Time passed bit by bit.
Lu Bingkun was buried in the rice urn, his expression pained.
A professional-grade silent ventilation pipe had been specially built into the side of the rice urn, connected to an external medical non-invasive ventilator to ensure he wouldn't suffocate before the underworld messengers discovered him.
But anyone who had ever been buried alive knew that the grains of rice would continuously compress the space around them, making it hard to breathe.
It was nothing short of torture.
Exactly midnight.
Downstairs in the main hall, the grandfather clock chimed twelve times in a row—dong, dong, dong...
Outside the window, the fire had not gone out once. The ashes of the burned paper money drifted down from the sky like falling snow.
Except it was black snow.
The arrival of the underworld messengers came without warning.
The first thing to change was the temperature.
The luxury villa was equipped with a fresh air system kept at a constant twenty-four degrees Celsius, but the moment the chimes ended, the room temperature plummeted at a palpable rate.
A threadlike chill seeped deep into their bones, cold enough to freeze blood.
Goosebumps instantly broke out on everyone present, their scalps tightening.
“M-Master...”
Lu Jianmin stammered as she looked at Master Zhang, who had been sitting in meditation with his eyes closed. He gave her a calm, composed look.
“Shut up. They're here.”
With those four short words, every living person still breathing in the room covered their mouth.
—To prevent any mishaps, the four Special Investigation Bureau officers had been kicked out of the room by Lu Bingkun and were waiting outside the door.
At this moment, they only felt a bit cold and had no idea what was actually happening inside.
...
...
“The underworld messengers have arrived. Keep your mouths shut. If you disturb them, all our lives will be forfeit here.”
Master Zhang tilted his ear to listen, then lowered his voice to warn them again:
“Chairman Lu, they are here.”
Lu Bingkun nodded, his eyes filled with a ruthless determination to succeed.
Lu Jianmin, Lu Jianye, and Lu Jiancheng exchanged glances, holding their breath as well.
Everything seemed unnaturally quiet. There were no dark shadows or ghosts like they had imagined.
After a few seconds of tension.
Lu Jianmin relaxed slightly, a trace of unconcealed ridicule and disdain surfacing on her face.
She had never believed in this so-called Master Zhang in the first place, thinking he was just putting on a show to mystify them.
Underworld messengers visiting, ghosts and gods entering the house—it was probably all just deceptive gimmicks.
It was indeed the classic routine of charlatans.
Whipping up a random draft and lowering the temperature by a few degrees, then claiming an underworld messenger had arrived.
Who could actually know a person's lifespan?
Once dawn broke, he would find an excuse saying the ritual had failed, and her father wouldn't be able to tell any better.
Lu Jianmin secretly breathed a sigh of relief, feeling almost amused.
Such a grand, exorbitantly expensive longevity-borrowing ritual was, in the end, nothing more than her dying father's self-consolation.
She was already calculating how to extract resources from Lu Bingkun after the ritual ended to completely solidify her say in the Lu Group.
Beside her, Lu Jianye and Lu Jiancheng also quietly relaxed.
Everyone's guard lowered as doubt began to fester.
Only Master Zhang seemed entirely oblivious, keeping his eyes closed and remaining silent.
Just as everyone's tense nerves were slowly relaxing, in the next second—
Downstairs in the empty, standby-mode home theater, the faint sound of singing suddenly echoed.
“Bzzz—”
“Bzzzt—”
The faint, raspy static of an old cassette tape suddenly broke the silence, incredibly abrupt.
The static was crackly and dry, carrying an old, distorted quality of a bygone era.
The group instantly froze.
Lu Jianye's pupils dilated, a cold sweat breaking out across his back.
This audio-visual system had cost a fortune, and its quality and performance were top-of-the-line.
With no one downstairs, it was absolutely impossible for it to play automatically, let alone produce the static noise unique to old cassette tapes.
Who was playing the music?
In the next second.
The static faded, and a mournful, sorrowful female voice slowly echoed through the empty floors.
It was a Cantonese love song so old it had long been taken down, one that almost no one remembered.
The singing drifted, sounding sometimes distant and sometimes near, but those hiding on the second floor could hear it with crystal clarity.
An empty house playing music on its own, ghostly sounds echoing through the rafters.
Something had really entered.
...
...
Lu Jianmin and her brothers frantically wiped their sweat, pea-sized beads rolling down their faces, yet they still remembered the warning and did not make a sound.
Inside the rice urn, Lu Bingkun remained dormant with his eyes closed, absolutely still.
Who knew how much time had passed, but the singing suddenly stopped without any warning.
