AEDBE CHAPTER 7

A Eunuch’s Dream of Being Emperor by Li Ximin

CHAPTER 7

With a dust-streaked and filthy face, Shangguan Wenqing returned home, where his two older sisters immediately lunged at him, seizing his left and right wrists respectively. Their fingers dug into his arms with vicious pressure as they cursed him between gritted teeth:

"You stunted freak, where the hell have you been?! Do you have any idea how out of your mind with worry Mum was? If you hadn't shown up, she would have cried herself to death!"

"I could just throttle you! You dragged us through the mud—where the hell were you?! You've got the nerve to come back home; you should've just dropped dead out there, you jinx!"

Bruised and wincing from their clawing grips, Wenqing bit his tongue and held back his cries. Having endured their abuse and torment since childhood, he was accustomed to their cruelty. Like their father, they regarded him as a family disgrace, greeting him with nothing less than blows or insults whenever their eyes met. Predictably, they shared their father’s disdain, rarely bothering to return home precisely because of how deeply they despised him. In truth, Wenqing was weak with hunger and near total physical exhaustion—he scarcely had the breath left to whimper.

Half-reclining in a rattan chair on the verge of collapse, Zhu Luniang heard her daughters' venomous curses and pried open her tear-glued eyes. Spotting Wenqing’s silhouette, she surged upward from the chair as if propelled by a spring, shrieking, "My precious baby—!"

Rubbing her eyes and realizing her two daughters were bullying her son, a surge of adrenaline restored her strength. Snatching up a straw broom, she lunged forward, thrashing wildly at them across the head and shoulders. Startled, they wrenched their hands away and leaped back, exchanging bewildered glances. Screaming at the top of her lungs, Zhu Luniang berated them: "You two short-lived harridans, get out of my sight! Clear out, go as far away as you can—I don't ever want to lay eyes on you again—!"

Rooted to the floor, they hesitated, uncertain whether to flee or stand their ground.

"What are you still loitering here for?!" Zhu Luniang shrieked. "This isn't your home! Get lost, looking at you makes me want to vomit! You're going to drive me to my grave!"

Seeing they still refused to budge, she hurled the broom straight at them.

Only then did they scurry away, whimpering in grievance.

Dropping to her knees, Zhu Luniang pulled Wenqing into a tight embrace, her voice trembling with emotion: "My precious darling, Mum missed you so much... My heart was breaking into pieces, my sweet baby—"

Wenqing murmured weakly, "Mum, I'm starving—"

An involuntary flash of Li Hongtang crossed his mind: I wonder if she's hungry too, or if she's managed to eat a proper meal?

Slowly drifting back to consciousness, Li Hongtang was handed a steaming bowl of rice noodles by Wang Haihua. Accepting it eagerly, she slurped down the contents in frantic mouthfuls. "Eat slowly, Big Sister," Abao urged gently. Ignoring the advice entirely, she finished the bowl in record time. "Would you like some more, Hongtang? I can boil another batch," Haihua offered. Shaking her head, Hongtang replied, "No thank you, I'm full." "Where on earth did you go, Big Sister?" Abao asked. Offering a bitter, tired smile, Hongtang replied, "I went looking for Mum." Convinced Hongtang had recovered, Haihua grew anxious to depart: "I must head home now, Hongtang—I'm leaving Dongzi in your care, but there's a mountain of chores waiting for me at my own house." "We owe you so much this past week, Aunt Haihua, staying up day and night to nurse Dongzi," Abao noted gratefully. Deeply apologetic, Hongtang added, "I'm so sorry for putting you through this trouble, Aunt Haihua! Please go ahead, I'll take good care of Dongzi." Visibly relieved, Wang Haihua hurried away.

After sending Abao home, Li Hongtang bolted the front door, insulating herself from the chaotic outside world; her father’s new position as militia commander meant nothing to her. She cared solely for the survival of her mother and brother. Heating a massive cauldron of water, she bathed herself and slipped into fresh clothes, then fired up the stove for a second round—she needed to bathe her brother next, as a stale, unwashed odor clung to his skin. Wang Haihua certainly never gave Dongzi a proper bath, she figured, at best she merely wiped him down with a damp cloth.

Tossing dry timber into the stove hearth, Hongtang picked up a wooden comb to smooth her hair. Once exceptionally long, fine, and lustrous—a point of deep envy and admiration among the local maidens and young wives—her tresses had grown dry and brittle, peppered with stark strands of silver. A wave of sorrow washed over her, mingled with profound helplessness. Though she harbored an innate appreciation for beauty, physical vanity meant nothing if her mother remained lost. Right now, her sole focus was Dongzi’s recovery... Carrying the wooden wash-tub up to the loft alongside buckets of hot and cold water, she adjusted the temperature, stripped Dongzi of his soiled garments, and lifted him gently into the cedar basin.

A heavy pang of grief struck her heart: Dongzi had wasted away during his illness. Catching sight of his protruding ribs, her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

Soothing him in a gentle whisper, Hongtang murmured, "I'm sorry, Dongzi, Big Sister failed to take proper care of you—"

Scrubbing him meticulously from head to toe, her gentle friction gradually coaxed a healthy flush back into his pale skin.

