Wei Jun took a deep breath, bracing himself for another day of teaching—another day of students talking more than listening. He barely stepped out the door when a thunderous voice nearly made his soul leave his body.
"JUN-JUN! STOP RIGHT THERE! DON'T MOVE!"
He froze.
His grandmother.
Instinct screamed at him—run now, ask questions later. But before he could so much as twitch, a slap of paper landed squarely on his forehead.
SMACK!
Wei Jun blinked, his brain short-circuiting as he processed what just happened. His hand reached up but was immediately intercepted by a bony grip—his grandmother's hands, aged but powerful, pressing the yellow talisman against his skin as if sealing a cursed door shut.
"Grandma," he groaned. "Not again, please."
"Don't move!" she hissed, her wrinkled eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Evil spirits are after you! I must protect you before they take over your body!"
Wei Jun nearly choked on his own breath. "Excuse me?!"
"You had a nightmare about evil spirit, didn't you?" she accused.
"What—?" His mind reeled. "That was just a—"
"A sign!" she interrupted, voice thick with conviction. "A terrible omen!"
As if summoned by an unseen force, his mother emerged from the kitchen, her hands carrying a bundle of lit incense sticks. Thick, aromatic smoke billowed through the air, instantly transforming their modest home into something straight out of a horror movie ritual.
"Oh, come on!" Wei Jun's voice cracked. "You too, Mom?! For real?!"
"Silence!" she commanded, circling him like a seasoned exorcist. "Listen to your grandma! You're the miracle child of the Wei family! Spirits want your soul!"
Wei Jun let out a hollow chuckle. "Last I checked, you only cared about me getting married—whether to a human or a ghost."
His mother's serious expression didn't waver. "That's right," she said. "But not to a vengeful spirit, you stubborn fool!"
The sheer absurdity of the situation left him speechless. He was a grown man, a respected teacher. He should have been at work, preparing for a grueling day of lectures on history. Instead, he was trapped in his own home, drowning in a ritual he neither asked for nor believed in.
His grandmother suddenly gasped, her grip on his forehead tightening. "I see it! Dark energy is swirling around you!"
Wei Jun barely had time to process her words before she began muttering ancient incantations, shaking him like a condiment bottle clogged at the top.
Coughing through the thickening smoke, he glanced at the front door. It was so close. Freedom was mere steps away. But with every second that passed, escape seemed less and less likely.
"Grandma," he wheezed. "I just want to go to work. Can we do this exorcism later? Say ... never?"
"Only a possessed man would say that!" she snapped, gripping his collar tighter.
His mother fanned the incense smoke toward him with newfound intensity. "Begone, evil spirit! Leave my son alone!"
Wei Jun's head dropped in defeat. There was no winning this battle.
"Woof, woof, woof!"
Even Bao Bao wouldn't stay out of it. He barked relentlessly, circling around as if he, too, had joined the grand exorcism ritual. His eyes seemed to say—This is for your own good, Master!
For what felt like an eternity, he stood still, enduring the full spiritual cleansing—his forehead smeared with who-knows-what, his clothes reeking of incense, his dignity hanging by a thread. Finally, after much murmuring, chanting, and an aggressive amount of talisman slapping, his grandmother exhaled in satisfaction.
"Alright," she announced. "You're safe. For now."
Wei Jun sighed in relief, stepping toward the door.
"But be careful!" his grandmother warned. "Don't talk to wandering spirits on your way! People who don't understand our family's gifts might think you're insane!"
Wei Jun, who now looked—and smelled—like he had spent the night meditating in a Taoist temple, finally stumbled outside. He had survived. Barely.
As he latched the gate behind him, he overheard a hushed conversation between his grandmother and mother.
"I'm still not sure," his grandmother murmured. "We should repeat the ritual tonight."
"Good idea," his mother agreed. "I sensed something lingering too."
Wei Jun stared blankly at the sky, his soul momentarily leaving his body. He was supposed to be a scholar, a man of reason, a pillar of rational thought. And yet, here he was—single, drenched in incense smoke, and battling spirits only his family seemed to see.
He sighed heavily.
What a wretched old man he had become.