Traveling Through Those Years Of Farming (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 17

“Master Chunming, are you okay?”

Yan Sheng looks at the little monk kneeling on the ground with concern. He tries hard to listen, but he doesn’t hear the crying that Chunming mentioned.

Because of the noise they are making, many neighbors have already begun to look at them. Yan Sheng feels a bit embarrassed. The residents here are mostly family members of government officials, and he doesn’t want others to know he has brought a monk to treat his mother.

“Let’s go upstairs first.” Yan Sheng reaches out to help Chunming up, but the little monk rejects his offer.

“Benefactor Bao, please hold my hand.”

Chunming’s eyes are a little moist. Sheng Baobao, reminded of Hua Xiaolian’s sad, innocent expression when it couldn’t lick, feels a sudden swell of protectiveness.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let go.” Baobao puffs up with courage, feeling that she is now being relied upon.

Chunming takes a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, and slowly stands up.

The master is right. He has to overcome this inner demon. If he doesn’t, all his aspirations to exorcise demons will be nothing but vain hopes.

Yan Sheng’s house is on the second floor. After climbing a flight of stairs, they arrive at the left-side door. Jiang Huiling has been waiting for them and immediately invites them inside.

The house faces south, with two bedrooms and a spacious living room. It is laid out well.

“My mother used to live in the bedroom facing south. When she was young, she worked in the paddy fields and developed cold legs. On rainy days, she would feel intense pain. The bedroom facing north is cold and lacks sunlight year-round. After my wife and I brought my mother from the countryside, we let her stay in our original bedroom. However, since she fell ill, she refuses to sleep in the south room. She says the sunlight makes her feel uncomfortable and her skin burns. So we moved her to the north room.”

Jiang Huiling points to the closed bedroom door. “She’s in there now.”

Baobao and Chunming both see the dark energy swirling from the crack of the door.

Chunming tightens his grip, his breathing quickening.

Baobao glances up at him, noticing the sweat dripping from his forehead.

“It hurts!”

“Mom, it hurts!”

“It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!”

The sharp cries grow faster and more piercing than before.

Chunming feels his back soaking with sweat. If it weren’t for Sheng Baobao’s calming presence, he would have collapsed by now.

“I’ll open the door for you.”

Jiang Huiling notices that they are both standing motionless in the living room, and her face flushes with slight embarrassment.

In fact, since returning from Hua’s house earlier in the day, Jiang Huiling has felt an inexplicable aversion to the north room where her mother-in-law is.

It isn’t fear, but a feeling of unease. The closer she gets to that room, the more intense the sharp, heart-wrenching pain she feels. Jiang Huiling can’t explain why.

“…Mom, Yan Sheng’s colleague has something to do, and their children have to stay at our house for a while. The children want to visit the elders, so I’ll open the door.”

She takes a deep breath and slowly turns the knob. The room is completely dark. Though the north room is dim year-round, the curtains have been pulled shut, allowing only a little light to filter through the thin fabric. It is nearly pitch-black inside, except for the huddled figure of an old woman sitting beside the bed.

“Ling’er, I’m in pain. Xiao Sheng, Mom is in pain.” The old lady’s voice is hoarse, almost mechanical, as she moans in agony.

With the door now open, some light spills into the room, and both Sheng Baobao and Chunming clearly see the old lady. Mother Xu, who was once a stout woman, has lost much weight due to her strange illness. Her skin, once firm, now sags and wrinkles like a dried-up apple. The loose skin hangs in layers, making her appearance unsettling.

The old lady’s eyelids droop, pressing down her upper lashes, casting thick shadows that obscure her eyes. Her gaze seems almost sinister, with dark brown age spots and a cluster of red dots that make anyone who looks at them feel uneasy.

“My mother didn’t look like this before. Look at that photo. She was really a kind old lady.” Yan Sheng steps forward, lowering his voice as he speaks to Chunming and Sheng Baobao.

They say a person’s appearance reflects their heart. His mother was once kind, always smiling. But now, with this strange illness, she looks like a cold, difficult old woman. Before the disease, she was well-liked by the neighbors, and she was always so warm-hearted.

Yan Sheng notices the shock and fear in Chunming and Sheng Baobao’s eyes, worried they might form a misunderstanding about his mother based on her current appearance.

In fact, even now, Yan Sheng struggles to believe what Chunming told him that morning. His mother is such a good person—how could she have possibly summoned hatred that would last forever?

However, what shocks Baobao and Chunming is not the old lady’s appearance, but the ghost child perched above her head, smiling at them in a disturbing way.

The child is withered and skeletal, her skull almost as large as her tiny frame, with sparse hair and deep, hollow eye sockets. She gazes at them, grinning, her voice rasping through the air.

“Mom, it hurts!”

The ghost child is almost glued to the old lady’s body, her tiny, claw-like fingers digging deeply into the old woman’s flesh. This, perhaps, is why the old lady keeps shouting that someone is stabbing her with needles.

Chunming stands frozen, overwhelmed by the surge of resentment. But Baobao feels little malice. Her gaze is fixed on the pink hairpin in the ghost Baobao’s hair.

The hairpin, no larger than a bottle cap, is wrapped in pink silk yarn shaped like a peony. The ghost child’s sparse hair is pinned in place by this small clip, which is fastened behind her ear.

From the front, only a small pink corner of the hairpin is visible. The ghost child seems to cherish it, occasionally reaching up to gently touch it, her movements cautious, as if she were an innocent child. But as soon as her hand withdraws and her fingers plunge back into the old lady’s body, the atmosphere around her changes, filling with boiling resentment.

