Chapter 118: The Instructor Parts His Hair

After being discharged from the hospital, Song Zhong went off to attend to some business, and I walked home alone.

Wearing sunglasses and a cigarette dangling from my lips, I looked up at the sky. I had spoken with my grandfather on the phone, but he showed no concern for my injuries or what had happened to me. He didn't say a single word about sending Song Zhong to save me; instead, he only reminded me to collect payment whenever it was due and warned me not to be a pushover.

When I asked about that old hag, Grandfather gave me only a name. He told me she was a demonic woman living in Linfeng and that I should stay far away from her because I was not yet her match. I wanted to ask more, but he had no intention of telling me anything else. He also reminded me that I only had one talisman left, and I wouldn't be so lucky next time.

I hung up the phone and let out a long sigh. That’s my dear grandfather for you.

When I returned to the shop, I realized I hadn't been back for a full month. Both the shop and my living quarters were spotless. Even my electric scooter had been cleaned until it looked brand new. I sat on my bed, staring blankly at everything around me.

Just then, the sound of an engine cutting out echoed from outside, followed by footsteps.

"Hey? Jiang Huai? Why didn't you wait for me to pick you up?"

I walked out to see Song Zhong. He was wearing a suit and black leather shoes, his hair parted neatly down the middle. At first glance, I felt like I didn't even recognize him.

I looked at him, bewildered, and asked, "Why on earth did you make yourself look like this?"

"Don't you think this is how we should look?" Song Zhong explained that all the other shop owners looked this way. He had recently read a book where the protagonist, who did the same work as us, also dressed the part.

"You look like a drill sergeant, not a professional," I retorted.

Song Zhong didn't seem to care; he thought his hairstyle looked quite good. He didn't dwell on the topic, instead pulling a bank card from his pocket and handing it to me. He said it was the payment from Song Baoguo and that he hadn't touched a penny of it—it was public funds. I asked if he had seen Song Baoguo, and he said yes, though there wasn't much interaction; he had simply returned Song Chao.

I nodded, not asking further questions. After all, it was their family business. What surprised me most was the Mercedes E300 parked at the door. He said he had bought it used, and the rear window was already plastered with the name and contact information for the Jiang Huai Funeral Services. He reiterated that I should find time to get my driver's license as soon as possible. But I still felt my electric scooter was easier to ride; at least I didn't have to worry about parking.

"Let's go. We've got a job. I came back to pick up some tools, but since you're here, I'll just follow your lead and learn the ropes."

"A job?"

"Yeah! Oh, I forgot to tell you. Based on the phone call, it sounds like someone is being haunted. This is my first time, and I was worried I wouldn't handle it well, but now that you're back, I feel much more confident."

I nodded. Business is business, after all. I instinctively reached for my keys to take the scooter, but he snatched them away, packed my gear, and ushered me into the passenger seat of his car.

"707, Building 39, Jinqiupu Residential Area, 76 Huaguang Road."

When we arrived, Song Zhong knocked on the door. It was opened by a middle-aged man with a thick beard; his eye bags were deep and his eyes were bloodshot. He was gaunt to the point of being skin and bones—standing over 1.7 meters tall, he looked like he weighed less than a hundred pounds.

The man looked at Song Zhong and me, then suddenly grabbed Song Zhong’s arm and sank to his knees. "Please, Mr. Song! Please, save my wife!"

Song Zhong, having never encountered such a situation, supported the man but didn't know what to say, casting a pleading look at me.

"Get up, sir, please get up. Let’s go inside and talk!"

I was the last to enter, closing the door behind me. As soon as I stepped in, I instinctively pinched my nose; the air was thick with the mixed stench of alcohol and cigarettes. The place was in complete disarray, lacking any decent furniture. The only clean thing was a wedding photo hanging on the wall. The man in the picture hadn't been this thin—he looked quite handsome, and his wife was beautiful.

Looking around, I noticed there wasn't a single trace of a woman having lived there.

"Mr. Qin, please take it slow. I don't know what to do if you keep going like this," Song Zhong said, trying to calm him down. "Didn't you say you were being haunted? Why are you asking me to save your wife?"

"It’s my wife! She’s come back to find me! Please, Mr. Song, save her!"