Volume One: The Eight Coffin Burial Grounds Chapter 52: Strategizing Behind the Scenes

The waiter seemed to be quite the chatterbox, and an inquisitive one at that. As he spoke, he grew more and more animated, prompting me to pat his shoulder to calm him down. “We believe you. So, after the lady writer and her assistant returned, what happened next?”

He nodded and continued, “That return was no trivial matter—the events became even more terrifying…”

Both my third uncle and I listened intently, but halfway through his tale, the waiter abruptly stopped.

I urged him, “What happened after they went back? Go on… Damn it, you’re killing me here.”

The waiter gave an embarrassed chuckle. “I haven’t managed to find out what happened after that.”

Third Uncle slammed the table in frustration. “You little rascal, are you trying to squeeze more money out of us? Two hundred is plenty!”

His outburst drew curious glances from those around us.

Now the waiter turned pale with fright and pleaded softly, “Please, gentlemen, keep your voices down! If my boss finds out, I’ll definitely be fired. I really don’t know what happened after. Anyway, the lady writer stayed at the hotel and commissioned a middleman to sell the house. But the rumor about the haunted house had spread—who would dare buy it?”

I asked, “Does that middleman know the truth about the house?”

The waiter nodded. “Of course. In fact, the middleman is Fei Yao’s assistant, hired locally. She handles everything for her, so she must know all the details.”

Third Uncle waved the waiter away.

I turned to him. “It seems this house is much trickier than that abandoned building.”

He nodded. “Without a doubt. The older the house, the more peculiarities it hides. Old objects and structures can be just like vessels for malevolent energy. If a vengeful ghost died there, its spirit would cling to the place, growing fiercer over time. Especially on this ancient street—nearly all the buildings are over a hundred years old. Daytime is manageable, but at night, the sinister energy is much stronger.”

“But aren’t there plenty of old towns and streets like this in our country? Are they all haunted?”

Third Uncle shook his head. “It depends. Many of those places are just modern replicas without real history, or they’ve become highly commercialized with crowds of tourists—their vitality suppresses any dark energy. But this street is different: the buildings are genuinely old, not used for business, and while there are tourists, it’s not overly busy, and no transactions take place. Anything could happen here. To know for sure, we’ll have to see the house ourselves.”

I nodded. “Should we contact that middleman surnamed Xu and get the key to take a look?”

Third Uncle replied, “We do need to take a look, but there’s no rush for the key. We have to negotiate first, and sign a contract.”

I understood why—he was wary after what happened at the abandoned building. That time, we hadn’t signed a contract, risked our lives dealing with the haunted property, and came away empty-handed.

We discussed our approach, and Third Uncle immediately called the assistant, expressing our interest in the house and proposing a meeting at the teahouse.

It was clear from the call that Ms. Xu was a tough character. Third Uncle had to coax her for a long while before she agreed to come meet us.

Hanging up, Third Uncle cursed, “That Xu assistant really likes to put on airs. She insisted we meet her downtown. You didn’t hear her tone—so snide, it’s infuriating. What’s so special about a mere assistant?”

I laughed. “Uncle, not many people can rile you up like this. But she’s coming here to meet us, isn’t she?”

Third Uncle glared at me. “Listen, nephew. Let’s remember this: she’ll never be able to sell that house without us. After so much trouble, Fei Yao must be desperate to get rid of it. The price probably isn’t high, but the middleman wants to profit, so she’s inflating it. If it doesn’t sell soon, Fei Yao won’t be pleased with her assistant.”

I asked, “So how will you negotiate?”

He held up two fingers. “Two points. First, we don’t have enough funds, even if they drop the price to the lowest possible, we can’t afford it. And even if we could, there’s no way we’d find a buyer within a month. If we can’t earn two hundred thousand, we haven’t met our target. Second, even if we manage to break the curse, we need to get paid right away. So, we offer to handle the haunted house and collect a fee for our services. That way, once the haunting is resolved, we get our money immediately. Then it’s just a matter of negotiating the fee. Don’t worry, your uncle has it all figured out—every detail. Once the price is set, we’re ready to act.”

Since Third Uncle had already planned everything, I was happy to leave the scheming to him. Negotiation is all about calculation and manipulation, and I’m nowhere near as shrewd as my unreliable uncle.

We waited in the teahouse, sipping tea as we awaited Ms. Xu. From just past ten in the morning until half past one in the afternoon, we waited.

During that time, Third Uncle called several times, but her phone was always unanswered.

We couldn’t leave, growing more and more annoyed, and our impression of this pretentious Ms. Xu worsened.

I napped twice at the table, and it wasn’t until nearly two o’clock that a woman finally walked in from outside.

She wore a modern cheongsam, tall and elegant, with dark sunglasses, and she glanced around as she entered.

I whispered, “Is that her?”

Third Uncle nodded. “It must be. Fei Yao loves Chinese culture, so her assistant would cater to her tastes. Nowadays, few people wear cheongsams on the street unless they’re trying to impress.”

He beckoned the woman over. “Ms. Xu?”

She glanced at us, then sashayed over, hips swaying gracefully.

As she approached, she lowered her sunglasses and sized us up, then tentatively asked Third Uncle, “Are you Mr. Li from the real estate company…President Li?”

Third Uncle nodded and stood, extending his hand. “Yes, that’s me. Pleased to meet you.”

Watching my uncle put on airs, I nearly spat out my tea. To look impressive, he’d dressed in a suit, but he still wore his Taoist topknot—a bun at the crown of his head. To complete the effect, he donned a pair of rimless gold glasses.

Such a mismatched outfit, yet he claimed to be a real estate president. There’s a world of difference between a real estate company and a property agency.

(End of chapter)