The three of us drank pretty quickly. Since none of us could really hold our liquor, by 9 PM, Zhang Daozhang and Liu Bi were already swaying drunkenly as they left the restaurant and headed back to school.

I stayed behind to settle the bill. Looking at my nearly empty wallet, I shook my head. Most of the money Zhao Yuehua had given me was still intact, aside from the 10,000 yuan I had spent covering Li Shanshan’s medical fees back then. Honestly, I couldn’t bring myself to ask that girl to pay me back, so I’d just been scrimping on the rest.

With a sigh, I made my way back to the dorm. As for the villa’s ghost, I couldn’t care less anymore. At first, I’d been entertaining grand ideas of eliminating her to protect world peace, but then it hit me—what’s in it for me? Not even a single yuan. Why bother doing something so thankless?

When I returned to the dorm, it was empty. Everyone else was out at their respective club activities. I flopped onto my bed, ready to get some sleep, when suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

I turned my head to look, and what I saw nearly scared me to death—it was Han Sifan! She was wearing a white ultra-short denim skirt and a plain white T-shirt. I yelled, “Big Sis! This is the men’s dorm! What are you doing here? And how the heck did you even get in?”

“Tch, what are you freaking out about? Our school rules only forbid guys from entering the girls’ dorms, not the other way around,” Han Sifan rolled her eyes and said, “It’s just that no girl usually bothers to come here.”

“Really?” I wasn’t entirely sure but nodded anyway. Han Sifan sat down at the foot of my bed and asked, “How’s your talisman practice coming along? Made any progress?”

“Not really. I don’t have much reason to practice that stuff,” I said, shaking my head. Honestly, I usually spent my free time gaming and had pretty much shoved the whole talisman business to the back of my mind. Occasionally, I’d glance through that little book Old Superstition had given me, which not only had talismans but also some monster descriptions. Most of the things I’d said before were stuff I’d picked up from that book.

Seeing her just sitting there, I asked, “Why’re you suddenly asking about this?”

“Jin Xishan’s father asked us to visit him this Saturday. It seems there’s some trouble at his place. I came to let you know. You should probably prepare some talismans over the next couple of days. Don’t just rely on biting your tongue—it’s effective, but your tongue won’t last if you keep doing that.”

Han Sifan then sniffed the air and looked at me suspiciously. “Also, why do you smell musty?”

“Huh?” I froze for a moment. In our line of work, “musty” was a euphemism for yin energy. People who’d encountered ghosts often carried a faint trace of yin energy on them. While ordinary folks couldn’t detect it, yin-yang practitioners had a kind of sixth sense for it, something they’d call “intuition.” That’s why they’d say a person smelled musty.

I told her about joining the ghost-catching club and what happened during the night’s activities. After listening, Han Sifan nodded thoughtfully and said, “I didn’t expect our school to have such an interesting spot. Maybe that Zhang Daozhang isn’t completely delusional after all.”

“Generally speaking, schools wouldn’t allow a superstitious club like that to exist. However, I’ve heard there’s a special division within the police force called the Ghost-Catching Bureau. Maybe this kind of club is meant to scout for talent. Then again, it could also just be a bunch of people fooling around.”

As she spoke, she tossed me a piece of paper. I caught it instinctively and looked down. It was a guide to drawing some kind of talisman. I couldn’t tell what it was for, but it looked really complex.

“This one’s not child’s play like the others you’ve used. It’s the Liuding Liujia Exorcism Talisman. I got it from someone else, but I’m not great at drawing talismans, so you’ll have to figure it out yourself. The incantation goes like this:

‘The essence of Yangming, divine power hidden within the heart, draws in yin spirits and banishes them into obscurity. With this spiritual talisman, no trace of demons shall remain. Defiance shall be met with heavenly soldiers. Decree!’

“Memorize it. Don’t forget. Try to make at least two for self-defense over the next couple of days,” she said.

I was thrilled, and whatever drunkenness I had left evaporated instantly. To be honest, I hadn’t been motivated to practice drawing talismans because the ones I’d learned before were so basic. For example, the Flame Talisman supposedly could burn anything, but in reality, it could barely ignite some yin energy, let alone harm a ghost. Most of the other miscellaneous talismans weren’t much better.

“Thanks, Sis Fan!” I grinned at her.

“Wow, what’s with the sudden politeness?” Han Sifan teased. “Alright, no more small talk. Spend the next two days cooped up practicing your talismans. Bye!” She waved and wiggled her way out of the dorm.

I looked at the drawing instructions on the paper, then rummaged through my cabinet and found a small bag. It looked just like the satchels those TV exorcists carried, filled with brushes, cinnabar, yellow paper, and other essentials. I hadn’t touched this stuff in ages. Grabbing the bag, I headed to the dorm balcony, closing the door behind me.

Talisman drawing required complete focus—no noise, no distractions. Thankfully, most of the dorm residents were out, so I could concentrate.

I laid out my supplies: yellow talisman paper, brushes, cinnabar, black dog’s blood, and boy urine. I cleaned out Tailong’s ashtray to hold the liquids, mixing them in precise proportions with a brush.

While searching my bag, I found three incense and suddenly remembered that I’d promised to offer incense to Menma ages ago but kept forgetting. I quickly took out the jade pendant housing Menma, but since I had more pressing matters, I didn’t release her.

I lit the incense and placed it beside the pendant. Then, holding my brush, I started copying the talisman from Han Sifan’s guide.

Talisman drawing was an art. Every stroke mattered, and even the tiniest error could ruin the whole thing. I’d heard Brother Xiang brag once about people spending an hour on a single talisman, and at the time, I didn’t believe it. Now, I totally did.

Three hours later, it was nearly midnight, and I still hadn’t finished one. I’d already wasted twenty sheets of talisman paper—each attempt ruined by tiny imperfections like a line being too long or too short.

By 2 AM, Brother Xiang and the others finally returned. They were drunk, reeking of alcohol, and didn’t even acknowledge me as they sat on their beds, boasting about how amazing their club’s senior girls were.