Perspiration beading on his forehead, Dongzi babbled feverishly: "Where are you, Big Sister? Mum, where are you? Why did you both abandon me?"

His delirium persisted unchecked.

Lifting him from the water, Hongtang dried his frail frame with a soft linen cloth, tucked him back into bed beneath heavy layers of quilts, and kept vigil by his side, continuously mopping away his sweat while murmuring soft reassurances.

"Wake up, Dongzi, Big Sister is home—"

"I won't let you fall sick ever again, Dongzi, I'm going to look after you properly—"

"How can you bear to break Big Sister's heart? Didn't you promise you wouldn't make me worry? Hurry up and get well, Dongzi—"

"Big Sister promised you, I'll find Mum no matter what—"

Speaking through a steady stream of tears, Hongtang pulled Dongzi’s head against her breast, letting her sorrow fall directly upon his face. Throughout the entire night, she cradled him like that, whispering gentle comforts while her tears flowed in silent cadence. As dawn broke, Hongtang watched Dongzi stir and lift his head from her embrace. Beneath the dim, flickering flame of the oil lamp, Dongzi blinked open clear, lucid eyes, whispering emotionally: "Big Sister, I heard you calling me... I was wandering through a pitch-black place that stretched on forever, unable to find you, Mum, or Dad... I was freezing, shivering like I'd been plunged into an icy river, feeling certain I was dying, losing sight and sound, paralyzed with terror... Then I heard your voice, Big Sister, and spotted a beam of light—was that dawn breaking? I saw you calling out to me from across the opposite riverbank, and you were weeping... I tried running toward you, but there was no bridge, and the river currents were raging, dyed blood-red and steaming with heat. Without hesitating, I dove right into the scalding water and swam toward you... Countless unseen hands reached up from the depths to drag me down, trying to drown me, Big Sister, and though I heard you screaming at the top of your lungs, I kept sinking, slipping away... But then I felt you dive into the river, Big Sister, finding my body and pulling me toward the shallows, Big Sister..."

Extending a trembling hand, Hongtang pressed her palm against his forehead.

Hardly daring to believe it, she confirmed the miracle: Dongzi’s fever had broken entirely.

Testing him with her other hand for absolute certainty, she verified that the scorching heat had miraculously vanished; his affliction had broken.

Overjoyed, Hongtang pulled Dongzi tightly into her arms, whispering tearfully, "You're safe now, Dongzi, you're safe. Big Sister is right here, nothing bad will ever touch you again—"

Breaking down completely, Dongzi sobbed openly.

Hongtang joined him, weeping freely.

Their mingled cries echoed softly through the cracks of the window out across the quiet settlement.

Neither of them could fathom what lay in store for Tang Town's future, nor for their own—marking the darkest, most desolate era in the community's history.

Five days following the formal establishment of the Tang Town militia, a long-awaited event finally delivered a surge of cathartic public vindication.

Long before dawn broke, while an icy gale whistled through the narrow lanes, chaotic clamor drifted from the main street. By sunrise, sensational rumors were flying from mouth to mouth: "Li Cilin has captured the outlaws who raided Zhu Yinshan's manor! Come quick and see—those accursed bandits have been bound fast to the stone lions flanking the entrance of the Li estate..."

Having spent the past several days sequestered at home nursing recovering Dongzi, Hongtang had ceased her search for her mother for the time being; the boy's severe relapse demanded her undivided attention. The abrupt return of Li Hongtang alongside Dongzi's miraculous recovery struck the superstitious townsfolk as deeply uncanny, prompting whispered speculations regarding the precise correlation between her disappearance and his illness. Consequently, whenever the siblings stepped out onto the street, they found themselves the focus of wary, suspicious stares.

Following his recovery, Dongzi routinely slept past sunrise, and Hongtang deliberately avoided disturbing his peaceful slumber. Today, however, proved an exception; he jolted awake long before dawn. Stirred instantly by the slightest rustle, Hongtang woke alongside him.

"It's still dark, little brother, go back to sleep," she whispered.

"I can't sleep anymore," Dongzi murmured.

"Why not?"

"My chest feels unsettled."

"Is something troubling you, Dongzi? Can you tell Big Sister?"

Falling silent for a moment, Dongzi confessed: "I had a dream that Dad was killed. He was trapped in an overgrown patch of wild grass, hunted down by a mob of men brandishing blades, shouting things I couldn't make out. He tripped over an obstacle and pitched forward into the grass; before he could scramble up, the pursuers caught him and hacked him to pieces. I heard him screaming as his hands and feet were severed and hurled far away into the brush. He couldn't cry out anymore, blood spraying from his mutilated body like a ruptured fountain... Finally, a man dressed in official black garb lopped off his head with a grotesque grin, snatching it away into the dark. I watched the whole murder unfold right before my eyes, desperate to rush to his rescue, but my legs felt rooted to the earth, entirely paralyzed. I don't know if Dad saw me as his head was severed—I stood just yards away, wondering if he resented me for failing to save him. After he died, I even saw a Buddhist nun standing silently beside his headless corpse..."

