Chapter 12: The Devouring Mansion (Part Eight)

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“I am but a humble servant, faithfully attending to my master. What wicked deeds could I possibly have committed?” Chief Steward Li forced a casual smile, yet his lips trembled uncontrollably.

The Taoist priest Cheng said, “For example, have you ever harmed anyone, or treated someone unjustly, especially those who have passed away?”

“Of course not,” Li interrupted before he finished speaking. “I’m timid to the point of cowardice; I wouldn’t dare even kill a chicken, let alone harm a person. Master Immortal, please don’t tease me…”

Cheng shook his head and sighed. “I see a sinister aura lingering between your brows—a grudge from the past entangling you. If it is not exorcised, your life may be in danger. That’s why I’ve spoken more than usual.”

He gave a wry smile. “No wonder my junior brother often accuses me of meddling too much, doing good deeds that only bring trouble and cause me to bear karmic consequences unfairly, and yet no one appreciates it. Enough, enough…” With that, he flicked his sleeve and was about to leave.

Li was not about to let him go. In desperation, he grabbed Cheng’s sleeve. “Master Immortal, please wait… I beg you to save me…”

Cheng turned his head. “So you admit to having done something wrong?”

Li hesitated, then stammered, “I dare not lie to you, Master Immortal. I’m timid and afraid of trouble; I would never commit cruel or unjust acts. However, a few years ago, I did… owe someone a debt… perhaps that’s why I’m haunted… but I have never harmed anyone—my sins do not deserve death.”

Cheng nodded. “Spirits are born of resentment; they seek out their enemies to exact revenge. If it is revenge, how could they reason with you or grant you a fair trial? Your enemy has now set their sights on you, and their hatred is fierce. It looks like this will not end in anything but death…”

Li’s legs went weak, and he collapsed to his knees. “I beg you, Master Immortal, show me a way to survive…”

Cheng hesitated for a moment, then, unable to resist his repeated pleas, took out a talisman from his sleeve and handed it to him. “Keep this amulet close to your body and never lose it.”

Li grasped it as if clutching a lifeline, nodding fervently. “Yes, yes.”

Cheng continued, “The talisman can only protect your life temporarily; it treats the symptoms, not the root cause. That spirit’s resentment is too deep; it will not relent easily.”

Li felt as if he had fallen into an abyss. “What am I to do then… Master Immortal, please help me thoroughly. I vow to abstain from meat, honor you with a longevity tablet, and bow before you every day…”

Cheng looked helpless. “I am not seeking such things from you. Enough, enough. Does your household have any belongings of that person?”

Li shook his head, replying vaguely, “Nothing remains…”

Cheng said, “It’s best if you have their old possessions, but it’s not essential. Go back and cut a human figure out of silk, write the person’s name and birth details on it, and place it together with this talisman into a red brocade pouch.

“Then prepare some paper money, incense, and candles. Tonight…”

He narrowed his eyes, counting on his fingers while murmuring. After a moment, he said, “At the fourth quarter of the Yin hour tonight, find a secluded place in the northwest and burn these items while kneeling and sincerely repenting to the grudge-holder, begging for forgiveness. Finally, burn the entire pouch; this might resolve the resentment.

“Remember to honor the departed on the four seasons and eight solar terms, and in daily life, do more good deeds, avoid disputes, and guard your unseen virtues.”

Li carefully tucked the talisman into his clothes, placing it with great care. “Naturally, naturally. I’m timid as a mouse; how dare I do evil?”

Cheng smiled. “May the Infinite Heavenly Lord bless you. I hope you, Li, will pass this trial safely.”

Li bowed slightly. After Cheng left, he took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead.

Judging by what Cheng said, he had to make offerings quickly. But there had just been trouble in the mansion, with many people around; avoiding prying eyes and ears wouldn’t be easy. If Su Tingyuan heard about it… Su had just scolded him, and if he found out, there would be another outburst. He would need a hidden place.

He glanced toward the back garden. Beyond the high walls, the black shadows of trees swayed gently in the breeze. Normally, it was nothing unusual, but now it seemed like a forest of ghosts.

Li swallowed nervously.

He touched his chest and felt a warm sensation through his clothes, as if some power was calming him.

After all, he was not the culprit; if anyone was to be sought, it should not be him first…

As Li walked along the bamboo path, the tension faded, but then he suddenly noticed his legs felt heavy as if filled with lead, and his waist and back ached terribly.

