While netizens were skillfully making memes and jokes, Lan He was still visiting at the Dou family’s house.
As soon as Grandpa Dou saw Lan He, he warmly greeted him, “My grandson is here.”
Song Futan: …What about me?
The other elderly men, thinking Grandpa Dou was calling for Song Futan, glanced over. A few of them had seen Lan He before and welcomed him warmly, whispering among themselves about how this was the young man with the renowned expert in the family.
However, as Lan He approached, the birds that had been chirping earlier all fell silent, even the Alaskan dog whimpered and obediently lay down.
“Hey, why have they stopped chirping?” One of the elders stood up and tried to coax the birds, but it wasn’t just one—every bird had gone quiet, as if someone had hit the mute button.
—Though birds couldn’t necessarily see Hu 79, animals were quite sensitive. Just like how pigeons were afraid of Hu 79 and Lan He, these birds were no different; they didn’t dare make a sound.
Hu 79 crossed her arms and looked around disdainfully. She scoffed, “As if any little bird would dare chirp before I do!”
Lan He, pretending to stretch, slapped her on the back.
Hu 79 stumbled forward, “Hey, what was that for!”
She cast a resentful glance at Lan He, wondering why he wouldn’t let her finish showing off.
With a pout, Hu 79 whistled a series of melodious bird calls. The caged birds heard her, and the one she had previously trained led the others by hopping up to a higher perch, resuming its song. Soon, the rest of the birds followed suit.
“I could’ve sworn I heard a faint bird call earlier…” one of the elders looked around, “Then these birds followed it.”
They say elderly people and children are more prone to sensing the supernatural. Though he couldn’t see Hu 79, the elder had vaguely heard her whistle.
But the others hadn’t heard anything and chalked it up to a mistake, saying there was no way Grandpa Dou wouldn’t know about any birds being kept on the block.
“It must be them welcoming Little Lan,” Grandpa Dou said proudly. “See? This is Little Lan. My sparrow stayed with him for a while, and now its calls are unmatched.”
He had been showing off around Beijing ever since, and with the spirit sparrow’s help, he had become the most impressive old man in the city. No one else’s birds could compare.
One of the elders, meeting Lan He for the first time, said sourly, “You sure it didn’t take two years of training?”
Another elder, slightly critical, remarked, “I’ve never heard of such an expert. Kid, can you tell me why my bird always has off-pitch notes? Since you’ve lived with an expert for so long, you must’ve learned something.”
Lan He glanced at Hu 79.
Hu 79 leaned over and whispered something into his ear.
Lan He turned to the elder and said, “Sir, it’s likely because your bird is a chatterbox. Birds have natural talent too, and some of them are just born with the habit of chattering away.”
The elder: “…”
The others burst out laughing.
“I’ve been meaning to say it—no matter how much you try to train that bird, it’s just a chatterbox.”
“It’s all about innate talent, huh.”
The elder was fuming, but since Lan He had hit the nail on the head, he couldn’t argue. Bird-keeping is like that—there’s no hierarchy among the keepers, so the birds do the talking.
With Hu 79’s expertise backing him up, Lan He was able to answer questions smoothly, making Grandpa Dou beam with pride. After sending off his old friends, Grandpa Dou shoved Song Futan aside. “Move over. Come, Little Lan, have some jasmine tea.”
His tone was as if he were offering a soda to an older brother.
Song Futan: “…”
Jasmine tea is a mainstream choice in Beijing, and Grandpa Dou had brewed white dragon pearls. His enamel cup was filled with a dozen or so pearls, which unfolded in the clear tea, releasing a delicate and elegant fragrance.
Lan He was seated in a bamboo chair, clutching his enamel cup while sipping the tea. Grandpa Dou then shooed Song Futan off to cook, “I picked some Chinese toon. Make some scrambled eggs with it, then fry up some eggplant. You can figure out the rest.”
Song Futan: “…Alright.”
He had completely lost his status in the household. If he weren’t with Lan He, Grandpa Dou would’ve found another way to connect with him and recognize the “expert” as his big brother.
