As she spoke, a pale tongue slithered out from the fierce ghost's scarlet lips.
With a slurp, the tongue suddenly stretched,
Coiling toward me like a snake.
I couldn't dodge in time.
The tongue wrapped tightly around my neck in an instant.
Coldness and suffocation hit me at the same time.
I froze, feeling as if I'd plunged into an ice cellar.
The female ghost's face rushed closer, magnifying before my eyes.
A putrid stench assailed me.
I could almost see her rotting mouth,
Like a massive black hole.
At that critical moment, the old man's voice suddenly rang out:
"Harming people right in front of me—do you think this old man is dead?"
As his words fell,
The ghost, inches from me, let out a shrill shriek and retracted her tongue.
She retreated to the side, glaring at the old man, black qi billowing off her body.
This old man could see ghosts?
I knew it—no normal person sells sweet potatoes in the middle of the night!
By then, the old man was checking his oven.
He fished out a roasted sweet potato, which looked a bit cold.
He asked me: "Young man, want a sweet potato?"
Without hesitation, I nodded frantically: "Yes! Yes, please!"
The old man smiled, his wrinkles bunching up, gesturing for me to come over.
I walked toward him. The female ghost stared daggers at me but didn't approach.
The old man then pulled a stainless-steel basin from his tricycle,
And began pulling things out from the bottom:
Incense sticks, joss paper, and even a paper-carved vehicle.
These were clearly offerings for the dead.
As he moved, he explained: "I sell sweet potatoes at East Lake Park during the day. Business was good today, so I rushed over as fast as I could, but only made it now."
Watching the ghost out of the corner of my eye, I replied:
"Sir, did you rush over to pay respects to someone?"
The old man said: "Someone was killed here in a crash last month.
The dead driver's ghost still lingers here.
His family contacted me to help send the ghost on his way."
After speaking, he smiled at the red-cloaked ghost and asked: "Do you want to move on too?"
The red-cloaked ghost, as if startled, stepped back quickly.
She shot me a reluctant glance before fading into the darkness.
I could tell she was gone because the stench of rot in the air vanished with her.
This old man had scared off the red-cloaked ghost with just a few words.
Was he even more powerful than the security guard?
With the ghost gone, the old man said to me: "Young man, could you do me a favor?"
Of course!
He'd saved my life tonight.
Maybe solving the red-cloaked ghost problem and saving Ye Manman would depend on him!
I nodded immediately, saying it was no problem.
The old man then instructed me to burn paper offerings by the roadside to "call the spirit."
Following his orders, I set up the basin.
As I called out the nickname "Little Blondie," I burned "Kaifeng Joss Paper" in the basin.
The paper bore Little Blondie's name and birth date.
"Sun Yuan, come collect your money."
"Sun Yuan, come collect your car."
"Sun Yuan, time to eat."
I chanted while burning joss paper and the paper car in order.
The old man pulled out a plate with two roasted sweet potatoes,
And stuck an incense stick into one.
After lighting the incense, he took out a small bell.
He shook it while muttering what sounded like a scripture.
Soon, my chanting and his bell-ringing fell into a rhythmic harmony.
As the Maserati in the basin turned to ash, a cold wind suddenly swirled at the intersection.
Leaves on the ground spiraled upward.
Folk legend calls this a "ghost whirlwind"—
A sign that something supernatural has arrived.
Sure enough, a white car appeared at the end of the road.
It glided silently but swiftly toward us,
Stopping a few meters from me and the old man.
The Little Blondie driver from last night got out,excitedly staring at the fire basin:
"Whoa, a Maserati! Mom's finally being generous!"
By the streetlight, Little Blondie had no shadow.
He looked almost human,
Except for his faintly blue-tinged face.
Grinning with excitement, he reached into the basin,
Scooping up a handful of ash and tossing it into the air. A Maserati materialized beside him.
He dug into the basin again, pulling out a thick stack of money—
Identical to human currency, but all a ghostly blue.
"Thanks, man."
He stuffed the money into his pocket, thanking me as he did.
After grabbing the money, he prepared to get into his new car.
The old man reminded him: "Sun Yuan, eat something before you go."
Sun Yuan eyed the roasted sweet potatoes, wrinkling his nose in disgust: "Why does it smell rotten?"
The old man said: "Smells rotten, but tastes good."
Sun Yuan shook his head: "No thanks. My old car was totaled, so I couldn't move on. Now I have a new one—I need to hit the road."
His old white car had turned into a wreck,
Its front completely crushed, faint black qi emanating from it.
The old man chuckled, pointing to the sweet potatoes: "You're late. Drive as fast as you want, but you still won't find your way. Eat the sweet potato, and your head will clear, your heart brighten. Then you'll know the path."
Sun Yuan paused, thinking, then slapped his forehead: "Right! Why can't I remember the way to report to the underworld?"
The old man said nothing.
Realizing, Sun Yuan leaned over the sweet potatoes, taking a deep breath.
The incense stick in the potato burned down visibly faster.
When it hit the end, Sun Yuan burped, exhaling a puff of black qi.
His face lit up: "I remember the way! Thanks, old man!"
The old man smiled and instructed: "Drive carefully on the way."
Sun Yuan nodded repeatedly, climbing into the car cheerfully.
Before driving off, he waved: "Thanks! I'm off—see you guys below!"
I choked, about to say "no thanks,"
But Sun Yuan hit the gas, speeding away.
Shortly after the Maserati left the intersection, a faint arched black hole appeared ahead—
Like a tunnel to another world.
The car vanished into it,
And the tunnel quickly faded.
I stared, dumbfounded.
This was a scene most people would never witness in a lifetime.
So ghosts and the underworld really do exist.
"Young man, thanks for your help tonight."
The old man spoke, jolting me from my trance.
I quickly replied: "No, no—I should thank you! You saved me. You're a master!"
He laughed: "Not a master. I just know some 'ghost-sending' skills, helping lost spirits move on."
I said: "That red-cloaked woman isn't a lost spirit. She's a fierce ghost, and even she feared you."
But the old man shook his head: "She's not afraid of me. She's afraid I'll harm her child."
A child?
"Can ghosts have children?"
The old man didn't answer, just studied me and sighed:
"Your body is drenched in yin energy. It seems she has completely set her sights on you."
I forced a bitter smile: "I've never wronged her. I don't understand why she's targeting me."
The old man climbed onto his tricycle, looking ready to leave.
Thankfully, he didn't intend to leave me behind.
He pointed to the space behind the seat: "Get in. We'll talk at my place."