AGJN 090: Not Only Can I Die on the Spot, I Can Die Repeatedly

Ying Shao was still completely unaware, laughing heartily with his junior brother.

Lan He’s identity had spread throughout their circles. When Ying Shao’s junior brothers first found out, they were incredulous, thinking this guy must have been pretending all along. Eventually, like everyone else, they started using “Master Lan” as a meme.

Ying Shao’s master didn’t understand internet slang and asked, “What does ‘Lan He behavior’ mean? Isn’t Lan He… that legendary impermanence spirit? He’s been taking good care of my disciple.”

Ying Shao’s junior brother eagerly explained how the term “Lan He” was used, adding, “Isn’t it because his hat says ‘Since I’m already here’? Anyone saying something like that can be called out for ‘Lan He behavior.’ And also…”

Lan He: “…”

Had this term made it into the underworld dictionary?

Ying Shao’s junior brother was still enthusiastically talking when a flight attendant noticed Lan He had woken up and removed his eye mask. Recognizing him and being a fan, she immediately approached. “Mr. Lan, do you need water or a towel?”

Lan He smiled. “Oh, no, thank you.”

Hearing his voice, Ying Shao and his junior brothers froze.

Ying Shao’s master, unfamiliar with Lan He’s voice, asked, “What’s wrong?”

Ying Shao and his junior brother turned around slowly, their legs almost giving out and their faces turning pale.

The flight attendant, noticing their reaction, asked in concern, “Sir, are you alright? Are you feeling unwell?”

Lan He chuckled lightly. “Hello, want an autograph?”

Ying Shao stammered, “Y-yes, please…”

The flight attendant relaxed, realizing their reaction was due to excitement at seeing a celebrity. Blushing, she said, “I really love your work.”

Lan He graciously agreed to sign for everyone. While signing for Ying Shao, he smiled mischievously. “Should I write, ‘May your acting skills improve’?”

Ying Shao, defeated, muttered, “Fine…”

Curious, the flight attendant turned to Ying Shao. “Are you an actor too?”

Ying Shao looked as if he were on the verge of tears. “Yes, but I’m like… a hundred-and-eighth-tier actor…”

After the flight attendant left, Lan He flicked Ying Shao’s forehead lightly. “Lan He behavior? Let me show you what real ‘Lan He behavior’ is.”

Ying Shao, covering his forehead in embarrassment, tried to change the subject. “I was wrong, I was wrong! Let me introduce you—this is my master!”

Ying Shao’s master smiled warmly. “I am Ma Qinghui, Ying Shao’s master. Thank you for taking care of him. In truth, these boys greatly admire you.”

“Yes, yes!” Ying Shao’s junior brother said pitifully. “Master Lan, and my master is also Miao, so we’re all one family, right?”

The Xiang region was vast; not everyone of Miao descent was related. But with Ma Qinghui’s white hair, it wasn’t unreasonable to call him “Uncle.” Lan He replied, “Since you’re an elder, I’ll only flick your head once today.”

…

The flight’s destination was the capital of Xiang Province. After chatting briefly with Ying Shao’s group, Lan He resumed sleeping. Upon landing, they parted ways, and Lan He had to transfer to another vehicle to reach his hometown.

By the time they arrived home, it was already evening.

Entering the house, Lan He saw that his uncles and aunts were also visiting. They warmly greeted him, saying, “Lan He is back! Oh, and he brought a friend? So handsome—is he an actor too?”

Father Lan chuckled awkwardly. Unlike his son, he wasn’t good at acting. Plus, if he explained now, how would they handle the truth later?

Song Futan, however, greeted them naturally, smoothly transitioning from “friend” to “boyfriend.” “I’m Lan He’s (boy)friend, here to experience the atmosphere of the Miao New Year. Hello, Uncle, Auntie.” He then handed over the gifts he had brought.

Teacher Long hesitated only briefly before accepting the gifts. “You shouldn’t have! But thank you. Have you two eaten yet? I’ll heat up some food.”