A chill ran down Hongtang’s spine, prompting her to cut him off instantly: "Stop talking like that, Dongzi—"

"I'm terrified something terrible is going to happen to Dad."

"With his formidable martial arts, nothing bad will touch him, Dongzi. Rest easy and close your eyes for a bit longer."

"What good are martial arts?" Dongzi muttered. "Didn't Uncle's martial arts surpass Dad's, and look what happened to him—"

Hongtang fell silent. In truth, her younger brother's anxieties mirrored her own.

A sudden commotion erupted from the lane outside.

Scrambling to the window, Dongzi shoved open the panels to observe a torch-bearing mob surging noisily down the western stretch of the lane.

"Big Sister, come look—!" Dongzi urged urgently.

Clambering out of bed, Hongtang joined him at the window. As the procession drew closer, they spotted two disheveled, filthy figures bound tightly in hemp ropes being shoved and jostled forward. A strange sense of familiarity struck Hongtang, though she couldn't pinpoint where she might have encountered them. Guarding the prisoners was the newly formed militia led by Li Cilin; as her father marched past directly beneath their window, he glanced upward, fixing his children with a dark, enigmatic stare.

Detecting the eerie calculation in her father's gaze, a sharp needle of dread pierced Hongtang's chest.

Dongzi caught the look as well, triggering an acute wave of foreboding that, coupled with his recurring nightmare, made his father's living presence feel like an illusion.

Tang Town was preparing for a public execution!

By mid-morning, the main street overflowed with a surging sea of humanity, swelling with excitement as residents from neighboring hamlets flocked in to witness the spectacle. The plaza fronting the Li estate rivaled the bustle of a grand theatrical festival. With the heavy front gates flung wide open and guarded by two spearmen standing at attention, onlookers were barred from entering the courtyard, catching only glimpses of the brick screen wall engraved with a stone-carved coiling dragon. Crowds clustered tightly around the two captives lashed to the stone lions, jeering and spitting venomous insults. Filthy, matted with hair, and clad in shredded black tunics that exposed raw, brutal lacerations to the open air, the prisoners kept their mouths slackly agape, as if attempting speech, yet mute as stones.

A furious Zhu Yinshan strode out from the Li estate, unleashing a torrent of abuse upon the captives: "God-damned vermin! Even slicing you into a thousand pieces wouldn't appease the hatred in my chest!" Ranting furiously, he snatched up his bamboo cane and began raining savage blows across one prisoner's head and shoulders before turning his fury upon the second. Writhing in agony, the two men emitted muffled, raspy whimpers from deep within their throats.

An onlooker called out, "Old Patriarch Zhu, are you certain these are the exact culprits?"

"Without a doubt!" Zhu Yinshan roared back. "I'd recognize them even if they were skinned alive! Several others managed to slip away, but these damned beasts caught what they deserved!"

Accompanied by several guards, Li Cilin and Li Saogu stepped out into the courtyard.

Glancing sideways at Zhu Yinshan, Li Saogu wore a visibly rattled expression.

Addressing the patriarch, Li Cilin instructed, "Old Patriarch Zhu, cease the beating—it's time to parade them through the streets."

Spitting in disgust, Zhu Yinshan snarled, "Even dragging them through the eighteen layers of hell wouldn't satisfy me!"

Lowering his voice, Li Cilin murmured, "Lord Shunde has a matter to discuss with you—he intends to return your stolen treasure chest. You should head inside immediately."

At the mention of his recovered bullion, Zhu Yinshan's expression morphed instantly into one of servile, fawning delight as he hurried inside; recovering his life's accumulation of gold and silver eclipsed the murder of his favorite concubine entirely.

Turning to his second-in-command, Li Cilin ordered, "Saogu, drag them out—time for the parade!"

Seemingly aware that parading preceded execution, the two captives slumped bonelessly into the dirt, trembling violently. They were hauled bodily out of Xinglong Alley by the militia.

The narrow street was packed to bursting, threatening to spill over its boundaries; yet as the prisoners were dragged past, the crowds instinctively parted just enough to yield a narrow corridor. Someone dropped a shoe and screamed in panic, "My shoe—my shoe!" Their frantic appeals went entirely ignored; no one spared a glance downward. Another individual was tripped and shoved into the dirt, screaming, "I'm being trampled to death—!" Had they not scrambled back to their feet instantly, they genuinely risked being crushed, as the surging mob moved with reckless, unyielding momentum. Elsewhere, a young maiden shrieked in humiliation as someone groped her breast in the crush, though her indignant curses were drowned out by the general uproar. The populace reserved their frenzied fury exclusively for the captives, hurling curses and debris at them indiscriminately. Stray objects occasionally struck the armed militia escorts, who marched onward with impassive, grim expressions, ignoring the chaos entirely.

