Melonhead Immortal was merely telling the truth, but Hu 79, who cares a lot about appearances, kicked him out with her crippled leg, even kicking him with her mummified leg.
Before leaving for Miaogan Mountain to record the show, Lan He was harassed by Hu 79, who cried endlessly, saying she didn’t want a cat mansion but a fox mansion. Lan He was in misery and deeply felt that taking Hu 79 with her was a huge mistake.
“Can’t you just pretend this is a fox mansion? You see, there’s no real difference, so don’t be so particular about appearances,” Lan He said.
Hu 79 lay on the floor, crying, “What’s the difference between you and those people who build wealth god towers with wooden boxes? One is a doghouse, and the other is a cathouse. Don’t I deserve a fox mansion?”
It’s not that she didn’t deserve it, but no one made fox mansions.
Lan He simply ignored her and went to open the door. “I’m checking if Song Futan is back.”
—The magical weapon from Nanyun Temple had arrived in the capital. The sword was to be delivered to Song Futan, and his *backing cloud* was to be handed over and buried under the bridge on an auspicious day.
The handover of this thing didn’t warrant much attention. There wasn’t going to be any grand ceremony; it arrived quietly. Song Futan went downstairs to fetch the sword, not even intending to invite the monk upstairs for a drink of water.
Hu 79, still limping, lunged forward and bit the hem of Lan He’s robe, suspending herself in mid-air, swaying twice.
Lan He: “…”
Lan He tried to flick her off, but the chain in his hand moved, and it wasn’t Song Futan returning.
Outside the door, Old Bai was pulling on the long chain that stretched from Lan He’s hand, making eerie noises like “Oh my, oh my, oh my…”
At the end of the chain was Lan He’s hand. Old Bai touched his hand and only then looked up, feigning surprise. “Oh my, who could this be?”
Lan He: “…”
This unfilial son’s words flowed freely, as if causing trouble came naturally.
As expected, Old Bai smirked and said, “Isn’t this our Little Lai, who willingly stayed behind to become an *Underworld Officer*? Now do you see how good the underworld is? Tsk, tsk, tsk, such a handy soul-reaping chain!”
Clearly, he had already heard from First Lady Hu about Lan He’s desire to continue working part-time, and the whole ghost realm was trembling with excitement.
Lan He looked at him coldly. “Yes, and so?”
Old Bai crossed his arms, proudly saying, “And so? I was about to terminate the contract, but now you want to renew it. Renewing isn’t something that happens just like that.”
Lan He turned and walked a few steps. The fox biting the hem of his robe swayed twice more. “Then I’ll go ask Yan San if they need extra hands in the netherworld.”
Only *Impermanence* has chains, but the *Underworld Officer* positions aren’t exclusive to the *Eastern Peak Netherworld*.
Old Bai immediately dropped to his knees, sliding across the floor. “Father!! You misunderstood!!”
Lan He: “…”
Old Bai whimpered, “I was just joking! Actually, I’ve been writing a recommendation for you these past few days. After all, your behavior really promotes the great reputation of the underworld. I’m hoping the higher-ups will reward you.”
First Lady Hu did give some ashes, but that was her representing Miaogan Mountain, a bounty she had promised from the beginning.
“Can I get an extra soul-reaping chain as a reward?” Lan He asked. He had been considering making a paper chain himself, but a ready-made one would be better.
Old Bai mumbled, “I’ll suggest it, but it’s unlikely… However, I brought you *Fu Water* made from mixing water from the *Forget River*. Sprinkle it on the chain connecting you and Song Futan. As long as you don’t use it, others won’t see it, helping you hide your identity a bit.”
While living people couldn’t see the chain, creatures from the underworld could. Lan He had been thinking of ways to conceal it, but now Old Bai had brought a solution. He immediately helped Old Bai up. “I was just joking as well.”
Old Bai: “…”
Old Bai knew when to yield and when to stand tall. “Where is Song Futan? Oh, I heard he voluntarily gave up the magical weapon. Poor guy…”
A chill ran down his spine. When he turned around, he saw a sword pointed at him. Though the sword had not yet been unsheathed, it emitted an aura that terrified underworld creatures. He quickly retreated several steps, only to see Song Futan holding the hilt, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the matter?”
There wasn’t a trace of pity in his expression.
Old Bai cursed silently, “Haha, just here to deliver the *Fu Water*.”
