Yin Yang Diviner

The gong rang out crisply and cleanly, like a thunderclap shattering the chill that enveloped the farmhouse courtyard. The scratching at the wooden door outside the gate stopped abruptly, and the lingering cold that had been clinging to me receded instantly like a tide.

I collapsed onto the earthen bed, all my strength seemingly drained away. I didn't even have the strength to lift my head. I could only stare blankly at the dim, flickering kerosene lamp by the edge of the bed. The ethereal feeling of my soul leaving my body hadn't dissipated. My head felt heavy, as if stuffed with cotton, and my ears were ringing. My grandparents were right beside me, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. I could only see two anxious faces moving back and forth in my vision.

Second Grandpa has arrived.

This thought acted like a calming pill, sinking into my chaotic consciousness.

Steady footsteps echoed outside the courtyard gate, unhurried and reassuring with each step. Then, the wooden door was gently pushed open, and a slender, upright figure entered—it was Second Grandfather, who had rushed over overnight.

That year, my second grandfather was not yet old enough to live in seclusion in the suburbs. His hair was only half white, neatly combed, and he wore a faded blue cloth jacket. He had a palm-sized peach wood sword at his waist, a brass gong in his left hand, and a gong mallet in his right. His cloth bag was bulging with yellow paper talismans, cinnabar packets, grains, and a palm-sized white paper dog. He exuded an aura of righteousness that commanded respect without anger. As soon as he stepped into the courtyard, the originally cold air warmed up by three points.

"Second son! You've finally arrived!" Grandpa gripped his hoe and hurried to greet him, his voice trembling with relief. "That weasel spirit was right outside the door; it almost broke in!"

Grandma ran out of the house, wiping away tears: "Yiheng is out of his mind! He's completely dazed and can't even speak! Please save the child!"

My second grandfather waved his hand, said nothing, and went straight into the inner room to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed). He bent down, his sharp eyes fixed on my face, and then extended two fingers, gently placing them on my brow.

The warmth of the fingertips, carrying the scent of cinnabar and sandalwood, touched my brow the moment it did. A warm current flowed slowly down my forehead and throughout my body, clearing my previously drowsy mind and gradually focusing my empty vision.

I looked at my second grandfather, my lips trembling, and finally managed to squeeze out a weak voice: "Second grandfather..."

"Don't be afraid." Second Grandfather's voice was still slow and gentle, but it had a calming power. He withdrew his finger and his face darkened. "Three souls were lost. Tianchong, Linghui and Qili were mostly taken away by that weasel. If we had come half an hour later, the souls would have been completely scattered. Even a god couldn't have saved them."

"Three souls?" Grandma's legs went weak with fright, and she had to grab the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) to steady herself. "What should we do? Can we call them back?"

"We can call it back." Second Grandfather stood up, taking things out of his cloth bag as he instructed, "Eldest son, move the eight-immortal table from the main room to the center of the courtyard, light three oil lamps, and set out offerings of grains; old woman, boil a pot of mugwort water and prepare clean cotton cloth. Be quick, that weasel spirit was only scared away by the gong, it could come back to snatch your soul at any time."

Grandpa and Grandma didn't dare to delay and immediately split up to take action.

Grandpa laboriously moved the eight-immortal table to the center of the yard, then took millet, rice, black beans, red beans, and mung beans from the storeroom, put them in five white porcelain bowls, lined them up on the table, and lit three kerosene lamps. The light swayed slightly in the night breeze, casting dappled shadows all over the yard.

Grandma was tending the fire in the kitchen, and the mugwort in the pot was bubbling away. The rich aroma of mugwort filled the entire courtyard, and the scent that warded off evil spirits and uncleanliness overpowered the lingering fishy smell.

My second grandfather stood by the kang (a heated brick bed), picked up yellow paper and a cinnabar brush. Without grinding the ink with an inkstone, he held the brush between his fingertips, flicked it in the air, and the cinnabar spread automatically. The brush moved swiftly across the yellow paper, creating intricate and ancient runes with sharp, swift strokes. Although I couldn't understand them, I could feel the awe-inspiring righteousness emanating from each talisman. He folded the finished talismans into triangular shapes and stuffed them into my collar, pockets, and under my pillow.

"This is a soul-stabilizing talisman to hold your remaining soul in place and prevent it from dissipating," Grandpa said softly as he affixed the talisman. "Later, I'll ring the gong to call your soul back. No matter what you hear, don't open your eyes, don't move, just follow the sound of the gong back, understand?"

