Old Wang was greedy; I had to force 5,000 yuan from him, or he'd have given me nothing. In my life, I'd never met such a money-grubber.
Alone, I asked what lay beneath the Eight Trigrams. He grinned, saying it was none of his business, but after I gave him 200 yuan, he explained: it sealed the Plague God. Folklore tells of gods like Plague, Poverty, and Misfortune—especially the Plague God, who reaps lives. Taoist priests used the Five Elements to bind such evils. The bronze pillar balanced 五行 (Five Elements), but once removed, only a Taoist temple could suppress the qi.
This amazed me. The Feng Shui Zhai Zhi focused on feng shui and 五行,while Old Wang's Maoshan Technique Records used yin-yang and Eight Trigrams. Together, they mirrored the feng shui compass—Grandpa had said feng shui masters were also yin-yang masters, inseparable.
At the train station, Zhao Na waited in a black miniskirt, butterfly top, and sunglasses, smiling 迷人 (charmingly). "Dabao, here!" Half a month apart, I'd realized my feelings for her.
She hugged me, pouting. "Why so long? No calls—I thought you left."
"Had no signal in Tongliao." I grinned, touched to be missed. "Let me treat you to dinner."
She took me to a bathhouse, then Taiyuan Street for new clothes. She drew me into urban life, curing my social detachment.
Over Starbucks snacks, she said, "My dad wants to meet you."
My heart raced—meeting the parents? But she laughed, "Not like that. He wants to talk."
After a movie, we arrived at her dad's Shenhe District penthouse at 9 PM. I was shocked: a 1-meter silver cross hung by the door, Bible shelves held collector's editions, ancient versions, and gold-inlaid Bibles. Zhao Zhiyong wore a silver cross, clutching a Bible.
"Mr. Zhang," he greeted.
I pointed at the room. "What's all this?"
Zhao Na said, "Dad believes the King of Hell wants him, so he converted to Christianity. He's moving to America, even donated to rebuild a Jesus statue."
As Zhao Zhiyong offered tea, he said bluntly, "I know you're dating Nana and saved us. Help me choose a family grave—money's no issue. I'm moving to New York this month; a St. John's Church pastor will be my godfather."