Old Bai retreated, and so did Hu 79. She had been clinging to Lan He’s hem, but as soon as she let go, she sat down on the floor and scooted back a few steps.
Lan He: “Let me take a look at this sword… Hmm, good sword! That’s what I’m supposed to say, right?”
The magical sword from Nanyun Temple was reportedly called the *Changhong Sword*, and it lived up to its antique status. It bore the distinct marks of time, with gold inlaid inscriptions detailing the year it was forged and the layers of heating and folding it underwent. Despite its age, it remained sharp. It had no gemstones or gold embellishments, but its simple exterior belied its extraordinary nature.
The *Changhong Sword* came with a long case, as the entire thing—from the blade to the case—was an antique. Song Futan placed the sword inside, and only then did Old Bai, who had been scorched just by its presence, dare to approach.
The sword wasn’t particularly long, and Lan He estimated that if Song Futan walked around with it, people would likely assume he was carrying a musical instrument like a flute. It was quite effective at hiding in plain sight.
“You’ve got the *Changhong Sword*, but what about the *Linji Staff*?” Old Bai glanced around. “Where is it? You’d better—”
“It’s here…” Lan He pulled out a staff wrapped in a striped cloth. “Before my mom left, she tidied it up, saying it didn’t look good.”
In addition to the staff, his refrigerator, television, and kettle all had their own covers or cases.
Old Bai: “…”
Old Bai had been about to suggest wrapping it, but it turned out to be unnecessary. “Well, just take it easy…”
.
The final episode of *Beijing Seasonal Records* was to be recorded at Miaogan Mountain.
At its peak, Miaogan Mountain had dominated religious life in the capital, serving as the center of social and religious belief. Although it had since declined, in recent years, the number of visitors had begun to pick up slightly. Of course, *Beijing Seasonal Records* wasn’t here to film a religious-themed episode—that would be too superstitious. Besides, if they were going to capture religious activities at Miaogan Mountain, it would be best to come during a temple fair, which it wasn’t.
The mountain, over a thousand meters high, was famous for its peach and apricot blossoms in spring, making it a great destination for spring outings. This tourism aspect had become one of the mountain’s recent key developments, managed jointly by the local government and a tourism company.
Miaogan Mountain was located dozens of kilometers from the capital. In the past, visiting the temple involved a three to four-day journey from the city to the mountaintop. Now, a road led directly to the top.
Since *backing cloud* had been handed over, not only did Song Futan carry a sword with him, but Lan He also had the *Linji Staff* by his side.
When someone asked Lan He about it, he said, “A hiking stick…”
“Hahaha, come on, we’re parking the car in the village and hiking up the ancient trail. It only takes thirty or forty minutes; surely you can manage that without a hiking stick, right?” The director joked. “Haven’t you ever climbed Miaogan Mountain before?”
He had once, last year, when he and Old Bai went up to deliver gifts…
But that probably didn’t count, and it had been too dark to see any scenery. Lan He: “I haven’t been before. I’m carrying it not just for hiking, but maybe for self-defense.”
The director laughed.
As for the case Song Futan carried, because of his usual solitary nature, no one even bothered to ask about it.
Before reaching the ancient trail, Song Futan had to record a narration. The production team adjusted the cameras, and the director reminded them to avoid filming the temple at the summit. When working at religious sites like this, there were always many taboos, much like how film crews perform rituals before starting a shoot. They were also careful not to film too much of any religious statues or images.
Even though everyone on the team knew that Xuan Guang, the voice actor for the program, had a notoriously bad temper—bad enough to lock Lan He in a car—there was no denying that his clear, captivating voice was perfect for the show. “For nearly four hundred years, Miaogan Mountain has been a focus of attention for all social classes in the capital. Today, it stands on the outskirts of the city…”
An old man from the village, hands behind his back, had been watching for a while. He sighed and said, “The Old Lady blesses us. Miaogan Mountain is going to prosper!”
The production team seized the moment to interview this passerby.
The old man straightened his clothes and said, “There’s an old saying: The prosperity of the capital is tied to the incense offerings at Miaogan Mountain—”
“Sorry, sir, let’s not talk about incense and things like that—it’s a bit superstitious,” the director interrupted.
The old man looked puzzled. “But didn’t you just say not to film the temple, out of respect for the Old Lady?”
The director chuckled. “I hope you understand.”