He was old, and running about late at night had nearly broken his bones. He needed to return and rest before dawn.

Soon he reached a fork in the path. Straight ahead was the guesthouse, a shortcut to the servants’ quarters; to the right led to the back garden.

Li lifted his foot to go straight but suddenly felt cold sweat on his back and his heart seemed to hang in midair. He had the eerie sensation someone was following him.

He quickened his pace to the bamboo grove’s end, where the branches thinned and the clouds parted, revealing a bright moon that bathed everything in cool light. The feeling behind him grew stronger.

Unable to endure it any longer, he bit his teeth and turned sharply—but saw nothing.

He exhaled deeply and wiped his face. Just as he was about to move on, he noticed something odd on the ground.

Focusing, he was so frightened he fell backward.

He clearly saw that he was alone, but the moon cast two shadows.

Li scrambled to his feet and dared not linger until dawn, hurrying toward the storage room. Fortunately, the mansion had been experiencing many strange occurrences lately and was well stocked with incense and paper money.

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Liang Ye led the way, holding a lantern. His tall, slender frame was dusted with silver frost, the lantern’s glow blending into the darkness.

Hai Chao followed silently, trailing far behind.

Liang Ye’s injured leg made him slow, and he often stopped to wait. Hai Chao, impatient by nature, quickly lost patience and hurried forward, yawning. “Walk faster. If you dawdle any longer, dawn will break. Are you planning to sleep all day?”

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Liang Ye’s mouth as they walked side by side. “Were you afraid just now?”

Hai Chao raised an eyebrow. “What is there to fear?”

Liang Ye said, “You used to be most afraid of such things—and of the dark.”

Hai Chao’s heart suddenly felt empty, a bitter taste in her mouth. “That was then.”

She brushed back her hair. “I’m used to being alone now.”

When her mother died, she couldn’t sleep well at night. Waking to pitch-black rooms, the shadows of furniture morphed into grotesque monsters. At any sound, she would curl up, terrified of being caught by some creature.

Liang Ye had slept on the floor beside her for years until she turned thirteen. Then, he left Hepu to study at the prefectural academy, and she had to face her fears alone.

“Sorry,” Liang Ye said softly.

“No need to apologize,” Hai Chao smiled indifferently. “You have a bright future ahead, yet I was the one who held you back all those years.”

Liang Ye was a prodigy. Despite his mother forbidding him to study or learn characters, he secretly taught himself not only to read but to compose poetry.

When he was around ten, a pearl merchant happened upon one of his poems and was amazed, buying the manuscripts and taking them along with pearls to the prefectural capital. Liang Ye’s reputation as a prodigy spread.

At that time, the literary master Du Shangshu had been demoted to governor of Lingnan. After reading Liang Ye’s poetry, he sent someone to the village to recommend him for the academy, but Liang Ye refused outright.

Hai Chao later realized he had probably wanted to go but had to care for her on his mother’s deathbed.

When she grew up and was old enough to dive for pearls, he left without hesitation.

“Luckily you passed the exam in one try,” Hai Chao said, understanding why he’d stayed but still feeling a pang of envy. “Otherwise, the blame would be all mine.”

She glanced at Liang Ye, whose smile vanished and eyes dimmed. She suddenly felt the pointlessness of dredging up old grievances. “They’re all old, trivial matters. Let’s not speak of them. Let’s deal with what’s in front of us and get out as soon as possible.”

Once out, he would be a great official and she a fisherwoman. They would never have to see each other again—a clean break was best.

Liang Ye was silent for a moment. “Let’s go out first.”

They walked quietly for a while.

After about fifteen minutes, Hai Chao suddenly realized they weren’t heading back to the guesthouse.

“We’re…” she quickly corrected herself. “Where are you going?”

Liang Ye said, “Su Tingyuan’s study.”

Weren’t they supposed to hunt demons and exorcise ghosts? Why go to the study? Hai Chao wondered but, not wanting to seem nosy, held back her questions.

After another fifteen minutes, they arrived at the main courtyard.

The main hall doors were tightly shut, the interior pitch black except for a dim lantern flickering under the eaves.

At the study door, Hai Chao pushed, but it was locked.

She checked the window and found it unlatched. The window was small, but she was slim and could easily slip through.

