Chapter Forty-One: Heavenly Sight

Cui Yue was filled with astonishment as he watched Master Huo transform his right hand from a palm into a fist. The ring on his finger shimmered with a soft, starlike glow. Master Huo struck the child's corpse at several critical points: the face, the chest, the limbs. With each blow, the ring seemed to serve as some sort of talismanic seal, leaving invisible imprints upon the body.

Strangely enough, as soon as the seals were completed, Cui Yue thought he heard a faint whistling sound, as if something had sliced through the air, yet when he looked carefully, nothing seemed amiss.

Master Huo clapped his hands together and called out, “It’s done. Let’s be on our way.”

The child's parents stood up, supporting the old grandmother, and nodded in gratitude. They turned to Cui Yue and said, “Though we met by chance, you have helped us send our child on with kindness. In the next life, he will repay this debt.”

Cui Yue waved his hands in embarrassment, refusing their thanks. Master Huo moved quickly; with a single motion, he lifted both corpse and blanket and slung them over his shoulder, striding off without waiting to see if the others would follow. As he passed Cui Yue, he murmured softly, “Young man, life and death are fated—avoid walking at night.”

With those words, he marched ahead, not looking back.

Cui Yue was left bewildered, wanting to ask more, but the odd man was already vanishing into the night. Cui Yue still had no idea where they were taking the child's body, so he called after the father, “Brother, where are you going?”

“The mortuary. The burial’s in two days.”

He watched the group grow smaller in the distance, as Master Huo’s coarse singing echoed back, fading as they went:

“In this world, in this life, a stretch of road, three gates await.
Cross the mountain, wade the river—don’t stop, don’t hesitate.
Cross the bridge, drink the soup.
Don’t forget, don’t forget—walk fast or slow, the hour will come, and only then will the journey be counted.
In this world, in this life…”

Hearing that song, Cui Yue at first found it gruff and off-key, but as he listened more closely, he realized it captured the bittersweet essence of life, the inescapable cycles of fate and retribution.

Who was this disheveled man, really? Why did every word he spoke seem to carry some deeper meaning? Cui Yue could neither guess his identity nor fathom his riddles.

The incense and paper money in the brazier had finally burned out, leaving only a pile of ash and a faint wisp of smoke. A sudden gust of wind sent shivers down Cui Yue’s spine; his damp clothes clung to his skin, making him feel even colder.

He hugged himself, uncertain where to go. So many strange events had happened lately, and he always seemed to stumble into them by ill fortune. He felt as though he’d been frightened nearly to death—unable to sleep at night, and today, he had almost lost his life altogether. Was the old man’s warning meant to keep him away from unclean things at night?

Could it be that he was one of those people said to be fated to see ghosts—those who meet spirits at the slightest provocation? Yet nothing like this had ever happened to him before. But if it was all just coincidence, how could so many bizarre things happen one after another?

This thought quickened his pace. He was determined to find out what was happening to him. Was there any way?

A sudden idea struck him, and he vanished into the depths of the night.

In the residential compound behind the supply and marketing cooperative, in the courtyard alley, Cui Yue knocked anxiously on the door of a side room. After a while, a light flickered on, and a sleepy head poked out—it was his uncle, Li Jianguo.

“Who is it? Knocking in the middle of the night?”

“It’s me, Cui Yue. Uncle, I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, Cui Yue? What could be so urgent at this hour? Can’t it wait until morning…”

Before he could finish, Cui Yue had already pulled him inside. Sitting him down at the table, Cui Yue looked serious. “Uncle, don’t you think I’ve changed lately?”

Li Jianguo rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Changed? In what way?”

Looking more closely, he saw that Cui Yue was drenched, water dripping from his pant legs. He thought, has this boy lost his mind and gone swimming in the Wei River at night?

He snapped, “Don’t tell me you went bathing in the river. You’re soaked through—there are dry clothes in my closet. Hurry and change before you catch cold.”

To his shock, Cui Yue exclaimed, “Uncle, how did you know I fell into the Wei River?”

Li Jianguo rolled his eyes—either this boy was sleepwalking or still half-asleep, babbling nonsense about the river.

“But it wasn’t by choice—I was pulled in by a water ghost.”

“What?”

Now it was Li Jianguo’s turn to be startled. At the mention of a water ghost, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Cui Yue recounted the whole incident in detail.

When he finished, Li Jianguo let out a sigh of relief. “Do you realize how lucky you were? When a water ghost claims a substitute, few survive. Thankfully, at the critical moment, a soul-binding spell drew your spirit away. Otherwise, you’d have lost your life for sure.”

Cui Yue then poured out all the other strange events that had happened to him recently, leaving Li Jianguo frowning deeply. Sensing the seriousness, he said, “If what you describe is true, then it sounds like, under certain circumstances, you encountered deathly energies, and by a twist of fate, your channels were opened, temporarily granting you the Third Eye—the ability to see spirits.”

“The Third Eye? You mean I’ve opened my Third Eye?”

“Is that such a shock? Everyone’s born with it—it just fades as you grow older.”

In Daoist and Buddhist traditions, it's called the Third Eye or the Eye of Wisdom. It's located in the center of the forehead, behind the spot between the brows, beneath the crown point. Western medicine calls it the pineal gland, said to be capable of perceiving things independently. Supposedly, children under four, having just left their mothers, still have the Third Eye open and can see things others cannot—what the old folks call ‘clear eyes.’ As people age, the Third Eye closes.

Pointing at his own forehead, Cui Yue asked doubtfully, “So you’re saying my Third Eye is open here? Does that make me like the god Erlang, with special powers like a superhero?”

Though he didn’t quite understand what the Third Eye was, he sensed it was something impressive.

“Super powers, my foot! All it means is you might see mountain spirits, ghosts, and all sorts of foul entities. With your nerves, you’re lucky you haven’t died of fright. It’s only temporary, anyway—your Third Eye might close on its own soon, and things will return to normal.”

Hearing this, Cui Yue deflated, realizing what he thought was a remarkable gift was actually useless. If it was only temporary, that was fine, but what if it didn’t close? Would he see ghosts day and night until he went mad?

Seeing his nephew’s look of disdain, Li Jianguo quickly added, “Of course, it’s not completely useless. For you, it may not be much help, but for someone like me, it would be extremely valuable.”