Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 988: Haunted House (part 2)

A village surrounded by mountains and water, filled with tales of gods and ghosts—such beliefs seemed to stem from old rural superstitions, an age-old tradition passed down over generations.

Though Songjia Village might not be described as an isolated backwater, it was still a remote place. Back in the day, the Song family’s ancestors chose this secluded area to escape the ravages of war.

“Haunted?” Song Haoran glanced at his family members, raising an eyebrow as he looked into Song Bo's eyes. “What kind of haunting?”

Song Bo quickly explained, “It started in Wangjia Village over the hill, and after some time, it spread here.”

“Over the hill?” Song Haoran looked puzzled and instinctively turned to his father.

Song Tianyou nodded. “I recall there were a few families with the surname Wang living there in the past.”

Song Haoran nodded in acknowledgment.

Song Bo spoke nervously, “One day, I wanted a haircut and decided to visit Master Wang, who lives at the entrance of Wangjia Village. On my way, I passed a household holding a funeral. Curious, I asked around and found out the entire family had died tragically—six members wiped out in one night. They said the scene was horrifying! Isn’t that eerie?”

“All dead in one night…” Song Haoran frowned deeply.

“Yes! It was terrible,” Song Bo sighed. “I had met the head of the family, Wang Dashun, a few times. He was a young blacksmith, good at mending iron pots. Only about forty years old, such a pity.”“If a whole family died, didn’t the local authorities investigate?” Song Tianyou asked gravely.

“They did, but they couldn’t find anything.” Song Bo recounted what he had heard, “They say Wang Dashun recently took in two strangers—one injured, the other unconscious. Shortly after, his whole family was found dead, and those two strangers were gone. The police suspect the two men and issued a manhunt, but I don’t know if they were ever caught.”

“And how did this turn into ghost stories?”

“Not long after, on Wang Dashun’s seventh-day memorial, an old man who went out at night claimed he saw a white shadow floating out of Wang Dashun’s house. He was so scared he fainted on the spot. When he woke up, he insisted he had seen a ghost. After that, more and more people claimed to see or hear strange things from Wang Dashun’s house at night, like crying. One brave soul didn’t believe it and went to investigate alone. The next day, he was found unconscious outside the house and hasn’t been the same since. This created such panic in the village that they invited a Taoist priest to perform rituals. It seemed to work, but the ghost was driven away to our village instead!”

“Song Bo, are you saying Wang Dashun’s ghost moved here? Has anyone seen it?” Song Haoran asked.

Song Bo nodded vigorously. “Of course! Many have seen it—I’ve seen it too. About a week ago, I came back late after helping set up a banquet in another village. Passing by the Song family’s ancestral house, I heard strange noises. I’d had a few drinks, so I mustered some courage and went to check. I saw something through the wall—it nearly scared me to death!”

“What did you see?” Song Ying swallowed nervously.

Song Bo's face paled as he described, “I saw something crawling on the ground with long hair covering its face, moving incredibly fast—like no human could. It caught a rat and stuffed it into its mouth, chewing it alive! The rat’s tail was still twitching before it disappeared into its mouth. Then it turned and smiled at me. That grin scared me so much I ran home, left all the lights on, and didn’t sleep a wink that night. Since then, people’s poultry and livestock have been disappearing. They say the ghost is starving and stealing them. No one dares go out at night anymore. Just today, we held a meeting at the ancestral hall to discuss hiring a Taoist priest to drive the ghost away. Life’s unbearable like this!”

The group exchanged glances. While the story of someone behaving strangely at night could have many explanations, devouring a live rat seemed beyond what a normal person could do.

“So, you’re saying this ghost is in our ancestral house?” Song Haoran pressed.

“Yes… but, Young Master Song, you’re not thinking of going there, are you? Please, don’t! It’s too dangerous at night. Why not stay at my place instead? I can clear out a room for you.”

Song Haoran glanced at Song Tianyou, waiting for a decision.

“No need, Song Bo,” Song Tianyou said calmly. “This is my home. Not even ghosts or gods can stop me from returning. Besides, they say ghosts fear humans more. We’re a large group; no ghost would dare to challenge us.”

“Song Old Master, don’t be reckless—wait until tomorrow at least!” Song Bo called out, but Song Tianyou had already led the group toward the ancestral house.

Unable to dissuade them, Song Bo reluctantly returned to his own home.

---

The Song family's ancestral house was quite large.

Though the mansion had been abandoned for years, the two stone lions at the entrance still hinted at its former grandeur. However, the plaque above the gate hung crookedly.

Noticing this, Song Tianyou sighed and instructed Uncle Wu to have it straightened. The group then pushed open the gates and entered.

The house's entrance led to a vestibule. When Song Tianyou restored the house years ago, he had electricity and lighting installed, but turning on the circuit breaker yielded no power. It seemed the lack of use had caused the supply to be cut off.

“Looks like the caretakers didn’t do their job properly,” Song Tianyou remarked.

Indeed, though caretakers had been hired, they might have taken the money and left without fulfilling their duties.

“Old Wu, take two men and search for candles or anything useful in the storage room out back. We’ll stay in the front courtyard for now. Let’s head to that pavilion over there,” Song Tianyou instructed, pointing to a four-sided pavilion barely visible in the moonlight.

Uncle Wu promptly led two guards to search for supplies, while the rest surrounded the pavilion to keep watch.