Lan He had initially been a bit nervous, but Grandpa Dou never brought up anything about him and Song Futan. The conversation was mostly about birds and his life, as if Grandpa Dou’s fondness for Lan He was purely because of their shared interest in birdkeeping.
Feeling more relaxed, Lan He even helped Grandpa Dou adjust his phone settings. Grandpa Dou had complained that the font was too small for him to read the news, so Lan He increased it to the largest size.
“Ah, much better, I can see clearly now.” Grandpa Dou was fairly adept at using the phone, though he had a habit of tapping too many times, often opening the wrong page.
With the enlarged text, Lan He easily caught a glimpse of the news: *Netizens Claim to Have Spotted a Dragon in Beijing.*
“Another dragon sighting?” Grandpa Dou clicked on the article, muttering, “Every couple of years, someone claims they’ve spotted a dragon, but the footage is always blurry as hell.”
Lan He couldn’t help but laugh—it was true.
Despite this, public enthusiasm for dragon sightings never waned. Every time someone shared a new “sighting,” it would spark heated discussions.
“I see… Recently, a netizen named @TotaTianwang claimed to have captured footage of a dragon in Beijing. @TotaTianwang is a dragon culture enthusiast who believes dragons really exist. According to him, there are only three dragons left in the world, one of which resides in northern China. However, this is not the infamous dragon allegedly trapped under Beijing’s Beixinqiao, but another dragon altogether. In fact, he believes the dragon at Beixinqiao is a myth,” Grandpa Dou read aloud. Of course, when reading the username, he pronounced @ as “ah-quan.”
When they opened the video, it showed a stormy day in Beijing, with dark clouds in the sky. The footage had a red circle drawn around a particular area of the clouds, with text labeling it as a dragon in motion.
“Dragon, my foot! That’s just a cloud.” The resolution was terrible, and Grandpa Dou exited the video in frustration.
Lan He was curious. “Wait, what’s this about the Beixinqiao dragon?”
He knew about Beixinqiao, had even been around that area, but he had never heard about a dragon.
“It’s an old story from Beijing. They say there were four dragons around the city. One was trapped under Gaoliang Bridge, another under Heilongtan, suppressed by Tanzhe Temple, a dragon princess beneath Beihai, and one beneath Beixinqiao. The legend goes that during the Ming Dynasty, an evil dragon was causing havoc. Some say Liu Bowen or Yao Guangxiao imprisoned it in the ‘Dragon Locking Well,’ which is connected to the sea. Others claim it was Liu Yong during the Qing Dynasty. But the common thread is that, before being sealed, the dragon said, ‘I won’t be trapped here forever.’ The person who sealed it replied, ‘When this new bridge becomes an old bridge, you can be freed.’ Then they promptly renamed it Beixinqiao, or ‘North New Bridge,’ so it would always be a ‘new’ bridge, ensuring the dragon could never escape.
“There’s even a large iron chain in the Dragon Locking Well. During the war, some Japanese soldiers tried pulling on the chain, but it seemed endless, and a foul-smelling black water started flowing out, scaring them away.”
Grandpa Dou narrated the story vividly, then added, “I saw that well when I was a kid, though by then it was covered with a stone slab. I think it’s been buried now. About a decade ago, when they were building Line 5, they had to reroute the subway due to an ancient well, which everyone said was the Dragon Locking Well.
“As for this guy claiming to have filmed a dragon, well, I agree with him on one point—that there probably wasn’t a real dragon in the well. Back when I was younger, I heard a master say that the well’s purpose was symbolic. It was part of a feng shui setup to suppress water disasters, with the dragon being more of a metaphorical presence.”
Hu 79 snorted, “It’s fake, of course. The well was built after I was born. The items used to suppress the underground water were metal objects, like the stone turtles buried under the old Longfu Temple, engraved with the characters for ‘gold’ and ‘longevity.’ Most of these old suppression items have long been replaced. As for whether there were ever real dragons in North China… who knows? Even within our circles, opinions vary. I think if there ever were any, they’re probably gone by now.”
