บท 3: Chapter 2: Summoning the Soul
"The lease for your restaurant was signed for five years, and it's protected by American law! If you break the contract, my lawyer will sue you! Just wait until you have to close the shop and pay up!"
"You...you...after all, we're from the same hometown. When you transferred the restaurant to us, you assured us that we would make our money back within a year. Who knew the business would be so bad here? With the homeless lingering at the door and hippies upstairs, no decent person dares to dine here. We just owe you one month's rent, and you're already on our doorstep demanding money and threatening to close us down. Aren't you changing your face too quickly?"
"Hey, hey, hey, I'm just acting according to the contract. Business is business, and it's all about skills. If you lose, you have to accept it. If you can't manage your business, what does that have to do with me?"
"I...we'll just declare bankruptcy, and see what you can do about that!"
"Heh-heh, that's exactly what I'm hoping for~ Take a good look at the agreement. If you can't come up with the rent, I'll take back the entire $30,000 deposit and rent this place out to someone else. Hurry up and pay this month's overdue rent. To tell you the truth, you're not the first, nor will you be the last. I'll give you three more days. It's up to you."
Dang Lei faintly heard a buzzing argument through the door and the wall panels, making him wonder where he was. Was he in a hospital?
When he opened his eyes, everything around him was pitch black, yet the scent of onions, ginger, and cooking oil filled his nose. Was this a kitchen in a hospital?
Dang Lei struggled to get up from the bed, but his body didn't seem to belong to him. It was sore and stiff all over, each muscle not obeying orders, as if they all had their own ideas, fighting against each other and preventing him from climbing out of bed.
The argument outside stopped, and there was a brief, gloomy silence. An older voice said, "Youtang, first try to come up with this month's rent. Hurry, and try to find a way to transfer the restaurant to someone else. Youwei, go check on Guoyang. If he hasn't recovered from the fever, take him to Dr. Tang's clinic. Don't go to the hospital; it's too expensive."
Giving up the struggle to get up, Dang Lei gradually adjusted to the darkness around him. He could see the low wooden loft above, stained with a dark patch of moisture.
This was definitely not a hospital. Dang Lei's head felt muddled, his memory filled with a mix of unknown fragments that flashed through his mind like scenes from a movie. He felt dizzy and disoriented, forcing him to close his eyes and clench his lips tightly to endure the pain.
He heard the door creak open, followed by footsteps. Someone was coming in, getting closer to the bed, and Dang Lei smelled the onion and oil even more intensely than before.
A warm, rough hand stroked his forehead.
"Seems like the fever has gone down," Gan Youwei murmured, his worried heart easing slightly.
Compared to the restaurant's business, he was more concerned about his son's health.
Seeing his son with tightly closed eyes and lips turning pale, Gan Youwei's just-eased heart tensed up again.
He softly said, "Guoyang, Guoyang? Are you feeling any better? Are you hungry, do you want to eat something?"
At that moment, Dang Lei felt as if he was submerged in water, with the sounds around him coming from the shore, muffled and elusive.
Guoyang, who is Guoyang?
And who am I?
Where exactly am I?
What time is it now?
His head was rumbling like a cement mixer, constantly swirling, and the fragments and images of memories flooded in like a breached dam, overwhelming him until he felt his head might explode.
Gan Youwei watched as his son's expression grew more ferocious, veins on his forehead bulging, and his lips biting tighter in obvious pain.
He urgently called out to Uncle Gan Bingguang and cousin Gan Youtang outside, "Uncle! Youtang! Come quickly, Guoyang seems to be seriously ill!"
The two entered the room, and Gan Bingguang sat beside the bed to assess the situation, frowning, "Has Guoyang become possessed?"
Gan Youtang questioned, "Possessed? Can someone be possessed in America too?"
Gan Bingguang glared at his son and said, "China, America, it's all the same! Youwei, has Guoyang been anywhere strange recently?"
Gan Youwei calmed his anxious feelings, thought for a moment, and replied, "Yesterday, Guoyang and Guohui went out. After returning, he started to have a fever in the evening, and now I don't know why it's like this."
"Where's Guohui? Call him here!"
Gan Youtang went to the upper loft and dragged his son Guohui, who was fiddling with a video game console in his room, down.
"Yesterday? Yesterday I... I just took Guoyang around the Cathedral of the Assumption... you know, he's new here, so I was helping him get familiar with the place. I didn't take him anywhere else, especially nowhere bad," said Guohui in the face of his grandfather's stern questioning. He dared not lie.
"Did he get scared yesterday, or see anything strange?"
"Scared? Well... well... yesterday we passed by a basketball court, and a flying basketball hit him. A black guy was yelling at us and seemed about to get violent, but we returned the ball to him. Then, when we threw the ball back, a car nearly hit us. I think Guoyang might have gotten frightened."
"What are you doing hanging around street basketball courts? Those places are full of heartless thugs. Guoyang is new to this place and unfamiliar with the surroundings, so don't run around aimlessly. Go, fill a bowl with water and bring a pair of chopsticks here."
