第八章 老板是个风水圣手

老王把那罗盘往炕桌上一撂，直了直腰，后背有点发僵。这玩意儿邪乎是真邪乎，搁手里头沉甸甸的，像揣了块磁铁，吸溜吸溜地把院子里的小石子都吸过来了。他还琢磨呢，是不是祖传的罗盘保养得忒好了，成了精了？正犯迷糊呢，院子里突然传来“咚咚咚”的敲门声。 这敲门声不赖，也不急，有点像谁家主子遛弯儿前，先让下人叩个门，透透气。老王瞥了眼墙上的挂钟，都晚上十一点了，谁还串门儿啊？这脑子里“嗡”一下，差点没把那罗盘给抄起来。什么人啊？难道是老李？隔壁老李头，老光棍一个，半夜不偷鸡摸狗的，能干嘛？ 他趿拉着鞋，骂骂咧咧地挪到院子门口，Opening the door, wind blows in, a gust of cool air. He smelled nothing unusual, just the usual dust in the courtyard. "Who is there?" He called out, his voice hoarse from a long day. No answer. Just the wind whistling through the empty yard. Old Wang frowned. He took a step back, peered through the gap in the doorframe, and saw nothing but a sliver of the moon casting a shadow on the dusty ground. Just as he was about to slam the door shut and go back to bed, a small, soft voice came from right in front of him. "Don't slam the door, please." Old Wang froze. He slowly turned around, his eyes widening in surprise. Standing there was a tiny figure, no bigger than his thumb, with tear-filled eyes and a pitiful expression. It was a little ghost.