Lan He greeted each of the elders, who were preparing to leave anyway. They reminded him, “If your friend wants to experience the festive atmosphere, you should take him to the village.”

The city was largely assimilated, and the New Year’s festivities weren’t as vibrant as in the villages. To see the traditional celebrations outsiders imagined, one had to venture into the mountains.

After the elders left, Father Lan woke up Grandma, who had gone to bed early. She came out leaning on her cane, muttering a few words in Miao.

Lan He hugged his grandmother and introduced her. “This is Song Futan, my friend.”

Grandma nodded in acknowledgment and invited Song Futan to eat.

“Hello,” Song Futan replied. Not understanding the Miao language, he looked at Lan He hesitantly. “I didn’t catch that. Can you translate for me?”

Lan He: “Huh? She was speaking Mandarin.”

Song Futan: “…”

Lan He: “…”

Teacher Long laughed. “Haha, it’s just heavily accented Mandarin. She was telling you to eat.”

Lan He’s grandmother had spent most of her life in the Miao village, speaking primarily the Miao language. Her Mandarin was indeed rudimentary, and her heavy southern accent made it difficult to understand. Despite her serious effort to speak Mandarin with Lan He’s friend, Song Futan had mistaken it for Miao.

This little episode lightened the mood significantly. Father Lan, trying to be accommodating, added, “Southern dialects are quite varied; the accent changes every ten miles.”

In recent weeks, he had been doing his homework, reading up on relevant topics, and watching Song Futan’s works. Regardless of orientation, he had to admit that Song Futan was quite outstanding.

Song Futan coughed lightly, “Yes, that’s true.”

The cough drew Grandma’s attention. She pointed at him and asked, “La Ba Pou?”

Song Futan hesitated, “Laba porridge?”

Lan He chuckled. “Grandma said ‘La Ba Pou,’ which means ‘pinching the butterfly.’ I told you before, my grandma learned some herbal medicine back in the village and can treat minor ailments. The shape of the front chest, resembling a butterfly or moth, relates to the lungs. In cases of lung-related symptoms like coughing or wheezing, they use a pinching or needling technique on these ‘butterfly’ areas to treat it.”

He explained further that in Miao medicine, different illnesses could cause changes in the butterfly-shaped area, forming marks or discoloration. For example, red or yellowish discoloration was referred to as *Ba Pou Dong*, while brown or grayish marks indicated *Ba Pou Lao*.

Thinking about it, Song Futan noted that the front chest area, centered around the collarbones, did indeed resemble a butterfly.

Grandma enthusiastically offered to perform the technique on Song Futan, assuring him that a quick pinch would resolve his cough. She led him into a room with the heater on and asked him to remove his shirt.

While Lan He helped Teacher Long prepare dinner, warming up dishes and cooking a small side dish, he noticed Father Lan peeking into Grandma’s room. Curious, Lan He and Teacher Long walked over.

Inside, they saw Grandma pressing on the acupressure points along Song Futan’s spine, speaking in heavily accented Mandarin: “When Lan He was little, he often had fevers from being scared. I would pinch the butterfly area for him. His grandfather always wanted to use their methods, but I said, ‘You use yours, I’ll use mine.'”

Song Futan only caught a few key phrases: “Lan He? Hmm… Yes, he does get tired while working on set, but I make sure he eats. Sometimes I make soup for him, but not too much.”

Grandma laughed. “Haha, your body is fine. This spot is very tight, though.”

Song Futan replied, “Yes, Grandma, please take care of yourself. You look very healthy.”

The two of them barely understood each other but somehow managed to hold a ten-minute conversation without awkward silences, occasionally even finding common ground.

Father Lan, watching, was unexpectedly touched. He quietly closed the door and remarked to Teacher Long, “Back when I visited your village, I couldn’t understand a word of Miao, yet I still chatted with your relatives—just kept talking.”

Just as Father Lan made an effort for Lan He, Song Futan was doing the same.

Teacher Long chuckled. “The way you’re saying it, I almost didn’t realize you were praising Xiao Song. I thought you were complimenting yourself.”