“Old Master Song’s men are truly impressive,” Mr. Qi commented, “Just looking at these bodyguards, they could rival elite troops in many military camps.”

Song Tianyou smiled faintly but redirected the conversation. “Mr. Qi, what do you think of this ghost story?”

Mr. Qi, not directly affiliated with the Zhang family but from the maternal side of Zhang Lilanfang’s lineage, responded thoughtfully. While Zhang and Li families operated independently, they shared a common interest in antiques—a legacy of their clandestine wealth and history steeped in ancient tomb raiding.

Though their trade had largely shifted abroad due to stricter domestic regulations, the Li family occasionally repatriated cultural relics, contributing to national preservation efforts.

Zhang Li Lanfang used such methods to maintain good relations between the Zhang and Li families and their connections domestically while continuing to manage the Li family's affairs. Meanwhile, the people above turned a blind eye.

After all, Zhang Li Lanfang had survived that chaotic era, and her husband had made significant contributions during that turbulent time, even sacrificing his life for it.

Returning to the present, Song Tianyou continued observing Ah Qi, the expert who frequently dealt with mysterious and supernatural matters.

Ah Qi, deep in thought, suddenly pulled out a palm-sized compass from his clothing, placing it on the stone table beneath the pavilion. He began muttering incantations.

It was the first time Song Haoran and Song Ying had seen such a display, and their interest was piqued. However, Zhang Qianrui seemed indifferent when Ah Qi took out the compass, her mind seemingly elsewhere.

Luo Qiu, on the other hand, gazed into the depths of the Song family's ancestral residence, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

After a while, Mr. Ah Qi slowly said, "Mr. Song, in our field, we often speak of 'dragon vein locating.' The 'dragon' typically refers to mountain ranges or spiritual veins, with distinctions between real and fake dragons. In ancient times, many emperors and noble officials had more than one burial chamber. This is what we call the real and fake tombs, designed to prevent intruders from disturbing the true tomb and destroying the genuine dragon vein."

He stood up, pointing to the mountain range outside the mansion’s outer wall. "Look, the undulating mountain ranges outside are brimming with vibrant energy. This land is fertile, with lush mountains and clear waters, indicating a true dragon. After finding the true dragon, the next step is locating its resting point, which is typically far from the dragon's head. Such a dragon is called a 'prosperity dragon.' Burial sites or homes situated on a prosperity dragon are full of vitality, ensuring prosperity and good fortune for future generations. Clearly, the Song family’s ancestral home is built on such a prosperity dragon. From the structure and layout of this mansion, it seems that the person who originally built it was a master of geomancy."

"Oh?" Song Tianyou responded. "From what you're saying, not only is this not a haunted house, but it’s actually a place of great fortune?"

Ah Qi nodded. "Although the Song family had a brief decline in recent years, their fortune persisted. After Mr. Song returned to the country and had the residence renovated, the feng shui was corrected. Since then, the Song family has prospered remarkably."

"Oh? So, according to you, if someone wanted to harm my family, they wouldn’t need to take direct action. Simply destroying this ancestral home would put the Song family in danger, wouldn’t it?" Song Tianyou said, suddenly letting out a cold laugh as he stared at Ah Qi.

Ah Qi’s heart skipped a beat, and cold sweat appeared on his forehead. He thought to himself that despite his age, Song Tianyou still exuded an intimidating aura. Unsure of how to respond, he hesitated, sensing several menacing gazes from outside the pavilion.

He had heard of the "Iris" legend—that terrifying individual who could topple an entire small nation.

At that moment, Zhang Qianrui smiled gently and said, "Mr. Song, this is just feng shui superstition. It’s not worth taking seriously. Besides, no matter how good a site’s feng shui is, it ultimately depends on the people. If the head of the family is incompetent, no amount of wealth will last. Only someone capable can ensure enduring prosperity. Even with ancestral blessings, future generations must rely on their own abilities. Under your leadership, the Song family has thrived and stands out even in the country. This alone proves you are blessed with great fortune and talent. As the saying goes, 'Man triumphs over destiny.' Haven’t you paved the way to today through your own efforts?"

"Ah, such eloquence and intelligence," Song Tianyou chuckled, sighing. "Big Sister Li is truly fortunate to have you. After hearing your words, what else can this old man say?"

"Your health is still robust, Mr. Song," Zhang Qianrui said softly.

Just then, a flicker of firelight illuminated the area, revealing Uncle Wu leading a group back with supplies in hand.

"Master, we found some kerosene and a few candles. They should be enough for tonight," Uncle Wu reported, holding a torch. "Tomorrow, I’ll send someone to purchase more supplies and see if we can restore the electricity."

Nodding, Song Tianyou stood up. "Alright, let’s head inside. It’s getting too cold out here for these old bones."

"Grandpa, let me help you," Song Ying hurriedly stepped forward.

The group followed Uncle Wu into the large house.

Luo Qiu’s gaze shifted toward a large tree in the front yard, where he spotted a fleeting shadow. It moved quickly—something crawling, large, disheveled, like a startled rat. Song Haoran noticed it too.

However, Song Haoran didn’t mention it. He merely patted Luo Qiu on the chest, gesturing for silence, before turning to pursue it. With a sudden grin, he said, "Little Ying, how about I tell you a ghost story before bed tonight?"

"Get lost!"

(End of Chapter)