Chapter Four: An Audience with Lord Yama

“You’re such a bastard! You beat me and then went off to die? That’s cheating! The only one who gets to take you down is me, you hear me, you bastard? Come back to life so we can finish this! Bastard!” Bursting into the mourning hall, Zhang Yang stared at Qin Xiaochuan’s portrait on the table and flew into a frenzy, cursing at the photo. Overcome by emotion, he lunged forward, intent on seizing the portrait, but several classmates quickly grabbed him, dragging his unsteady frame out of the house.

“Calm down, Zhang Yang, calm down! This is a funeral, don’t do anything foolish…”

“Come back to life, you bastard! Come back and fight me for real, you hear me?” Even as his eyes remained fixed on Qin Xiaochuan’s portrait, Zhang Yang refused to leave, as if only dragging Xiaochuan out of his coffin for one last brawl could ease the resentment built up from a year of beatings. Now, with Xiaochuan gone, that pent-up anger would never be released.

“I’m sorry, we’re disturbing the family…”

“Quick, help me—grab his legs! Idiot…”

“That’s enough, let’s get out of here…”

Supporting the nearly unhinged Zhang Yang, several classmates carried him away from Qin Xiaochuan’s home, disappearing down the distant street.

“That guy really is an idiot, isn’t he?” Watching Zhang Yang vanish, Qin Xiaochuan could only shake his head helplessly. He would never get to rough up that fool again.

Just then, a familiar voice reached his ears—one he recognized instantly. Looking down, he saw it was Mr. Li from the student affairs office, accompanied by Mr. Wang, the teacher with the prominent teeth. Perhaps these two were the school’s official representatives, come to pay their respects. How unlucky, he thought, that they’d come all the way to his home. Qin Xiaochuan looked down, curious what these two might be up to.

“What were those students doing?” Mr. Li asked, covering his mouth as he watched Zhang Yang being dragged away.

Mr. Wang, the one with protruding teeth, glanced in the same direction and replied, “I think he was a friend of Qin Xiaochuan’s. What a display—could there be anything more ridiculous?”

“Such ignorant fools. Still, it’s thanks to that boy’s death that the school’s reputation has improved,” Mr. Wang whispered, covering his mouth and leaning in close to Mr. Li’s ear. “Who knows, maybe he got hit by a car right as he was kicking a child.”

“Hmph! Quite possible…”

Hearing these two so-called teachers slander him in front of his own memorial, Qin Xiaochuan’s anger surged. He longed to leap forward and teach the hypocrites a lesson, but at that very moment, a pair of strong hands reached out and grabbed the collars of the two whispering men.

“Between what you do and what you’ve just said, which of you is truly lacking in sense?”

“You—”

“Hmph…”

Seeing Mr. Li and Mr. Wang at a loss for words as he held them, Mr. Huang, another teacher, seemed reluctant to cause a scene in front of the memorial. He slowly released them, straightened his sleeves, and walked solemnly into the hall.

He’d only just heard about how Qin Xiaochuan had sacrificed himself to save another, and had rushed over from the school. Staring at the photo, struggling to believe the story was true, Mr. Huang moved to the altar, withdrew three sticks of incense, lit them from the candle in front of the spirit tablet, and, turning to the portrait, raised the incense to his chest. Gazing at Qin Xiaochuan’s image, Mr. Huang spoke softly, as if to himself, as if to the boy’s spirit: “You really surprised me, Xiaochuan… But, but why is it that I find I can’t praise you at all…”

As he looked at the portrait, Mr. Huang’s shoulders began to tremble uncontrollably. Tears streamed from his deep-set eyes; the pain of losing Xiaochuan was clearly immense. Though he’d always been strict with this troublemaker of a student, he was secretly proud to have taught a boy so brave. But a teacher’s pride kept him from ever saying so aloud. Now, watching this problem student’s departure, a storm of emotions churned within him, and he didn’t know what to say to the departed Xiaochuan.

Seeing someone weep for her lost son, Su Su’s tightly sealed heart seemed to crack open. Tears burst forth like a dam breaking, her longing for her son at last pouring out in a flood. The phrase “grief deeper than death itself” seemed to describe her state exactly. Perhaps only now did she realize that what she truly couldn’t live without was her precious boy. But it was too late—Xiaochuan was gone, never to return…

As the two mourned Xiaochuan’s passing, another visitor entered, this one holding a child by the hand. It was the young mother Qin Xiaochuan had met in the hospital, and the little boy he had saved from the rolling ball—Xiao Qiang.

Before the portrait, Xiao Qiang’s mother pressed her hands together in prayer and bowed three times. Then she beckoned the boy over, saying, “Come here, Xiao Qiang. Thank your big brother.”

Called by his mother, the little boy hurried over and, imitating her, pressed his hands together, closed his eyes, and whispered, “Big brother, thank you!”

“Idiot, I didn’t even save you,” Qin Xiaochuan muttered, embarrassed, turning away. He recalled what Xia Dan had once said—he hadn’t really done anything, and the boy had gotten hurt for nothing.

