It had been several days since Kiyohide had been on bed rest. He had not intended to do so, but ever since he met that guest whose name he did not know, his head had been fuzzy and unclear. Headaches and migraine had been on and off for quite a while, and they had only died down last night.

Maybe it was still too early to say so, it was just morning. 

He walked into the garden - no monk of the Shenmue Temple had been here yet. So it would be a good time for him to get the feel of plants, grass and flowers without troubling others.

A bush of light purple flower caught his attention first. He walked over - just to marvel at the petals with morning dew. Orchids, his favorite.

The name “Orchid” flashed through his mind. Lan-Hue, in his mother tongue it would be called. It seemed, someone else was also called “Lan”. Someone important.

He stumbled out of the garden and rushed toward the front desk of the temple, where he would find a phone. 

“Please work, please work.” His mind did not remember the number, but his finger, hand and arm seemed to. He heard beeps, it was a valid number.

“Hello? Who’s this looking for?” A female voice answered the phone in Mandarin, gentle, of age, slightly hoarse.

“Hi, I am looking for Hsiao Lan.” Kiyohide asked, with a slightly clumsy Mandarin.

The woman on the other side went silent for a moment before answering: “I’m sorry, may I know who this is?”

“My name is Kiyo - I think my name is Wong - something, sorry, I can’t remember.” Kiyohide asked: “But - I just remembered this number and I wanted to call - ”

“She’s not with us anymore. She passed away more than ten years ago.” The woman said: “I - I’m sorry, but - I don’t know if you are a friend of my mother’s - ”

“Wait - wait wait wait.” Kiyohide rubbed his temples and then his forehead with his left hand: “Is your name - is your name - Wong - Wong Mei - Wong Mei-Lam? Are you Wong Mei-Lam?”

The woman sounded more confused: “Uh - yeah - yeah that’s my name, who is this?”

“I’m sorry I don’t really remember, I just know my name is Wong - ”

“Wong - Wong Wen-Yu?”

“Ah! Yes! Wong Wen-Yu! Yes!” Kiyohide almost screamed, tears filled up in his eyes and fell from his face, he did not even notice the Abbot was already by his side.

“Little Yu.” The woman on the other side began sobbing, but with palpable happiness: “I thought you were dead! We thought you were dead!” She then raised her voice at someone else over where she was: “Auntie! Uncle! Come here! It’s Little Yu! He’s still alive!”

“Little Yu.” Kiyohide pondered the nickname. That was who he was, the second youngest son of his family. And the woman on the other side of the phone, was his older sister.

How many years had it been? Fifteen? Twenty? It should be simple math, but it was hard to do while wiping his eyes.

And only now did he realize he was surrounded by monks of the temple. His brothers. The ones who took him in and took care of him all these years, all smiling at him.

Surrounded by crosses, holy water, red threads with small bells on them and various other religious symbols and artifacts, Elijah Erikson woke up on his bed.

He checked the mechanical clock on his nightstand, then a small plate under his pillow - the upper surface of the plate was made of silver, with salt sprinkled on top. No tarnish or obvious signs of corrosion on the plate, which meant he had a safe night, fortunately again.

He got out of bed, put on his normal clothes, shaved, then walked into the kitchen. It was still relatively early, his personal assistant did not come in just yet.

The salt lines along his windows and doors were intact, not even a mark of being blown by wind.

“Morning, Mr. Erikson.” Just this moment, his personal assistant came in: “Good to see you are up now. I have some good news.”

Elijah Erikson’s heart skipped a beat, then he turned to his assistant: “Did you hear from the LAPD? Or MAGLAA?”

“Both, I heard from both, one after another.” The assistant could not hide his excitement as he put down the coffee and croissant on the dining table, he could not wait to spell out everything: “First of all, the LAPD just wrapped up their - operation with MAGLAA on the 8th floor. They told me that they didn’t expect us to keep the floor closed for long.

“And the news from MAGLAA is that one of their best exorcists is going to perform checks on the floor and the suite on a regular basis. But they believed whatever thing that is in the suite, it’s gone now.”

Elijah Erikson had to pull himself into a chair and sit down, his arms were trembling, and his cheek muscles were shaking. That was more than a few stones off his shoulders, for a minute, it was like he could stand straight for the first time for years. Literally, years.

“Are they sure?” He still needed to confirm.

“Yes. Apparently, three exorcists did the job last night, one of them is a senior, instead of just some random newbie they’ve been sending. ” The assistant chuckled: “They just said - we’re responsible for our clean up. They will need to do a sweep tonight, so they wanted to have the floors locked down for another night.”

“Huh, give them a week if they want.” Elijah Erikson waved his hand.

“There is one - one minor problem.”

“Oh, what is that?”

“The guests complained.” The assistant sighed and slowed down slightly: “Almost everyone of them. They even had some kind of impromptu group complaint session in the lounge.”

“What were they complaining about?”

“The same thing - ” The assistant swallowed and sighed: “At around - 3 or 4 AM last night, everyone got woken up by loud banging sounds coming from behind the walls. Some guests even described it as - as if a gang of people were kicking and punching the wall from the other side.”

Elijah Erikson sighed and laid back on his chair: “Okay, we’ll just handle that - maybe even refund them if we need to.”

As it turned out, finding a place with a reasonable rent in Los Angeles was not as easy to do as Wu Xiaoming had previously thought. If he was willing to use the card Wu Xiangyu gave him, it would be much easier - he hoped.

It had taken him more than an hour to get his personal bank account and credit card in order. He had had them ever since the day he woke up at the hospital, but he had just never used them. Because for one, living in his father’s place had already covered the living expenses and most of his grocery expenses. And for two, all the other expenses were paid with the card given to him by his father. 

It would seem too eager and somewhat insensitive to check on the actual credit limit of the card. Just knowing that he still had it made him feel somewhat assured.

“You check in from time to time, but no prolonged contact. You stay away otherwise.” This was what Wu Xiangyu told him, with a pair of red eyes and a stern tone: “If you have to ask for anything, don’t ask him or Qizhi, ask me.”

It was still way too early to ask for anything. And asking Douglass Kirkland for help just did not seem right, so he had to do the search by himself, at least for now.

Luckily he knew a hotel where it would be relatively cheap to rent a room - it was probably a good idea to try and get a room there for a few days. It would be better if he could get a discount there - he was in the “insider circle”, or in one of the circles now, he hoped.

He picked up his phone and dialed the booking number of Sproutlinger Hotel, then decided against it because it would be easier to go there in person and ask for a discount.

A hard working rideshare driver picked him up while the sun was still somewhat below the horizon, and without a question or complaint drove him towards the infamously haunted hotel.

Just as he was about to enter the door, a "notification" popped up before him. He just got a “reward” of 2000 Spirit Fragments. And on the “thumbnail” slot of this “notification”, was the familiar face of a monk - Kiyohide. Did something nice happen to him? Did he reconnect with his family?