6 The Devouring Mansion (Part Two)

The master of the Su residence did not show his face until dinner.

After Steward Li finished hosting the four of them for their meal, he ordered a young servant to escort them to the guest quarters in the back garden. The boy, who looked to be about fourteen or fifteen, was named Li Ji and was the steward’s godson.

Seeing the scattered spots of light flickering throughout the garden, Haichao asked, "Who are the people staying here?"

"Answering the Immortal Mistress," Li Ji replied, "everyone staying in the garden is a guest."

"Does your master not have any concubines?" Haichao asked. Back home, from the county magistrate down to the local wealthy families, anyone with a bit of land or money kept several concubines.

"The Mistress is joking," Li Ji said. "Our master and his wife are deeply devoted; he does not have a single concubine."

"Your master must be a fine man, then. How old are they? Do they have any children?"

"The master is thirty-five. The madam is not much older than you, Immortal Mistress. They have no offspring as of yet."

"A house this large must require a lot of servants, right?"

Li Ji rolled his eyes as he did the mental math. "In this residence alone, there are twenty or thirty servants. If you include the stable hands, cooks, the tenant farmers on the estate, and the workers in the shops, the number is much higher."

Haichao let out an "oh" and asked, "With so many guests arriving, what do they all do?"

Li Ji gave a bitter smile. "Some are masters invited by the master himself, while others heard the rumors and came seeking him out—alchemists, Taoists, monks, and the like. Most of them are just swindlers from the underworld..." He stopped abruptly, likely remembering that the people standing before him were also Taoists.

Cheng Hanlin laughed. "Well, take a look at us. Do we look like swindlers to you?"

Li Ji hurriedly corrected himself. "Some people are clearly swindlers from the moment they open their mouths to ask for money. But not you—one look at you and it's clear you are true immortals. Steward Li specifically instructed me that you are high-ranking masters from a prestigious temple and must be served with the utmost care."

He paused, then added, "The Buddhist monk who arrived at the same time as you has been placed in the large western wing. It’s crowded there, with all sorts of people, and since it’s near the pond, there are many mosquitoes."

As he spoke, he pulled out a key to unlock the courtyard gate. "Even though this eastern courtyard is smaller, it is quiet and close to the main house. Should there be any urgent matters, you can take the small gate on the west side of the courtyard and cut through the bamboo path to get there."

"What kind of urgent matters would there be?" Haichao asked.

The boy’s smile stiffened. "I was just speaking of hypotheticals," he replied awkwardly.

The courtyard was indeed small, but it was kept neat and elegant. A large pagoda tree stood in the center like a canopy, and the flowerbeds under the veranda were filled with fragrant herbs. There were three rooms in total: the main room and two side rooms, east and west. Only the lantern under the veranda of the west side room was lit.

"A guest, an alchemist, is staying in the west side room," Li Ji said. "He arrived half an hour after you." He peered into the room; there was no light and no movement inside. "I suppose that guest has already retired," he continued. "Please, feel free to use the remaining two rooms. The master is a generous man; consider this place your own home."

After opening the doors and lighting the lamps for them, he bowed and withdrew. Once the sound of the boy’s footsteps faded, the four gathered in the main room and closed the door.

"Did you find anything, Ziming?" Cheng Hanlin asked.

"There are some suspicious points," Liang Ye replied. "Let’s start by checking what is in your cloth bags."

Lu Wanying untied her bundle as instructed. Inside, she found a set of silver needles, a small silver knife for cutting herbs, and a pile of jars and bottles labeled with names like "Flesh-Regenerating Dew," "Qi-Replenishing Pill," and "Evil-Expelling Pellet," along with some paper-wrapped medicinal ingredients. She opened one package and identified the contents: "Agarwood, red peony root, perilla, akebia... this is Agarwood Powder."

"So, Mistress Lu is well-versed in medicine," Cheng Hanlin noted.