“Mommy, why is the big brother lying in that box?” The boy’s eyes fell on the coffin beside the altar, and he asked, puzzled, “Is he sleeping in there?”

“Yes… yes, he is…”

“Mommy, when big brother wakes up, can I come visit him again?” The child, not understanding death, clung to his mother’s arm, shaking it eagerly, full of gratitude to the one who had saved him. “I want to thank him properly when he wakes up.”

Hearing this, the mother’s body trembled. She bent down and hugged him tightly, at a loss for how to explain that the big brother was gone, had left this world forever, and would never wake again. All she could say was, “No, you can’t… you can’t…”

In his mother’s arms, Xiao Qiang persisted, “But why can’t I, Mommy? Why not?”

Qin Xiaochuan, suspended in midair, was struck deeply by the boy’s innocent gaze. Inside, he felt a force calling to him, urging him to return to the world where so many still cared for him.

“Xia Dan.”

“Yes?” At his call, the underworld envoy Xia Dan appeared instantly at his side.

“…,” Qin Xiaochuan looked at the little boy clinging to his mother and seemed to make up his mind. “I want… to accept the trial for resurrection.”

Hearing this, Xia Dan breathed a sigh of relief. If she couldn’t resolve Qin Xiaochuan’s situation and he turned into a wandering or earthbound spirit, it would be a real headache for her as an underworld agent.

“Very well. Since you’ve decided, hold on tight to my oar—whatever you do, don’t let go, or who knows where you’ll end up in the underworld. If you get swept into hell, it’ll be hard to get you back out—those demons are fierce, you know.” She giggled.

“Don’t… don’t scare me. I’m not afraid of demons…” Hearing that he might end up in hell, Qin Xiaochuan lost his usual bravado, trembling as he clutched the oar. After all, his soul was now in this little girl’s hands.

“Hold tight. Let’s go.” Seeing him grip the oar tightly, Xia Dan shot upwards, taking Qin Xiaochuan with her, as if tearing through the sky and flying right out of Earth’s atmosphere.

“Ah! Hey, slow down! Where are we going?” Watching the city shrink beneath him, Qin Xiaochuan grew increasingly anxious, terrified Xia Dan would take him somewhere unknown, never to return.

“To the underworld, of course, to see the one who can grant your resurrection trial—the Lord of the Underworld, King Yama.”

“Who’s that? If he wants to see me, tell him to come find me.” Relieved by her answer, Qin Xiaochuan relaxed a little.

“Listen carefully,” Xia Dan said sternly, turning to glare at him from atop the oar. “Don’t you dare say anything disrespectful to Lord Yama. Otherwise, you can forget about your resurrection trial—you might be thrown straight into hell.”

“No, don’t joke like that. I want to go back! I’m not going!” At the mention of hell, Qin Xiaochuan shook in terror behind her, but didn’t dare let go, so he just clung to the oar for dear life.

“Settle down. Look over there, the underworld passage is open. Let’s go in.”

“I don’t want to—”

At that moment, a yawning black vortex appeared before them, swirling in midair. This was the gateway from the world of the living to the realm of the dead.

Seeing the vortex, Xia Dan navigated confidently, heading straight for its center. “Hold on tight! Once we pass through, we’ll be in the underworld.”

“Help! Somebody save me!” After futile cries for help, Qin Xiaochuan gripped the oar tightly as they passed through a dim, lightless tunnel, arriving at the legendary underworld.

“So this is the River of Three Crossings?” Gazing down at the slender, winding river and the vast, boundless plains, Qin Xiaochuan looked around in wonder. “So this is the underworld—it’s enormous.”

“Got it in one,” Xia Dan answered briefly, focusing on steering the oar. Noticing the city walls in the distance, she turned to him and said, “That’s the City of Judgment ahead.”

“Oh? Really? That was fast.” Qin Xiaochuan, taking in the scenery, saw the walls growing nearer. That must be the City of Judgment Xia Dan had mentioned. The thought of meeting King Yama soon made him nervous. “If I end up fighting him, I might actually lose.”

Circling the walls, Xia Dan landed with Qin Xiaochuan in front of a towering building, then led him up the steps and through the doors. As she tugged him along, Qin Xiaochuan’s mind raced, plotting out his next move. “No, wait—when I see King Yama, I’ll greet him with a punch, then while he’s stunned, circle behind for another blow, then grab his—yes, perfect…”

“What are you grinning about back there?” After they’d crossed a long corridor and reached a large door, Xia Dan noticed Qin Xiaochuan smirking behind her.

When he didn’t answer, she shook her head and called out to the peephole in the door, “This is Xia Dan. Please open up.”

A pleasant woman’s voice replied from within, “Very well, come in.”

The doors slowly slid open to either side.

As the doors parted, a cacophony of noise poured out—like the floor of a stock exchange, the place was in absolute chaos.

“Hurry, hurry, we’re running out of time, Mr. Wang is about to arrive…”

“Get Mr. Zhou’s file over here—quickly…”

“What took you so long…”

“Here, over here…”

“Watch it, can’t you be more careful…”