"When you died, we all thought you had just disappeared. Ding Hanbing brought two theater tickets to your house and saw Jing Tinghua holding your photo, silently crying... Ding Hanbing asked what was wrong, but Jing Tinghua didn't say anything. So he called to ask me. At that time, I had just had another argument with my father about school, and in my youthful impetuosity, I slammed the door and left. When I came back, I saw my father giving all of my things related to you to Jing Tinghua. Jing Tinghua said he would take them to burn for you."
Yin Mo spoke softly, lighting a cigarette.
But he quickly extinguished it.
After putting it out, he suddenly remembered that Jing Jiujiu couldn't smell any smoke now.
He was a ghost.
Yin Mo's fingertips trembled, and he curled his fingers, burning his palm with the cigarette butt.
"In a daze, I followed their car to the cemetery. Your family's butler said the master was very sad, so he didn't invite others to come and pay respects. I was stopped at the gate, watching them pay respects at your grave, leave flowers, and depart. I waited until it got dark, then snuck in. I started digging with a stolen shovel. I don't know what I was thinking at the time. Maybe I just thought I had to see you one last time. So I dug for a long time, a very long time. But I didn't find anything. At first, I thought I hadn't dug deep enough, but later I learned it was an empty grave. I went around to the headstone side and looked - there was no photo attached, and your name wasn't engraved..."
"When I got home, my father slapped me for stealing his car."
The cigarette ash fell lightly to the ground.
With the shackles of memory unlocked, even the smallest details became incredibly clear.
"I must have been furious at the time. I flew to Lingyang Mountain that night and told my master you were dead, but something was wrong about your death. My master said my Buddhist heart was unstable."
Yin Mo hissed as his palm was burned.
"When I woke up again, my master said I seemed like a different person. I had lost a large chunk of my memories. At times like this, people don't really know what they've lost. But the more it's like this, the more terrified you feel inside. Like you've forgotten something important. That feeling of incompleteness, of loss, tormented me day and night. I couldn't stay there, so I ran down the mountain, spent a year growing my hair back, and then one day, I was wandering aimlessly on the street when someone asked me to participate in some competition, so I just went along with it."
"After that, things just muddled along until now..."
"I know Ding Hanbing has always been trying hard to consolidate his memories, but he looked so stupid, I never thought we would have forgotten the same things. I also never imagined that I would forget more completely than him, leaving nothing behind. And it all happened in one night, everything was gone. It was like a part of my life had been forcibly removed."
Yin Mo gripped the cigarette tightly, extinguishing it with his palm.
"Jiujiu, I forgot you..."
"Why did just one formation, one talisman, make me forget you?"
Jing Jiujiu had never forgotten him.
His father remarried, his mother moved abroad, and he couldn't stay at the Yin family home, so he was sent to the mountain to have his head shaved and become a little monk. He stayed for several years. When he came down the mountain with his master, he no longer looked like the young master of the Yin family. He truly looked like a bumpkin little monk raised in the deep mountains.
The Yin family took him to attend Jing Jiujiu's birthday party.
He got into a fight with his brother, knocked over the cupcakes on the long table, and rolled around covered in cream. His father rushed over and slapped him twice, asking what the hell he was doing. His face was swollen and he was in a mess. Jing Jiujiu took a handkerchief from Mr. Yu's pocket and handed it to him, saying, "I remember you. You're the eldest son of the Yin family, called Yin Mo."
Ding Hanbing, hearing this, chased after and asked Jing Jiujiu if he remembered who he was.
Jing Jiujiu said helplessly, "Ding Dabao."
The name Ding Dabao sounded stupid as soon as you heard it.
Yin Mo thought at the time that his own name was really well-chosen, extremely cultured.
Yin Mo, Yin Mo.
Jing Jiujiu would surely remember it for a very, very long time.
The little bald monk Yin Mo got up, wiped his face, then dusted the cake off himself, and then slapped it back onto his father's face, walking away in a carefree manner.
That was the coolest moment of his life.
The kind of cool that would make Jing Jiujiu remember him for a lifetime. That's what he thought at the time.
But... "I was the first to forget," Yin Mo said, his voice trembling.
Jing Jiujiu raised his hand and lightly patted his shoulder. "So what?"
Yin Mo was stunned for a moment.
Jing Jiujiu said, "People forget many things in their lifetime. Like me, I don't remember what I was thinking about every day when I was little. Besides, someone intentionally wanted you to forget, right?"
Jing Jiujiu paused, then said, "You're already very impressive. You forgot the specific memories, but you still firmly remember that feeling. Many people can't do that... Maybe tomorrow someone will put a spell on me, and I'll forget everything too. At that time, would you dislike me because I forgot you?"
"Of course not," Yin Mo blurted out.
Jing Jiujiu said, "Well, then isn't that fine?"
As he spoke, he unzipped his backpack.
Two evil god statues were seen, pressed down by apples, oranges, small cookies, cotton candy... packed full.
"These are all from the other sisters in the crew, they don't know I can't eat. Do you want some?" Jing Jiujiu took out the cotton candy.
