“That’s about it. After all, there are many of us and our Yang energy is strong. Today, we used the Dragon Boat Festival to suppress it and used water-soaked willow branches to sweep away the Yin energy here.”
“Now, this Chen Ping has agreed not to trouble you anymore.”
“Don’t be stingy either. Burn more paper money and ingots, and every year during the Qingming Festival, prepare some offerings. He shouldn't cause any more trouble after that.”
Master He stroked his beard.
“Roosters love ghost blood most. Wherever a ghost stops, it pecks with its beak, and the ghost can't escape.”
“It’s actually just like an ancient negotiation. Talk terms first; if it works out, everyone is happy and willing. If terms can't be reached, it's not too late to start a fight.”
Manager Huang looked at the smoke-filled office and then at the crowd of onlookers holding up their phones to record. He couldn't help but give a bitter smile.
If he hadn't been pushed to his limit by the disturbances, he wouldn't have been willing to engage in these superstitious practices.
Every morning, a layer of rotting dead sparrows would be lying under the company's money tree.
Checking the surveillance footage was useless.
The footage was even more terrifying.
In the middle of the night, computers would turn on by themselves, and keyboards would make crisp “clack-clack” sounds as if someone were typing on them.
The printer was even more sinister. Not only would it start working on its own, but it would also spit out documents that didn't belong to their company.
He had finally managed to hire a master who seemed to have genuine skills, but the matter hadn't been completely resolved.
In novels and TV shows, when a master encounters a harmful ghost, don't they usually just make its soul dissipate?
At the very least, they should chant sutras to guide it to the afterlife.
What was this supposed to be?
Just a vague guarantee that it wouldn't cause trouble in the future?
Manager Huang couldn't help but feel a bit resentful.
Since the master was so powerful, why didn't he just beat the ghost until its soul shattered?
“What are you thinking? You've watched too many TV shows, haven't you?”
Master He was an old fox; how could he not see what Manager Huang was thinking?
He couldn't help but say irritably:
“You know better than I do how he died.”
“A person who dies a violent death has a breath of air stuck in them. When they die, they can't spit it out and they can't swallow it. It gets trapped in the throat and slowly turns into ‘resentful energy.’”
“Suicides like this are especially full of resentment, and they are exceptionally fierce when they act up.”
“It’s best that he’s agreed to live in peace now. If I truly backed him into a corner, wouldn't he fight me to the death?”
“At that time, not only would your company lose several lives, but even my old bones might be broken here.”
When he mentioned the word “suicide,” Master He deliberately lowered his voice.
It was as if he were afraid of being overheard by someone—or something.
Manager Huang nodded in agreement, though no one knew what he was actually thinking.
“I’m telling you, don’t think I’m just being alarmist.”
“In this world, fooling people is easy. Fooling a ghost—especially a difficult one like this—is just asking for death.”
Master He patiently gave a few more instructions, tapping his aching shoulders.
“In the future, tell your employees to try not to spread news about this person anymore. Talk less and gossip less.”
“After all, no one knows if an invisible ‘friend’ is listening along while you’re talking about these things.”
“And then, try not to disturb his peace. The company should have less overtime and fewer late nights.”
“Heaven and earth are divided into day and night, just as they are divided into Yin and Yang. The day belongs to humans, and the night, of course, belongs to ghosts.”
“If there’s truly no choice and you must work late, then act as if you don’t know about this. If you hear any sounds, just ignore them.”
“With reverence in your heart, you'll be fine in the end.”
The actions he had just taken seemed simple, but they had consumed a lot of his physical strength.
He would probably need to rest well for a while after returning.
Manager Huang’s expression worsened.
He could understand the part about not gossiping.
After all, there was an old saying that those who talk about ghosts often are more likely to encounter them.
But what was this about not working overtime?
In a company as large as his, was it really going to be impossible for employees to work overtime from now on because of this?
But thinking about it carefully, no overtime was better than losing lives.
If the annual rent here wasn't hundreds of thousands, Manager Huang would have tried to persuade the boss to change the company's location no matter what.
Even if the ghost really didn't harm people, who wouldn't be afraid knowing a suicide victim was wandering the office all year round, spending day and night with them?
While you were typing on your keyboard, it would be standing behind you, watching.
While you were staring at your phone to slack off, it would be blowing air onto your neck.
When you went to the bathroom, it would be crouching on the ceiling peeking at you, letting out a secret, smug laugh.
It might even be in the same room as you, perhaps even perched on your shoulders, greedily gulping down the breath that belongs to the living.
Hand in hand, face to face, intimate and inseparable.
Just thinking about it made Manager Huang’s skin crawl with goosebumps.
A few very quiet cheers erupted from the crowd.
They likely came from the advertising company's employees.
“That’s it? That felt kind of boring.”
“Bro, what did you want to see? Did you want a fierce ghost to jump in your face like in a horror movie before you’d be satisfied?”
“All this mystical stuff, burning paper money and scattering rice... feels like a scammer.”
“But he suggested no overtime.”
“Oh my god, he’s a living saint!!”
“Why doesn't a ghost come to our office to stir things up? I’m working overtime every single day now, and my hair is falling out in clumps!”
In the crowd, the onlookers were talking all at once, their discussion exceptionally heated.
They hadn't even noticed that it was already well past the time they should have started work.
“What are you looking at so intently? Did you see a ghost?”
“Should I talk to that master and ask him to take you on as an apprentice?”
Zhang Qiuyu nudged Nan Zhi with her elbow, joking.
“I was thinking about what toys to buy for my hamster at home. Don't you know? I recently got a pet.”
Nan Zhi moved her gaze away from the ceiling and spoke slowly.
This wasn't over.
She had seen it clearly just now.
Master He’s “ritual” had worked a bit, but not much.
Chen Ping was very afraid of the rooster and the willow branches. At first, he had been beaten into hiding inside the ceiling, refusing to show his head.
But later on, he didn't seem to fear those things anymore.
Chen Ping had been relentlessly chasing after Manager Huang’s heels, and in the end, he had even perched directly on Master He’s shoulders.
A slightly chubby middle-aged male ghost, riding on a white-bearded old man.
No matter how many times she saw this bizarre scene, it was an eyesore.
Nan Zhi closed her eyes in slight pain.
Fortunately, Chen Ping’s ghost seemed to have taken Master He’s words to heart in the end, and he had rolled back into the ceiling.
A male colleague nearby curled his lip, seemingly disappointed:
“I thought there’d be something exciting to see. After all that, it was just an old man doing a shamanic dance.”
“Don't they say people who commit suicide become fierce ghosts? If you ask me, this guy was just a loser. He wasn't tough when he was alive, and now he's harming people as a ghost after he's dead—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Nan Zhi knew things were going south.
Sure enough.
Chen Ping, his face covered in blood, poked half his head out from the ceiling, his two hollow eyes staring fixedly at the man.
In the next second, the lights in the stairwell flickered. The lightbulb directly above the male colleague exploded with a loud “bang!”
“Ah!”
“What’s going on!”
“Holy crap!”
“Hey, hey, hey?!”
The crowd instantly erupted into screams.
Rate on N.U.
