I Only Sell Murder Houses

When I woke that morning, my ears were buzzing, filled with passages from the Yi Jing.

Only then did I remember having two dreams the night before. In one, I dreamed of Xiuzhu; in the other, the Ancestral Master.

I had assumed that after passing his test, the Ancestral Master would teach me some unrivaled secret art. Instead, he had spent the whole night lecturing me on the Yi Jing.

I could have just read that myself, though admittedly, his explanations were far more thorough.

We were visiting Song Xiaotian’s grandfather today, so we set out early and drove over to pick up Seventh Master first.

Once Seventh Master was in the car, we headed for Song Xiaotian’s home.

Song Xiaotian drove, since none of us knew which direction his family lived in.

The drive took a surprisingly long time. More than an hour passed, and we were nearly out of the city proper. We did not quite reach the surrounding county, but we did end up in the suburbs.

“Brother Tian, your family lives pretty far out,” I said.