AGJN 039: From Now On, Call Me Master Bai Wu

Bai Wu blew a gust of financial luck, and the outcome was already determined.

Next, either Lan He or Song Futan would win, or the two of them would take down Old Lin, the landlord, leaving him utterly defeated, with eyes spinning like mosquito coils. “How, how is this possible! How did you do it?”

“Brother Lin, are you ready to dance now? Do you know how to street dance?” Lan He didn’t answer but asked in return.

Old Lin: “…”

Old Lin: “Street dance? I’m an old man, don’t let me break a bone here.”

He never expected that as the neighborhood’s gambling king, he wouldn’t win a single hand against these two. This was too uncanny!

Hu 79 sat nearby with her legs crossed, watching with amusement. She even muttered during the game, wondering what kind of luck they were blowing, thinking she could have won with just her brains.

“It seems your gambling king title isn’t as valuable as Lan He’s.” Chen Xingyu didn’t help her husband at all. She even took out her phone to record, leisurely saying, “Go ahead, dance to that old single by Xing Yang.”

Old Lin: “…”

Lan He almost burst out laughing at this.

—Chen Xingyang’s acting skills were impeccable, but when he first became famous, the company encouraged him to release a single, even making him dance in the MV. But he wasn’t cut out for it, and the song and dance became a notorious black mark in his history, often brought up by netizens as a joke.

Chen Xingyu’s comment was clearly meant to tease both of them.

Old Lin walked to the center of the living room in frustration, played a song on his phone, and started dancing.

Everyone drank tea, ate strawberries, and watched the dance. Even Miao Miao clapped along, though he didn’t seem to be on his dad’s side despite blowing on the cards.

Chen Xingyu casually opened the already prepared information and showed it to Lan He, “Look, this is it. Take a look at the program from Beijing TV, *Beijing’s Seasonal Stories*. The previous seasons had pretty good reviews. The producer is a good friend of my husband. Plus, the recording is relatively easy.”

She didn’t want to leave Miao Miao to work out of town, and this show was recorded in Beijing. Each episode focused on the city’s customs, old trades, and traditional arts, making it both entertaining and educational. Besides good reviews, the ratings were quite stable. While not extremely popular, it had a loyal viewership and had produced some iconic moments.

Old Lin, doing a crossover step, said, “Timing-wise, when the first few episodes air, *Chase* will also be released. So you, Chen Xingyang, and the third one can all join in, and it could even help promote the movie. It’s perfect.”

Lan He looked at the information and found it quite reliable. Chen Xingyu had gone out of her way to recommend it, so he could only be grateful. “Thank you, Xingyu. I’ll discuss it with the company.”

Old Lin, spinning and leaping, added, “Heh, in each episode, there are usually a few experts, teachers, or writers to provide commentary or add some emotional depth… Would Master Xuan Guang be interested?”

He noticed Song Futan rarely visited others, so he jokingly asked.

Song Futan: “Is there still a spot?”

Old Lin danced over to them and thought Song Futan was joining in the fun. “If you want to go, even if there isn’t a spot, we’ll make one for you. But nothing is set in stone.”

Song Futan: “Then please help me get in touch. I’ll have the contract signed with my father’s studio.”

If Old Lin hadn’t mentioned it, he wouldn’t have thought about it. But now that it was brought up, it seemed like a great idea!

All of his work was under Song Qiyun’s studio. As a screenwriter, his schedule was flexible, and even though the movie collaboration didn’t work out, this was another opportunity.

Old Lin’s smile slowly faded, and he almost fell to the floor mid-spin. “Huh?”

Xiao Song joining us too? Lan He hadn’t considered this possibility, given that he knew Song Qiyun’s family was usually very low-key. “Really? Master Xuan Guang is joining too! You’re from Beijing, so you’ve probably seen this show before, right?”

Even though Lan He said this, Old Lin still found it hard to believe. Xuan Guang rarely gave interviews, let alone appeared as a guest on a show. It was said to run in the family; Song Qiyun also disliked being in the spotlight.

“Are you really not joking with me?” Old Lin asked suspiciously. “Master, don’t tease me… No, no, you must be joking. You and Lan He are in on this together to mess with me.”

Song Futan seemed calm, as if it wasn’t a big deal, making Old Lin’s reaction seem exaggerated. “These kinds of guests don’t have much screen time, right?”

