Chapter One: The Yin-Yang Clinic of Ghostly Medicine

In the stillness of the night, the bustling Ma Market Street had long since emptied of all traces of pedestrians. Yet, tucked away in a shadowy alley, a single storefront glowed with light. Hanging above its door was a striking sign inscribed with five bold words: The Yin-Yang Ghost Clinic.

Indeed, it was a place that treated ghosts—cured ailments afflicting spirits.

“Rich or poor, come in for a consultation! If my diagnosis is wrong or the cure fails, you pay nothing—and receive a complimentary limited-edition Barbie doll!”

At that moment, a young man clad in black casual attire stood before the shop, glancing about and calling out. He was the owner of the clinic, named Jiang Xiaofei—a man of striking looks.

Each night at this hour, Jiang Xiaofei would step outside to shout into the darkness. Partly to stave off loneliness, and partly because this was the time when the yin energy reached its peak—a prime moment for vengeful spirits to wander.

As he called out, a female ghost emerged from the distant shadows, approaching. Her appearance was surprisingly stylish: shapely legs clad in black stockings, a tight skirt hugging her figure, her seductive silhouette exquisitely displayed—enough to make any man lose his composure.

Yet, she appeared to be injured, limping as she drew near Jiang Xiaofei and asked offhandedly, “Handsome boy, can you heal my leg?”

Jiang Xiaofei examined her impaired right foot carefully, then patted his chest with unwavering confidence. “Absolutely. Leave it to me.”

She giggled, then followed him inside.

The interior of the clinic was cramped but tidy, with goods piled high, reminiscent of a recycling depot.

Jiang Xiaofei fetched a stool for her to sit, then pointed to her long legs. “Please remove your stockings.”

“Huh?” she blushed at his words, unable to meet his gaze.

Pretending to be coy, Jiang Xiaofei scoffed inwardly. He knew well what was running through her mind and spoke coolly, “If you don’t remove them, how am I supposed to examine you?”

“Oh!” Understanding his intent, she nodded shyly and stood to peel off her stockings, revealing legs so pale they resembled carved jade cakes.

But beneath the whiteness, bluish spots marred her skin, emitting a nauseating odor.

Jiang Xiaofei instantly recognized the cause of her injury. His expression turned grave. “Your wound is caused by a Silent Soul Nail. If you don’t get immediate treatment, you’ll lose your leg!”

“What? Is there a cure?” she exclaimed, terrified.

Seeing her anxiety, Jiang Xiaofei nodded. “Of course there is, and the remedy is swift and effective. Wait here for a moment.”

He turned, rummaged behind the counter, and produced a large tin can. From it, he drew a small, coal-black pill and tossed it to her. “Swallow this, and your leg will heal.”

“Really?” She scrutinized the pill, unconvinced, unable to discern anything extraordinary about it.

“Trust me. If it doesn’t work, I’ll compensate you for your trouble,” Jiang Xiaofei promised solemnly.

Hesitant, she swallowed the pill—and almost instantly, the bluish spots faded, her skin became even fairer.

With the marks gone, she felt invigorated, brimming with energy and delight. “It’s amazing! I’m healed!”

“That’s how miraculous it is,” Jiang Xiaofei replied with confidence, unsurprised by the result.

“So, handsome, how would you like me to thank you?” she teased, clambering onto the counter and stroking her pale legs, clearly attempting to seduce him.

The scene was enough to ignite any man’s desire, but Jiang Xiaofei kept his composure. “Since you’re cured, pay up—three thousand ghost coins.”

Realizing he was immune to her charms, she nodded, handed him a thick wad of ghost currency, and departed.

Before leaving, she planted a kiss on his cheek, leaving a vivid red imprint.

“Damn it, she actually kissed me,” Jiang Xiaofei muttered, finally coming to his senses. The thought of having been kissed by a female ghost—who knew how many men she’d been with—made him feel he’d lost out.

Yet, after a moment’s reflection, he pocketed the ghost coins and hurried into the tiny bathroom, thoroughly washing his face beneath the faucet.

Shortly after the ghost left, a male vengeful spirit arrived at the door. Tall and gaunt, dressed in blood-stained rags as if fresh from battle, a gruesome wound slashed across his neck, giving him a fierce, menacing aura.

He lingered outside, glancing left and right before calling out, “Anyone inside? I’m here for treatment.”

“I’m the owner,” Jiang Xiaofei replied, stepping out from the bathroom.

Sizing him up, the spirit entered, sitting heavily on the same stool the female ghost had occupied, pointing to his neck wound. “I heard from others you treat ghost wounds and ailments. Can you heal this?”

Jiang Xiaofei glanced at the wound, his tone casual. “Of course. Wait a moment.”

He rummaged through a nearby cardboard box and produced a piece of dried material, tossing it to the spirit. “Eat this, and your wound will heal.”

“What is this—cow dung?” The spirit recoiled, both shocked and furious.

“You trying to trick me into eating cow dung? Want to die?”

“Believe it or not,” Jiang Xiaofei shrugged, indifferent.

“This kid isn’t afraid of me?” The spirit hesitated, then, after some thought, gritted his teeth and swallowed the dried cow dung.

Immediately, he felt a surge of heat coursing through his body, finally settling at his neck. He could distinctly feel the wound healing rapidly.

Astonished and delighted, he exclaimed, “This… it’s incredible! It’s completely healed!”

“I told you so. Now pay up—ten thousand ghost coins,” Jiang Xiaofei said offhandedly.

The spirit balked at the amount. “You didn’t deceive me, but you made me eat cow dung. I’m not paying.”

He rose to leave, but Jiang Xiaofei grabbed his shoulder. The spirit was stunned—the grip was impossibly strong, impossible to break free. Turning, he found Jiang Xiaofei’s cold gaze fixed on him.

“Trying to leave without paying? Believe me, if I make one call, a hundred vengeful spirits will show up to beat you.”

Jiang Xiaofei wasn’t boasting: he’d treated thousands of ghosts, all of whom spoke highly of him. He could easily summon a host of spirits.

The ghost realized he couldn’t afford to provoke Jiang Xiaofei. Reluctantly, he produced eight thousand ghost coins he’d accumulated over years. “This is all I have!”

“Only eight thousand?” Jiang Xiaofei counted the bills, irritated. “Guess I’m out of luck. Get out.”

He tossed the spirit outside like a sandbag.

“Damn it, such a loss.”

After driving the spirit away, Jiang Xiaofei sat on the stool, simmering with frustration.

Still, he strode to the doorway and called out again, “Rich or poor, come in for a consultation! If my diagnosis is wrong or the cure fails, you pay nothing…”

He was determined to recoup his losses.

But after several calls, not a single ghost appeared outside.

It was, without doubt, Jiang Xiaofei’s worst night in business. Normally, at this hour, the vengeful spirits would be lined up.

But there was nothing he could do; he couldn’t go out searching for ghosts—and besides, he didn’t suffer from occupational illness.

Truthfully, Jiang Xiaofei didn’t want this job, but he had no choice. His wife had ordered him to do it.

The story began ten years ago.