Remaining indoors alongside Abao, Dongzi and his sister observed the spectacle from the loft—a scene utterly unprecedented in their lives. Clinging to Dongzi's sleeve, Abao whimpered, "I'm scared—" Dongzi maintained a stoic silence, fixing his eyes upon the battered, universally reviled prisoners. The image instantly conjured memories of the Mid-Autumn Festival alongside the rotting human foot discovered at the Wild Grass Shoal. Meanwhile, Li Hongtang studied the slowly advancing prisoners, searching her memory banks to unearth where she might have crossed paths with them.

Each harbored entirely distinct emotional currents.

A sudden heavy realization struck Li Hongtang.

An indelible image flashed across her mind: two destitute out-of-town travelers resting inside a wayside rest-pavilion along a mountain trail. Clad in tattered rags, their faces frost-bitten to a dull, bruised purple and drained of all vitality, their vacant eyes spoke in a foreign dialect.

Yes, I remember now, Hongtang realized. She had encountered these exact two individuals—an older man and a younger companion—while journeying into the western mountains in search of her mother. Stumbling upon them in that isolated rest-stop, she had felt a spike of nervous dread; being completely alone miles from any settlement, fear of strangers had seized her, having never ventured beyond her home valley. Hesitating at the threshold of the pavilion, she debated how to proceed since the main trail ran straight through the structure, forcing her to pass them.

Her hesitation had not gone unnoticed.

The younger man had offered a reassuring smile. "Don't be afraid, little sister, we're not bad people."

His expression radiated a gentle, honest warmth devoid of malice.

Continuing his explanation, the man had added, "We're from Anhui. This year's floods wiped out our harvest completely, leaving us no way to scrape by, so we've had to beg our way southward. Truly, don't be scared—we're ordinary refugees, we won't harm you."

The older traveler had chimed in: "Nothing to worry about, child, we're just refugees seeking a meal. Things are chaotic out in the wider world, but this mountain enclave feels peaceful enough. Folks around here are kind-hearted; whenever we pass a doorstep during mealtime, they invariably share a bowl of rice. Go on past, don't be afraid."

Emboldened by their words, Hongtang had stepped into the pavilion and hurried briskly through the central corridor.

Looking back once she cleared the structure, she had spotted the two pathetic figures still resting inside, conversing quietly.

Reconstructing the sequence of events, Hongtang turned to the boys: "Stay inside, don't step outside. I'm going out for a moment, I'll be right back."

Darting down the stairs, she unlatched the door and plunged straight into the dense crush of onlookers. Elbowing her way forward with every ounce of strength she possessed, she managed to position herself directly before the two captives. Heads bowed low, the prisoners stumbled forward under the prodding of the militia guards. Crouching slightly to peer beneath their matted hair, Hongtang studied their faces. Catching sight of his daughter, Li Cilin barked a sharp reprimand: "Hongtang, get your ass back inside! What do you think you're doing out here getting in the way?"

Though caked in grime, the structural contours of their faces remained unmistakable. A silent, heartbroken wail echoed in Hongtang’s chest: The poor souls—

I want to scream out to my father, she thought frantically. Dad, they aren't bandits! They're just starving refugees from Anhui! I saw them with my own eyes—you have to let them go! Yet trapped beneath the roaring din of the mob and the razor-sharp scrutiny of her father's hawk-like gaze, her voice locked tight in her throat, leaving her shivering violently. Paralyzed in place, her lips trembled against an abyss of bone-deep cold.

Striding over with his steel sabre in hand, Li Cilin shoved her roughly aside: "Get back inside right now and watch your brother!"

As the parade procession swept past her, the surging current of frenzied spectators pushed her hard against the side of a building.

Off to the side in a secluded alley corner, an elderly man watched the proceedings with a trembling, panic-stricken frame. It was Li Shihuai. Muttering under his breath, he quaked: "I should have finished off Li Cilin alongside his old man years ago, leaving this viper alive! What do I do now?!" In his own mind, those two condemned prisoners mirrored his own impending doom.

Refusing to return home, Hongtang drifted in the wake of the crowd toward the western edge of town.

Walking in a trance, she felt like a disembodied ghost.

Guiding the militia toward the small footbridge, Li Cilin marched the prisoners in the direction of Wugong Ridge, trailed by the noisy, bloodthirsty mob. Having completed the public parade, their final destination for the two outlanders was the execution grounds atop Wugong Ridge. Hongtang couldn't fathom how ordinary, mild-mannered mountain folk could be twisted by malevolent influences into baying for the brutal slaughter of human beings.

Repeatedly, the impulse to rush forward and inform her father of the men's true identity flared within her.

Yet courage failed her every time; mute and rigid like a wooden statue, she could only trail passively behind the surging masses.

The midday sun beat down with a harsh, glaring white light.

Yet Hongtang felt utterly devoid of warmth.

Collapsing limply into the withered grass, the two prisoners found themselves encircled by a dense, multi-layered wall of spectators. The flattened winter grass alongside scattered ancient grave mounds seemed to heave with heavy, labored breaths. Wugong Ridge, long reputed as a haven for restless ghouls, had never hosted such a festive turnout; even the wandering spirits appeared to scatter in terror before the suffocating wave of human bloodlust.

Standing amidst the spectators, Hongtang stared blankly at the two doomed men.