There were plenty of strange creatures in Beijing, but even Hu 79 couldn’t definitively say whether dragons still existed.
Lan He was engrossed in the conversation. Just as Granny Wang San had once said, this was an era where ghosts and gods lay dormant. Even if dragons existed, they likely wouldn’t reveal themselves so openly anymore.
By this time, Song Futan had finished cooking and brought the food to the table. Besides the scrambled eggs with Chinese toon and the garlic-braised eggplant, he had also made a dish of braised ribs. The rich aroma filled the air, with the ribs slightly charred on the outside but tender inside.
Grandpa Dou dug in, finishing a large bowl of rice along with the dishes. He then turned his attention to Lan He, “Little Lan, you’re only having one bowl? When I was your age, I could eat three bowls in one sitting!”
Lan He smiled, “Well… I’m about to start filming soon, so I shouldn’t eat too much.”
“You can just have Futan write your character to be a little heavier!” Grandpa Dou joked, making Lan He laugh as he reluctantly added another half bowl of rice.
Not long after, Song Qiyun called through video to check in.
Song Qiyun, still unaware of the relationship between Lan He and Song Futan, assumed they were just close friends. He greeted them warmly.
Grandpa Dou interjected, “I hear you’re about to start filming soon?”
Song Qiyun: “Yes, Dad, why?”
Grandpa Dou replied, “I have a request—make sure to film Lan He looking slimmer. I want him to eat more.”
Song Qiyun: “???”
Grandpa Dou was pondering whether a chubbier appearance might not sit well with audiences, who often favored more youthful and attractive actors. Better to go with a safer route.
He gave Song Qiyun a pointed look. Song Qiyun groaned, “I’m not the cameraman, and the cameraman isn’t a magician…” But halfway through, he caught his father’s gaze and relented. “Fine, I’ll talk to the camera crew and lighting team. We’ll do our best.”
After the meal, Grandpa Dou insisted on personally seeing them off to the alleyway. As they were leaving, they crossed paths with a neighbor, an older woman dressed in a stylish modified traditional Chinese outfit, her hair streaked with gray but exuding an air of elegance.
Grandpa Dou whispered to Lan He, “That lady’s a xiangtou, you know? Like a spirit medium.”
Lan He: “…I’ve heard of that.”
Grandpa Dou gossiped enthusiastically, “She didn’t always live here. She’s quite proud—her whole family, from her husband to her son, relies on her. When she first moved in, her followers would come for blessings, and she could rake in over seventy thousand in a single day!”
Lan He: “Wow.”
Even though this was an era where the influence of shamans and spirits had faded, those who managed to establish authority in their respective circles, like the shamans of today, could still make a decent living.
However, compared to the past, it was nowhere near as prosperous. Take an old saying in Beijing, for example: *In Beijing, monks are the most powerful; officials are powerful outside.* Back then, even though officials held power outside the city, inside Beijing, it was the monks who commanded respect.
In those days, there were over two thousand registered temples and Taoist monasteries in Beijing. Monks mingled with the nobility, even earning respect from the imperial family. The court allocated funds to the temples annually.
The Four Great Faiths were also highly popular at the time, with deities from these beliefs being worshipped even within the Forbidden City. The court referred to them as “Palace Deities,” and there were countless legends about them. If eunuchs had to enter an uninhabited hall, they would shout “Open the hall” to avoid offending these deities. Even today, in the Palace Museum, older staff still maintain this tradition.
Of course, that was veering off topic. At the moment, as the shaman approached, she greeted Grandpa Dou.
The shaman carried a basket of fruits and handed a peach to Lan He.
Lan He was momentarily stunned. Why give it to him instead of Grandpa Dou, her neighbor? He hesitated and said, “Thank you, but there’s no need, really…”
Grandpa Dou was also surprised. Ever since this neighbor had moved in, she had never taken the initiative to show kindness to anyone.
The shaman waved her hand. “I respect your position. We’re from the same lineage, after all.”
Lan He’s heart skipped a beat. He held his breath, cautiously eyeing her. Hu 79 and Bai Wu were well-hidden, but could this person be a high-level master like Master Budong, who had seen through his identity? Was she trying to acknowledge their connection?