Old Lin sighed in relief; now this felt more like the Master Xuan Guang he knew. “If you need to, you can wear a mask or just show your back. That’s fine…” As long as you’re willing to go.

Hu 79 squatted by Lan He’s feet, excitedly saying, “I’ll go with you for work. I can hide in a matchbox again!”

Lan He didn’t respond, as if he couldn’t see her. Of course, he wouldn’t reply in front of others.

Hu 79: “It’s been so long since we went out to play. Let’s go, let’s go! We can even ask the craftsman how much it would cost to build a towering God of Wealth building…”

At this moment, Chen Xingyu’s WeChat beeped. She fiddled with it for a moment, then laughed, “Haha, it’s from the show.”

“What did they say?” Lan He asked casually, while Hu 79 kept tugging at his hand.

“Nothing much,” Chen Xingyu replied. “They just said that one of the episodes will be recorded at Miaogan Mountain and asked if I had any issues with that. I said, of course not.”

Lan He: “………… Miaogan Mountain?”

Chen Xingyu looked at Lan He, noticing something was off in his expression. “Hey, you don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

Lan He: “…No, I don’t think so.”

Hu 79 slowly released his hand.

Lan He: “…”

…

Having already agreed, Lan He couldn’t very well refuse to go to Miaogan Mountain, especially since Xiao Song said he would participate too. Lan He could only grit his teeth and commit, hoping that First Lady Hu would be too busy when the time came.

After the guests left, Hu 79 lay on the floor, chewing on a pen. Hu Immortals loved cleanliness, so the floor was spotless, making it no big deal to lie down on it.

Lan He asked her what she was doing, and she proudly replied, “I’m reviewing some spells. I know a lot of them. When the time comes, I’ll beat Hu Si… Hey, now that we’re on better terms, do you want to learn something? I can teach you.”

Lan He peeled an orange as he asked, “Anything suitable for a strong man? Tell me two.”

“A strong man?” Hu 79 squinted at him. “Then there’s only the Fierce Tiger Technique. You can blow a hair into a fierce tiger. One strand of hair becomes one tiger.”

Lan He: “Are they very realistic, the kind that isn’t afraid of biting?”

“Of course,” Hu 79 said. “You need to get a tuft of tiger hair, a sheet of cover paper from a deceased person at noon, cut it into a paper tiger, and stick the tiger hair onto it…”

Lan He was about to say it sounded troublesome, but Hu 79 continued, “Then you must perform a ritual at the Six Jia altar, chant the spell seven times, and burn a talisman…”

Lan He: Is it not over yet?

Hu 79: “… After forty-two days, burn the paper tiger, and the tiger hairs will each transform into a fierce tiger. You can summon them at will and even retract them into your sleeve!”

Lan He: “…”

With each step Hu 79 mentioned, Lan He wanted to complain about how complicated it was, but then she’d introduce an even more tedious procedure, leaving Lan He unsure of where to start his complaints.

After a moment, Lan He sighed, “If I can get tiger hair, wouldn’t I be better off doing something else? Are you saying I have to go to the zoo to buy tiger hair?” They might not even sell it to him. He’s heard of people buying tiger urine, but not tiger hair.

Hu 79 nodded. “Yes, that’s not the difficult part. The slightly tricky part is getting the cover paper from a deceased person at noon.”

Lan He: “That’s why I said your spell has a very outdated feel…”

Cover paper was an old custom. When a body was laid out, a sheet of yellow paper would be placed over the deceased’s face, called cover paper, to check if the person was truly dead. If there was still breath, the paper would move, and the moisture from the breath would dampen the paper. Later, a white cloth was used instead, but some places still kept the paper tradition.

Anyway, this showed that Hu 79 had learned this spell from an unknown era…

Hu 79 stuck out her neck and said, “So what? It can turn into a tiger!”

True enough, Lan He knew Hu 79 could make incense and fold yuanbao, but he didn’t know much more than that. Lan He folded a piece of paper into a stool, chanted a spell, and burned it, turning it into a solid ghostly object of exceptional quality. “Did you think I was just a cook?”

Hu 79 sat on the stool, cupping her face. “You can make objects by burning paper?”

This craftsmanship was impressive! If only the God of Wealth Building didn’t have to be made from materials from the living world, she could have had Lan He make it for her!