The execution commenced without ceremony.

With a dark, scowling visage, Li Cilin instructed two militia guards: "Do it."

Beaded with nervous sweat, the guards gripped their blades with trembling hands, glancing nervously at one another without daring to strike. After all, this wasn't slaughtering poultry or livestock—this was cold-blooded execution! Neither of them had ever so much as injured a living person, let alone taken a life.

Rearing back, Li Cilin roared: "Strike! What the hell are you standing around for?!"

Drained of all color, the two guards shook like leaves in a gale, their hands and knees vibrating uncontrollably.

Losing his temper, Li Cilin barked: "Finish it! Have you both been bewitched by ghosts?!"

Sweat rolling down their faces in fat droplets, the guards remained paralyzed.

Snapping around, Li Cilin barked at a fresh pair of guards: "You two, step up!"

Replacing their peers, the newly assigned executioners stared down at the trembling prisoners collapsed in the grass, only to notice widening dark patches blooming across their trousers as loss of bladder control released a wave of rancid urine and feces. Paralyzed by the same visceral dread, these guards proved equally incapable of bringing their blades down, ignoring Li Cilin’s furious prompting. Flashing menacingly in the blinding sunlight, the raised steel sabres prompted deafening roars from the crowd: " Chop them down! Hack off their heads—kill them already!"

Amidst the bloodthirsty baying, Hongtang’s heart grew hollow and utterly desolate.

She possessed zero power to halt the impending butchery.

Pushing past the point of fury, Li Cilin roared: "Is this how you plan to protect the families of Tang Town?! Get the hell out of my sight! Saogu, we'll finish this ourselves!"

Shoving one trembling guard aside who staggered back pale as a corpse, Li Cilin stepped forward.

Li Saogu hurried to comply, shoving the second guard aside with a face awash in sheer panic.

Releasing a thunderous battle-roar, Li Cilin raised his broadsword high above his crown.

With a swift, practiced downward arc, he severed a head in a single stroke, sending a geyser of crimson spray erupting directly across his stubbled face.

Flinching with his eyes squeezed shut, Li Saogu brought his blade down in a ragged arc across the second prisoner's neck, lopping off his head as a second fountain of blood painted his sallow, gaunt cheeks!

The split-second the blades fell, the crowd held its breath, plunging the clearing into absolute, tomb-like silence. Closing her eyes, Hongtang let out a silent, internal shriek: Father... you're nothing more than a butcher—

The thick stench of fresh gore saturated the abandoned graveyard.

Two dense columns of inky black vapor rose from the decapitated corpses, swirling upward to blot out the blazing sun completely.

In an instant, Wugong Ridge plunged into heavy, unnatural gloom.

Yet the crowd erupted into triumphant cheers: "Splendid! Magnificent! Li Cilin is a hero, Li Saogu is a hero, ridding us of public pests!"

Scanning the sea of faces, Li Cilin's gaze swept the gathering, hunting for Li Shihuai or any member of his household.

To his bitter disappointment, his target was nowhere to be found.

Once you've tasted blood, the next kill comes easy, he thought grimly. Li Shihuai, your family's heads are next.

To Hongtang, the ghostly wails of the executed men echoed clearly across the ridge.

Suddenly, a small, child-like hand grasped her icy fingers. Glancing down, she spotted Shangguan Wenqing staring up at her with a face carved from sorrow.

Wrenching her hand free, Hongtang stepped back.

Yet he remained rooted in place, gazing upward with an expression mirroring her own profound grief.

Word reached the residents of Tang Town that evening: a traveling theatrical troupe was scheduled to stage a performance upon the open plaza outside the Li estate. Exactly when the troupe had slipped into Tang Town remained an absolute mystery, mirroring the quiet suddenness with which such vagabond performers typically vanished. The detail mattered little; for the locals, the promise of live theater offered a welcome diversion. With winter settling in and agricultural labor at a standstill, catching a grand opera offered peerless entertainment. Coupled with Li Cilin’s decisive execution of the dreaded outlaws that afternoon, the mood was ripe for celebration, promising an exceptionally pleasant evening for the community.

Shortly before suppertime, in an unprecedented departure from his routine, Li Cilin returned home.

Approaching his front threshold, he spotted Shangguan Wenqing peering furtively around the doorframe. Sharing Shangguan Qingqiu's visceral disgust for the dwarf, the sight of Wenqing triggered an immediate surge of revulsion, as if he had encountered an ill omen. Launching a swift kick, Li Cilin sent Wenqing tumbling to the dirt with a sharp cry of pain. Glaring down with murderous intensity, Li Cilin snarled: "Get lost, you bringer of bad luck! Let me catch you sniffing around here again and I'll break your legs!"

Scrambling frantically, Wenqing fled head over heels.

Stepping inside, Li Cilin slammed the heavy wooden door shut behind him.