The old man clicked his tongue. “Alright, fine. Back in the day, people came here to make offerings, but now they call it tourism! The old saying goes, when Miaogan Mountain prospers, the capital prospers, and so does the nation. When Miaogan Mountain declines, the capital declines, and people lose their morals. Didn’t it decline for a while back then? The pavilion at the top was falling apart. But now it’s getting better, and more tourists are coming. You see, as Miaogan Mountain thrives, so does the capital and all of China.”
The director chuckled. “You could also say that because China is thriving, Miaogan Mountain is thriving too. People now have the leisure to go on vacations.”
Lan He smiled as well. The old man’s words could indeed be interpreted in a very scientific way.
After this segment was filmed, it was time to hike up the mountain, and they would shoot a few more scenes when they neared the top.
The ancient trail was long, with the crew scattered along its path. Lan He had been walking with Chen Xingyu and her brother, gripping his “hiking stick.”
The director approached, pulling Lan He to the side of the path and whispering, “Lan He, this is our final episode. If there’s anything unpleasant, let’s leave it behind here, alright?”
Lan He: “Huh?” He didn’t understand what the director meant.
The director explained, “I mean, if there’s anything between you and Teacher Xuan Guang that’s unresolved, maybe you should say a few kind words to him. After all, you’re the junior here…”
Lan He: “…”
Speechless, Lan He replied, “There’s no misunderstanding between us, really, director. We get along just fine.”
“Alright, alright,” the director didn’t believe him at all. “Here, I have an energy drink. Why don’t you take it to Teacher Xuan Guang?”
He glanced back. Song Futan was walking behind them, not because he couldn’t keep up, but because he was still talking to Song Qiyun over voice chat.
“Sure,” Lan He thought it was time to put an end to these rumors, so he walked back toward Song Futan. The director watched with relief as Lan He walked over to Teacher Xuan Guang, exchanged a few words, handed him the drink, and then continued climbing the mountain with a sigh of relief.
“The director keeps insisting we have a misunderstanding and asked me to give you this,” Lan He said, amused. He tapped his staff against the stone steps. To be honest, the *Linji Staff* worked pretty well as a hiking stick.
“Oh, come on, what the hell—”
There was a faint, high-pitched sound, muttering through clenched teeth. It sounded distant and disembodied, like it was muffled by something.
Lan He froze. “Did you hear that? Someone cursing.”
It wasn’t just a voice—it felt like something strange was watching them.
Song Futan: “Seems like there is.”
“Stop poking me, you cursed thing!”
Another voice rang out, this time from beneath their feet. Lan He staggered, almost falling, but Song Futan caught him.
“It’s coming from below?” Lan He looked around. The rest of the crew had gotten a bit ahead, and no one seemed to notice them. He thought for a moment. “Is that a gnome?”
The voice from below cursed angrily, “Who’s a gnome! I, I’m your Grandma Hu Si!”
Lan He: “…Pfft.”
He suddenly remembered that last time, First Lady Hu had mentioned sealing Hu Si’s soul into the incense path of Miaogan Mountain, intending for her to be trampled by everyone. Was she really down there?
Hearing Lan He laugh, Hu Si became even angrier. “I curse you! I’ll curse you every day!”
But her voice was weak, clearly in great torment.
Lan He, amused, said, “You still have the strength to curse me? Haven’t you learned your lesson?”
Hu Si: “You filthy men! I curse all of you to meet a miserable end, to be torn apart—”
That was too vicious!
Lan He knocked the *Linji Staff* against the ground several times. The *Linji Staff* was used by Master Budong for many years, not only for spiritual enlightenment but also for disciplining his disciples… well, Hu Si certainly couldn’t withstand its power. She let out a faint scream but stubbornly continued cursing Lan He.
Lan He raised the staff threateningly. “Curse me again, and I’ll make sure you’re obliterated.”
Hu Si immediately quieted down, intimidated.
Lan He smirked, but suddenly, a heart-wrenching scream broke the silence: “Stop—”
The director practically tumbled down the path, rushing toward them and wedging himself between Lan He and Song Futan. “What are you doing? Lan He, put down the staff!”
Song Futan: “…”
Lan He: “…”
Lan He realized that the director had completely misunderstood. “Director, it’s not what you think. I was just stretching my hand.” He thought about giving Song Futan a hug on the spot to prove their good relationship but worried the director might find it too dramatic. After all, just saying they got along well was already met with suspicion. “Teacher Xuan Guang even drank the energy drink I gave him. There’s really no problem.”
