Who else but me?

Stout, my closest friend and sworn brother, was standing at the main hall’s doorway.

Beside him stood Chubby, but unlike Stout, Chubby wasn’t on his feet—he was slumped against the wall, eyes tightly shut, his face as pale as paper.

Chubby was in trouble.

There was no time for words with Stout. I hurried to Chubby’s side, reaching to pull up his eyelids. The instant my fingers touched his skin, a chill like needles stabbed me, nearly making me jerk my hand back.

His eyes rolled up in their sockets. I called his name twice, but got no response. I felt his body—he was as cold as a popsicle just pulled from the freezer.

“What happened?” I turned to Stout.

I'd asked them to help me look for Big Li, worried they might get hurt. That fear had made me lash out and drive them away—not a pleasant parting, but our long friendship told me nothing truly stood between us.

“I don’t know. I only found him like this at noon,” Stout replied, baffled. He’d gone to see Chubby after lunch—Chubby’s mother had told him her son was ill and resting. Stout went into the room to check, and the first touch revealed Chubby’s body was ice cold.

Later, Chubby’s mother said that in the middle of the night she’d heard him cry out. Frightened, they’d rushed to his room, finding him cowering in terror, claiming someone was outside his window.

Chubby’s father had checked, but found nothing outside. They comforted him, telling him it was just his imagination, and soon after, Chubby fell asleep.

At dawn, Chubby was weak and listless. He walked around a bit but soon said he wanted to sleep, climbing back into bed, and by the time Stout came, he couldn’t be roused.

People here, being country folk, are familiar with such “superstitions.” Chubby’s mother believed he’d been frightened out of his wits at midnight—their souls had scattered, which was why he was in this state.

For a lost soul, medicines and injections are useless. So they didn’t bother with the hospital.

A lost soul needs a specialist to call it back.

In our town, only Grandma and Mr. Xu were famous for such things. Chubby’s parents, knowing Grandma had passed, went to find Mr. Xu, only to learn he, too, was dead. In their anxiety, Stout remembered Xu the Undying and said there was another expert at my house.

They brought Chubby here, but Xu the Undying hadn’t returned, and with things at home to handle, Chubby’s parents had to leave, asking Stout to wait.

Because of the earlier argument, Stout still harbored some resentment, which was why he hadn’t brought Chubby into the house.

Examining Chubby closely, I was sure he’d lost his soul—and not just a part of it, for if only a single soul was lost, he wouldn’t have slipped so quickly into unconsciousness.

I’d lost my soul more than once before. I knew that losing a single soul or one or two spirits merely left you dizzy and weak, not in this deep, unresponsive state.

His whole body cold, unmoved by any call—thinking of my mother lying inside, a chill gripped my heart. Chubby had lost all three souls and seven spirits.

My mother’s three souls and seven spirits had left her body after she swallowed the Soul-Eating Chicken. Now, her body was cold as ice, no matter how I called—it was just like Chubby’s condition.

If Chubby had been so frightened that all his souls and spirits fled, I couldn’t fathom what terror he’d witnessed to cause such utter soul loss.

Grandma’s books described this: a shock or sudden fright can make a soul or a spirit leave the body, sometimes one soul and two or three spirits if it’s severe. At most, two souls and three spirits could be lost this way.

Simply put, a fright alone could never cause all three souls and seven spirits to depart—some part would always remain.

Chubby’s soul loss, all at once, was recorded by Grandma as only possible through outside interference—by having one’s souls forcibly summoned away.

To have all souls and spirits drawn out passively, as with my mother when Old Man Qin acted, was the only way.

Why would someone summon Chubby’s three souls and seven spirits?

Puzzling over this, I recalled how he’d come to help me, and wondered if my fears had come true.

I’d forced them away before out of worry they’d be pulled in. Now, with Chubby’s souls taken so completely, exactly as if summoned, I couldn’t help but suspect Old Man Qin was behind it.

“Let’s move him inside,” I said.

Cao Guangshan, who’d been preparing inside, came out. The floor of the main hall was already covered with quilts. Together, we carried Chubby in.

“By the way, there’s a pair of black handprints on his stomach,” Stout said.

“What?” I nearly cried out, quickly pulling up Chubby’s shirt. There, on his belly, two black handprints stood out starkly.

“Are they like before?” Cao Guangshan asked, curious.

He knew what had happened in the village—how I’d told him about the black handprints on the windowpane when Old Lady Wang died, and on Liu the Lame when he was found dead—but he’d never seen them himself.