Pausing in the main hall, he hollered: "Hongtang, get out here—"

Busy chopping vegetables in the kitchen while a pot of thin rice gruel simmered over the hearth, Hongtang and Dongzi—who sat upon a low wooden stool feeding dry twigs into the firebox—exchanged a quiet glance upon hearing their father's voice. The sun must be rising in the west today, they thought, since he actually remembers he has a home. Hongtang harbored a complex web of turbulent emotions toward him, though she kept them strictly concealed from her brother.

"Are you deaf, Hongtang?!" Li Cilin bellowed again. "I called you out! Did you hear me or not?"

Left with no alternative, Hongtang set down her kitchen knife and stepped out into the hall with a dark, guarded expression.

Flinging a heavy canvas pouch toward her, Li Cilin grunted: "Take this, boil the meat inside, and fix your brother a proper meal."

Catching the heavy sack, Hongtang carried it back into the kitchen in silence. Untying the drawstring, she tipped out a thick cut of fresh pork. Stepping up to inspect the meat, Dongzi’s eyes lit up with excitement: "Wow, we're having meat tonight!" Hongtang’s expression twisted into one of deep revulsion; her stomach heaving violently, she fought down a wave of nausea, pressing her lips tight together as she battled to suppress the bile rising in her throat. The realization that this meat had been procured by a man who had just butchered two innocent men filled her with horror.

The air around her smelled distinctly of fresh blood.

Enduring intense psychological torment, she boiled the pork until tender, plating the fragrant dish before carrying it out to the table. Retreating immediately back into the kitchen, she sank onto the low stool, staring blankly into space. She remained utterly incapable of facing her father, unable to reconcile the monstrous cruelty he had displayed toward two defenseless refugees. What an immense, unforgivable sin!

Oblivious to his sister's inner turmoil, Dongzi fell upon the steaming meat like a starving animal, devouring every morsel. Pouring himself a cup of wine, Li Cilin rumbled, "Eat slowly, Dongzi, you're not a starving ghost. You're Li Cilin's son—your days of hardship are over. From now on, you'll eat meat every single day, every meal a celebration."

Swallowing a mouthful of pork and wiping grease from his chin, Dongzi asked, "Dad, is that really true?"

Nodding firmly, Li Cilin affirmed, "Absolutely! Now you understand why Dad always stayed out so late, don't you? Everything Dad does is to secure a good life for you two! You need to understand him, stop blaming him; every drop of sweat he spills is for your sake! You think Dad is cold-hearted? Not at all! Every action he takes is driven by thoughts of you two. Understand?"

Shaking his head, Dongzi admitted, "Not really."

Taking another sip of wine, Li Cilin dismissed the subject: "You'll understand when you're older. No use lecturing you now!"

Suddenly, Dongzi murmured, "If only Mum could come back."

Sighing heavily, Li Cilin muttered, "That's her fate."

Dongzi fell silent.

Raising his voice toward the kitchen, Li Cilin called out, "Come out and eat some meat, Hongtang, why are you hiding in there?"

Providing no response, Hongtang lacked any appetite; the mere scent of the pork brought phantom traces of human blood to her nostrils.

Every word exchanged between father and son in the outer hall reached her ears with crystal clarity.

In that moment, an overwhelming yearning for her mother swept over her; once Dongzi's recovery was fully consolidated, she resolved to resume her search without delay.

She would never abandon the quest until she discovered her mother's fate!

The distant strains of theatrical music drifted across the town.

Hongtang felt nothing.

Her heart had long since grown numb to such distractions.

As the theatrical performance drew to a close, Li Cilin departed the house once more. His whereabouts held little relevance to Hongtang any longer; the father she thought she knew had transformed into a stranger, bordering on an object of visceral disgust. Never in her worst nightmares had she imagined her own father operating as a cold-blooded executioner, even recalling his past attempts to drown her at birth or his chronic abuse of her mother. She refused to burden Dongzi with the gruesome reality she had witnessed; he was too young to shoulder the brutal weight of such a moral crisis.

Yet this midnight hour brought an equivalent torment to another prominent figure in Tang Town.

That individual was the militia's deputy commander, Li Saogu.

Unlike the common militia members bunking dozens to a room in the outer perimeter quarters reserved for servants, Li Saogu shared exclusive quarters with Li Cilin within the lavish inner residential compound of the Li estate.

Deep into the night, tossing and turning upon his carved bed, Li Saogu found sleep entirely out of reach.

The memories of the afternoon executions replayed behind his eyelids, leaving his heart hammering with lingering dread.

Once the executions concluded and the spectators dispersed, the militia had remained behind on Wugong Ridge to dig a deep grave and bury the two corpses. Following the burial, Li Cilin had pressed two yellow paper talismans inscribed by Madam Wang onto the surface of the burial mounds, anchoring them with heavy stones while murmuring incantations.

Yet just as they prepared to depart, those two talismans had spontaneously lifted into the air.

The wind had been entirely dead.

In an act of chilling defiance, Li Cilin’s heavy stones had failed to keep the papers down.

Both talismans had drifted directly toward Li Cilin and Li Saogu, hovering before their faces as if guided by invisible, powerful palms.

An unseen force had slammed them both backward onto the dirt.

