AEDBE CHAPTER 9

 A Eunuch’s Dream of Being Emperor by Li Ximin

CHAPTER 9

The mysterious yellow cloth drifted down and landed squarely on Shangguan Wenqing’s head. Reaching up, he snatched the fabric and unfurled it to find two lines of text written across the surface. Having never attended a private village school, Wenqing had no way of deciphering the characters. The onlookers rose to their feet, locking their gazes in heavy silence upon the cloth in his hand. Standing atop the wooden altar, Madam Wang stared down in palpable terror at Tang Town’s sole, jaundiced dwarf. His father and two older sisters glared at him with undisguised revulsion; in this public arena, the humiliation Wenqing inflicted upon them was magnified a thousandfold. Zhu Luniang’s eyes alone brimmed with maternal tenderness and consuming anxiety. In truth, an oppressive uneasiness hung over the entire crowd. The suffocating silence left Wenqing trembling violently, as if the scrap of cloth he clutched foretold an inescapable doom. A sudden terror struck him—what if a malicious stroke of fate stripped away his life, and with it, the love locked within his heart?

Eunuch Li stepped forward.

With an inscrutable expression, he advanced upon Shangguan Wenqing.

Every step Eunuch Li took fell with a crushing heaviness, mirroring the erratic pounding of Dongzi’s heart. As he approached, the crowd instinctively split, parting to yield a clear aisle.

His towering silhouette loomed like an approaching thundercloud, swallowing Shangguan Wenqing whole.

A bone-chilling frost! Wenqing’s soul felt slashed to ribbons by shards of ice.

Halting directly before the dwarf, Eunuch Li blocked out the sunlight entirely. Shrouded in gloom, the dwarf’s face twitched as his teeth chattered and his hands shook uncontrollably. Favoring him with a sinister, malevolent smirk, Eunuch Li extended a long, slender hand and gently plucked the yellow cloth from his grip. It was as if every tendon and ligament had been ripped from Wenqing’s frame; swaying unsteadily, he collapsed straight to the earth. With a startled shriek, Zhu Luniang lunged forward, gathering her unconscious son into her arms as hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

Casting a meaningful glance down at the mother and son, Eunuch Li turned away and called out in a resonant voice, "Where is Old Scholar Yu?"

Old Scholar Yu, universally acknowledged as the most learned man in Tang Town, stood among the assembly. Hearing his name called, he raised a hand and responded, "Lord Shunde, old man is right here!"

Walking to the base of the altar, Eunuch Li addressed the crowd: "Everyone make way. Old Scholar Yu, come forward."

Trembling visibly, Old Scholar Yu emerged from the throng and bowed with profound deference before the eunuch: "What are your instructions, Lord Shunde?"

In truth, during the early days, Old Scholar Yu had shared the general sentiment of many townsfolk, privately looking down upon Eunuch Li—what did a mere eunuch amount to, and by what right did he presume to lord over Tang Town? However, as the eunuch continually funded theatrical troupes to perform for the populace, the scholar's perspective shifted somewhat; being an absolute opera addict, the promise of a show gladdened his heart far more than a feast of rare delicacies.

Handing over the yellow cloth, Eunuch Li instructed, "Old Scholar Yu, examine this and tell us what is written here."

Taking the fabric, Old Scholar Yu unfolded it to inspect the characters. Rendered in flowing seal script, the brushwork clearly betrayed a practiced hand. But the moment his eyes swept across the text, his entire body convulsed and he blanched in sheer horror: "Agh—!"

Noticing his reaction, Eunuch Li pressed anxiously, "Old Scholar Yu, what exactly does it say?"

Stammering in terror, the scholar choked out, "Th-Th-This—"

The surrounding crowd held its collective breath in agonizing suspense.

"Do not rush, Old Scholar Yu," Eunuch Li coaxed smoothly. "Take your time."

"I—I dare not speak!" the scholar whimpered, his face draining of color. "This—this is a capital offense!"

"Speak freely, there is no need for fear," Eunuch Li reassured him. "This is a divine mandate dropped straight from the heavens, not something authored by your hand. Speak the words aloud, and every last one of us will bear witness for you; no one shall take your head."

Glancing nervously between Eunuch Li and the sea of anxious faces, a fine sheen of cold sweat broke out across Old Scholar Yu's forehead.

Li Cilin rumbled in a heavy baritone, "Speak up, Old Scholar Yu! If anyone dares touch your head, I'll carve off theirs instead. You have my absolute guarantee—out with it!"