I nodded vigorously, and tears welled up again. From childhood to adulthood, whenever I was in trouble, it was always my second grandfather who stayed by my side. He was like a mountain, always able to shield me from all evil spirits and dangers.

Everything is ready.

Grandpa Er carried the gong to the center of the courtyard, stood in front of the octagonal table, and the light from the three oil lamps fell precisely on him, casting a long shadow. He picked up the gong mallet and gently tapped the rim of the gong.

"when--"

A soft, clear, and melodious sound echoed throughout every corner of the courtyard.

"Qin Yiheng—"

My second grandfather called my name. His voice wasn't loud, but it was incredibly penetrating, carrying a peculiar rhythm that seemed to pierce through both the realms of the living and the dead.

"May your soul return—"

The gong sounded again, clear and resonant.

"Qin Yiheng—his soul returns to his hometown—"

A gentle night breeze blew by, and the oil lamp in the courtyard steadily suppressed its flame. The smoke from the three incense sticks rose straight up, neither scattered nor disordered. Second Grandfather struck a gong with one hand and scattered grains with the other. The golden grains fell to the ground with a soft rustling sound. Each grain of grain carried yang energy, suppressing the yin energy in the courtyard.

"The wilderness is treacherous, monsters roam freely, child's soul, hurry home!"

"Qin Yiheng—may your soul return—"

The gongs rang out one after another, unhurried and clear. I lay on the kang (a heated brick bed) with my eyes closed, and I could clearly feel something light and airy, following the sound of the gongs, slowly seeping into my body.

That is my soul.

When the Tianchong Po returns to its place, the head is no longer dizzy and the vision becomes clear; when the Linghui Po returns to its place, the consciousness becomes clear and is no longer dull and empty; when the Qili Po returns to its place, the limbs gradually regain strength and are no longer sore and weak.

The warm current washed over my body again and again, completely dispelling the chill that had been seeping into me, leaving me feeling warm and comfortable all over.

I know that my soul is being called back little by little by my second grandfather.

From the darkness outside the courtyard, a sharp screech suddenly rang out, like the cry of a weasel spirit, filled with resentment and anger. Immediately afterward, a cold wind rose in the courtyard, causing the oil lamp on the octagonal table to sway from side to side, scattering the grains from the grain bowls all over the ground, and making the smoke from the lamps tremble wildly.

That weasel spirit, unwilling to let my soul return to its rightful place, has come to cause trouble again!

Grandpa gripped his hoe and stood guard at the gate of the courtyard, while Grandma grabbed a fire poker from the kitchen and stood protectively by the kang (a heated brick bed). Both of them were pale-faced, but they did not flinch in the slightest.

The second grandfather's expression remained unchanged, and the gong sounded steady as ever, only the speed at which he scattered the grains increased slightly, and his voice suddenly rose: "You beast! You dare to cause trouble again! You dare to touch a child of the Qin family?"

He abruptly stopped banging the gong, took out the small white paper dog from his cloth bag, placed it on the octagonal table, picked up a vermilion pen, dotted the paper dog's eyes, and shouted, "By imperial decree!"

As soon as the words were spoken, the paper dog seemed to come alive, swaying slightly and barking wildly at the darkness outside the courtyard. Although there was no sound, the chilling aura emanating from it caused the barking outside the courtyard to pause for a moment, and the eerie wind to weaken slightly.

An old rural practice involves sculpting paper effigies and adding eyes to them, believed to draw upon the protective energy of the living to ward off evil spirits like foxes, weasels, white foxes, and gray foxes.

"Qin Yiheng—his three souls and seven spirits have all returned to their places—"

Second Grandfather struck the gong again, the sound powerful and resonant. The last gong rang out, making the entire courtyard buzz.

Suddenly, I felt a lightness throughout my body, as if all my senses had returned to their proper place. The fear, weakness, and coldness I had felt earlier had all vanished. I opened my eyes, sat up from the kang (a heated brick bed), and felt refreshed, without a trace of dazedness or fear.

"Second Grandpa! I'm all better!" I shouted, my voice clear and full of energy.

Grandpa and Grandma burst into tears of joy. Grandma rushed to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), hugged me, and stroked my head repeatedly, saying, "It's alright! My dear grandson, it's alright! You're okay now!"

My second grandfather put away the gong, looked at me in the house, and a faint smile appeared on his face. But the smile didn't last long. His eyes turned cold again as he looked into the darkness outside the courtyard and said in a deep voice, "This beast has cultivated for a hundred years and absorbed many living souls. If we don't get rid of it today, it will harm even more people in the future."

