Chapter 104: The Figure in the Painting

This was a portrait painting depicting a man clad in full armor, wielding a long-handled broadsword. Behind him, it seemed, were countless troops and horses, with him as their commander.

The scroll measured about a meter in length and no more than thirty centimeters in width. The paper had long since yellowed, indicating its age.

I called Zhu Zihao over to identify the figure. I asked him who the man in the painting was, but he replied that he didn’t know.

“No seal, no signature—paintings like this aren’t worth much,” I said.

“Can I have it then?” I asked.

Zhu Zihao was surprisingly straightforward, readily agreeing. “Sure, you can take it. But now that you mention it, it’s a bit odd. My grandmother was from a wealthy family—why would she hang a battle scene like this in her room?”

Carefully, I took down the painting and placed it on the floor, then wiped the dust off the glass cover and asked, “Don’t you find the man in this painting somewhat familiar?”

“Hm?” He leaned in for a closer look, then was equally shocked, stammering, “Isn’t this Shi Gandang?”

Indeed, Zhu Zihao recognized him too. The man’s expression in the painting radiated bravery and strength. His features were depicted with vivid precision. At first glance, I thought he looked like Pangzi. If only I had thought so, it might have been a personal illusion, but all three of us agreed. Could that really be a coincidence?

When I thoroughly cleaned the painting and brought it into the living room, more details began to emerge.

“Look at that thing in his right hand,” I said.

In the painting, the man held the broadsword firmly planted on the ground with his left hand, while his right hand was raised, holding something that resembled a spiritual tablet or a seal. I carefully examined his features and compared them to the image of Pangzi in my mind. His height, build, and appearance all matched perfectly. The artist left no name or inscription, so this beautiful piece was practically meaningless to me.

Perhaps sensing the awkwardness between me and Cha Wenbin, Zhu Zihao quickly smoothed things over: “Just a coincidence!” Before coming here, I had told him about Pangzi’s situation, only mentioning an accident. He probably understood.

I quickly changed the topic: “Yes, a coincidence. Wenbin, what do you think of this house? Is it clean or not?”

“The location is good—open views, halfway up the mountain, with water to the front and support behind,” Wenbin said, then shifted tone. “But this house is missing one thing: a protective talisman. If you hang a proper ancestral painting in the main hall, it’ll feel much cleaner within three days.”

“You’re joking, master. This is Hong Kong; nobody hangs ancestral paintings here.”

In traditional Chinese culture, ancestral paintings are an essential part of the home. Even today, many rural families hang one—sometimes a portrait of a great ancestor, sometimes a landscape. They usually hang it on the interior wall opposite the main door, signaling to restless spirits that this is a good, inhabited home.

But Hong Kong residents rarely use ancestral paintings, especially in villas. Hanging such portraits would disrupt the architectural aesthetics. Usually, they substitute with protective stones or folding screens.

Still, Zhu Zihao’s villa’s living room lacked these protections, so Cha Wenbin wasn’t surprised that some unclean presence lingered. According to him, the house had been unoccupied for many years. No matter how good the materials, a home left empty for too long will never feel clean.

Wenbin suggested, “It’s hard to tell in the daytime. Let me stay here overnight; then I’ll know for sure.”

“No problem. We were planning to book hotel rooms for the two of you anyway…” I said.

Seeing him still trying to act like a wealthy heir, I cut him off. “Come on, stop pretending. Hotels, huh? Got food? Want me to get some?”

“We do, but I can’t cook.”

“Damn!”

The three of us sat by the seaside villa, eating plain noodle soup—a somewhat amusing scene. During the meal, Zhu Zihao told us about his grandmother. She was also a noblewoman in her youth. After the war defeat, she fled from Beiping to Hong Kong, where she married his grandfather. His grandfather’s most beloved woman was her, though all the photos left were of her veiled. Zhu Zihao had never seen her true face, but people who had known his grandfather said she was a stunning beauty.

“All I know is her surname was Jiang. I don’t even know her real name. I guess that’s pretty unfilial of me.”

“You little bastard, definitely a jerk. You’ve eaten and drunk, so, Master Zhu, where do you plan for us to sleep tonight?”

