That hundred yuan nearly got the two of us killed.
My name is Yu Xin. I grew up an ordinary kid in a Beijing hutong inside the Second Ring Road.
The year I failed the high school entrance exam, I went with my childhood friend Zhang Peng to volunteer at a Taoist temple on the outskirts of Beijing. I thought we'd learn to fly through the air and burrow underground. Instead, we spent a whole month hauling bricks.
Just as we were about to run away, a man in his sixties showed up at the temple: Li Jianhua. He wore dusty gray work clothes, squatted by the wall smoking, and would chat now and then about feng shui and talismans.
“Magic is your last resort,” he said. “If you can solve it with your fists, don't use magic.”
I thought he was just bragging.
That was before we found the hundred-yuan note tied with a red thread.
Borrowed-life money.
Whoever takes it will suffer bad luck. Whoever spends it will lose years of their life.
I thought that was the most sinister thing imaginable. Only later did I learn that something even more sinister than borrowed-life money is the human heart.
A gang boss who'd been killing people and hiding their bodies for over a decade, a wandering master who went around borrowing people's lifespans, a female ghost sold by her own parents, and my buddy Zhang Peng, who ended up taking a brick for me and getting sent to juvenile detention...
My master said, “The mortal world is a place of cultivation. Once you make yourself right, the Dao will come.”
This book isn't about immortals battling or defying fate. It's about a kid from Beijing who slowly figures out what the Dao is, in the hutongs, at Taoist temples and police stations, and outside juvenile detention centers.
Based on true experiences. No hype, no slander, no pretense of being mystical. If you believe it, come in and sit a while. If you don't, just enjoy it as a story.
Only later did I understand what my master meant:
Some things are scarier than ghosts. Some things are worth more than life.
