Chapter 8

"How are you? Lao San, are you hurt?" Lao Zhou's movements were so fast that Zhang Yang's face turned pale, and he quickly asked me if I was okay. He must have encountered such a Lao Zhou before, which was why he asked this way.

"I'm fine, get me a rope." I didn't know what was going on with Lao Zhou, but he was struggling fiercely, and I didn't have time to explain to Zhang Yang. I just shouted at him.

"But who has a rope at home?" Zhang Yang's face turned even more grim when he saw Lao Zhou struggling so much, but he still couldn't help but complain.

"Then get something like a rope." I felt like I was going to go crazy. Talking to Zhang Yang required courage; he often drifted away from the situation and still needed me to explain things.

In the end, Zhang Yang brought what he called a rope. Poor Lao Zhou was tied up with a bathrobe belt and two of Zhang Yang's dirty pants, bound tightly and then dragged to the sofa by Zhang Yang and me.

We couldn't let Lao Zhou stay in that small, inexplicably dark room.

"Cat, cat!" Despite being tied up, Lao Zhou was still struggling fiercely and shouting something about a cat. I wondered which cat had a debt of a hundred million?

"Lao San, what do we do next? Should we send Lao Zhou to a mental hospital?" Zhang Yang was at a loss, helpless. It was understandable; if ordinary people encountered such a situation, the only place they could think of would be a mental hospital.

"Forget it, if we really send him to a mental hospital, Lao Zhou will be ruined. Have you ever seen a mental hospital cure anyone? They turn the sane into the insane and the insane into the more insane. I don't doubt their ability to do that." Lao Zhou was struggling on the sofa, his eyes rolling back. At this point, I was almost certain that Lao Zhou had lost his soul.

However, I couldn't explain this to Zhang Yang. I just made up some scary stories about mental hospitals to scare him and keep him calm.

"But if we don't send him to a mental hospital, what do we do?" Zhang Yang was clearly scared by Lao Zhou's condition, and I seemed to have become his lifeline.

I grabbed something from the sofa without looking clearly and stuffed it into Lao Zhou's mouth to stop him from shouting "cat" all the time. Then I carefully said to Zhang Yang, "I don't know what's wrong with Lao Zhou right now. But you know, my grandmother knows a lot of folk remedies. When I was a child, I also had such a state of confusion, and she cured me."

Although Zhang Yang and I weren't as close as Lao Zhou and my other best friends, he knew me to some extent.

Lao Zhou often jokingly called me a "shaman," and Zhang Yang knew why. But I never explained much to them, always attributing it to my grandmother in the countryside. In their minds, my grandmother was the number one shaman, a typical representative of feudal superstition.

If my grandmother in the countryside knew that I had created such an image for her in the city, she would probably beat me to death. She was an advanced figure at that time, a leader in learning knowledge and culture, and a model for women.

Thinking about this, a cold sweat dripped from my forehead. Remembering that my father, who was in his fifties, occasionally still got "beaten," I decided not to think about these terrifying things.

But as I thought about my grandmother, I noticed that Zhang Yang was still staring at me blankly. I was also taken aback. Had my "persuasive education" not worked? What should I say next? Or had this guy already called the mental hospital?

Thinking of this possibility, my face turned serious, and I said, "Zhang Yang, no matter what, you have to believe and cooperate with me. Lao Zhou can't be sent to a mental hospital for now. I'll try to cure him with my grandmother's folk remedies. If it doesn't work, we'll talk about it then. Sending him to a mental hospital will ruin his future. Can you bear it?"

"Lao San, don't get upset. I was just thinking about how you'll explain this to Lao Zhou when he wakes up from his OCD." As he spoke, Zhang Yang cautiously pointed to Lao Zhou's mouth.

I followed his gaze and my face changed. I had grabbed something from the sofa and stuffed it into Lao Zhou's mouth without looking clearly. Now I saw it was a pair of very flashy light blue underwear.

"Yours?" My face turned even uglier.

"Um, mine." Zhang Yang's face also didn't look good.