Before Liang Ye could say anything, she climbed a nearby osmanthus tree, gave a boost, and slipped inside effortlessly. She unlatched the door to let Liang Ye in.

Inside was pitch dark. The two of them had only one lantern for light. Liang Ye took a flame from the lantern and lit the oil lamp on the desk.

The room brightened somewhat. Hai Chao looked around and saw bookcases lining three walls, piled high with scrolls, resembling a small private library.

She was surprised. “He’s just a merchant, yet he has so many books!”

Picking up a scroll, she examined the ivory bookmark and read slowly, “Bai… Hu… Tong… Is this about the White Tiger?”

Liang Ye’s lips curved slightly. “It’s a collection of interpretations by scholars, doctors, and Confucian students from the Eastern Han during Emperor Zhang’s reign, presented at the White Tiger Temple.”

Hai Chao fought to stay awake. “Why would a merchant read such things? Most likely just for show.”

Liang Ye pulled out two scrolls and unrolled them. Hai Chao leaned over and saw dense annotations in vermilion ink, written in elegant script.

“This must be the former owner’s book,” she said.

“Perhaps.” Liang Ye returned the scrolls and pulled several more from another shelf, mostly poetry collections.

Hai Chao watched him flip through them aimlessly, bored, playing with the flame with her finger.

Liang Ye scanned all the shelves, then took some ledgers from a box by the desk, looked them over carefully, and returned them. He then raised the lantern. “Let’s go.”

“What are you looking for?”

“I’ve already found it.”

Hai Chao was curious but didn’t press. She let Liang Ye exit through the door first, locking it behind him. She slipped back out through the window.

Leaving the main courtyard, Liang Ye didn’t return immediately but strolled slowly, seemingly wanting to explore the entire Su mansion. Occasionally, they passed night patrol servants, who dared not question him in his Taoist robes and dignified bearing.

They passed through the hall behind the main courtyard, turned west through a small side gate, and entered a lush area.

It was a small garden, filled with the heavy fragrance of osmanthus blossoms so thick it seemed to choke the air. The branches concealed the eaves and shadows of houses.

The garden clearly hadn’t been tended for some time. Tall weeds nearly submerged the bluestone paths.

Liang Ye walked slowly along the path, shining his lantern here and there, until they reached a small courtyard.

The courtyard was a sea of weeds, swaying gently like waves in the wind.

They crossed the grassy sea and reached a building’s door. Liang Ye shone the lantern and saw the door was not only locked, but a yellow talisman paper was pasted in the gap, its vermilion script looking like fresh blood.

A chill crept over Hai Chao, growing in her mind like rising dough. She couldn’t help but ask, “What is this place?”

Liang Ye said, “The west garden. This is where the old groom had his accident.”

“How do you know it’s here?”

“In Su Tingyuan’s study, I saw a map of the entire mansion. This courtyard was the only one that fit the description. The talisman on the door confirmed it.”

Hai Chao recalled what Li the steward had said and felt a cold shiver.

The old groom had wagered with the other servants to spend a night in the haunted empty house. He went mad afterward, only able to say the word “face.”

What had happened inside that night? What had he seen? Was the “face” what Cheng Hanlin had seen?

Hearing Zhao the steward’s words during the day wasn’t so bad, but coming here at midnight to the scene of the incident gave Hai Chao goosebumps.

Liang Ye, however, seemed unaffected. He examined the lock and the talisman closely, even touching them.

Hai Chao’s scalp tingled.

“Let’s go,” Liang Ye said.

Hai Chao felt as if she had heard a heavenly voice. If Liang Ye wanted to enter, she would have no choice but to steel herself and follow.

Once out of the desolate, eerie courtyard, Hai Chao unconsciously quickened her pace. Only when the osmanthus scent was far behind did she finally breathe out.

“What do you think of the Zhao couple?” Liang Ye suddenly asked.

Hai Chao recalled the look he had given Mrs. Zhao and frowned. “I don’t know. I’m just an ignorant wild girl. What would I know?”

Liang Ye glanced at her sideways. “Are you angry?”

“Only dogs get angry!” Hai Chao snapped, like a cat whose tail was stepped on, instantly forgetting her earlier resolve.

“That’s good,” Liang Ye said quietly.

Hai Chao: “…”

Even more angry!