Empowered perhaps by the commander's vow, Old Scholar Yu wiped the sweat from his brow and choked out in a quaking whisper, "It bears eight characters... and those eight characters are—"

Pausing for a fraction of a second, he announced: "The Qing Dynasty shall perish, and Shunde shall reign—!"

Someone in the rear ranks shouted, "Old Scholar Yu, speak up! We can't hear you in the back!"

Seemingly abandoning all caution, the scholar raised his voice into a sharp carry: "The Qing Dynasty shall perish, and Shunde shall reign—!"

Dead silence gripped the gathering as the townsfolk exchanged stunned, horrified glances. Should such treasonous words reach the imperial magistrates, it meant summary execution—the total annihilation of nine familial generations.

Silence. An oppressive, absolute silence.

Having delivered the proclamation, Old Scholar Yu collapsed backward against the pillar of the altar, completely drained of strength as he gasped for air.

Eunuch Li’s face remained entirely devoid of expression, fixed like a stone idol.

Suddenly, Madam Wang shrieked out from atop the platform: "It is the Mandate of Heaven! The Mandate of Heaven—!"

Following her cue, Li Cilin roared at the top of his lungs: "The Mandate of Heaven cannot be defied! The heavens ordain that Lord Shunde shall be our Emperor—!"

With that, he lunged forward, dropped heavily to his knees before Eunuch Li, and began kowtowing frantically while screaming, "Long live the Emperor! Long live, long live the Emperor—!"

The entire plaza stood frozen in shock.

A heartbeat later, Li Saogu bolted forward, threw himself onto his knees before the eunuch, and echoed the frantic kowtows: "Long live the Emperor! Long live, long live the Emperor—!"

Madam Wang dropped to her knees upon the altar, chanting the threefold salutation.

Zhu Yinshan fell to his knees in turn.

The various clan patriarchs followed suit, dropping in unison.

As if catching an infectious contagion, the sea of spectators buckled wave upon wave, dropping to the dirt as a roaring tide of "Long live" salutes erupted across the square, echoing without interruption.

Only Dongzi and Li Hongtang stood isolated amidst the kneeling masses, gazing about in bewildered disorientation as if trapped within a fever dream.

The political firmament of Tang Town had fundamentally fractured; in a single stroke, Eunuch Li ascended to become the absolute Emperor of Tang Town.

Eunuch Li resolved to formally execute his ascension rites upon the completion of the city wall, selecting an auspicious date for the coronation. To the residents of Tang Town, possessing a sovereign of their very own felt surprisingly welcome. The eunuch seemed to have injected a vibrant pulse into their existence, replacing the placid, stagnant routine of the past with a thrilling, adrenaline-fueled reality. Take the city wall construction, for instance: despite contributing unpaid volunteer labor without a copper in compensation, the project provided a purposeful focus during the bleak winter months. Since pledging their allegiance outside the Earth God Temple days prior, their work ethic had surged to unprecedented heights. They recognized that they had effectively crossed the rubline into treason against the imperial dynasty; should word leak out and government troops descend upon them, every soul in Tang Town would face the executioner's blade. Consequently, building the wall was a matter of immediate life and death, driving morale to a fever pitch and accelerating construction speed dramatically. Simultaneously, Li Cilin intensified the training regimen for his militia, personally drilling his recruits in the arts of saber, spear, sword, and staff—discarding completely the traditional martial injunctions left by master You against indiscriminate instruction. The proximity of his long-awaited vengeance set Li Cilin’s blood ablaze with a nameless exhilaration, though an even greater intoxication stemmed from his newly acquired authority.

Wang Hairong was determined to secure a place within the militia.

Taking advantage of a lull, he sought out his older sister, Wang Haihua.

Hairong arrived at her home shortly after evening meal.

Finding Haihua busy scrubbing dishes in the kitchen, he greeted her with forced warmth: "You're here."

Sauntering inside with an ingratiating grin, Wang Hairong offered, "Let me help you with those dishes, Big Sister."

Haihua shot him a lukewarm look: "A man ought to be out carving out his fortune in the world, what's a bit of dishwashing? Take a page from your brother-in-law and act like a man of consequence! If you keep drifting like this, you're destined to spend your life as a hired field laborer—what respectable maiden would ever consent to marry you? You might as well resign yourself to being a lifelong bachelor!"

Her tone had undergone a dramatic transformation; true to the adage that a woman basks in her husband's elevation, Li Saogu’s newly minted status as a favored favorite in the emperor's inner court had swelled her confidence, granting her a sharp, assertive edge when addressing her family.

"I know I was wrong, Big Sister," Hairong admitted contritely.

"Wrong about what?"

"I regret ignoring your advice and failing to enlist in the militia right away."