Grandpa Dou was also giving Lan He a puzzled look…
The shaman smiled faintly and said, “I know you’re the tourism ambassador for Miaogan Mountain Scenic Area. I’m one of the devotees there.”
Lan He: “…………”
The others—fox, hedgehog: “…………”
Oh right, he had almost forgotten that Miaogan Mountain had appointed him as their promotional ambassador.
Lan He took the peach. “I see… Haha, thank you.”
“You’re doing hard work.” The shaman spoke with an air of mystique and then floated off with her ethereal gait.
Grandpa Dou was left speechless, thinking, *What on earth was that about?* He had expected something more profound, only for it to be about a tourism role.
After bidding farewell to Grandpa Dou and leaving, Lan He let out a sigh of relief. “That scared me. I thought she was a master… Who knew being the tourism ambassador for Miaogan Mountain had such perks?”
Song Futan thought for a moment. “Considering that Miaogan Mountain now relies heavily on tourists for its incense offerings, the tourism ambassador probably has more influence than the shamans there. It’s not surprising she showed you respect.”
Lan He: “…”
…Fair enough. But does that mean all the shamans from the Four Great Faiths now recognize him too?
…
Over on Song Qiyun’s side, the casting work was wrapping up, and Lan He began packing his things, preparing to join the set. *Ghostly Charm* would take around three months to film, with some scenes shot on location outside the city.
Lan He ordered some gold and silver paper ingots online to bring with him to the set.
Downstairs, he ran into Ying Shao, who was also picking up a package. Lan He, carrying his box of gold and silver paper, was about to greet him when someone approached Ying Shao and started a conversation. “Hello, I live on the third floor. I sell coffins, and I’ve been following you for a long time…”
The delivery person: “???”
Lan He could barely hold back his laughter. He understood what was going on, but seeing the delivery person’s bewildered face made it all the more amusing.
Ying Shao, exasperated, said, “Could you not make it sound like I’m always courting death?”
The neighbor from the third floor laughed awkwardly. “Oh, haha, I didn’t mean it like that, just trying to be humorous. But seriously, I wanted to see if you needed any supplies. I sell high-quality items—coffins, wreaths, and even shrouds.”
Only then did Ying Shao notice Lan He standing there with his box, grinning. Embarrassed, he replied, “Thanks, but no thanks. I already have a supplier.”
The third-floor neighbor looked quite disappointed. Though he was part of the *dark underworld trade* (selling funeral goods), he didn’t have the special abilities that someone like Ying Shao did. He had hoped to collaborate with someone of Ying Shao’s stature, as custom-made products could fetch a higher price.
Ying Shao hurried into the elevator to escape. Seeing Lan He approach, he offered to hold the door for him, but Lan He waved it off and, upon entering, joked, “Hello, I sell joss paper and have been following you for a long time…”
Ying Shao: “…”
He was at a loss, “Stop messing with me.”
Lan He chuckled, “Business is good? No need to be so nervous, I’ll be heading to the set in a few days.”
The elevator arrived, and as Lan He opened the door to his home, his phone rang—it was a video call from Chen Xingyang. He answered, “Hey.”
He wondered, why is Chen Xingyang calling? He should be busy filming right now.
“Good morning. Hey, let me ask you, your neighbor… the master, is he home?” Chen Xingyang asked eagerly.
“Yeah, I just saw him,” Lan He replied.
“Can you introduce me to him? There’s something I want to ask him.” Ying Shao’s fame was growing lately, and even Chen Xingyang knew about him, aware that he was Lan He’s neighbor.
“Sure,” Lan He signaled, and Song Futan went next door to call Ying Shao.
Hearing that Song Futan was also there, Chen Xingyang clicked his tongue.
Lan He asked him, “What’s your business? Are you trying to raise a ghost child?”
Chen Xingyang: “…”
Chen Xingyang: “If I wanted to learn about raising bugs, wouldn’t I ask you instead?”
Lan He laughed.