Song Futan nodded, still holding the drink. “There’s nothing going on.”
“Did I… did I misunderstand?” The director looked at their calm expressions, laughed awkwardly, but was still shaken. After all, last time, Teacher Xuan Guang had also insisted there was nothing wrong between them. “You should come with me and walk at the front.”
He dragged Lan He forward and reassured the other staff members, “It’s fine, really, nothing to see here, everyone. Keep moving, keep moving.”
Despite everything, the crew still gave Lan He odd looks, quickly averting their gaze whenever he noticed.
Lan He returned to Chen Xingyang’s side, who patted him on the shoulder and said with a sigh, “I’m telling you, it’s over. The rumors will now say you two escalated to a full-on brawl.”
Lan He: “…”
.
Because of the suspicion that they almost came to blows, the crew subtly separated Lan He and Song Futan for the rest of the day.
Most of the daytime was spent hiking, with only a few scenes recorded. That evening, they stayed in a village guesthouse, which had plenty of accommodations for tourists.
They also had dinner there. In an effort to quash the rumors, Lan He specifically refused to sit elsewhere and chose to eat with Song Futan, even chatting with him a bit.
The director’s expression was complicated. He wanted to believe the two had reconciled, but it also felt like Lan He had been forced by the company to put on a show and smooth over the near-fight… Sigh, whatever, it’s out of his hands now.
After dinner, the crew mingled with the villagers to get a better sense of the local culture.
Chen Xingyang noticed Lan He was missing and figured he’d just gone to the restroom. Unbothered, he asked an elderly villager, “Earlier today, I saw a shrine on the mountain dedicated to an older female deity, with a black donkey statue inside. Who is she?”
During his break, he had wandered into the temple and recognized the familiar deities like Bixia Yuanjun, the Great Emperor of the East Peak, Xi Shen, and Guanyin, but he didn’t recognize this one.
His sister, Chen Xingyu, had even come here once to pray for a child. And because of that, even though she thought the scenery here was beautiful, she couldn’t bring her son, Miaomiao, here to play. It’s an old tradition; after all, the child was “tied” to this place, and there was a fear Bixia Yuanjun might take him back.
The old man let out an “oh” and explained, “That’s Grandma Wang San. She was a devout follower of Bixia Yuanjun and often rode her black donkey around, curing people’s ailments. After she passed, she became a local deity on Miaogan Mountain, in charge of the Four Gates Immortal Clan in northern China. She’s very effective. Touch Grandma Wang San’s hands, and all your illnesses disappear. Touch her feet, and they’re completely cured.”
Chen Xingyang nodded. “Oh, I see.” So, she was a local folk deity. That explained the donkey.
The old man continued, “Back when my father was chopping wood in the mountains, he fell and hurt his leg so bad he couldn’t walk. A black donkey appeared and carried him home. After it had some feed, it just left on its own. Everyone said it was Grandma Wang San’s mount and that she had shown kindness and saved him.”
…
Meanwhile, Lan He had snuck out and was sitting on a rock outside the village with Song Futan, chatting. He complained about how ridiculous the rumors were, and despite multiple attempts to clarify, they never seemed to die down.
As they talked, Lan He gradually fell silent, and so did Song Futan.
Lan He noticed that the sky was unusually filled with stars tonight.
Song Futan noticed that Lan He looked particularly adorable tonight.
So, just as Lan He was about to turn his head to mention the stars to Song Futan, Song Futan showed him what he had discovered—by cupping Lan He’s face and kissing him.
Lan He: “…”
Song Futan wrapped his arm around Lan He, leaning back on the rock as they watched the stars. It was so comfortable that they both ended up dozing off.
Half asleep, Lan He heard someone calling his name. He opened his eyes and saw an elderly woman with kind eyes, dressed in simple blue cloth, standing before him. She looked like an ordinary, warm-hearted village elder, but there was something familiar about her.
“Child, aren’t you the patron of Bai Wu and Hu 79?” the old lady asked.
Lan He jolted awake. How did she know that? His hand instinctively gripped the *Linji Staff*.
Song Futan sat up as well, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
“This is Miaogan Mountain. What are you afraid of?” the old lady chuckled.
Well, that was true. This was Miaogan Mountain…
But Lan He quickly realized—*who* was this old lady on Miaogan Mountain?