"Militia? They're upgrading it to the Imperial Guard any day now! Once that happens, your brother-in-law will be a high-ranking general! Understand? But talking to you is a waste of my breath—your turnip brain could never grasp it."

"I grasp it now," Hairong insisted. "I can't go on living like this."

"It's a bit late for realizations."

"Is it really too late? I want to join the militia!"

"Are you serious?"

Nodding vigorously, Hairong swore, "Dead serious, I've made up my mind."

Haihua sighed dubiously, "Who knows if they're still accepting recruits? Enlisting now requires pulling serious strings; it's not something just anyone can walk into. Your brother-in-law says the vetting is brutally strict these days!"

"Well, your husband wields real power now, doesn't he? Getting a single person admitted should take no more than a word from him."

"Power? He has some weight, sure, but he doesn't call the shots on personnel. Without Li Cilin giving the final nod, your brother-in-law could talk until his tongue fell out for all the good it would do!"

"Your husband and Li Cilin share a tight bond," Hairong persisted. "I'm sure if he puts in a good word and drops a few praises before Cilin, the commander will grant him that face."

Recalling that Li Saogu had indeed grown significantly more affectionate lately—frequently returning past midnight to demand intimacy—Haihua figured the timing might be ripe to slip her brother's request into the pillow-talk. "I'll sound him out," she conceded, "though I make zero promises. If it works out, wonderful; if not, my hands are tied."

"Thank you, Big Sister!" Hairong beamed. "I knew you still cared about me."

"Away with you, since when did your mouth get so sweet?"

Just at that moment, the front door opened and Li Saogu strode inside. Unbuckling his sabre from his waist, he dropped the weapon heavily onto the table, slumped onto a bench, and bellowed toward the kitchen: "Fetch tea!"

Handing the teapot to her brother, Haihua urged, "Go pour your brother-in-law a cup and lay it on thick!"

Scurrying out eagerly, Hairong poured a steaming cup of tea and deposited it respectfully before Li Saogu.

Casting a sidelong, disdainful glare, Li Saogu snapped, "What brings you here?" He had consistently reserved his harshest expressions for his wife's family.

Beaming obsequiously, Hairong replied, "Just stopped by to check in on Big Sister."

Taking a sip of tea, Li Saogu replied coldly, "Nothing to check in on, things are what they are."

Emerging from the kitchen with a welcoming smile, Haihua chimed in, "You're home early today—I figured you'd be stuck out late. Have you eaten? If not, I'll whip something up."

"Already ate," Li Saogu grunted. "We've been slogging away for ages, but things are finally coming together. Elder Cilin told me to head home early and get a solid night's rest; tomorrow the workload doubles, and without proper recovery, exhaustion will kill us. You think running a government is child's play?"

"You've worked hard, Brother-in-law," Hairong injected smoothly.

Casting another sideways glance, Li Saogu noted, "You're not one for social calls unless you need something. Out with it—what's on your mind?"

Flushing through a spectrum of red and white, Hairong choked on his words, casting frantic, pleading glances toward his sister.

Offering an encouraging smile, Haihua intervened: "Saogu, our little brother here has a favor to ask."

Glaring daggers at his wife, Li Saogu barked, "How many times do I have to drill it into your thick skull? Drop the 'Saogu' nonsense! I'm a figure of immense standing in Tang Town now—don't you have any shame? Address me properly as 'My Lord,' the way they do in theatricals! Anyway, spit it out—stop hesitating like you're trying to pass a stone!"

Smiling placatingly, Haihua yielded, "Yes, My Lord! Well... it's like this, our brother wants to enlist in the militia."

Inspecting Hairong critically, Li Saogu sneered, "Hah! You want to join the militia? Do you have the stomach to take a life? Are you terrified of dying? Forget it, stick to honest farming—it's safer. Don't look at us living high on the hog right now; we're carrying our heads in our trouser waistbands every second of the day!"

Flushing a furious crimson, Hairong protested, "I'm not afraid to die! I'll do whatever my brother-in-law commands—if he points east, I'll never look west! When it comes to killing, I've got the spine—I do!"

"Pull the other one..."

"My Lord, please just help him this once," Haihua pleaded, stepping closer. "If not for friendship's sake, do it for family—he's my only brother. Can you bear to watch him rot in poverty?"

Taking another swallow of tea, Li Saogu slapped his palm down against the leather scabbard: "Fine! I'll speak with Elder Cilin. If he gives consent, I have no objections; if he refuses, my hands are tied! But let me lay down the ugly truth right now: being in the militia is no stroll in the park. If you're a coward or can't stomach grueling hardship, you'd better retract your request this instant. Once you slip into that uniform, your fate—including your very life—belongs entirely to Emperor Shunde!"