Father Lan blushed. “Ahem.”

Grandma, whose hearing wasn’t great, missed most of the conversation outside. However, she heard Father Lan’s cough through the door and shouted, “Who’s coughing out there?”

“It’s nothing, Mom. Are you done pinching? Come out and eat,” Father Lan replied.

After getting dressed, Song Futan joined Lan He at the dinner table. While the two of them ate, the three elders sat nearby, watching. Once they had eaten their fill, Grandma said, “Tomorrow, Lan He, take me back to the village.”

Lan He initially thought she wanted to show Song Futan some Miao traditions, but upon closer reflection, her wording seemed off. “Is something happening in the village?”

There were still three or four days until the main event.

Grandma explained, “A relative of ours held on for half a year but passed away. I need to send them off.”

“Passed away” was referred to as *luo qi* in their language. A relative who hadn’t made it through the New Year had passed, and Grandma wanted to pay her respects. Lan He quickly agreed.

Lan He and his parents had an unspoken understanding: they would give Song Futan a few days to settle in and bond before having any deeper discussions. That night, they all rested. Fortunately, the house had four bedrooms, and Song Futan stayed in the guest room Teacher Long had prepared.

While they temporarily avoided discussing Song Futan’s relationship with Lan He, there was another pressing matter to address.

Teacher Long asked Lan He, “Are you still working in the netherworld?”

She had discovered Lan He’s involvement in underworld-related work some time ago. He had explained that he had his reasons and would eventually stop.

Lan He hesitated before replying, “Sort of, but much less frequently now, so there’s no need to worry. The sealing items are secure, and my reputation has grown. Anyone targeting Song Futan would also have to consider me. Usually, it’s just lending a hand when things get busy in the underworld, which is much easier now.”

Teacher Long relaxed slightly. “Alright, but be careful when you take Grandma to the village tomorrow. Don’t let the *cao guipo* in the village notice you.”

Cao ghosts, also known locally as “gu,” were traditionally associated with women passing down the craft of gu magic, hence the term “cao guipo” or “gu witches.”

Nowadays, in urban areas, some skilled gu practitioners were revered and treated as esteemed guests by influential figures.

In the Miao villages, however, gu witches were both feared and hated. Those who practiced gu had to release their gu periodically, or they would feel physically uncomfortable themselves. In the past, when villages were isolated, releasing gu often harmed the people and livestock within the community.

These gu practitioners rarely revealed their identities. Villagers would privately speculate about who practiced gu, being careful not to offend them while also hiding their own attitudes to avoid incurring grudges.

When Lan He was young, a well-known gu master once tried to take him as a disciple. Lan He’s family refused. Perhaps it was because his grandmother, a Miao herbalist, knew how to neutralize gu, and his grandfather was a skilled tailor. Even if the gu master bore a grudge, they could do little.

…

The next day, Lan He drove the family car to take his grandmother up the mountain, bringing Song Futan along as well. Along the way, Grandma kept murmuring, “The person passed away last night. When we get there, don’t stand too close, or you might be taken away with them…”

The local custom was that the time of passing, or *luo qi*, mattered. For men, it was better to pass at night; for women, during the day. If a woman passed at night, it was believed she might fear going alone and seek someone to accompany her.

Lan He reassured her, “It should be fine; they probably invited someone to perform rites.”

Grandma sighed. “There aren’t many experienced *laosi* or Taoists left now; most of them have gone outside to earn money. The laosi presiding in the village now are all young. The old ones passed away years ago.”

*Laosi* was the Miao term for shamans, with *ke laosi* referring to Han shamans. The phrase *qian guo jie* (high-level shaman) indicated a laosi of considerable skill and reputation.

In this region, both laosi and Taoists served different functions. Laosi handled indoor matters such as hauntings and possession, while Taoists were called for outdoor events, such as performing funeral rites, chanting sutras, or conducting rituals like coffin circling.

After reassuring Grandma further, they continued on the two-hour mountain road and finally reached the village.