He wasn’t just a cook or a money printer; he could be a weapons factory too. When Yan San’s chains broke, Lan He could even temporarily fix them, and Hu 79 couldn’t help but say, “You could fully equip all the ghost messengers.”

Lan He indeed planned to fold more weapons to send to Old Bai. Although they were made of paper, they could be of some use for a time, and the quantity could be quite substantial. After all, he had flattened Xiao Lu and Xiao Hong with a herd of oxen and horses.

“Respected one, can I… also have my name inscribed?” Bai Wu clung to the feeding box, having wanted to say this for a while but was too socially anxious to do so.

“Oh, you want to pass on your name? Sure.” As someone who worshipped a household deity, Lan He could learn Bai Wu’s true name and detailed background.

Bai Wu clasped his hands together and carefully climbed to a higher spot.

Lan He: “What are you doing?”

It’s not easy for Hu 79 to clean.

“Custom…” Bai Wu said weakly, but standing so high made him feel too conspicuous, so he quickly said, “I’d better crouch.”

Bai Wu crouched on the table, cleared his throat, and reported his information according to the rules. “I am an immortal who originally cultivated in the Porcupine Cave on Xiangyun Mountain in the outskirts of Beijing. I am fifth in line and my original name is Bai Zhixian. After officially moving into the God of Wealth Building, according to human customs, respected one, you should call me Master Bai Wu from now on. The plaque should also only bear this name…”

But as Bai Wu said this, Hu 79 burst into laughter.

Lan He smiled as he peeled open another orange. “Bai what?”

Bai Wu watched in horror as the plump orange in Lan He’s hand split in two. Although it was the orange that cracked, Bai Wu’s quills nearly stood on end in fright. “Master Bai Wu… This is an ancient tradition!”

Indeed, when worshipping household deities, they were often respectfully called something like Second Immortal Hu or Third Grandfather Huang. Even Melonhead was respectfully called Melonhead Immortal in the Yu family.

Lan He: “What did you say?”

Bai Wu quickly got down from the table: “Just, just call me Yi Ping.”

　　.

　　.

Outside Meihua Street.

This was the filming location for the first episode of *Beijing’s Seasonal Stories*. The name of the show actually comes from an ancient book that documented the customs, sightseeing spots, and crafts of Beijing, which aligns perfectly with the theme of the show. Many of these customs and crafts still exist today, and modern people reading the ancient texts and observing the surviving traditions find it quite evocative.

Before the filming officially began, Chen Xingyang sat in the car, adamantly saying, “I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it. Come on, you all conspired to trick me! How could Master Xuan Guang possibly come to record this show!”

Lan He: “It’s true…”

Chen Xingyang scoffed, “The director is tricking me, my sister and brother-in-law are tricking me, and now you’re tricking me too?”

Lan He was speechless.

Ever since Chen Xingyu mentioned that Song Futan would also participate in the show, Chen Xingyang thought it was a joke. That day, Old Lin even danced his infamous routine, and Chen Xingyang felt like it was all a setup to mess with him. Even when the director later confirmed it, he still thought he was being fooled.

He wavered at times but was ultimately convinced by one reason: How could Xuan Guang possibly appear as a guest on a show? See, it’s almost time to start filming, and he still hasn’t shown up!

Not just Chen Xingyang, but even when someone online leaked that Xuan Guang would be on a Beijing show alongside Chen Xingyu and others, nobody believed it. They didn’t even bother accusing it of being a rumor, thinking it must be a different expert with the same name. The most they talked about was Chen Xingyu returning to work so soon after giving birth.

This episode’s theme was “Ceramic Restoration,” an ancient craft where damaged ceramics are repaired using metal clamps, a profession that even appeared in *Along the River During the Qingming Festival*. The saying “Don’t take on ceramic work without diamond tools” refers to this craft because the drilling step requires diamond-tipped tools.

But today, not many people need ceramic restoration in their daily lives, and the number of people who can do it is dwindling.

In the courtyard of the shared houses in Meihua Street lived an elderly ceramic restorer.

The host and the three of them first recorded a segment outside. Just as they finished, Song Futan arrived. Unlike the other guests, his scenes didn’t necessarily need to be filmed, and he didn’t even have to be present for the outdoor shots…

To put it simply, when the *Beijing’s Seasonal Stories* production team heard that Xuan Guang wanted to be a guest, they were bewildered. The director pondered for a long time, wondering which topic had piqued his interest or if he had watched their previous episodes and was highly impressed.