As they scrambled back to their feet, the talismans rose from where they had dropped; at that exact moment, a freezing, howling gust swept across the ridge, sweeping the papers away into the dark until they vanished without a trace...

Recalling the incident, a cold sweat drenched Li Saogu's back.

He wondered if Li Cilin felt the same terror gnawing at his gut.

Often, once a man steps onto a crooked path, forward momentum takes over, making retreat virtually impossible. The realization filled Li Saogu with bone-deep chill. He was trapped beyond redemption; had Li Cilin not dragged him into this vortex, he could right now be resting peacefully beside Wang Haihua. Though unremarkable in appearance, she provided a steady domestic anchor capable of satisfying his basic marital needs.

Restlessness stirred deep within Li Saogu.

Tonight, he craved the primal release of a man's touch to drown out the terror of bloodshed.

"I'm heading home!" he muttered softly to himself.

A feverish urge pulsed through his veins.

Rolling out of bed, he strapped on his broadsword and stepped out the door. Navigating several covered corridors, he reached the main entrance. The sentry guarding the gate asked, "Deputy Commander, heading out?"

Lowering his voice, Li Saogu snarled, "Mind your own business! Unlock the gate!"

Obediently unlatching the heavy panels, the guard let him slip through. As the gates slammed shut behind him, sealing him off in the dark, a lingering unease struck him: if the Li estate represented a sanctuary of absolute safety, did the outside world harbor mortal peril? A momentary impulse to turn back flickered through his mind, but he hardened his resolve and plunged into the gloom. The winter wind bit like fangs; puffing plumes of warm breath into the freezing air, he hurried forward.

Heading toward his residence in Duimi Lane, his erratic pacing somehow diverted him into Qinghua巷 instead. Qinghua Alley comprised over a dozen households, dominated by Zhu Yinshan’s sprawling manor, while a dilapidated shack tucked at the very dead end housed Shen the Sow.

It felt as though an invisible hand were physically guiding his steps down Qinghua Alley.

Absolute, ink-black darkness choked the lane.

He couldn't distinguish his own hand before his face.

Unaware that he had strayed into Qinghua Alley, Li Saogu remained convinced he was navigating Duimi Lane.

Grip tightening instinctively upon the hilt of his sabre in the dark, he remained perpetually braced for an ambush; men who had delivered malicious blows to others lived in constant dread of retribution. Groping along a familiar doorway, he rapped lightly against the wood. Moments later, the panel yielded with a soft creak. Total darkness swallowed the interior, blinding him completely. "Stupid bitch, open the door and light a lamp, can't you even manage that?" he grumbled aloud. Assuming he was chewing out his wife, Wang Haihua, he waited for a retort that never came—normally, she would snap right back. Reaching out blindly, his fingers brushed against empty air. Muttering an oath, "Playing hide-and-seek with me, you lazy hound? Go light a lamp, my eyes are playing tricks on me," he received no reply. His eyes itched and burned fiercely, stubbornly refusing to focus. What's wrong with everything tonight? Acting like a mute ghost, he thought, irritation spiking as he contemplated teaching Wang Haihua a harsh lesson.

Suddenly, a delicate, feminine giggle drifted through the dark.

Was that Wang Haihua's laugh? he wondered. Impossible, she's never laughed like that in her life!

Following the giggle, his broadsword slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the floorboards (哐当). A soft, yielding hand closed around the fingers he had just used to grip his weapon. The palm felt unnervingly smooth yet ice-cold; the freezing chill spread rapidly up his wrist, prompting an instinctive desire to wrench free, but the delicate hand locked onto his skin as if fused by nature. Li Saogu sucked in a sharp breath of terror! This couldn't possibly be Wang Haihua—her hands lacked that unnatural softness and glacial cold, nor had she ever displayed such clingy intimacy; even during their marital duties, she treated the act like a mechanical chore devoid of affection.

Who on earth was this mysterious woman lurking in the dark?

Was his heart hammering from the freezing cold, or from sheer terror? Her blood ran cold, yet her skin felt meltingly soft...

Entwining their fingers, the hand guided him deeper into the interior room.

Following another teasing giggle, the icy, soft grip released him. A heavy, cloying perfume enveloped him—the unmistakable, greasy scent of a voluptuous woman. Sniffing eagerly like a hound catching a scent, Li Saogu lunged blindly forward toward the musk. Colliding with a bed, he scrambled upward like a wild beast. A heavy, full-figured woman lay waiting upon the mattresses, emitting soft moans beneath his aggressive assault. Suddenly, a flash of bloody crimson pierced his vision; amidst the gory light, he found himself staring into a female face streaming with fresh blood, her eyes glowing with an unearthly emerald luminescence... Shrieking in absolute terror, Li Saogu rolled off the bed and crashed hard onto the floorboards.

He heard the woman coo seductively: "We haven't even had our fun yet, why'd you tumble off?"

Rising from the bed, the woman struck a match and lit the oil lamp.

Pulling himself up from the floor, Li Saogu found himself staring directly at a stark naked Shen the Sow.

Equally stunned, Shen the Sow gasped: "Agh—it's you—!"