Just moments ago, I’d wondered if Chubby’s sudden collapse was Old Man Qin’s doing. Upon seeing the black handprints again, I was certain—Old Man Qin was behind this.

When I’d called on the two of them for help, Old Man Qin must have seen them and started targeting them.

I’d lashed out and driven them away to prevent them from getting involved, but now, even though I’d tried my best to keep them out, they were dragged in all the same.

Thinking of Old Man Qin, I recalled the message he’d sent through my mother last night: Find the bronze key within three days, or learn the true meaning of despair.

At the time, I’d thought his threat meant harm to my mother and perhaps the villagers too. Now, I realized if he wanted to act, it wouldn’t stop with just my mother and the villagers.

My two closest friends were now on his death list.

Faced with Chubby, bereft of all souls and spirits, I realized Old Man Qin was warning me, or rather, reminding me—pressuring me to find the bronze key quickly.

Otherwise, Chubby’s loss was only the beginning; if nothing changed, Stout would be next.

Stout, seeing the strange look in my eyes, asked nervously, “What’s wrong?”

No plan survives reality.

At that moment, I deeply regretted going to them for help. Not only had they failed to help, but now Old Man Qin had set his sights on them. He knew how close we were, that their safety was my greatest weakness. With that leverage, I had no choice but to obey.

“Now you know why I got so angry and drove you both away? It was because I was afraid you’d be drawn into all this, but I never thought you’d end up involved anyway.”

At this point, with Chubby already caught up in it, I felt it necessary to tell Stout the truth.

“I told Chubby, you must have your reasons for acting as you did,” Stout said, not worried but rather grinning as he punched my shoulder. “Brothers share fortune and hardship, don’t they?”

My heart warmed.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you two.”

I went into the room and took out cinnabar and other things from the wooden chest.

Xu the Undying wasn’t back yet, so the responsibility fell to me. Chubby’s condition was much like my mother’s. As long as his soul could return, his life wouldn’t be in real danger.

But before then, I had to protect Chubby’s body from harm.

I copied the charm that was drawn on my mother’s brow onto Chubby’s, then onto his palms and soles. Once that was done, I fetched two yellow talismans from the chest.

Grandma had drawn these talismans long ago. Different symbols served different purposes. The two I took had effects similar to the charm on the brow, but they were even more secure.

By the time I’d finished, night had fallen. I quickly prepared a meal. During dinner, I told Stout about everything that had happened lately, making it clear that he, too, might end up like Chubby.

Stout took it well. Even after hearing it all, he still smiled as usual, not blaming me for getting them involved.

After dinner, I continued rummaging through the house, searching for the bronze key.

I knew, as Old Man Qin’s deadline drew near, he would only act more aggressively to force my hand.

I didn’t want anyone else to lose their soul because of this. Not just because it would harm their health, but also because I was afraid Old Man Qin would break his word.

My mother’s souls and spirits were at least contained in the Soul-Eating Chicken; as long as Xu the Undying found a way, she could be saved. But Chubby was different—his souls and spirits had been drawn directly by Old Man Qin, and were now in his hands.

I feared that even if I handed over the bronze key, Old Man Qin wouldn’t keep his promise and would not return Chubby’s souls and spirits. If that happened, Chubby’s life would truly be in danger.

Worse still, if more people ended up like Chubby, Old Man Qin’s leverage would only grow heavier.

That was a situation I could not accept.

I searched the new house from top to bottom but found nothing. Frustrated, I wanted to rush to the old house, break into the secret room, and ask my awakening grandmother where she’d hidden the bronze key.

Calming myself, I realized that Grandma must have hidden the bronze key to keep it from Old Man Qin. If she knew I was about to hand it over, she would never approve.

No matter how I racked my brain, I couldn’t guess where she’d hidden it. At the same time, I wondered what Old Man Qin wanted so desperately with the bronze key.

He’d plotted for so long, taken several lives, all for a single bronze key. It was clear his plans were far more sinister.

Knowing Old Man Qin’s nature, whatever he was scheming would not bode well for anyone.

If his plan would harm even more people, then even if I found the key, should I hand it to him?

If I didn’t, his plan would be stalled, but Chubby and my mother might die.

If I did, perhaps more lives would be lost.

The situation left me torn.

Looking at my mother and Chubby lying on the floor, and Stout and Cao Guangshan standing by, I knew a decision had to be made.

Perhaps, I would have to force myself to give up on saving my mother and Chubby.