The evil spirit, the sensation of being pricked by needles, the premature death of the ghost child, the surging resentment, and the tangled fate between them all collide in Chunming’s mind.

Sheng Baobao understands in an instant. She glances at the Yan Sheng couple, who are deeply concerned about the old lady’s condition. Do they know what is truly happening here?

“We can’t help with this.” Sheng Baobao tugs at Chunming, urging the little monk to leave.

Chunming looks at her in surprise, his face registering confusion and then realization.

Could it be… that Benefactor Bao also sees it?

Chunming feels a mix of nerves, confusion, and some strange joy. He is ashamed of his own fear, but knowing that Baobao shares his gift makes him feel less alone.

“Little girl, are you hungry or tired? Auntie will get you some food, and you can sit in the living room to eat. We even have a color TV; I’ll turn it on for you.”

Jiang Huiling doesn’t take Sheng Baobao’s words seriously. After all, they came for Lady Hua first, but since she refused to help, they resorted to Master Chunming.

To them, Sheng Baobao is just a regular child, tagging along with her brother to watch the spectacle.

With that, Jiang Huiling moves to take Sheng Baobao’s hand and lead her away.

“Benefactor Bao is right. We can’t help with this.”

Chunming takes Baobao’s other hand. He can feel the oppressive gaze from the bedroom, fixed on him. He tries to ignore it, but it’s hard. He glances up at Jiang Huiling and her husband, speaking slowly and carefully.

“Let’s go.”

Chunming grips Baobao’s hands tightly, his posture a bit awkward as they move toward the door.

He breathes deeply, exhaling slowly. When they reach the door, the pressure from the haunting gaze lightens somewhat.

Puff-Puff-Puff—

The ghost Baby in the room turns its gaze away from Baobao and Chunming. It lowers its head to stare at the old lady beneath it, raises a hand, and then plunges it forcefully into her flesh.

The ghost child seems to find this game incredibly amusing and keeps laughing.

Jiang Huiling and Yan Sheng can’t hear or see any of it.

“Xiao Sheng, Mom is in pain! Ouch, it hurts so much!”

The old lady can no longer bear the pain. She collapses onto the bed, writhing in agony. Yan Sheng hurries to her side, his voice filled with concern.

“Forget it, they’re just two children. I was confused. I actually placed my hopes on such a big child. Mom can’t continue like this. When the time comes, I’ll try to pull some strings and find a reliable mage or Taoist priest for help.”

Yan Sheng has already thought of the two individuals sent by the higher-ups to handle official matters. He has kept one of their contact details. Since they deal with supernatural cases, they are likely well-connected with masters in the field. He doesn’t want to bother Hua Yingpo anymore.

“Then… I’ll take the two children back to school,” Jiang Huiling says, glancing at the old lady’s tormented form. She takes a few steps closer but suddenly finds it hard to breathe. She freezes, then quickly returns to the living room. Grabbing the car keys, she prepares to take the children back to school.

It feels strange—there is a voice in her head telling her that if she doesn’t leave now, she will regret it for the rest of her life.

“Yeah.” Yan Sheng responds. He has borrowed a car from his unit for the day, so taking the children back to school isn’t an issue.

Jiang Huiling dashes out of the house, catching up with Chunming and Baobao, who have just walked outside.

“Master Chunming, let me take you and your sister back to school.” Jiang Huiling raises the car keys in her hand and smiles warmly.

“What I said before was right. The old lady is indeed possessed by an evil spirit.” Chunming hesitates, then speaks. “There’s a ghost child sitting on her neck. She says it feels like being pricked by needles because the ghost child’s fingers keep poking into her flesh.”

Jiang Huiling is not a wicked person. She has very few connections to negative energies, and while they haven’t exorcised the ghost, she still feels compelled to help the children. Her willingness to offer a ride demonstrates her kindness.

“The child seems to be only about one year old. She has a pink hairpin in her hair, shaped like a peony,” Sheng Baobao adds. “She keeps shouting, ‘Mom, it hurts.'”

Baobao looks at Jiang Huiling with a faint, distant look in her eyes. 

The words “Mom, it hurts” echo in her mind, the tone eerily similar to that of the ghost child.

“Pah—” The car keys slip from Jiang Huiling’s hand and clatter to the ground. She freezes, staring at the two children in stunned silence.

“Let’s go,” Baobao whispers, tugging on Chunming’s sleeve.

“Yeah.” Chunming nods, taking Baobao’s hand as they turn to leave. “You… saw it too, didn’t you?”

“Yes, we’re the same kind…”

“You can call me Chunming from now on. Even Master calls me that.”

“Okay, then you can call me Baobao. It feels too strange to call me Benefactor Bao.”

Their voices grow softer as they walk away, and Jiang Huiling’s mind is left completely blank. She has no time to process what they are saying.

Pink hairpins, peony patterns, a one-year-old ghost child… And that voice: “Mom, it hurts!”

She has heard it before, back when she touched the exorcism talisman on her mother-in-law.

Frantically, she picks up the keys from the ground, dashes to the driver’s seat, and slams her foot on the accelerator, racing out of the driveway.

Baobao and Chunming walk along the road, and as they do, a car speeds past them.

Baobao seems to understand.

She turns her head, gazing at the second floor of Yan’s house in the distance.

The ghost child is pressed against the window, staring directly into her eyes…