Immediately following that, a noisy clatter erupted from the entertainment room in the basement:
“Clack, clack, clatter...”
“Thud! Click! Clatter...”
From the equally empty entertainment room, the loud, distinct sound of shuffling mahjong tiles suddenly echoed.
It sounded as if someone had turned on a television.
The sounds of drawing, discarding, and calling tiles exploded downstairs, as lively as if a dozen people were gathered around the tables.
The voices of men and women drifted up, muffled yet loud, as if separated by a layer of water.
The loud clatter of shuffling tiles, the sharp slaps of discards on the table, the cascading clatter of winning hands being pushed over, the hurried calls of pong and kong—
They layered over one another, dense and continuous, weaving into a chaotic symphony.
The empty, dead-silent entertainment room was instantly packed with lively, bustling human voices.
[Chittering... chittering...]
[Muttering... muttering...]
[Chattering... chattering...]
Men laughing and joking, women whispering, elders sighing with emotion, youngsters teasing, cheers of winning hands, complaints of losing, casual chats between acquaintances, agreements between strangers...
Men, women, young, old, near and far, high and low.
A clamor of voices, a room full of revelry.
But if one listened closely, they would find that no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't decipher a single syllable.
In visible reality, the floor was covered in white ash, the house was empty, and the lights were brightly lit.
Yet what they heard was a hall packed with guests, a gathering of a hundred ghosts, a deafening uproar.
The jarring dissonance between reality and illusion made their heads spin.
On the surveillance monitors, the first floor remained quiet and empty.
The Special Investigation Bureau officers guarding the door leaned against the wall with folded arms, seemingly chatting.
But the sounds the people inside heard were undeniably real.
...
...
Lu Jianmin's teeth chattered. Trembling, she made hand gestures to Master Zhang:
[Master, can we negotiate with the underworld messengers now?]
She just wanted to end this bizarre ritual as quickly as possible.
Master Zhang gave her a cool glance, his tone completely unperturbed.
“What is the rush?”
“If you had just sat down for a game and were about to enjoy yourself to the fullest, basking in unprecedented excitement and joy, wouldn't you be annoyed if someone suddenly interrupted you?”
“The underworld messengers covet the prosperity of the mortal realm and indulge in worldly pleasures. Right now, they are in an excellent mood, enjoying Chairman Lu's offerings.”
“If you disturb them now and offend the underworld messengers—”
“Not only will the deal be voided immediately, but the messengers will fly into a rage and reap your souls on the spot. Not just Chairman Lu, but everyone in this house will be doomed.”
“If you want to die, you can go down yourself.”
Lu Jianmin fell silent.
The others didn't dare to urge him further either.
Wait.
They could only wait.
An anxious look finally appeared on Lu Bingkun's face as well.
...
...
Time passed slowly. Who knew how long it had been, but the sound of shuffling mahjong tiles and playing cards downstairs never stopped.
It was as if a crowd of invisible guests were truly playing cards all night long in this mansion.
In the courtyard, the incense continued to burn, paper ashes drifted, and the flames danced.
Inside, steam curled up from the hot delicacies.
Everything meant for the enjoyment of the living was now fully laid out for the dead, allowing the deceased to indulge.
Three o'clock in the morning.
At this hour, when the night was at its darkest, the lively clamor of a hundred ghosts downstairs continued without pause.
Inside the rice urn, Lu Bingkun was growing impatient.
Even with the ventilator keeping him going, the feeling of being buried alive under the weight of the five grains pressing against his chest was excruciating.
He could barely feel anything below his chest anymore.
His gaze swept over his three children sitting in the corner, and then he looked at Master Zhang, who was sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed. He squeezed a few airy words from his chest:
“M-Master...”
The instant he spoke, the laughter and clamor downstairs, which had not ceased for a second, fell completely silent.
A second ago, the hall had been bustling with noise; a second later, everything was dead quiet.
Without the slightest transition, a suffocating silence enveloped them.
Master Zhang did not answer. Instead, he walked to the window, glanced at the fire outside, and showed a hint of joy:
“It is done.”
“The underworld messengers have stayed through the night, unwilling to leave. This means they have tacitly agreed to the transaction and accepted the negotiation.”
“Chairman Lu, it is time for you to show yourself.”
“To avoid any slip-ups, I must remain hidden here to oversee the formation, so it is inconvenient for me to show my face. Miss and the two young masters, please accompany Chairman Lu down.”
A sharp light flashed in Lu Bingkun's eyes, and he repeatedly voiced his approval.
Rate on N.U.