The village was built along the mountainside, with winding paths between houses. Lan He and Song Futan walked on either side of Grandma, supporting her as they navigated the narrow roads. The air was filled with the sound of the Miao language.

As they approached a fork in the road, Lan He heard something different—Mandarin.

“My gosh, Master is such a performer. Coming home in glory hits differently.”

“Usually scolding and grumbling, but just now, he was so refined. Master really pulled a ‘Lan He’ this time.”

Lan He: “……”

A few steps later, Lan He came face-to-face with Ying Shao and his junior brothers, who were chatting away.

Ying Shao froze upon seeing him and began coughing violently. “Cough, cough, cough!!”

Grandma immediately reacted, “La Ba Pou?”

Lan He held her back and said with a forced smile, “You sure use that term a lot.”

Ying Shao and his junior brothers approached, only to be greeted with a light kick from Lan He.

“Master Lan, you’re from this village too?” one junior brother asked, his expression mournful.

“I was just about to ask why you’re here. I’ve never seen your master around.” Lan He, who had grown up in the city, often accompanied Grandma to the village. With its small population, he felt he would have remembered if Ma Qinghui, Ying Shao’s master, was from here.

“Master’s been traveling for years but wanted to visit again. This time, he heard that an elder he knew as a child passed away, so he decided to come back.” Ying Shao pointed to a nearby house. “We’re visiting relatives now. Master Lan, they say everyone in the same village is somewhat related. Maybe we really are family.”

Lan He asked his grandmother, “Do you know Ma Qinghui?”

Grandma thought for a moment. “Ma Qinghui… Hmm, sounds familiar…”

Ying Shao and his brothers, realizing she was Lan He’s grandmother, immediately started asking after her health, falling into the same trap as Song Futan with her heavily accented Mandarin. Grandma, however, did seem to recognize Ma Qinghui and said it had been many years since she last saw him.

“Yes, Master left a long time ago,” Ying Shao said excitedly. He was thrilled at the prospect of becoming relatives with Lan He.

At that moment, Ma Qinghui came out of the hall. Seeing the group, he exclaimed, “Huh?” His gaze landed on Grandma, and he walked over, asking in surprise, “Cousin Grandma, is that you? I’m Xiaohui.”

Grandma’s face lit up with recognition. “Xiaohui! Yes, Xiaohui! It’s been so long since you’ve been back.”

Ma Qinghui bowed to Grandma respectfully, saying with emotion, “I’ve missed you and Grandma Long the most. It’s such a pity I didn’t get to see her before she passed. Her family wouldn’t even let me burn paper for her.”

“How could they forbid it?” Grandma asked indignantly.

In a calm but firm tone, Ma Qinghui replied, “Because I raised gu, but I plan to visit tonight anyway.”

Even after decades, when Ma Qinghui visited someone’s home, they still treated him with fear and begrudging respect.

Grandma froze for a moment and then looked at his hands. “You really…”

Ma Qinghui casually introduced, “That’s right, these are my apprentices, and they also raise Grass Ghosts. But don’t worry, Auntie, I won’t randomly use Gu on everyone.”

“…Alright.” Grandma, somewhat stunned, introduced, “This is my grandson and his friend…”

“I know, I know them.” Ma Qinghui smiled at Lan He. “I didn’t expect us to actually be relatives. Strictly speaking, we are of the same generation.”

“Brother.” Lan He then looked at Ying Shao, “Brother, no, big nephew…”

Ying Shao: “…………”

They thought they had become relatives with Master Lai, but unexpectedly, in terms of seniority, they were actually a generation lower! Originally neighbors of the same generation, now suddenly he was a big nephew!

“I still have a few more houses to visit. You’re here to see Granny Long, right? You go ahead, we’ll meet again later.” After saying this, Ma Qinghui strode off with his apprentices.