Lu Wanying shook her head and carefully rewrapped the medicine. "It is merely that long-term illness makes one a physician. I read a few medical texts when I had idle time; I only know the basics."

"Mistress Lu is being too humble," Cheng Hanlin said. "The way you know these ingredients by heart shows you must be quite accomplished."

Haichao added, "Sister Lu said last night she knew nothing, but look—you clearly understand medicine!"

Lu Wanying looked as if she had committed a grave error, wringing her hands in confusion. "It is truly just a rough understanding, something I did to amuse myself. I am not skilled in this. I don't know why this medicine bag was given to me..."

Seeing that she was so embarrassed she was on the verge of tears, Haichao grew even more puzzled. "Sister Lu, why do you always talk down about yourself? I think you are wonderful in every way. Cheng Hanlin, don't you agree?"

Cheng Hanlin was stunned for a moment, then nodded vigorously. "Yes! The young mistress is right. Mistress Lu really doesn't need to be so modest."

"Just call me Haichao," she said. "Calling me 'young mistress' all the time feels strange."

Cheng Hanlin obliged immediately. "Sister Haichao."

Liang Ye glanced at him coldly.

Cheng Hanlin tapped his forehead. "Look at me, I've forgotten the important business." He hurriedly untied his own cloth bag. Inside was a stack of talismans inscribed with bird-seal script, an ancient-looking Bagua mirror, five or six taels of silver bullion, and half a string of copper coins.

He picked up the Bagua mirror. The treasure’s light was contained within, and the surface seemed to have a faint green glow rippling across it, like the waves on a deep pool.

"This Bagua mirror must be my ritual implement," Cheng Hanlin said. "The cinnabar and talisman paper are likely not ordinary, either. It’s a pity I am shallow in my learning and not skilled in this. If only I had learned how to draw talismans."

"Try the bird-seal script," Liang Ye suggested.

"Right!" Cheng Hanlin exclaimed. "Why didn't I think of that?"

He immediately took a sheet of yellow paper, pulled the cinnabar brush from his hair, and bit the end of the brush in deep thought for a long while before scratching his head in embarrassment. "I can only recognize them. If you ask me to write one from scratch, I..."

Liang Ye seemed to have anticipated this. He picked up a pair of chopsticks, dipped them in some tea, and drew a seal character on the table. "I remember a few."

Cheng Hanlin was astonished. "This is the character for 'Wind.' Not a single stroke is wrong. When did you memorize these, Ziming?"

"I have some impression of them from having seen them before," Liang Ye replied.

Cheng Hanlin was speechless. "I heard that Liang Ziming had a photographic memory, but I thought it was just a local legend. I didn't expect it to be true!"

Haichao pouted. "Hurry up and copy it! The water trace is about to dry!"

Cheng Hanlin scrambled to grab his brush and began to draw. The moment the tip touched the talisman paper, bright red cinnabar ink flowed out. Cheng Hanlin’s right hand trembled, his teeth clenched, and the veins on his neck stood out as he exerted all his strength. Once the talisman was finally finished, he dropped the brush and let out a long sigh of relief. "That exhausted me!"

The yellow talisman lay quietly on the table, the fresh red cinnabar script glowing faintly.

"What character is that?" Haichao asked.

"Wind..." Cheng Hanlin wheezed.

"Try it," Liang Ye said.

Cheng Hanlin imitated the mannerisms of a Taoist priest and ignited the tail of the talisman in the lamp flame. The paper instantly turned to ash. Almost immediately, a wind began to gust through the room, causing the lamp flame to dance and flicker and the curtains to snap loudly.

But it was short-lived; after only a moment, the wind died down.

"That wind probably wouldn't even ruffle a demon’s fur," Haichao remarked.

Lu Wanying coughed softly behind her hand.

"I am ashamed," Cheng Hanlin said. "My skills are lacking."

Haichao drew her peach-wood sword, felt the dull blade, and gestured with it. "I don't know if this wooden sword will be useful against a demon; it’s not as handy as my pearl-diving knife." But since she was posing as a Taoist, carrying a knife around did look quite improper.