Chen Xingyang hesitated for a moment before saying, “Forget it, I won’t discuss this with you. Gotta protect the last atheist in our circle!”
Lan He: “…”
Ying Shao carefully entered the room, “Sir, what’s the matter?”
Chen Xingyang was puzzled, “Why does he call you sir?”
Ying Shao turned pale, realizing he had no idea Lan He was on a video call. He thought, ‘Oh no, my secret identity as a master is exposed!’
Fortunately, Lan He was even more composed than Ying Shao imagined. Without missing a beat, he said, “It’s like calling me grandpa. He lost a bet while playing cards, so he has to call me grandpa for a day.”
Ying Shao: “…”
“Oh,” Chen Xingyang didn’t suspect anything, knowing Lan He was a poker king, “Well, Master, I wanted to ask something… do you interpret dreams?”
“I know a little,” Ying Shao glanced at Lan He, cautiously responding.
Chen Xingyang instantly warmed up to him. He had encountered other so-called masters who always bragged like the Jade Emperor was their relative. But this master was humble, much more genuine. “Alright then, Lan He, I’ll chat with the master alone.”
Song Futan wasn’t interested in this kind of thing. It wasn’t his business, so he walked over to the living room, sat down in the single chair, and started editing a script on his laptop. But Lan He wanted to see what was going on with Chen Xingyang, since they were friends after all.
“You can just talk like this,” Lan He said. “I’ll make sure you don’t get scammed.”
Ying Shao: “…”
Chen Xingyang laughed. Even though Lan He didn’t believe in this stuff, his tone was clearly playful. “Alright, so lately I’ve been having these recurring dreams. Every so often, I dream that I’m wearing a Tang suit, and sometimes it’s a Western suit. I have a big red boutonnière pinned on, and I’m outside a three-story mansion. There’s a bridge in front of it, and on the other side, a girl holding an umbrella walks over. Sometimes she’s in a wedding dress, other times in traditional Chinese attire. The girl looks different every time, and someone says something in the background. Then I hold hands with the bride, tie a red string, and go through the wedding ceremony. They even give me a marriage certificate. Basically, I keep getting married to different people in my dreams, and I sometimes think, isn’t this bigamy? Of course, I wake up before the wedding night! The ceremony is so long and exhausting!”
Chen Xingyang wasn’t married and didn’t even have a girlfriend at the moment. When Lan He first heard this, he thought Chen Xingyang was just dreaming about what was on his mind during the day. But if that were the case, Chen Xingyang wouldn’t have come to Ying Shao for help.
Sure enough, Chen Xingyang continued, saying that because he kept having this dream, he felt very tired when he woke up and found it strange. So in the dream, he started paying more attention to the details.
“When I was crossing the bridge, I listened carefully to the voice that was talking, and I finally understood it. It sounded like it was saying: ‘The Yin-Yang bridge is long and wide; one side benefits Yin, the other side benefits Yang…’ I felt a chill even in my dream, but I muddled my way into the mansion. When I got to the third floor and looked out, I realized the surroundings were all cemeteries. The marriage certificate even listed the wedding venue as a certain cemetery!”
Then Chen Xingyang woke up scared. He kept feeling like something was wrong, so he secretly went to check out the cemetery mentioned in his dream.
“What did you see?” Ying Shao asked.
Lan He was also staring at him.
Chen Xingyang’s expression was complicated, mixed with fear. “It looked exactly like it did in my dream, but it was my first time there! Even creepier, I saw some unscrupulous vendors there, selling celebrity underworld marriage certificates. I even saw mine—it had my photo and name on it. You could fill in the other side and paste a photo before burning it. The marriage certificate looked exactly like the one in my dream.”
Lan He started to feel a bit freaked out, “Wait, so other celebrities aren’t having this dream too, right?”
Chen Xingyang replied gloomily, “I was going to ask you about that. The vendor told me the top seller recently is yours…”
Lan He: “………”
Song Futan, who thought this had nothing to do with him: “???”
Author’s note:
Song Futan: Everyone has a responsibility to crack down on unscrupulous vendors!
We need to crack down on these non-consensually marriage certificate. sellers!!