Zhao Na hid behind me, too scared to show her face. Summoning courage, I stepped forward and shouted, "The baby in her womb hasn't been born yet! Aren't you afraid of retribution for this?"
Li Qian turned around, (with her pregnant belly), staring straight at me, her (mouth twitching) into a cold smile. "I advise you to mind your own business. This family deserves to die."
Li Qian was clearly controlled by a dark arts master, similar to the "soul possession" in rural areas. Grandpa had told me that dark masters can use birth dates to control hosts—a (secret technique) prevalent in Southeast Asia. I tried to reason with the spirit, knowing that even in our "trade," we understood karma.
"Li Qian is pregnant. Pregnant women have always been blessed by heaven. Killing her will invite divine wrath."
"Scram, or I'll take you down too." Her gaze was venomous.
Dammit, my first job and I'd met a tough one. Seeing reasoning failed, I opened my Qing Nang, took out the phoenix wood sword and chicken blood thread, yelling to Zhao Zhiyong, "Tie her up with this!"
Panicking, he did as told, binding Li Qian like a (rice dumpling). She went limp on the bed. As I laid her down, I racked my brain for everything I'd learned.
The chicken blood thread was made from a bride's dress thread soaked in rooster blood—pure yang energy for defending against evil. Since the dark master could control her soul, they couldn't be far, and needed a (medium). I told Zhao Zhiyong, "Check who your wife has contacted recently. Look for anything unusual on her body. I'll wait outside."
Leading Zhao Na out, she asked admiringly about the exorcism, half-hoping her stepmother would die. I made up stories to fob her off. Soon, Zhao Zhiyong emerged, looking grim. "What's wrong?" I asked. He hesitated, so I pressed, "This is about your wife and child's lives." He gritted his teeth: "Master, does a tattoo count?"
"Tattoo? What about it?" I blurted.
His face reddened. "Her ex-boyfriend did it. Nothing else unusual."
"Where is it?"
"On her lower back, near the tailbone. Two fish playing with a pearl—one has Li Qian's name, the other his. She tried removing it, but it grew back."
Fish are auspicious, so this was odd. Puzzled, we entered the room. Disregarding modesty, we found Li Qian asleep. Zhao Zhiyong lowered her pants: two carp swam gracefully downward, heads toward her tailbone, with a pearl as if entering her . The only horror: red eyes.
Inking names meant she'd belong to that man forever. Minorities in southwest China excel at tattoos—confirming the tattoo was the key. (Imagine the pose: two fish aimed at... I'll leave it to your imagination.)
I sighed, finally understanding the "Rat Resentment" connection. But I couldn't stand by. After thinking, I ordered: "Shut all windows and doors, draw the curtains. Zhao Na, turn on all faucets."
"Why?" she asked.
"What do you think? To save lives. Move if you want to live."