"But it's a spirit, how can we ordinary people get rid of it?" Grandpa frowned, looking troubled.

The weasel spirit is cunning and powerful; ordinary farm tools cannot harm it at all, and instead will turn against it.

Second Grandfather had already made a plan. He said, "Go to the east end of the village and find Butcher Zhang. Invite him here and tell him that I, Qin Tianyang, have asked him to help slay the demon. His ancestral butcher knife has been used to slaughter pigs and sheep all his life. It is full of murderous aura and is the perfect weapon to subdue this weasel spirit."

Butcher Zhang is the village's pig slaughterer. He is burly and has a generous personality. His family has been butchers for three generations. The black iron butcher knife in his hand has slaughtered at least eight hundred, if not a thousand, pigs. The evil aura on the knife is so strong that evil spirits dare not approach it. It is recognized in the village as a "powerful weapon to ward off evil".

Grandpa nodded immediately: "I'll go right away!"

After saying that, Grandpa grabbed the flashlight, ran quickly out of the house, and headed straight for the east end of the village.

Inside the house, Grandma brought me some boiled mugwort water. She dipped a cotton cloth in it and gently wiped my forehead, palms, and soles of my feet. The fragrance of the mugwort was refreshing and completely cleansed the yin energy that had settled on my body.

I sat on the kang (a heated brick bed) and looked at my second grandfather in the courtyard. He was standing in front of the octagonal table, tidying up his ritual implements. His upright posture made me feel extremely at ease.

I whispered to Grandma, "Grandma, can Second Grandpa really kill that weasel spirit?"

Grandma patted my head, her tone firm: "Yes! Your second grandfather is capable, and Butcher Zhang's knife is powerful too. That weasel spirit won't escape this time!"

I nodded, my heart filled with anticipation.

That weasel spirit that made me lose my mind and scared me half to death is finally going to be eliminated.

In the darkness outside the courtyard, the weasel spirit's howls grew weaker and weaker, clearly intimidated by the talisman and paper dog made by the second grandfather, and dared not approach easily. But it still did not leave, as if it was lying in wait, waiting for an opportunity to launch a final counterattack.

My second grandfather stood in the courtyard, hands behind his back, his eyes sharp as knives, staring intently into the darkness outside. He exuded an aura of righteousness, like a guardian deity protecting the entire courtyard and me.

The night breeze gradually subsided, the oil lamp burned steadily, and the incense smoke curled gently.

I sat on the kang (a heated brick bed) and looked at my second grandfather's figure. The fear in my heart completely disappeared, replaced by a deep sense of admiration.

I secretly made up my mind that when I grow up, I must learn from my second grandfather, learn his gong to call back souls, learn his talisman to ward off evil, and learn his demon-slaying skills, so that I will never be bullied by evil spirits again and never make my grandparents worry again.

Not long after, heavy footsteps sounded outside the courtyard gate, along with Grandpa's voice: "Second son, Butcher Zhang is here!"

The door was pushed open, and Grandpa walked in with a tall, burly man.

Zhang the butcher wore a coarse cloth short jacket, his arm muscles bulging. In his hand, he carried a gleaming black iron butcher knife. The blade was pitch black and sharp, and there was still a faint smell of blood on it, the evil aura accumulated over a hundred years. As soon as he entered the gate, the hissing outside the courtyard completely disappeared, and even the last trace of the cold aura vanished without a trace.

The weasel spirit is scared.

Butcher Zhang spoke in a deep, booming voice, "Mr. Qin, I'm here! Where's that beast? I'll chop it in half with one stroke!"

Second Grandfather nodded and pointed in the direction of the old cemetery outside the courtyard: "It's hiding in the weeds of the old cemetery behind the village, too afraid to come out. With your murderous aura, it can't escape."

After saying this, the second grandfather picked up the peach wood sword and talisman, and took the lead: "Let's go, kill this beast, and eliminate this threat forever!"

Grandpa, carrying a flashlight, and Butcher Zhang, carrying a butcher's knife, followed behind Second Grandpa. The three of them walked out of the small courtyard together and headed straight for the old cemetery behind the village.

I leaned against the windowsill, watching their figures disappear into the night, silently praying.

Second Grandfather, Butcher Zhang, you must get rid of that weasel spirit.

As night deepened, faint sounds of ritual implements and Zhang the Butcher's earth-shattering roar echoed from the direction of the old cemetery.

I know that a battle to slay demons and monsters has begun.