CHAPTER 41: CHAPTER 41: POACHED CHICKEN

"Alright, tell me, what’s your name?"

"My surname’s Zhao, I forgot my full name, everyone just calls me Old Zhao."

"Who sent you here?"

"No one sent me."

"Then why are you here?"

"Here to stir up trouble."

"Hmm?" Wen Yan was taken aback—what a blunt, brazen answer.

Old Zhao was startled, feeling an intense yang energy far beyond that of ordinary people. One careless move could absolutely burn him to death, so he scrambled to shift the blame.

"No, no, it’s not me who wants to cause trouble, it’s those five brothers who want to stir up trouble.

Usually, our weekend offerings include white-cut chicken, but there isn’t any today. They’re upset and insisted on making a scene.

It’s not me who wants to... ah..."

Old Zhao didn’t finish his sentence before feeling like his head was being roasted under the noonday sun, and couldn’t help but yelp in pain.

Wen Yan’s face darkened, his teeth grinding in irritation.

"You think I’m stupid?"

"Really, it’s true, big boss! Any hotter and I’ll seriously be toast! Spare me! Spare me! Alright, it’s me, it’s me—I feel like you’re blocking my feng shui living here, so I wanted you gone."

Old Zhao finally confessed, and only then did Wen Yan restrain the surge of yang energy.

"See, wasn’t that easier? Now talk. What’s up with that house in the back?"

Old Zhao was a picture of misery, snot and tears everywhere—he was telling the truth, why wouldn’t anyone believe him?

"I don’t really know either. One day I woke up and I was in that house. I saw someone leaving incense offerings, so I ate them, and then settled in.

I heard others say the same thing—they woke up inside, too.

They said this used to be a barren field, then they built all these houses. Our graves were probably here before.

I actually wanted to live underground, but it’s so filthy and smelly down there.

I can only live in that house. That’s the only place where daylight isn’t uncomfortable."

Old Zhao was keeping it real, honestly telling everything. He was genuinely scared.

It’s not like no one’s ever come before, but whenever someone looked tough, or wore a Taoist robe, he’d hide underground straight away—even if it’s stinky, it’s not like he’d die again. As soon as people left, he’d pop back up.

"How many like you are living in that villa?" Wen Yan frowned. He’d heard before that ghosts would show up now and then, but he didn’t expect so many right behind him.

"The ones who showed up before all left. The newcomers today left too. It’s just me and those five dumb brothers who never left."

"Why didn’t you leave?"

"I... I don’t even know all the characters now. It took me forever just to figure out how people talk these days. I’m not used to anything outside, so I can only stay here..."

"Go get those five brothers you mentioned."

Wen Yan grabbed Old Zhao’s head and started walking out.

"Hey, my body is still here..."

"Your body stays here as a hostage."

Wen Yan carried Old Zhao’s head out the back yard and tossed it toward the villa across the way.

Just before it hit the ground, Old Zhao’s tangled hair came to life, twisting into five or six thick strands, propping his head up so it landed safely. Several locks of hair, like spider legs, alternated as he scuttled rapidly up to the door.

"Open up, quick! Open the door!"

The front door didn’t budge an inch.

By the window, the Five Ugly Brothers clustered together, staring at the head outside, but not a single one came to open up.

Old Zhao started to panic—he could really tell Wen Yan just now wanted to finish him off.

His hair propped up his head as he jumped up and smashed into the wall, bounced off, then tried again. This time his hair grabbed the window ledge, and he hauled himself up, peering in at the five brothers.

"Open up, quick! Come with me! The guy in front says we’ll be neighbors from now on—he’ll get you white-cut chicken!"

As soon as Old Zhao finished, a gust of wind swept by, and the Five Ugly Brothers already had him surrounded.

"You serious?"

"If you lie, may you die a horrible death!"

"He already died a horrible death."

"Yeah, he got drawn and quartered—died real nasty."

"He’s so dumb. Took him longer than us to learn how to speak—no way he’s smart enough to trick us."

"Oh, that’s true."

The five brothers lined up, with the eldest solemnly carrying Old Zhao’s head as they set off.

Wen Yan looked at these five and was absolutely stunned—damn, they were ugly. All skinny arms and legs, walking funny with twisted arms, mouths and eyes askew—a glance told you none of them were Mensa material.

