Chapter 12 Ghosts Are Not Rich (2)
The trunk was filled with paper money for the dead, white candles, and offerings that had been collected from everywhere. Assistant Tao's face was pale, and he walked towards Ying Zhisheng's house trembling with fear as he carried his things.
"Uncle Chengzhi, what did Brother Sheng buy these for?"
Uncle Chengzhi had asked, "Grandma Zhisheng's death anniversary is coming up in a few days, and he was worried about being delayed by activities, so he bought it in advance."
After hearing the answer, Assistant Tao breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't know what he was nervous about.
They arrived at the door of Ying Zhisheng's large, automatically cooled flat. Assistant Tao had been dreaming about a battle royale there lately, and he'd woken up in shock, hugging his wife and crying.
The boss who pays the salary said that there is no ghost, and he is living comfortably. Assistant Tao was speechless and could only smile bitterly.
As soon as he opened the door, a cold wind blew in his face, and Assistant Tao closed his eyes resignedly.
Lou Sheng seized the opportunity, floated over as soon as the door opened and tried to rush out again. Faced with failure, he just sighed, turned around and floated back to the ceiling, staring at the few people dimly.
"Brother Sheng, the thing you asked for is here." Assistant Tao shouted.
Cheng Zhi opened the plastic bag and took a look. "Wow, a lot of chocolates are imported. I remember Ying Zhisheng doesn't like sweets."
Assistant Tao laughed: "Maybe Brother Sheng's deceased grandmother loved it."
Lou Sheng, who was hanging on the ceiling, shook his head and said, "No, no, no, it's the handsome old classmate who died young who wants to eat it."
At this time, Assistant Tao finally reacted, and a chill ran down his back. He stared at Uncle Cheng Zhi with wide eyes: "Brother Sheng bought potato chips for his grandma?"
Uncle Cheng Zhi was silent for a moment, then said soothingly, "Many old naughty boys love to eat snacks, so don't think too much about it."
Assistant Tao wasn't overthinking it. He pointed at the large and small bags with trembling fingers. "No, Brother Sheng's grandmother not only eats potato chips and spicy noodles and drinks Coke, but also the chef's freshly cooked and drunken crayfish and stuffed roasted cod."
Uncle Cheng Zhi couldn't bear to watch, and he hummed against his conscience, "Yes, Zhisheng's grandma loves to eat these."
Assistant Tao opened the box and took a peek, forcing a smile. "There are also model airplanes. Grandma has a wide range of interests. She's a lifelong learner, and she's even interested in aviation machinery."
I bought the plane through connections at a military air show.
Uncle Cheng Zhi originally thought collecting model airplanes was just Ying Zhisheng's personal hobby, neatly arranged on shelves, filling up all six levels. He assumed Ying Zhisheng enjoyed it, but now he was going to burn it, which made him even more puzzled.
Lou Sheng was quite satisfied with this model. He hadn't contacted Ying Zhisheng for so many years, yet he still remembered his preferences. This buddy was worth it!
Lou Sheng floated down, surrounded the incoming tribute, and rummaged through the plastic bags, trying to find out what Ying Zhisheng had prepared.
At this moment, Assistant Tao closed his eyes and sighed, "This world is truly magical."
…
Ying Zhisheng hated Lou Sheng's black-and-white portrait. A living person like that deserved bright colors, not just his voice, shadow, and smile frozen in time.
He couldn't bear to look at Lou Sheng's portrait.
His mind drifted back to a gloomy, rainy day. Entering the mourning hall, he was greeted by white flowers and white cloth, his ears filled with the sound of hypocritical sobbing. Confused and disoriented, he met Lou Sheng's gaze from afar, his eyes curved with smiles.
Colorless and lifeless in black and white.
Ying Zhisheng felt his body rapidly decaying, his soul screaming and collapsing, about to decay. He wanted to question the heavens and demand the gods to know why! On what grounds! He would pay for what Lou Sheng had done wrong! He wanted to become a screaming madman, his eyes bloodshot and his teeth and bones clattering.
But he couldn't—
He had to take Lou Sheng away and not let him fall into the hands of those relatives with ill intentions.