“Who are you…?” Lan He began.
“Shh, don’t say it out loud—it’ll lose its magic,” she whispered.
Lan He fell silent, slowly realizing that he and Song Futan were either in a dream or experiencing an out-of-body event. As for the old lady’s identity, he had already guessed.
The old lady said, “Since you’ve taken on a family guardian, you’re one of my disciples now. I saw you climbing the mountain, so I came to check in. I know you’ve been working hard to safeguard the capital’s talismans.” She pulled out a blue cloth bundle, and when she unwrapped it, inside was a soul-reaping chain. “I believe you were missing one of these?”
She was delivering gear? Lan He was thrilled. “Thank you… Grandma! How do you have a soul-reaping chain?”
Even the Underworld was too stingy to give him another chain.
The old lady said, “I have some old ties with Xie Bi’an. This is a chain he used in his early years. He originally gave it to me to tie up my donkey. You can have it now.”
Lan He: “…………”
…Alright, sure.
Lan He accepted the chain. “Disciple thanks you, Grandma! Do you have any more?”
The old lady: “…”
Thick-skinned, Lan He continued, “My friend gave up all his magical tools to renew the feng shui array. We’re in such dire straits that even our household deities are too embarrassed to show their faces. If it weren’t for the chain you gave me, I’d be stuck using a bald mourning staff…”
The old lady, amused, asked, “Is that really a mourning staff? Was it balded or given to you by a bald person?”
Mourning staffs are typically four feet four inches long, wrapped in white cloth with fringes. Some underworld officers also carry them. But Lan He’s staff clearly wasn’t the same thing.
Lan He chuckled. “Same idea. Grandma, please be kind. Why don’t you just solve this whole situation for us? Since you already know everything.”
After all, if she was so capable of descending, couldn’t she just wave her hand and settle the whole matter?
But the old lady sighed. “We are in a period of hibernation. We’ve tried, but even we are bound to be changed by this new era, just like you—”
She paused for a moment. “Divine power now depends on human spirits. Some matters must be resolved by people themselves.”
Lan He sighed, feeling somewhat deflated. “So we still have to rely on ourselves.”
Song Futan squeezed his hand reassuringly.
The old lady lowered her gaze. “But seeing as you have the merciful heart of the Red Lotus Bodhisattva, I’ll make an exception this time. Since you’ve received something from the Buddhist order, I will pass on the secret arts of the *Immortal Clan* to him.”
The old lady, her heart softened, ran her calloused hand over Song Futan’s arm. “True knowledge is beyond the comprehension of modern minds, and in its place, the younger generation turns to ghostly talismans. One of you has the power to craft tools from burning paper, and I will teach the other how to turn words into talismans. That way, you complement each other.”
…How thoughtful. Even Grandma considered compatibility.
“How do you feel?” Lan He asked eagerly.
Song Futan raised his hand. “I don’t feel much.”
The old lady chuckled. “You’ll feel it later. I should be on my way now.” She turned to leave, but after a few steps, she came back. “Oh, little ones, you’ll need to lend Grandma something.”
Lan He, having just received equipment from her, agreed readily. “Grandma, whatever you need, just say the word!”
He thought, *Surely she doesn’t want the incense tower too?* But that probably wouldn’t be something you’d “borrow”…
The old lady crooked her finger, and Song Futan’s small, disabled donkey, *001*, floated out from his side. The moment it was touched by the wind, it transformed into a large donkey, with an official plaque from the *Eastern Peak Netherworld* hanging around its neck.
The old lady mounted the donkey and laughed. “I remember the cattle and horses you sent me before—excellent quality! To use modern terms, the quality control was top-notch. My own donkey’s gotten too old and frail, so I’ll just borrow yours for now.”
Lan He and Song Futan: “!!!”
Song Futan: “Wait, Grandma, no…!”
“But even if he folded the talisman, there’s no backing out now! I’ll return it to you later,” the old lady interrupted him with a playful grin, then slapped the donkey’s back. “Hee-yah! Let’s go!”
Lan He: “…………”
Song Futan: “…………”
Author’s note:
Help, save Grandma!
001 noooo! >-<
hahaha Thank you for translating!
NOOOOOO GIVE IT BACKKK
Also can we say that our dear first donkey is the couple’s adopted child ;D, well more like love since Lan He did create (birth) him….