Grandma sighed and explained to Lan He and Song Futan, “His mother originally married into our village. His father died early, so his mother raised him alone. Because she was pretty, some men would help her chop wood or fetch water. But people started calling her a Grass Ghost Woman, accusing her of using Gu to harm others, and completely ostracized her. Later, when children in the village got sick, they accused her of casting Gu and even trashed their house. When his mother fell ill, only Granny Long and I cared to help, sending her herbal medicine.”

Granny Long, like Grandma, was a Miao doctor. But even with their testimony that Ma Qinghui’s mother was not a Grass Ghost Woman, people didn’t believe them. Eventually, Ma Qinghui’s mother passed away from illness. After Ma Qinghui left the village, he didn’t return for many years, and now he really had become a Gu Master.

But perhaps because Granny Long’s descendants also used herbs and weren’t too afraid of Gu practitioners, they dared to confront Ma Qinghui.

Song Futan reflected, “Many stories about Gu Women are just like Western witch tales, a way for people to exclude those they dislike.”

Lan He hadn’t known these details. Having not grown up in the village, he had only heard of Gu Masters and Gu Women but didn’t realize some were falsely accused.

These people didn’t know any Gu techniques, but others, both fearful and bold, sought to “break their Gu”—either by consulting experts or directly destroying the containers believed to hold their Gu. This gave people an excuse to openly trash their homes.

Thinking of this, Lan He realized Ma Qinghui was truly a victim. Such a childhood might have fueled his rebellious nature and determination to genuinely learn Gu. Yet over time, his mindset might have changed, and it took until now, at this age, for him to return to the village.

“Let’s go,” Grandma said. “Just one more turn, and we’ll be at Granny Long’s house.”

Her coffin rested in the main room. The family wore mourning clothes, and the door bore the phrase “Handling Major Affairs,” signaling to everyone that a funeral was underway.

Granny Long’s son saw Grandma and quickly came out to greet her, “Auntie, you’re here.”

“Yes, I’ve come to see Ah Feng off.” Grandma wanted to enter the main room to see her old friend, but her son stopped her. “Auntie, please burn some paper here. Don’t go in. The Taoist said my mother passed at an inauspicious hour, so she couldn’t wear her burial clothes. Someone has to accompany her on her journey.”

Grandma sorrowfully replied, “At my age, if she wants to take me, let her.”

Granny Long’s son was speechless. “That’s not how it works…”

As Grandma was senior and respected, he couldn’t treat her like he did Ma Qinghui.

Lan He blinked and said, “Uncle, how about I cut a paper figure and stick it at the door? That way, if someone must be taken, the substitute will go.”

Grandma, knowing Lan He had learned paper-cutting from his grandfather, agreed, “Yes, a paper figure can solve this, right?” While she only knew herbal medicine, her long life had made her familiar with various rituals and Taoist practices.

Granny Long’s son gave Lan He a surprised look, studying him closely. “You’re…my aunt’s grandson, right?” He wasn’t much into TV or the internet and didn’t know Lan He was an actor.

Lan He responded, “That’s right.” He pointed at Song Futan, intending to introduce him.

Granny Long’s son, also surnamed Long, had poor memory. He only recognized Lan He when he was beside Grandma, and he disliked admitting when he didn’t recognize someone. Gesturing at Song Futan, he said, “This one, this one is also from our village, right? It’s been years since he came back, but I remember him. He’s from our row…”

Song Futan: “…”

Song Futan: “No…”

Uncle Long interrupted, “If not from our row, then surely he used to visit often. I remember him.”

Lan He explained, “This is my friend from another place. It’s his first time here.”

Uncle Long: “…”

Expressionlessly, Uncle Long replied, “Oh. I see.”

When Lan He offered to help cut the paper figure, Uncle Long stopped him, saying, “Really, don’t bother. You youngsters don’t know the village rules. The Taoist officiating said the burial must be done quickly, with minimal attention. Otherwise, if you catch my mom’s eye, she’ll take you with her tonight, and you’ll die on the spot!”

Lan He: “…”

Sorry, not only am I unafraid of dying on the spot, but I can die repeatedly. After dying, I can even send your mom off myself.