The living room suddenly fell silent, the intense, unwilling pain still lingering as his thoughts drifted away. Ying Zhisheng rubbed his forehead, frowning, perhaps guessing what had happened outside.
Leaving the study and entering the living room, Ying Zhisheng saw Assistant Tao, looking pale, and Uncle Cheng Zhi, who was forcing a smile. He lowered his eyes to hide his emotions and walked over to see a bloody handprint on the snow-white wall. The blood was so fresh that it was still flowing down the wall.
Some people are always so childish.
Ying Zhisheng smiled and covered up for Lou Sheng: "I drew this handprint."
Assistant Tao couldn't help but say, "Brother, this handprint suddenly appeared in front of me and Uncle Cheng Zhi."
Ying Zhisheng looked at him quietly. Assistant Tao realized something and changed his tone: "Maybe I saw it wrong. It was you, Brother Sheng, who drew it. It's a pretty good drawing. The hand looks pretty good."
Ghosts were clearly transformed from humans, beings he longed for but could never see. Ying Zhisheng couldn't understand why Assistant Tao and the others were so terrified, avoiding them like they were a ferocious beast, wanting to hide ten meters away.
Ying Zhisheng couldn't understand them. Similarly, Assistant Tao and others also looked at Ying Zhisheng with strange eyes.
The windows were all open, letting in cool breezes. When Assistant Tao learned that they were burning paper money and offering tributes at home, his scalp tingled and he dared not think too deeply.
Wash your hands and change into white clothes. When Ying Zhisheng knelt down, Assistant Tao couldn't help but pull Uncle Cheng Zhi back a few steps.
With a click, the yellow paper was ignited by the lighter.
The room was dim, the candlelight flickering. The orange light reflected in Ying Zhisheng's eyes, which were indescribably eerie and cold.
The first few sheets of yellow paper were for wandering ghosts, and Ying Zhisheng burned a thick stack, fearing that some ghost would compete with Lou Sheng for it. He knelt on the ground, adding paper money and ghost money to the brazier, his movements neither hurried nor slow, muttering something under his breath.
Ashes swirled and drifted through the room, landing on the floor, the tables, the chairs, and Ying Zhisheng's white clothes and hair. For a moment, silence reached its utmost, broken only by the faint sound of the burning fire and Ying Zhisheng's mumbling. It was so eerie and terrifying that Assistant Tao, seeing Ying Zhisheng's earnest and devout attitude, felt his heartbeat quicken and his hair stand on end.
However, no one could see that Lou Sheng was squatting beside the blazing brazier, urging them on: "Brother Sheng! Father Sheng! Uncle Sheng! Burn it faster, just throw it all in at once! Don't burn it one by one, you won't be able to finish burning all this money even after dark."
He didn't pay attention to Ying Zhisheng's whispers. He was so anxious about the slow pace of burning the paper money that he kept repeating in Ying Zhisheng's ear, "Hurry up!"
Lou Sheng inadvertently saw Ying Zhisheng's bloodshot eyes and a frown that seemed to be in deep pain. He froze for a moment, his heart as if being tugged at by an invisible hand, the pain unbearable.
Lou Sheng came up to Ying Zhisheng and blew on his eyes: "Your eyes are irritated, right? Let me help you blow them out. If you can't stand the ash, just burn less."
"Ying Zhisheng, Ying Zhisheng, why do I feel like you're about to cry?"
This reminded Lou Sheng of a time when the internet was flooded with rumors and slander. Ying Zhisheng was also like this when he stayed up late at night to read the comments section. His eyes were red and he frowned and endured it. The fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy began to feel helpless in the face of such overwhelming malice.
At that time, they had a good relationship, and Ying Zhisheng would show Lou Sheng the obscene private messages. Lou Sheng would get angry when he saw them, and while cursing, he would create a small account to challenge those people one by one.
He was so angry at that Ying Zhisheng finally smiled, turned off his phone and the two of them continued to do their homework with sad faces.
It was a midsummer night, with a cool breeze and the chirping of cicadas. Lou Sheng remembered that the night sky during that period was irreplaceably bright and romantic.
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