fox spirit?
Based on what he said before, I guessed a bit of it.
He asked tentatively, "You mean, that thing in your arms was a gift from a vixen?"
The middle-aged man nodded, swallowing hard. "I...I slept with her, and she...she gave me this."
I:"???"
I almost thought I misheard.
In my understanding, it's common knowledge that fox spirits and similar creatures absorb the yang energy from people.
It's not just fox spirits; all spirits that cultivate themselves need to absorb the essence of the sun and moon in order to take shape.
However, this so-called absorption of the essence of the sun and moon is far from as simple as people imagine.
It's not like in the movies, where you can just tilt your head back and inhale at the moon on a full moon night.
In fact, the essence of the sun and moon between heaven and earth contains the purest and most spiritual energy in the universe, and the process of obtaining it is extremely complex and difficult.
Spirits must use unique methods to guide their spiritual senses at specific times and locations to perceive and absorb the faint energy that exists between heaven and earth.
If this process goes wrong even slightly, all previous efforts will be wasted.
Because obtaining the essence of the sun and moon is so difficult, human yang energy becomes a more readily available "nutrient".
As the most intelligent of all beings, humans possess abundant and pure Yang energy, which is the foundation of their vitality.
But I have never heard of such a "civilized" spirit that, after absorbing a person's yang energy, would actually give them gifts.
You're lucky you didn't get killed, and you're still giving people things?
This is truly unheard of.
I stared at his trembling fingertips, my Adam's apple bobbing: "What exactly happened to you?"
The man then pulled out a crumpled cigarette box and shook out two Red Plum brand cigarettes.
"My name is Dazhu, and I work as a steel bar tying worker at a construction site in the west of the city."
Dazhu's fingers, which were holding the cigarette, trembled suddenly.
"Old Zhou, who used to work with me."
“Old Zhou is a good man in every way, except he loves to gamble. Everyone on the construction site avoids him, afraid that he will ask to borrow money. But we live in the same work shed, and his father and my father are sworn brothers. I can’t just watch him starve.”
What is Lao Zhou's full name?
I wiped the noodle soup off the table.
"Zhou Fucai".
Dazhu exhaled a smoke ring: "It sounds like a name that can make you rich, but in reality he's dirt poor. His wife thought he was useless and ran away with the kids, leaving him all alone to make a living on the construction site."
“On the fifteenth of last month, he suddenly stopped coming to tie steel bars. I felt something was wrong, so after work I went to the urban village where he rented a place.”
"The landlord said the person moved out a long time ago."
"Did you ask the landlord, Old Zhou, why he moved out?" I paused, my hand holding the cigarette still.
"I've already asked them all!"
Dazhu suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot: "The landlord said that one night, two black cars came, and several men in suits took him away. I thought he was going to have his fingers chopped off!"
“I know he borrowed money from loan sharks at underground casinos, and the interest compounded so much that it was ruthless and devastating.”
"And then?" I leaned forward slightly.
Dazhu's body trembled.
"Then, the landlord said he didn't see anything happen, but he saw Zhou Fucai get into a car with three men in black suits, saying he recognized the car logo—it was a Mercedes-Benz!"
I interjected, "And then? Why did you come back?"
Dazhu took a deep drag on his cigarette, as if to bolster his courage.
"Isn't that weird? The landlord said that in the time it takes to smoke a cigarette, the car came back! When Old Zhou got out of the car, he had a gift box in his hand, and he was bowing and scraping to those people, like he was seeing his own father!"
I frowned: "What's in the gift box?"
"Who knows!"
Dazhu suddenly raised his voice: "I asked Lao Zhou later, and he said it was tea! Do you believe that? Loan sharks would give tea to debtors?"
He lowered his voice, his Adam's apple bobbing: "What's even stranger is that the landlord told me that Lao Zhou came to check out the next day, and didn't even ask for the deposit, but just handed the landlord two packs of Zhonghua cigarettes!"
I tapped the table: "Where did he get the money?"
Dazhu's gaze suddenly drifted to the window, as if he were avoiding something unseen.
"The landlord said that when Lao Zhou checked out, he was humming a little tune, his leather shoes were polished to a shine, and his heels were not muddy. When I went to check his room, the bed was made neatly, and there was a bag under the pillow."
He suddenly fell silent, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as if someone were choking him: "I left a packet of incense ash."
I pressed further, "What incense ash?"
"It smells like a foul odor."
Dazhu's face turned deathly pale instantly, and his fingers unconsciously rubbed the edge of the bundle.
"Later I found out that it was... it was something the vixen used to mask her scent."
He suddenly coughed violently, shaking the cigarette butts in the ashtray: "Master Chen, isn't this strange? The debt collectors didn't beat him up, but instead gave him gifts; the debtor didn't hide, but instead acted like a big shot?"
The twilight outside the window had seeped into the private room at some point, and Dazhu's face looked particularly distorted in the shadows.
He suddenly grabbed my wrist, his nails almost digging into my flesh: "Master Chen, do you think this is normal? A person who owes a mountain of gambling debts is suddenly spending money like water and even calling the debt collectors brothers?"
I subtly withdrew my hand: "You found him later?"
Dazhu's face turned deathly pale instantly, as if he had remembered something terrible.
Dazhu lit another cigarette, his fingers hovering in mid-air, forgetting to put it in his mouth.
He only jerked violently when the cigarette butt sizzled and burned his hand.
"One evening not long after that incident, I was squatting in the night market eating a steamed bun when I heard someone shout 'Dazhu!'"
He slapped his thigh hard, his eyes flashing with fear and confusion: "When I looked up, I almost didn't recognize him. Old Zhou was wearing a shiny suit, a gold watch on his wrist, and had a woman with red lipstick in his arms!"
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