Haihua hurriedly prompted her brother, "Hurry up and thank your brother-in-law!"

Abandoning all hesitation, Hairong would gladly have dropped to his knees had it been demanded. Quivering with excitement, he stammered, "Thank you, Brother-in-law—thank you, My Lord!"

"Enough with the arselicking," Li Saogu waved a hand dismissively. "Off with you now! I'll let you know when I have news. Haihua, go boil some foot-washing water—I'm ready for bed!"

Floating on air as he traversed the dark lane toward home, Wang Hairong felt wrapped in a cocoon of unalloyed optimism; a prosperous future felt close enough to touch. He even found himself fantasizing about a future wedding night with Li Hongtang, imagining her whispering the honorific "My Lord" in his ear. The mental image intoxicated him completely.

Strutting jubilantly through a narrow alley, his foot struck an unseen obstruction, sending him pitching forward into a face-plant that nearly snapped his jaw and left a searing throb across his chin.

Spitting out a mouthful of dirt, he cursed viciously, "Whose turtle spawn left this trap here—may you die a rotting death!"

Suddenly, a series of eerie, mocking giggles—"Heh-heh"—echoed from the shadows.

A cold shiver raced down Hairong's spine. Alarmed and hyper-vigilant, he barked into the dark, "Who's there—?!"

A weak, spectral voice drifted from a shadowed corner: "Turtle spawn... if you genuinely harbor feelings for Li Hongtang, and if you claim to be a real man, go confess your heart to her and accompany her into the mountains to track down her mother!"

Recognizing the distinctive timbre instantly, Hairong snapped, "You stunted little freak, crawling out of your hole to mock me? Show your face if you've got the guts, I'll beat you to a pulp!"

Shangguan Wenqing offered no further reply, leaving the alley swallowed in absolute stillness.

Standing his ground for a moment longer, a creeping sense of unease finally drove Hairong into a frantic sprint through the freezing draft, haunted by the persistent sensation that footsteps were trailing directly behind his heels.

Whether it was the wall construction, the theatrical performances, or Eunuch Li's imperial ascension... none of these spectacles registered upon Li Hongtang. They belonged to an alien world entirely detached from her existence. Her obsession remained fixed solely upon her mother, driving her relentless pursuit. Returning home late that evening, the discovery that her younger brother was missing struck her like a physical blow, sending her heart rocketing into her throat. Rushing out into the lane, she collided almost directly with a slowly approaching silhouette—Shangguan Wenqing. Visibly battling a severe illness of indeterminate origin, Wenqing had been physically incapable of accompanying her on her mountain searches over recent days; yet every afternoon, he faithfully staked out the eastern approach to Tang Town to wait for her return, though Hongtang invariably insisted he walk home alone.

Trembling with exhaustion, she demanded, "Wenqing, have you seen my little brother?"

Shaking his oversized head, Wenqing rasped, "No... is he not at home?"

Panic mounting, Hongtang choked out, "Where could he have gone? Could something have happened to him?"

"Don't panic, Hongtang, we'll split up and search."

Convinced it was her only option, Hongtang nodded mutely.

Fearing Dongzi might have sought out Abao, she hurried to the Zhang household and rapped against the timber panels. A bleary-eyed Zhang Faqiang unlatched the door, chewing sluggishly on a mouthful of food. Spotting panic-stricken Hongtang, he swallowed his meal and asked, "What's wrong, Hongtang?"

"Is Dongzi here?"

Shaking his head, Zhang Faqiang replied, "Not here."

"Where on earth could he have vanished to?" she muttered frantically.

Raising his voice toward the interior, Zhang Faqiang bellowed, "Abao, get out here—!"

Abao scrambled obediently into the doorway.

"Did you play with Dongzi today?" his father demanded.

Blinking sleepily, Abao answered, "We were together this morning down by the riverbank stacking stones, but we parted ways by afternoon. I watched him head toward home."

...

Scouring lane after lane, Hongtang interrogated every household she encountered, but not a soul could account for Dongzi's whereabouts.

Shangguan Wenqing had likewise drawn a blank across his designated search sectors. Rendezvousing outside her front door, his frame appeared alarmingly fragile.

Urging him gently, Hongtang said, "Go home, Wenqing. If you stay out, your mother will worry herself sick. I'll figure something out."

"I'm staying to help you search!"

"No, get home right now!"

When Wenqing attempted to persist, Hongtang snapped in a flash of uncharacteristic fury: "I said go home—why must you be so impossible? If you don't leave this instant, don't ever speak to me again!"