“There are plenty of rooms, pick whichever you like. But there’s one thing to discuss first—can I sleep in the same room as you guys tonight?”

I laughed, “You scared?”

“A bit. Last night was the first time I stayed here, but I kept feeling like there was something under the bed, and I vaguely heard a woman crying. Hey, we’re brothers; no shame in admitting it. If things weren’t so bad, I wouldn’t dare stay here.”

Cha Wenbin asked, “Which room did you stay in last night?”

“The west side of the second floor, the sunny room. It was originally my grandfather’s room, then my father’s for a while.”

“Alright, we’ll stay there tonight too.”

The suite was large, with its own bathroom, decorated in a classic European style—dark red wood paired with antique bronze furnishings. In one word: luxurious.

Inside the room was a large bed and a sofa set. Wenbin patted the sofa and said, “I’ll sleep here tonight. You two take the bed. Oh, and take this—it’s to put under your pillows.” He handed each of us a small red cloth pouch. I squeezed mine; there was something inside. Zhu Zihao was about to open his when Wenbin said, “Don’t. If you open it, you won’t sleep well tonight.” The kid hurriedly hid it under his pillow.

Hong Kong nights never sleep. The window was half-open, the warm sea breeze mingling with the distant whistle of ships, creating a tranquil atmosphere. But the snoring coming from beside me ruined it all. Tossing and turning, I couldn’t sleep, so I dressed and prepared to step out for a smoke.

“Where are you going?”

“You’re not asleep either?”

Wenbin said, “Better not go out. I set up lines outside. This place really isn’t clean.”

So I sat on the sofa, lit a cigarette, and asked, “What do you mean? Didn’t you say it wasn’t a big deal during the day?”

“I was just trying not to scare him.” Wenbin rolled over and sat up. “The negative energy here is heavier than I imagined. This place was originally perfect for a home, but it’s been empty too long. Those strange entities must have taken it as an abandoned graveyard. Even in broad daylight my compass wouldn’t stop spinning. The room on the third floor is right above us; I don’t need to go up to know there’s more than one presence.”

“Does that make this a haunted house?”

“Basically, yes. The biggest problem is the number of unnatural deaths here. The older the house, the worse it tends to be. They say every child born here dies young. I believe it’s no coincidence. Since he wants to sell the place, whoever takes it on will be unlucky. You should try to sleep now. When it gets late, I’ll go up and check it out. I expect something will happen tonight.”

“After you say that, how can I sleep? Let me come with you.”

“You scared?”

“No.”

Since my eyesight had started failing, I’d grown more timid. Following Wenbin upstairs, I clung tightly to his hand, moving cautiously.

“Thump, thump.” The sound of shoes on the floor echoed in the house. Wenbin held only a fire striker; it was pitch black everywhere. I felt like a pair of eyes were watching me, and I wanted to stop and find them.

“Don’t look back!” Wenbin whispered. “Looking back can stir up spirits; your mind’s unsettled.”

“How do you know? I’m really scared.” I guessed my heartbeat was already around 130, my whole body uneasy. I even regretted coming.

Wenbin handed me something. In the darkness, I couldn’t see it, but the moment I held it, a cool sensation flowed through me, instantly calming me.

He said, “When your mind’s unsettled, the spirits can take advantage. These things prey on weakness. As the saying goes, ghosts fear people seventy percent, people fear ghosts thirty percent. Stand tall and strong, with a fiery spirit, and even a thousand-year-old demon can’t touch you.”

“What is this you gave me?”

“An ancient jade piece. It used to hang beneath the Daoist order’s official talisman and has accompanied successive leaders for over a thousand years. After the talisman was destroyed, only this jade remained. My master hung it around my neck when I was young. I see your energy is chaotic; this might help calm you.”

“Such a storied object. No wonder I feel better.”

Wenbin said, “Jade thrives on human energy; it’s a treasure in my sect. Stand behind me later; I’ll investigate what’s going on.”

“Thump, thump, thump.” Wenbin chose to knock on the door. To my astonishment, the door actually opened…

I say goodnight. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve? Well, I’m a Taoist—I don’t do all that.