"Have you washed it?"

"I washed it, but I didn't have time to put it away in the closet, and then you..." Zhang Yang explained cautiously.

"Why did you leave your underwear on the sofa?" I couldn't help but complain.

"..." Zhang Yang was speechless.

"Agreed, this is our lifelong secret. If you don't want to face a 'raging Lao Zhou,'" I made up my mind. I had to keep this a secret from Lao Zhou for life. I wasn't afraid of what he might do to me; I was afraid that if he knew I had stuffed Zhang Yang's underwear into his mouth, he would suffer a psychological trauma, become depressed, and maybe even become a non-mainstream person.

Zhang Yang probably had the same thought. He nodded vigorously in agreement, and we thus created a "secret that couldn't be spoken."

No matter what, after this, Zhang Yang seemed less nervous. I secretly did something and, when Zhang Yang wasn't paying attention, I knocked Lao Zhou out. Then I decided to investigate the room where Lao Zhou had slept.

However, with Zhang Yang around, I couldn't act as freely as I wanted. So, I took advantage of it being around 10:30 in the morning and strongly insisted that Zhang Yang go to work.

Zhang Yang was actually worried about Lao Zhou and wanted to take a day off, but given my strong attitude, he had no choice but to compromise. Before leaving, he told me to notify him immediately if anything happened.

After sending Zhang Yang away, I sighed in relief, looked at Lao Zhou, who was still unconscious, and then confidently entered the room where Lao Zhou had slept last night. As before, as soon as I approached this room, I felt it was colder than the others, but there was no other obvious abnormality.

Lao Zhou had lost his soul. If he hadn't experienced a huge shock, a soul-stable adult shouldn't easily lose their soul. Even if the soul was momentarily shocked out of the body, it would quickly return. A complete loss of the soul was extremely rare.

I knew that if an adult lost their soul, the situation was much more serious than if a child did. If not found in time, it could easily cause permanent soul damage.

Thinking about this, I took a cigarette from my pocket and put it in my mouth. With a crisp sound of the lighter, I lit the cigarette and walked to the window. Lao Zhou's worst situation wasn't just losing his soul; his remaining soul was also in an extremely unstable state, which is why he kept shouting "cat, cat."

Thinking about all this, my gaze fell on the windowsill of the guest room. Zhang Yang was very lazy, as evidenced by his habit of throwing clean underwear around. But I had to thank his laziness, as the windowsill was covered in dust, and on the dust, there was a very clear half-footprint. I stared at this footprint for a moment.

Then I tried to pull the window and found that the sliding window was indeed loose. I knew that if the window was closed from the outside, it couldn't be locked. If more proof was needed, I quickly ran to the kitchen, boiled a pot of water, and brought the steaming water to the window.

As the steam rose, a layer of mist condensed on the blue sliding window. Then, several clear fingerprints appeared on the window. These fingerprints were the opposite of normal fingerprints, typical of someone opening the window from the outside. Someone inside wouldn't leave such fingerprints.

I exhaled a puff of smoke. Discovering these clues didn't make me feel any better; instead, I felt more confused, anxious, and worried.

The confusion was that someone had clearly been in Lao Zhou's room last night, but how could a living person have such heavy yin energy? Could this person be the one who fed on corpses? If so, what did it have to do with the cat? I also thought about the cat sounds Lao Zhou described that night. These scattered clues couldn't be connected.

Of course, if Lao Zhou had been shouting "snake," "weasel," or "fox," it would have been easier to solve.

But if it was a cat! I don't know if it was because the room was too cold, but I felt goosebumps all over my back. My fingers, however, started to tap my thigh excitedly. This was the first time since I came down the mountain that I encountered such a difficult situation.

Master, Senior Brother, if it's my close friend, you can't blame me for taking action, right?

Thinking about this, I stubbed out the cigarette. Even though I was excited, my anxiety and worry didn't decrease at all. If I couldn't find Lao Zhou's soul within a day, he would be completely ruined. He was my brother, and I couldn't let this happen!