Chapter 5: The Calamity of the Xu Family

I understood the meaning in the middle-aged man's eyes and walked inside as the curtain closed behind me.

"Dr. Qin, is it? Thank you for saving my husband, truly, thank you so much," the elegant woman said, first glancing at the nameplate on my chest, then expressing her gratitude with some emotion.

It was obvious that this family was either wealthy or powerful, but I had my own dignity and pride. I replied indifferently, "A healer’s compassion—saving the dying and healing the wounded is my duty."

"Pfft..." The sound came from the young girl, who turned her head away in disdain, clearly regarding my words as a joke.

"Bao’er... cough, mind your manners..." the middle-aged man managed to utter, struggling.

"Alright, Dad, don’t get worked up. I’ll keep quiet," the girl quickly responded, pulling out her phone and sitting aside to play with it.

I gave the girl a deep look and noticed a faint black mark behind her ear, invisible to most people. I sneered inwardly and couldn’t be bothered with her. If it had been before, I might have gone to great lengths to win her over, making her sing her surrender in bed. But now, with her whole family entangled with malevolent spirits, I had no interest in meddling.

"You’ve injured your lung; best not to speak for half a month. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave. The following treatment will naturally be handled by more specialized departments," I said, turning to go.

"Dr. Qin... please... cough cough cough..." The middle-aged man became agitated, launching into a fit of coughing.

His wife hurriedly grabbed my hand, pleading, "Dr. Qin, please, stay a moment."

I had a rough idea of what was going on. This man probably knew something about his condition, and when I had used the needle to pierce his Yang-gathering point, he had likely been conscious.

"If you can move your hand, write on the erasable sketch board," I said, staying a bit longer.

Initially, after noticing this family's peculiarity, I hadn't planned to get involved. But just now, I’d sensed a white thread extending from the Eye of the Underworld Dragon at my chest, splitting into three and entwining itself with this family.

A black line was a Yin thread, a white line a Yang thread.

If the Yin thread with the female ghost was formed from certain unspeakable acts that entangled our karma, then this Yang thread must have come from needling this man's Yang-gathering point—forcing his ghostly eye to close, thus creating a karmic link.

"Hui Xiang, Bao’er, please step outside. I have something to discuss with Dr. Qin in private," the middle-aged man wrote on the sketch board.

His wife hesitated but eventually left, taking her reluctant daughter with her.

The man first introduced himself on the sketch board, and only then did I realize that his background was indeed impressive.

His name was Xu Baoguo, a renowned real estate tycoon in Linjiang. He also represented several internationally famous jewelry brands and was a prominent figure throughout North Chuan Province.

Though I’d never met him before, his name was well-known. Even the new inpatient wing of the First People’s Hospital, currently under construction, was donated by him. No wonder even Director Ma treated him with such deference.

"Master, please save me," Xu Baoguo wrote with agitation, his form of address shifting abruptly.

"Your life is no longer in danger," I said.

"Master, when you used the needle on my head to trap that evil entity, I was fully aware. I beg you, please save my family—no matter the cost, I am willing," Xu Baoguo wrote, looking at me with pleading eyes.

To be honest, having a figure of his stature beseech me so humbly was quite satisfying.

"We’ll see. If it’s within my power, I will help. If not, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do," I replied frankly. In this field, I was still a rookie and wouldn’t take on a life-threatening job, not even for karma’s sake.

Xu Baoguo began to write out the events from the beginning.

Twenty years ago, after saving a Feng Shui master, Xu Baoguo received guidance that led to his rise in business, growing wealthier and more successful each year.

But last year, he received a letter from that Feng Shui master, saying he’d been gravely injured by an old enemy and had little time left. The master advised him to transfer all his assets abroad to a mysterious person to erase all traces and save his own life.

Naturally, Xu Baoguo was skeptical. He tried to verify the story but found no proof. Besides, his tale with the Feng Shui master was well-known in his social circles—often just a topic for idle conversation.