He opened the back door, and these five strutted in like they owned the place.

"Where’s the white-cut chicken?"

"We want white-cut chicken."

"A weekend without white-cut chicken is incomplete."

"This guy seems alright."

"Yeah, he’s not even scared of us."

Wen Yan looked over at Old Zhao, who was giving him a pleading look—begging Wen Yan not to spill about the missing white-cut chicken.

Wen Yan remembered Feng Yao brought over some takeout earlier, and there actually was white-cut chicken. So he let it slide.

Now he was starting to believe Old Zhao. These five weirdos might honestly have been acting up just because they didn’t get their white-cut chicken.

He personally opened the door, led the five weirdos into the living room, and dug whatever white-cut chicken was left from the fridge.

"There’s more than just white-cut chicken. Want some of the rest?"

"Sure," the five chorused in unison.

Three takeout boxes were laid out on the table. Each brother stretched his neck out, and they all began sucking down the leftovers at top speed.

The food in the boxes withered and decayed almost instantly, until only a pile of chicken bones were left—picked clean, not a scrap of meat remaining.

The five brothers collectively sighed in satisfaction, looking utterly content.

"What a nice guy."

"Yeah, not even scared of us. Didn’t call us ugly, either."

"And he’s giving us white-cut chicken."

"He’s not a bad neighbor at all."

"I think so too."

The five of them complimented each other back and forth. Off to the side, Old Zhao couldn’t help grumbling.

"Weren’t you all saying before that you’d never let anyone live in front of us?"

"Liar! Slander!" the eldest was shocked and immediately snapped back.

"Don’t make stuff up—like we’d care about that?"

"The living folks in those flats—people poop on their heads and they don’t even mind!"

"Yeah, even the living don’t care, why should we?"

"What’s wrong with someone living in front of us! Old Zhao, you’re hopeless—always saying people block your feng shui!"

Old Zhao looked at Wen Yan—who very clearly thought these not-so-bright guys were telling the truth. He shut his mouth quickly and didn’t argue anymore.

After eating, the five brothers acted like nobody else existed, huddled together in a circle, muttering and mumbling for ages. Then the eldest stepped forward, chest puffed out, and said grandly:

"Will you give us white-cut chicken again next week?"

"Sure, I’ll treat you next week too." Wen Yan replied cheerfully. He actually didn’t mind these harmless, not-so-bright ghosts—no need to go all exorcist on them.

If a bit of white-cut chicken could keep them quiet, Wen Yan figured it was a bargain.

Besides, for some reason, he actually preferred having a few harmless ghosts living in the back villa—psychologically, it felt better than it being a purely yin place.

If there’s something living there, at most it’s just an unusually weird set of neighbors.

"Really?" the five brothers squealed in delight.

"Really."

"Well, we can’t just take your chicken for nothing." The eldest pointed west.

"Someone’s watching you from the house next door—they came in with you."

"Also, about... about one hundred or so meters south, someone’s watching you too."

"And over in the easternmost house, someone’s watching you as well."

Wen Yan’s smile faded a bit—he really did know that the Scorching Sun Department had someone set up in a nearby building to watch the villa. Feng Yao had told him it was a necessary safety measure, and the villas needed monitoring anyway.

Which meant the other two directions were probably for real, too.

Wen Yan asked kindly,

"Any chance you know who they are?"

"How could we know? We’ve never met them." The eldest answered loudly and confidently.

Seeing these five clowns start rambling again, Wen Yan gently ushered them back.

"Just don’t cause any trouble, and I promise you’ll get white-cut chicken every week."

"No more trouble, we swear!" The five instantly straightened up like loyal soldiers and dutifully marched home.

Wen Yan went back inside, watching as Old Zhao’s head scuttled sneakily back to his own body. Wen Yan reached out and popped his head right back off.

"You think sneaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night and trying to possess me is just going to slide? I’m a Scorching Sun Division Special Case Team member—what you just did is even worse, makes your crime a whole new level. You should be getting your soul wiped from existence!"

"What do you want, then?"

"If I remember right, nobody lives in the house to my west. Go see who’s been watching me. Do that for me, and we’ll call it even, move on as neighbors, and I’ll get you some white-cut chicken."