Father Tang came down the stairs and sized up Qin Jiu. Seeing that he was wearing a Taoist robe, he asked, “Are you Daoist Qin?”
Qin Jiu stood up and nodded. “Yes.”
Father Tang glanced around. “Where are my daughter’s remains now?” His tone was calm, not as Qin Jiu had imagined. He did not seem to care much about Tang Guo’s life or death.
Realizing this instantly, Qin Jiu’s smile faded slightly. “They are placed elsewhere. I couldn’t very well carry them in openly.”
“That makes sense.” Father Tang sat on the sofa. “How much compensation do you require, Daoist Qin? I will have someone purchase a burial plot in a few days. Then I’ll trouble you to take her directly there and bury her.”
Qin Jiu glanced at Tang Guo floating nearby and hesitated. “Just a simple burial?”
“What else does Daoist Qin suggest?”
Qin Jiu frowned. “Tang Guo died unjustly. She needs to be guided in a ritual. A mourning hall should be set up at home to welcome her return. Wouldn’t it be too hasty to handle it this way, Mr. Tang?” In truth, Qin Jiu was deliberately saying this. Father Tang’s demeanor suggested he did not care whether Tang Guo returned or not.
“A mourning hall at home?”
A female voice came from upstairs. A beautiful woman carrying an infant walked down. “Impossible. How can we do something so unlucky in the house? Husband,” she called to Father Tang, “our son was just born not long ago. How can we set up a mourning hall? What if the yin energy affects him?”
“And this is?” Qin Jiu asked.
“My wife.”
Father Tang quickly helped the woman to the sofa and patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’ll just have someone buy a burial plot for her. I’ll leave everything to Daoist Qin. We won’t set up a mourning hall at home.”
A heaviness sank into Qin Jiu’s heart. He instinctively looked at Tang Guo, only to see her smiling faintly. She floated behind him and whispered softly, “That woman isn’t my mother. Help me investigate what happened these past few years. As for the remains, take them away. There’s no need to place them here.”
After speaking, she floated up and hung by the television, still wearing a smile. Seeing that smile, Qin Jiu felt uncomfortable. They would not even give her a simple ritual of welcome. He wondered whether she felt disappointed.
“This lady is not Tang Guo’s biological mother, is she?”
The woman’s face darkened. “Daoist, do you know how to speak? Do I look that old?”
“Then I will need to inform Tang Guo’s mother. She has the right to know.”
The woman’s expression became unpleasant, but Father Tang spoke first. “After Xiao Guo disappeared, her mother had a car accident while searching for her and passed away.”
“Let’s go, Qin Jiu.”
Qin Jiu nodded lightly and stood up. “Sorry for the disturbance, Mr. Tang.”
“Daoist, you haven’t said how much compensation you need to handle Xiao Guo’s funeral. We truly can’t have unlucky things in this house. My son was just born.”
Qin Jiu said coldly, “Mr. Tang does not welcome her. Then I will take her elsewhere for burial.” With that, he left without looking back.
Father Tang did not try to stop him. The woman beside him curled her lips. “Husband, what did he mean?”
“It meant nothing.” Father Tang smiled indifferently and stroked the infant in the woman’s arms. “The dead cannot compare to the living.”
The woman glanced in the direction Qin Jiu had left and smiled deeply. Yes, the dead could not compare to the living.
Tang Guo saw the strange smile on the woman’s face and fell into thought.
“I’ll choose a good burial place with favorable feng shui for you,” Qin Jiu said as they walked down the street. “What kind of place do you like?”
“Burial plots are expensive.”
“I have some savings.”
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