So, he dismissed it as a scam.

But afterward, his health deteriorated, and misfortune began to plague him. Strange incidents occurred around him.

At that point, he could no longer ignore it.

He started seeking out various priests and monks known for exorcising evil, but most turned out to be frauds.

Last month, he finally found a true master, and his health began to improve.

However, a recent car accident claimed the life of the master who’d been riding with him.

When I used the needle technique on his Yang-gathering point, identical to that master’s, Xu Baoguo became convinced that I too possessed real abilities.

Hearing this, I felt a chill. If a true master had died, what chance did a novice like me stand? This was not a case I should take on.

I immediately decided to back out, forcing a wry smile. "I’m sorry, Mr. Xu. My skills are inadequate for such responsibility. You’d best find someone more capable."

Without waiting for Xu Baoguo’s pleading gaze, I walked out.

As soon as I left, his wife and daughter rushed back in.

"Baoguo, Baoguo, what’s wrong?" Zhang Huixiang asked urgently.

"Is it that Qin fellow? I’ll go speak to Director Ma and have him fired," Xu Bao’er declared loudly.

Xu Baoguo grabbed each of them by the hand, then released them and wrote on the sketch board: "Go plead for his help. Use any means necessary. If not, the destruction of our family is imminent."

Mother and daughter exchanged a stunned look.

...

A few days after the first snow, it began to fall again.

This time the snowfall was even heavier, piling up half a meter deep overnight.

I trudged through the snow-filled alleys of Jiangdong District in Linjiang. The houses here were old, built two or three decades ago. Besides a few long-time residents, most units were rented out to outsiders, as most locals had moved to the new district across the river.

"This is the one," I confirmed, looking up before entering a five-story old apartment building.

Each staircase served eight units, with shared bathrooms. The stairwells and corridors were cluttered with miscellaneous items; each household’s kitchen occupied part of the corridor.

"Excuse me, madam, do you know which unit He Xiaobing lives in?" I stopped a woman who must have been in her fifties or sixties, clad in a floral dress and silk stockings, and asked with a smile.

Truth be told, I’d doubted the address I’d painstakingly tracked down. He Wenjing’s style didn’t suggest poverty—her poise was that of a well-bred girl, and attending a conservatory wasn’t something a poor family could afford.

Sure enough, when I called her "madam," her wrinkles seemed to smooth with pleasure.

"You’re looking for He Xiaobing? That gambler—last I heard, after a bad loss, he grabbed a knife and killed someone. He’s been taken to the station," she said.

My heart skipped a beat. No wonder He Wenjing’s body hadn’t been claimed by family after her fatal accident and was still in the morgue.

"What? That bastard killed someone? What about the money he owes my family… By the way, madam, does he have any other family?" I wailed, pounding my chest in feigned distress.

"He has a daughter, I hear she’s at some music conservatory. A real beauty. But don’t go troubling the girl," she said.

"Of course not."

With careful questioning, I managed to learn more. He Xiaobing had long since divorced his wife and raised his daughter alone. They used to live in an upscale new district, but after he got hooked on gambling and lost everything—even their home—this place was lent to him by a distant relative out of pity.

Leaving the dilapidated building, I pondered how I might meet He Xiaobing—a murder suspect wasn’t so easy to visit.

My parents had passed away early, and I had no relatives in Linjiang. Although I’d built a few connections during my internship, none were in the police force.

At that moment, I thought of a woman.

"Do I really have to go to her?" I hesitated.

Her name was Chi Yun, in her early thirties, with a striking figure and extraordinary poise.

We had met in a bar. She’d been in a bad mood that night, drinking alone. I’d considered approaching her, but before I made a move, a few men who went to harass her ended up with broken limbs. Like many other men on the prowl that night, I promptly abandoned any ideas.

But before I could leave, she approached me, glass in hand, her expression hazy.