VESSEL - Extinction Countdown 961: Spirit Shadows

Yi Qing, bent over the trunk sorting, heard a yelp. A filthy figure tumbled across the ground, and she knew instantly.

Ye Shisan’s swift kick!

“You lunatic, hitting my Qiang?!”

He Dali, seeing his son struck, roared and grabbed Ye Shisan’s collar, fist raised.

But his swing froze—Ye Shisan gripped his wrist tight.

He Dali, shorter and past sixty, was no match. Furious, he hacked up phlegm and spat it on Ye Shisan’s chest.

“Old hag! Get a knife! I’ll gut this brat!”

Li Fang, nonchalant at the shop door, counted the day’s cash in her wheelchair, sneering: “Qiang deserved it! If my legs worked, I’d kick him myself! Shisan, my own boy, well done!”

He Dali, betrayed, lost it. He charged and toppled Li Fang’s wheelchair.

Legless but honed by years battling loan sharks and begging, Li Fang lunged like a bloodthirsty corpse, clamping He Dali’s leg and tearing off a chunk of flesh with her teeth.

He Dali howled, a chilling shriek erupting. He pummeled Li Fang’s head: “You crazy hag!”

“You bastard, don’t think I’m blind! Did you steal three grand two days ago?! Huh?!”

“No… I didn’t!”

“Liar! Gone all night, pants reeking—where’d you slink off? It’s all flesh, right? I’m no worse than those women! Give me that cash, I’ll make you feel good…”

Their curses and clawing wove the raw ugliness of human emotions into a brutal scene.

Li Fang’s shrill screeches pierced Ye Shisan’s head. Since I was a kid, it’s been like this—her and Father, every venomous word a blade through my young heart.

His face grim, he stared at the writhing pair as if the woman wasn’t his mother.

Suddenly, the light dimmed. A strange mist rose from Li Fang’s back, forming an odd bird.

Curved beak, short tail with white spots, gray-black back, black-striped belly, two-toed feet—a cuckoo, Ye Shisan recognized from his rural days.

He recalled last night: Yi Qing’s chest glowed, forming a flower he couldn’t name. What’s happening?

He glanced at He Dali. Black vapor coiled, shaping a dingy creature.

A rat.

Ye Shisan was baffled. Why these visions? Is my Pseudo-Spirit acting up?

As he stood stunned, You Long’er rushed over: “What’s going on?”

Vanilla held a shirt: “Uncle Shisan, change—your clothes are filthy!”

You Long’er sized it up: “Messing with Yi Qing and my man? I’ll have them crushed!”

Yi Qing waved it off: “Don’t waste time. Get in the car!”

Ye Shisan swapped shirts. You Long’er tossed the soiled one to the ground. No one bothered to break up the fight. They pulled him into the car.

Glancing back, Ye Shisan saw He Qiang, bruised but too drunk to care, sprawled starfish-style, asleep. His pants bulged, a lecherous smirk on his face—lost in a filthy dream.

Gray smoke wafted from He Qiang’s chest, forming a massive creature.

A fat pig.

Ye Shisan, rattled by these visions, felt clearer as the evening breeze hit him.

Yi Qing, at the wheel, glanced at Ye Shisan: “You okay?”

“I… saw strange things.”

You Long’er, in the back, huffed: “Hmph! Bet you were staring at Yi Qing’s butt like that creep Qiang!”

Vanilla bristled: “Vixen, Uncle Shisan’s not like that!”

Before they bickered, Ye Shisan spoke: “You might not believe me, but I saw their Heart Demons!”

He recounted the visions, spooking the back seat.

You Long’er cut in: “Ye Shisan, you joking? Vanilla, you see anything?”

Vanilla shook her head like a rattle: “I don’t wanna see that—too scary!”

Yi Qing mused: “I think Ye Shisan’s right. Maybe your Pseudo-Spirit’s power woke up.”

Ye Shisan frowned: “How so?”

Yi Qing explained: “You saw Li Fang as a cuckoo. Cuckoos, or cloth birds, are useful but scorned—they lay eggs in other nests, destroying the host’s eggs.”

You Long’er got it: “Like Li Fang ditching young Shisan, leaving Grandfather to raise him!”

Yi Qing nodded: “Exactly. He Dali as a rat fits—cowardly, short-sighted, abandoning family, fleeing debts. Rats eat their weak or dead kin, so him hitting crippled Li Fang tracks.”

Ye Shisan was impressed. Yi Qing, ex-Fireseed, had sharp insight.

Vanilla asked: “Why’s Uncle Shisan see He Qiang as a pig?”

You Long’er laughed: “Easy! Qiang’s a slob—lazy, lustful, short, sleazy. What’s that if not a pig?”

Everyone nodded.

Vanilla’s eyes sparkled: “Uncle Shisan, what am I?”

You Long’er piped up: “Yeah, what about me?”

Ye Shisan said: “Honestly, the first I saw this with was Yi Qing.”

“Me?” Yi Qing blushed: “When I was… at my place?”

She meant when Ye Shisan saw her bathing.

Ye Shisan flustered: “No, no… last night…”

His stammering made You Long’er snap: “I knew it! You two were up to no good after Vanilla and I went upstairs!”

Vanilla pouted: “No wonder you shooed me and the vixen away. Yi Qing’s hogging him!”

Yi Qing ignored their fuss: “What’d you see?”

“A beautiful flower.”

Ye Shisan felt shy, meaning no flattery.

Yi Qing regretted asking. Though he spoke plainly, hearing a handsome man’s praise, her blush spread to her collarbone.

You Long’er and Vanilla erupted: “Flirting right in front of us!”

The tiny car became a vinegar vat, rolling toward the asylum.