Paralyzed by shock, Li Saogu stammered, "I've hit a ghost, I've run straight into a damned ghost—!"

Fleeing in blind panic, he bolted out the door.

Trembling violently, Shen the Sow called after him: "Don't go—"

Purchasing paper currency and incense candles from Hunchback Li's funeral shop, Li Hongtang marched alone toward Wugong Ridge. Noticing her pale, frantic expression, Hunchback Li had offered a long, heavy sigh before her departure, seemingly piercing straight through her troubled heart. Once she departed, the hunchback muttered to himself: "Such monstrous wickedness!" Only yesterday, while those two poor souls were paraded through the streets, Hunchback Li had shuttered his shop doors, sitting alone in the gloom to sigh heavily.

The air remained bitter, whipped by howling wilderness gales.

Reaching the foothills of Wugong Ridge, Hongtang glanced back to spot Shangguan Wenqing trailing quietly behind her.

Sighing softly, she turned to him: "Wenqing, please stop following me everywhere. Can't you understand?"

Shaking his oversized head with a gentle smile, Wenqing replied, "I can't do that."

Plaintively, Hongtang pleaded, "If people catch you shadowing me like this, tongues will wag. You really need to consider my position."

Hearing her plea, Shangguan Wenqing turned on his heel and walked slowly away. Watching his diminutive figure recede, Hongtang felt a sharp pang of pity. He was a deeply tragic soul in Tang Town who deserved his own share of happiness and romance. She grasped his intentions, yet... she offered a helpless, bitter sigh.

Continuing onward, Hongtang reached the site of the afternoon executions.

The clearing stood in absolute, desolate stillness, blanketed by withered grass.

Marked by fresh mounds of red clay, the resting place of the two outlanders offered their final sanctuary. Could their wandering souls navigate the long journey back to their distant homes? Would their families search endlessly for them the way I searched for my mother...? Lighting a cluster of incense sticks, Hongtang planted them firmly into the apex of the mound, whispering softly: "Rest in peace, good souls. Every year during the Qingming Festival, I will return to sweep your graves and offer sacrifices. Since you have no family here, look upon me as your kin—"

Igniting a stack of paper currency next, she watched the flames dance.

Amidst the swirling ashes, two pairs of terrified eyes materialized. Hongtang met their gaze without flinching. Addressing the phantom eyes, she murmured: "If you run short of funds down in the underworld, send me a dream and I'll burn more for you. Safe journey—"

The two pairs of eyes shed crystalline tears, which gradually dissolved into thick, viscous streams of blood.

A howling gust swept across the clearing, whipping the paper ash into a blizzard of grey flakes that danced across the sky like shattered fragments of their eyes.

Finishing her final rites, Hongtang rose to her feet.

Wild gales whipped her long hair into a frantic tangle.

Gazing into the distance, her eyes fell upon Tang Town; huddled against the biting wind like an ancient, decrepit crone, the settlement trembled in the freezing draft. She harbored an unshakeable premonition that a massive, suffocating conspiracy was closing a net around Tang Town.

A sudden thought of Shangguan Wenqing flickered through her mind.

Sensing he hadn't truly departed, she suspected he remained hidden nearby, keeping a silent vigil over her.

Raising her voice, Hongtang called out: "Wenqing, come out—"

Though she repeated the call several times, he failed to materialize. A fleeting wave of loss brushed her heart as she turned away from the desolate ridge.

In truth, Shangguan Wenqing remained right where he was. Crouched amidst the withered grass, he tracked Hongtang’s receding figure with a gaze swimming in tearful confusion, lacking his trademark, gentle smile. Ever since returning from the Black Forest, his complexion had steadily faded into a waxy, jaundiced yellow, accompanied by persistent, dull abdominal cramps whose origin remained a mystery. He had shared his suffering with no one, refusing to consult old apothecary Zheng. The Earth God Temple in Tang Town is nearly complete, Wenqing thought to himself. Once the doors open, I'll go pray to the Earth God and Earth Goddess—I'll beg them to help Hongtang find her mother, to turn the silver strands in her hair back to jet-black, and to bring the rosy glow of youth back to her tired, pale face...

Such remained the pure, beautiful hope burning within Shangguan Wenqing's heart.

--

T/N:

​Hey besties! 💖

​Okay, real talk—can we have a little intervention for my poor hands? Typing up walls of text this long has officially led to a full-blown worker's strike from my joints. 🥶 My poor fingers are completely numbing out and protesting for working overtime! So, uh, if anyone's feeling extra sweet and wants to volunteer to come over and give my aching hands a nice, warm massage... applications are officially open, and trust me, I'm a very grateful patient. Don't be shy! 😉

​While I go figure out how to revive my typing paws with a heating pad, do me a massive favor? If you're loving all the dark vibes, psychological twists, and spooky drama as much as I am, please pop on over to NovelUpdates Link and drop a review or rate the series! ✨ It only takes a second, but it goes a long way in helping our little translation corner reach more amazing readers.

​Thank you so much for sticking with me through all the madness. Stay cozy, keep reading, and wish my poor joints luck!

​—Siofra 💋

 

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