Tingyi secretly crouched behind, the corner of his mouth twitching.
This evil god.
He was really lacking in presence.
"This candy looks pretty, doesn't it? It should be very sweet too." As Jing Jiujiu spoke, he licked his lips, as if he had already tasted it.
Yin Mo accepted it, feeling deeply honored.
His resentment and self-blame seemed to be just light and fleeting things to Jing Jiujiu.
Yin Mo couldn't quite tell what he was feeling at the moment, whether it was disappointment or even more sadness.
He tore open the candy wrapper and put it in his mouth.
It was indeed sweet.
Sweet and soft.
And Jing Jiujiu was looking at him eagerly.
Yin Mo's heart suddenly softened.
It wasn't that Jing Jiujiu didn't care about him, so it didn't matter whether he remembered or forgot.
It was Jing Jiujiu's unique gentleness.
The soft words of comfort were gentle, and the cotton candy he gave was also gentle.
Yin Mo suddenly stood up. "...I'm going to practice."
Jing Jiujiu: ?
Jing Jiujiu: "Oh, go ahead."
Yin Mo thought about it and felt that ultimately it was because his skills were not good enough. Fortunately, he hadn't messed around these past few years. He could still go back and practice his virgin kung fu and heart-to-heart meditation!
Halfway there, Yin Mo didn't forget to tell Director Xiang: "Kick Guan Yan out of the crew. I don't care who you replace him with."
Director Xiang: ?
So sudden?
Master Tingyi looked at Yin Mo's hurried departing figure, then came to Jing Jiujiu's side and sat down.
Jing Jiujiu was startled to suddenly see a big bald head.
He nervously tightened the straps of his backpack.
What?
Was he going to open his mouth and spit words at him? Would each word make a hole in his body? Wouldn't that be very ugly?
Master Tingyi's expression was complex as he began to speak: "It was my talisman, wanting to stabilize his Buddhist heart, to make him focus on cultivation, to take over my mantle. It was all my fault..."
Jing Jiujiu, who had been quietly moving his chair, suddenly stopped.
What was going on today? Why did everyone want to confess to him? He wasn't a priest.
Jing Jiujiu casually responded, "Mm."
Hearing this, Tingyi immediately continued: "But, but being a monk is like this. One should focus on cultivation and not be contaminated by worldly things... I was afraid that once I was gone, there would be no one to support him anymore, such a good seedling. His secular family couldn't accommodate him anymore. If he couldn't be a good monk and went astray, wouldn't his fate be miserable? How could I bear that?"
Jing Jiujiu: "Once you were gone?"
Tingyi sighed: "Yes, at that time I was seriously ill and near death."
Jing Jiujiu: "But you're still alive now."
Tingyi's old face reddened: "Well, about that... One day I suddenly couldn't get up, my back hurt, my legs hurt, my whole body felt off. But Lingyang Mountain is treacherous, and I couldn't let them carry me down the mountain to see a doctor. Besides, that doctor... isn't he expensive too? My junior disciple suggested looking it up online. So we searched, and the internet said I had some kind of bone cancer, the incurable type. When you can't even eat anymore, that basically means death isn't far off. They suggested early amputation as treatment. But how could I amputate? I still wanted to leave behind a complete body after death to turn into a relic for our temple's treasure."
Jing Jiujiu: ?
Jing Jiujiu: "What website did you use?"
Tingyi wracked his brain to remember: "Bai... Baidu?"
Jing Jiujiu let out a soft "Ah."
How tragic.
Yin Mo's memory was destroyed by online amputation.
Tingyi heaved a long sigh, defending himself in a small voice: "I didn't want to either."
Jing Jiujiu couldn't help but speak up: "You say you don't engage with worldly things, but... when you read feng shui, tell fortunes, or catch ghosts for people, you don't charge money?"
Tingyi: "Of course not. What we do is our duty to save people universally."
Jing Jiujiu: "? But..." He became slightly confused, "But last time I checked, a fraudster charges 300,000 yuan just to catch one ghost. And a real ghost-catching master would charge at least a million yuan. If the client is a wealthy corporation," like the Jing family, "they can charge anywhere from 5 to 10 million yuan per case."
Tingyi: ...
Tingyi: !!!
Tingyi's old face was filled with bewilderment.
He trembled as he said: "...I'm old and frail, with one foot already in the grave. A little worldly engagement shouldn't matter much."
"Do you want me to help you catch ghosts?"
Jing Jiujiu: "..."
Ah, but I am a ghost.
Jing Jiujiu pulled out his phone: "How about... I introduce you to a couple of clients?"
Tingyi nodded repeatedly, tears streaming down his face.
300,000 yuan!
Just 300,000 yuan would be great! Heavens, how many bottles of Lao Gan Ma could that buy to go with steamed corn bread?
Overcome with emotion, Tingyi looked at the ghost face before him and found it radiant.
What a remarkably handsome ghost!
It's decided, this old monk will personally build a statue for you in the temple!