Cheng Hanlin leaned in to look. "Sister Haichao, this sword is made of wood struck by lightning. It has the power to ward off evil."

Haichao wrinkled her nose. "It’s better than nothing, I suppose."

Cheng Hanlin looked at Liang Ye. "And you, Ziming? Why don't you have a ritual implement?"

"It doesn't matter," Liang Ye said. "It is getting late. Let us rest early."

The four of them split into their rooms. Haichao and Lu Wanying took the main room, while the two men took the eastern side room.

***

Liang Ye sent Cheng Hanlin back to his room first while he stayed behind.

"I will go fetch some water," Lu Wanying said, and stepped out of the room.

Only the two of them remained, facing each other in silence amidst the flickering candlelight. Haichao didn't look at Liang Ye; she sat cross-legged, using her sleeve to carefully wipe her peach-wood sword.

"Haichao," Liang Ye called out.

Haichao raised her eyelids. "What?"

Liang Ye’s thin lips moved, but he said nothing. After a long while, he finally spoke. "Bolt the door at night. Sleep in your clothes. If someone knocks in the middle of the night, do not open it. If there is a problem, I will use a secret signal..."

Haichao interrupted him. "I don't remember any secret signals."

Liang Ye was slightly stunned. "In the past..."

"There is no 'past,'" Haichao said. "Everyone should look after themselves."

"Haichao," Liang Ye called again.

"Is there anything else?" Haichao put the sword aside and stood up. "I’m going to sleep."

"I don't know what happened during those three years," Liang Ye said, "but our top priority now is to work together to leave this place. No matter what, I will get you out." He paused. "We can discuss everything else once we return."

*Return?* Return where? Where was there left for them to go back to together?

Haichao looked at his injured leg and spoke with mockery. "In your current state, you’re like a clay bodhisattva crossing a river—barely able to save yourself. If you don't drag me down, that will be a blessing."

"I will not be a burden to you," Liang Ye said, meeting her eyes. "If it truly comes to that, you need not worry about me."

Liang Ye seemed to have an innate talent; the same words spoken by him were always more convincing. As her mother used to say, he possessed a certain stillness of spirit. Seeing him again after three years, he had become even more calm and composed, as if the storms of the world could no longer shake him in the slightest. Much must have happened in those three years; although he didn't remember, those events had washed and polished him into his current shape.

Haichao let out a scornful, dry laugh. She wanted to say something even more cutting, but her lips trembled involuntarily, as if the words were drawing blood from her before they could even leave her throat.

She looked away. "If something happens, don't count on me to help you."

"Fine," Liang Ye agreed immediately. He watched her quietly, the candlelight dancing in his clear pupils. He seemed to want to say more, but in the end, he remained silent, merely lowering his gaze. "I am going now. Sleep well."

He stood up, dragged his injured leg, and walked out slowly, closing the door behind him.

Through the door, Haichao heard his suppressed coughing. Only then did she remember that his voice had been hoarse since last night; he must have caught a cold from the rain. When Liang Ye was born, he was premature, and as a child, he was frail and suffered from asthma. Even when he was ten, he wasn't as tall as she was.

She remembered that not long after her mother died, water bandits raided the village, and she was too terrified to sleep. Liang Ye had held the pearl-diving knife her mother had left behind, standing guard by her bed all night long. The next morning, she woke to the sound of his suppressed coughing. Through a haze, she saw him hunched over, his face flushed red, struggling to breathe, yet still covering his mouth so as not to wake her.

It was likely from that day that she had unknowingly made up her mind to be good to him for the rest of her life.

Now, that coughing sounded like a ghost from the past, leaving her no peace.

*What does it have to do with you, Wang Haichao? Does he need your pity? Don't be so pathetic!* she scolded herself in her heart.

The sound of coughing grew distant until it vanished completely. Haichao let out a long, heavy breath.