Even though they were clueless about the reason, they were more than happy to let him participate fully. If he wanted to write the script himself, the production team would certainly agree. And if he could bring his parents along, that would be even better.

When Chen Xingyang saw Song Futan, he was stunned. “…He really, really came?!”

Chen Xingyang didn’t even dare to guess that it was because of Lan He. Since Chen Xingyu hadn’t said anything, he assumed that this was only the second time they had met and that Song Futan was there for the show. After all, Chen Xingyu wasn’t one to gossip about such things.

But then, Song Futan handed Lan He a juice. Only to Lan He.

Chen Xingyang: “…”

He looked around, but since he was leaning against the car, the action was blocked from others’ view.

After Song Futan walked away, Chen Xingyang quietly asked Lan He, “How did you two… get so close?”

He had even filmed with Song Qiyun and his son, but Xuan Guang had never been this friendly to him.

Lan He thought about it and figured it wasn’t appropriate to say they met often. Even saying they were going to collaborate seemed a bit exaggerated, so he subtly replied, “We’re okay, we’ve chatted a few times on WeChat.”

Chen Xingyang: “…………”

…This is crazy. He had once tried adding Xuan Guang through the crew’s group chat, and it still hadn’t been approved!

…

The ceramic restorer was called Old Qin, and Lan He and the others addressed him as Teacher Qin.

Old Qin’s family had been in this trade for generations, but from him onward, no one continued the craft. He was getting old, and besides occasionally restoring ceramics, he spent his time tending flowers and playing with birds. There was even a birdcage hanging under the eaves.

The production team had already discussed filming there, and among the usual routines was, of course, having the celebrities try their hand at ceramic restoration. Since the indoor space was cramped, they moved outside to the courtyard.

“I noticed that Teacher Qin doesn’t seem to be in good spirits. Maybe we should take a break before filming the next part,” Chen Xingyu suggested.

“Thank you, young lady. It’s just that… I didn’t sleep well,” Old Qin said, rubbing his neck. “But it’s okay, let’s continue. I don’t want to hold you up.”

“There’s no such thing as holding us up,” a staff member quickly added, noticing that the elderly man’s energy wasn’t quite there.

Song Futan, listening to the occasional sounds coming from Old Qin’s birdcage, recognized something and asked, “How many calls can your spirit bird make?”

Old Qin’s eyes lit up with interest. He hadn’t paid much attention to who the screenwriter was, but when Song Futan mentioned the bird, his enthusiasm grew. “Cough… This little bird of mine just graduated. It can make seven or eight different calls!”

Song Futan’s grandfather also raised songbirds, so he knew a bit about them. The spirit bird was good at mimicking sounds, and the term “calls” referred to the different sounds it could imitate.

These songbirds could learn various calls, from simpler ones like chick and swallow calls to more complex ones like oriole, cat, and egg calls, which meant mimicking a cat’s or chick’s sounds.

To teach these calls, you either played audio repeatedly, had other birds as teachers, or let them learn from the sounds in the wild.

Old Qin listed the calls his bird could make, but as he spoke, his expression turned somber. “But, this bird isn’t doing well anymore. I don’t know why, but its calls have become dirty. I’m thinking of selling it.”

There are different interpretations of what constitutes a “dirty mouth” in birds. Some bird enthusiasts believe that learning human curses counts as a dirty mouth, while others think that imitating unpleasant sounds, like a duck’s quack, the noise of an electric scooter, or the chirping of a myna, is also considered dirty. Once learned, these habits are difficult to correct.

“It can’t be that bad,” Lan He couldn’t help but say. “How did it get a dirty mouth?”

Old Qin said nothing, lifting the cover off the cage. Inside, the cute little bird raised its head and let out a croaky, garbled sound, almost mimicking a human voice. If you listened closely, it echoed eerily: “Die… wuuu…”

Everyone: “…”

This was indeed a bit much.

A bird that learned such a dirty mouth wouldn’t fetch a good price, even if sold.

Old Qin puzzled, “The strangest thing is, I never let it near anything like that. I wonder if it learned from another bird while it was training. And it even has that echoing tone!”

