Volume One, Chapter 12: Gaining a Young Admirer

Ying Yuwei maintained that posture, chanting the incantation until dawn. Under the influence of the exorcism spell, Anyu gradually calmed down; his sharp nails and teeth began to retract, and the black fur on his body started to fall off continuously.

By the time Anyu was completely still, Ying Yuwei looked as if she had been pulled from the water—soaked in sweat and utterly exhausted, she weakly slumped to the side.

“Huh? What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel pain all over?” Anyu asked, propping himself up with his arms as consciousness returned.

Madam An rushed over and hugged him tightly. “You little brat, you scared me to death! You were possessed just now. Thanks to Master Ying, you’re still alive. Otherwise, you’d be dead by now.” She punched Anyu playfully as she spoke.

At that moment, Anyu noticed Ying Yuwei sitting nearby. Her skin, already pale, was now almost porcelain white from sheer exhaustion. Sweat dripped from the ends of her hair, and a stark, alarming mark circled her delicate neck, making her seem fragile, as if she might faint at any second.

“You… are you okay…” Anyu reached out, trying to catch the sweat dripping from her hair, but Madam An slapped his shoulder sharply.

“How dare you ask if the Master is okay? Look at the mark you left on her neck!”

She quickly helped Ying Yuwei up from the floor and seated her on the sofa. “Master, you literally saved this kid’s life. You’re like his rebirth mother. I should make him your godson!”

“Mom!” Anyu clenched his fists and shouted angrily at Madam An, but she took it as him calling Ying Yuwei “Mom.”

“See? My Anyu’s happy about it—he’s shouting so loud!”

Ying Yuwei couldn’t help but smile softly. Her pale face blushed faintly, like a lotus blooming in the ice and snow. Anyu was momentarily stunned by her beauty.

Father An, sensing the odd direction the conversation was taking, quickly intervened. He picked up the broken Bagua mirror from the floor. “Master, Anyu broke this mirror just now. How much do we owe you?”

Ying Yuwei, still weak, slowly raised two fingers.

Twenty yuan? She’d bought it on Pinduoduo.

“Great! Two million then! Plus the six million Anyu originally promised you, give me a card number and I’ll transfer all eight million to you.”

Ying Yuwei smiled foolishly—the fortune was coming too suddenly.

But before she could enjoy it for two seconds, she fainted from exhaustion. When she woke, she was in a hospital bed. Anyu leaned drowsily against the headboard, his dark, narrow eyes half-hidden by his naturally fallen bangs. His thick lashes cast shadows on his face; his nose was sharp, lips thin and pink.

Not gonna lie, Ying Yuwei thought to herself, this kid really was quite handsome.

Anyu’s hand fell weakly, and his head nodded forward. Suddenly startled awake, their eyes met unexpectedly. The boy’s gaze was still a little hazy and confused as he rubbed his eyes and spoke lazily, “You’re awake, Master.”

Ying Yuwei quickly turned her head away to avoid their eyes locking again.

Anyu got up and went to the bedside cabinet, grabbing an apple to peel. Bright-eyed, he said, “Master, you were amazing yesterday. Even my dad, a staunch materialist, started admiring you. They all have things to do today, so it’s just me keeping you company. The doctor says there’s nothing serious—probably just fatigue.”

He handed Ying Yuwei the apple and explained the situation.

After everything, Ying Yuwei was famished. She took the apple and bit into it eagerly. As she ate, she suddenly felt a burning gaze upon her.

Following the look, she saw Anyu resting his chin on his hands, eyes sparkling with anticipation like a puppy waiting for a pat on the head. Noticing she was looking at him, Anyu straightened slightly.

“Master, I told you the plan I came up with yesterday was brilliant. By today, your heroic image has spread widely online.”

Ying Yuwei, confused, raised her hand to stop Anyu from going on and asked, “Online? Heroic image?”

Anyu quickly showed her his phone, pride unmistakable in his voice.

“Everyone’s praising you now, Master.”

The video Anyu showed was a clip from a livestream, with faces blurred for privacy. It showed the moment she confronted the fake Taoist who had smashed the mirror at the An residence. Comments beneath ranged from all sorts of opinions.

“People nowadays will do anything for views. This has to be a scripted drama.”

“Exactly! That streamer spared no expense, hiring so many extras. Must have cost a fortune.”

Amidst the skepticism, some who understood feng shui and metaphysics spoke up.

“I don’t think this young friend is making things up. Digging up so many mirrors and noticing the reflections from the second floor’s room definitely matches the ‘Blood Basin Mirror’ pattern.”

“To spot the Blood Basin Mirror pattern at a glance takes real skill.”

Ying Yuwei scrolled through the comments, feeling slightly relieved. No one directly mentioned her; most were just watching the drama for entertainment, making jokes and then moving on. As a Taoist master, she preferred to keep a low profile, especially since mainstream society emphasized materialism, and many aspects of her craft defied such explanations.

Staying low-key was safer.

Just as she was about to exit the video, a small red notification caught her eye—a private message.

“I wonder if your master is Ying Tianlin. I earnestly ask this young friend to have your master come out of retirement to lend us a hand.”

Along with the message came a photo of a tomb. The grave was meticulously cleaned and shaped like a massive concrete bunker—clearly belonging to a wealthy family. All the surrounding equipment was new, but the tombstone itself had cracks running from its base upwards, with faint black mist visible within the fissures.

Anyu leaned in to look at the phone screen. Excited, he grabbed Ying Yuwei’s wrist, his eyes full of admiration and eagerness.

“Master Ying, to be honest, I’ve loved feng shui and metaphysics since I was a child. Could you take me as your disciple?”

Ying Yuwei turned to look at Anyu in disbelief, silently thinking, “A wealthy young master wants to be my disciple?”