sinovels Chapter 33 Haunted House
Chapter 33 Haunted House
The two went out, with the matchmaker leading the way. He walked briskly and kept talking. Knowing that Song Quyou was from out of town and had just arrived in Qiantang, he introduced the local customs and culture of Qiantang County along the way, which snacks were delicious, which river had the fattest fish, which restaurants were cheap and affordable, and which had the most beautiful scenery.
Song Quyou responded half-heartedly, his gaze wandering through the streets and alleys.
Once outside the North Gate, the number of pedestrians gradually decreased, and the hustle and bustle was left behind in the city.
A narrow stone path winds northward, lined with weeping willows. Though it is winter and the willow branches are bare, one can imagine their green tendrils draped over the water in spring. At the end of the path, on a low hill, a temple with red walls and black tiles is faintly visible. Wisps of smoke rise from the upturned eaves, and the melodious sound of an ancient bell occasionally drifts through the air.
The house is located at the foot of the mountain, a detached house with its own courtyard, separated from the nearest neighbor by a bamboo grove.
Fang Yazi's hands trembled slightly as he took out his keys to unlock the door.
The door lock opened, and the hinges creaked loudly, a startling sound. Song Quyou went inside, and the broker followed hesitantly.
The courtyard was indeed large, with smooth blue bricks, but it had been uninhabited for a long time, with moss growing in the corners of the walls and several unidentifiable grasses sprouting from the cracks in the stone steps.
There was a main room inside, and a side room on each side. The paint on the windows and doors was still fresh, only covered in dust.
The front yard was spacious, with a plum tree whose branches were full of crimson buds. The back yard was a vegetable garden cultivated by the previous owner, next to which was a well covered with moss, but it was now abandoned and surrounded by withered grass. There was also a back door in the back yard, through which was a bamboo grove, standing tall and green on the hillside.
Song Quyou pushed open the door to the main hall. There was no musty smell inside, and it was spotless with the furniture arranged very neatly.
After glancing around, Song Quyou smiled faintly at the uneasy housekeeper standing in the courtyard.
"This room looks strange; it's like it was just cleaned."
"It's good that it's been cleaned. This way, you won't have to go through any more trouble once you've moved in."
suddenly.
The door to the main hall slammed shut with a deafening sound, so loud that the housekeeper in the courtyard collapsed to his knees in the center of the yard.
"I just don't understand, don't I look like a Taoist priest? What were you thinking, selling me a haunted house?"
"Sir, you flatter me. This house is probably cleaned by someone hired by the owner. I'm a local and have never heard of any haunted houses in the area. Besides, there's a Buddhist temple right next to the house. Buddha is watching over us from above; how could he tolerate such a little ghost running amok?"
The broker's lips moved quickly, but he couldn't hide the cold sweat dripping down his forehead.
Song Quyou didn't rush to expose him, but just looked at Fang Yazi with a half-smile, tapping his fingers lightly on the hilt of his sword.
"You paid me this house for the same price you paid back then. When I've had enough of living here and want to travel around, I'll sell it back to you at the same price. That way, it'll be easier for you to sell it next time, since a Taoist priest once lived here and there are no more ghosts or monsters."
Suddenly, all the doors to the three rooms opened, startling Fang Yazi so much that he trembled.
The housekeeper, who wanted to say something more, stood trembling in the courtyard.
When the furniture started being dragged around the room, the house broker finally couldn't hold on any longer and said in a trembling voice, "I spent a total of one hundred taels on this house. If you want it, Daoist, one hundred taels will do. I'll give you the deed right now."
Song Quyou ignored the furniture moving around behind him and the door opening and closing haphazardly.
He tossed a bulging money bag into the broker's arms. "Exactly one hundred taels. Count it."
The broker hurriedly grabbed the money bag, not even bothering to count it, stuffed it into his pocket, put down the house deed, and headed out. As he reached the door, he glanced back at Song Quyou, hesitated, and finally jogged away, disappearing at the end of the bluestone path.
Song Quyou stepped forward, picked up the house deed, folded a blade of grass over it, looked at the strange three rooms, and said, "I have already bought this house. You can continue to live here."
But we have three rules: first, you mustn't damage the house; second, you must share the housework; and third, you mustn't disturb my rest.
As soon as Song Quyou finished speaking, the doors to the three rooms opened and closed even more violently, and the furniture inside rushed out even faster.
Clearly, these guys who dared not show themselves had no intention of giving him face.
Song Quyou activated his sword technique, and the sharp sword energy rising from his body surged and spread throughout the courtyard, scattering weeds and pushing up clouds of mud wherever it went.
The commotion in the courtyard suddenly stopped.
The furniture inside was arranged, and the door was gently closed, creating a harmonious atmosphere in the house.
Song Quyou withdrew his sword aura, stood with his hands behind his back, glanced around the courtyard, picked up the long sword from the ground, pushed open the door to the main hall, and said, "I'll stay in this room from now on."
……
Late at night, I made the bed.
Song Quyou pushed open the window leading to the backyard, and by the light of the moon, his brush flew across the paper as he wrote symbols that only the gods could understand on the yellow talismans.
In the backyard, by the well, a group of tiny figures, no bigger than a thumb, were peering over the well opening, calling out in soft voices, "Well girl, wake up! Your home has been taken over!"
Under the moonlight, the old well covered with moss began to stir.
In the deep well, the surface of the water rippled even without wind, and circles of ripples spread from the bottom of the well, disturbing the full moon and making it seem as if something that had been sleeping for a long time was awakening.
People the size of a thumb stepped back, and when they saw a pale white hand touching the edge of the well, they forgot to breathe for a moment.
Those hands were unnaturally white, an unusual color for a living person, with dampness clinging to their fingers as they gripped the cracks in the well's edge.
Immediately afterwards, a head popped out of the well.
It's a girl.
She looked like a young girl of sixteen or seventeen, with her long, wet hair plastered to her cheeks. She wore a light green dress, the fabric of which was as thin as a cicada's wing and was soaked through with water, clinging to her body in a semi-transparent way.
The girl by the well was still sleepy and a little drowsy; she seemed to be a girl who loved to sleep. She leaned against the well's edge, her pale hands scratching her messy, wet hair, and mumbled sleepily:
"Whose home is this?"
Those people, each no bigger than a thumb, chattered away, one after another.
The girl tilted her head and blinked, seemingly not fully awake yet. She yawned, and steam rose from her lips, condensing into a white mist in the cold night.
"That's the Taoist priest drawing talismans by the front window. He's incredibly powerful with his sword aura. Just by standing there, he can cut all the grass in the front yard."
They even laid out some kind of three-point agreement: first, no damaging the house; second, we'll share the housework; and third, we won't disturb his rest, and so on.
Miss Jing scratched her hair, rubbed her sleepy eyes, yawned, and finally woke up. She looked up at Song Quyou, who was drawing talismans under the window in front of her.
A pair of misty eyes, as deep as a still pool, were now rippling with emotion, like the moon's reflection on a calm surface disturbed by the waves, unable to find peace for a moment.
The girl's fair skin slowly turned pink, and white steam began to rise from her wet head. At this moment, she was like a bubbling kettle boiling over.
The girl suddenly ducked into the deep well, clutching her chest, only half of her head above her nose visible. She stood there, stunned, silent, yet filled with surprise and shock.
She didn't know what this feeling was, only that she was a little shy, her heart was beating fast, and she couldn't calm it down. Her mind was filled with the image of the Taoist priest, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't forget it, but she couldn't bear to forget it either, and wanted to remember it even more firmly.