The bird’s voice did carry an empty, hollow quality. Songbirds usually mimic exactly what they hear. If they’re taught using low-quality audio, they might pick up background noise as well. If they learn in a space with too much echo, they’ll mimic that echo too. This is why bird enthusiasts often place their birds in a barrel or a box during training to minimize outside noise.

“Sigh, forget it. I’ve been sleeping poorly lately, and I’ve tried to correct it a few times without success. Selling it would save me some trouble. I’ve been having too many dreams, and my neck and throat always feel uncomfortable.”

“In that case, why don’t you sell the bird to me?” Song Futan said. He thought the bird had potential and planned to take it back to his grandfather, who might be able to correct its behavior with some time and care.

“If you want it, then just take it. It wouldn’t sell for much anyway,” Old Qin said indifferently.

After filming ended, it was already nighttime. The production team had to head back to the station, but the guests could go home.

The guests lingered until the end. Chen Xingyu originally wanted Old Lin to give Lan He a ride, but Song Futan offered to take him instead, leaving everyone stunned. Naturally, no one objected…

However, Song Futan’s car was parked farther away. Lan He checked the map and said, “Let’s head out through the west entrance; it’s closer.”

Chen Xingyu and the others took the east exit, and they parted ways at the courtyard gate. Lan He was already in the car when Old Qin suddenly came running out. “Young man, why did you leave money behind?!”

Even though he had said he didn’t want any money, Song Futan had secretly left some on the table when he left.

Old Qin chased after them, insisting on giving the money back. During the back-and-forth, he said, “Let’s not be so formal. Since that’s the case, let’s consider ourselves friends. Come back, and I’ll give you a restored ceramic bowl. You can use it as a bird feeder!”

“Sure, thanks a lot.” Song Futan agreed.

“I’ll wait for you here,” Lan He said, holding onto the birdcage.

Lan He fiddled with his phone for a while, wondering why Song Futan hadn’t returned yet. He looked up. The long alley was empty, with no one in sight.

The street was deserted as well. Under the dim streetlights, the bird in the cage jumped up and down, its crest fluttering. Suddenly, it opened its beak and, with a raspy voice, repeated that dirty phrase: “Die…”

The rough, echoing voice sent a chill down Lan He’s spine.

…

Song Futan, holding the restored ceramic bowl, walked back through the narrow, winding alley.

In the twists and turns of the alley, his shadow stretched long under the streetlights, casting eerie shapes at the corners. Initially, he could hear the sounds of people talking and televisions from the houses. But after a few flickers of the streetlights, those sounds abruptly vanished, and the world seemed to blur.

A raspy voice sounded behind him: “Die…”

The voice carried an eerie echo, almost identical to the one from Old Qin’s bird.

Song Futan turned around and instantly experienced a familiar sensation—his soul had left his body. He coldly eyed the man behind him, holding a noose with his tongue hanging out.

Song Futan immediately recalled how Old Qin had been rubbing his neck and complaining about poor sleep and neck pain lately. It seemed that the source of the bird’s dirty mouth had been identified: it had learned from a ghost.

Song Futan had encountered many hanged ghosts before. Generally, they weren’t very creative; they always liked to brandish their noose, trying to scare people. Sometimes, they’d add sound effects like the one just now.

Perhaps ancient people would have been terrified, but when Song Futan heard that voice, he just thought the reverb was overdone.

Sure enough, the hanged ghost approached step by step, swinging the noose in its hands. “Die… wuuu…”

Song Futan calmly watched the ghost’s blood-red tongue draw closer…

“What are you doing, what are you doing?!”

Song Futan turned to see Lan He, wearing a mask, floating towards him, not yet in uniform.

His heart warmed at the sight. The little details always revealed Lan He’s cuteness. Even though Song Futan knew he had a protective bead, Lan He still showed up each time to save him, unwilling to let him face the terror alone.

The hanged ghost glanced at Lan He, giving a sinister smile. Holding the long loop of the noose, he coldly said, “Die…”

Lan He flicked his wrist, using the same motion to grab the ghost’s long soul-reaping rope, not retreating but advancing. “You think you’re the only one with a rope?”

The hanged ghost: “………………!!!”

Is yours the same as mine!!

Lan He: “Who are you trying to rope? Let’s see who ropes who… Don’t run! Are you scared to play?”

Song Futan: “…”

…It’s hard to analyze, but it’s still cute overall.