"All right, grandpa, are you going to perform a ritual to summon Guoyang's spirit back?"
"Just go and bring it, and stop yapping!"
Gan Guohui hurriedly fetched a porcelain bowl filled with water and a pair of bamboo chopsticks. Gan Bingguang placed the bowl at the head of the bed, held the chopsticks upright in the bowl of water, closed his eyes, and began to murmur an incantation:
"If I have collided with your bridge, blocked your path, no matter the cause of your demise, please don't take offense to my unintentional blunder. Now that you have found my family's boy, I offer you a sip of water and a bite of rice for your journey. Please leave promptly after you've eaten. Those without grudges, please steer clear…"
After finishing the incantation, Gan Bingguang let go, and astonishingly, the pair of chopsticks stood upright in the bowl of water.
Upon seeing this, Gan Bingguang gripped the chopsticks, stirred them in the water, and recited:
"May this destiny-guided meal be your sustenance. After eating, disperse swiftly, entangle us no more, protect my child and bring him peace. Defy this and face divine decree. I beseech the bodhisattva Guanyin and Holy Mary to witness and ensure…"
Releasing his hold again, the chopsticks remained upright in the bowl. Gan Bingguang instructed, "Go and get some rice."
Gan Youwei brought over a handful of rice and carefully sprinkled it into the bowl; the chopsticks that were standing then toppled over, falling to the ground.
Gan Bingguang glanced at the direction of the chopsticks with furrowed brows and murmured, "Why are the chopsticks pointing towards Guoyang and not the door? This means it refuses to leave."
The fallen chopsticks' tips pointed straight at the young man on the bed.
Gan Bingguang picked up the chopsticks from the ground and repeated the process. The chopsticks remained standing in the bowl.
When he added rice, the chopsticks fell again. This time, however, the two sticks crossed each other in the shape of a cross, perfectly resembling a crucifix.
Gan Bingguang felt bewildered in his heart, while Gan Youwei noticed his son's face gradually calming, his tightly clenched lips relaxing, and beads of sweat the size of soybeans forming on his forehead.
"Uncle, Guoyang is sweating."
"Quick, cover him with the blanket to keep the sweat in. Light another pot of boiling water, let him drink more hot water. If he sweats it out, he will recover."
Gan Youwei hurriedly brought over a blanket for his son, lit the water for heating, and every half hour, helped him sit up to drink.
In no time, the boy wrapped in blankets sweated profusely, soaking through two sets of clothes and two blankets, followed by a deep sleep that lasted all night, until he sluggishly awoke the next afternoon.
Upon opening his eyes, he again saw the water stain on the wooden ceiling and smelled the fragrances of scallions and cooking fumes lingering in his nose.
He knew he was not dreaming.
A middle-aged man was sitting by the bed, propping his chin up, half-awake.
"Dad, why aren't you asleep?"
The middle-aged man immediately came to, his eyes red with bloodshot veins, but they filled with immediate laughter as he saw his son sitting up in bed, looking healthy and without a trace of sickness. He said, "You're awake, hungry, huh? I'll make you something to eat."
Gan Youwei's face lacked the previous worry and tension; he spoke casually, though he hadn't slept soundly at all that night.
The youth got out of bed, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling board, and looked at his current self in the wardrobe mirror. Inside, he felt utterly astonished.
"This… this look, why does it seem exactly like the character Gump I designed in the 2K game?"
The youth in the mirror had a square face with striking features, long limbs, nearly reaching the low ceiling of the room.
He wasn't as tall, and his arms and legs weren't as robust as in the game, rather slender, but those large hands, like fan leaves, could certainly easily grasp a basketball.
He felt a profound sigh in his heart, mixed with confusion, wondering whether his previous life was a dream or if this current time and space were unreal.
Regardless, it seems he had to start a new life.
"Name, Gan Guoyang, born on September 1st, 1964. Three weeks ago, followed his father Gan Youwei to San Francisco, USA, and joined their clansman, Uncle Gan Bingguang. They run a Chinese restaurant in Tenderloin District, Gan's Restaurant."
"Three weeks ago was June 17th, 1981. We flew directly from Shanghai to San Francisco, and now it's July 8th… 1981, still in America. I'm 16 years old this year… 1981…"
Dang Lei… also Gan Guoyang, stood before the mirror sorting through his fully integrated memories, his heart a swirl of emotions, yet also feeling a tinge of excitement.
This healthy, tall body might change many things.
"Guoyang! Come out and eat something. Can you get out of bed? If not, I'll bring it to you!"
The voice of Gan Youwei echoed from outside, and Gan Guoyang came back to his senses, replying, "I can get out of bed, coming to eat! Wait for me!"
Gan Guoyang put on a coat and walked out, but his head thudded against the doorframe – his height was a full two meters.
Clearly, he wasn't quite used to this height yet.
"Be careful, you'll hurt your brain. Did it hurt?"
"No worries, it hurts... a bit of pain is good, it shows I'm not dreaming."
"What are you babbling about, you rascal. Let's eat."
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