Never having witnessed her lose her temper so violently, Wenqing flinched, trembling as he turned and slunk away.

Staring after his retreating silhouette, Hongtang murmured with a pang of sorrow: "Poor, gentle Shangguan Wenqing..."

A sudden hypothesis struck her mind: could Dongzi be with their father? Li Cilin had previously brought the boy to the Li estate; perhaps tonight he had summoned him back there. Turning her steps toward Xinglong Alley, Hongtang approached the fortified manor. Ever since witnessing her father commit murder, the mere thought of him sickened her to her core; she despised the man and would willingly have avoided him forever. Yet necessity forced her hand—she was searching for her brother. Her spirit was being ground to dust by the relentless cruelty of fate, leaving her battered and unrecognizable. Yet to the broader populace of Tang Town, she remained an object of envied grace, akin to a favored princess.

Two towering red lanterns flanked the massive main entrance of the Li estate, guarded by two imposing militia sentries clutching long spears. Recruited presumably from neighboring hamlets, the guards failed to recognize Hongtang, displaying no familiarity with her face.

Halting at the base of the stone steps, Hongtang was intercepted.

One guard barked aggressively, "Who goes there? This is no place for idle wanderers—get lost!"

Unintimidated, Hongtang stated clearly, "I am Li Cilin's daughter, and I've come to find my younger brother!"

Following a brief, whispered consultation between the sentries, the guard adopted a slightly less hostile tone: "Ah, you must be Hongtang. We've heard tell of you, but orders are orders—we cannot grant entry. Commander Li gave strict instructions: without his explicit clearance, not a single soul crosses the threshold of the Imperial Palace!"

The absurdity of referring to the Li manor as an "Imperial Palace" brought a bitter, humorless twist to Hongtang's lips, though joy remained entirely absent from her heart.

"I have no desire to go inside," she clarified. "I only need to know whether my younger brother is in there."

"Just head home, you needn't worry," the guard reassured her. "Our commander is currently dining inside the palace alongside His Majesty with young master Dongzi!"

"Is that the absolute truth?"

"Would I dare lie? I swear by the heavens above, every word is the gospel truth!"

A heavy stone lifted from Hongtang’s chest. As long as Dongzi remained in their father's custody, he faced no immediate peril—even venomous serpents do not devour their own spawn! Dragging her exhausted limbs, Hongtang trudged homeward. Reaching her doorstep, she spotted Shangguan Wenqing seated motionless upon the threshold, murmuring softly: "Why are you still here? Didn't I tell you to go home?"

Rising to his feet, Wenqing lifted a small cloth bundle he had been clutching. In a weak voice, he explained, "I went home just like you asked, Hongtang. I took my medicine, and then I came right back."

"Why would you do that?" she demanded exasperatedly.

"I brought you some food. I knew you'd been searching all day without a proper meal, so I had Mum prepare something hot for you. Look, it's still warm—take it inside and eat."

A rush of intense warmth flooded Hongtang’s eyes, though she masked her emotion beneath a stern exterior: "Whose business is it to feed me? Who asked for your charity—take it back! Why do you persist in haunting my footsteps like a ghost? I've done you no wrong, I beg of you to leave me alone! Can't you understand?"

Uttering not a word of defense, Shangguan Wenqing deposited the cloth bundle gently upon the earth and quietly withdrew.

Watching his tiny, stooped figure dissolve into the evening dark, Hongtang felt a sharp, aching knot twist in her chest. Snatching up the bundle, she unlocked her door, stepped inside, and struck a light. Unwrapping the fabric revealed a coarse earthenware stew-pot; lifting the lid released a rich, savory steam carrying the aroma of freshly cooked rice noodles topped with two pan-fried golden eggs. A soft sigh escaped her lips: "Wenqing, why torment yourself like this? What possible outcome do you expect?"

Outside, the wind rose, howling mournfully through the narrow lanes accompanied by the sharp rattling of loose shutters.

A fresh surge of anxiety gripped her heart, portending unforeseen disaster.

Within the lavish dining hall of the inner manor, a sumptuous feast of rich meats and fine dishes lay untouched before Dongzi; he lacked even an ounce of appetite, his hunger entirely suppressed by emotional exhaustion. His mind remained anchored to his sister—had she returned home safely yet? Had she successfully located their mother? Catching sight of her alongside their mother stepping through their front door would constitute the absolute pinnacle of happiness—the sole definition of a good life he cared to entertain.

Three individuals occupied the dining table: Eunuch Li sat at the head, flanked by Li Cilin to his right and Dongzi to his left. Beaming benevolently, Eunuch Li continually heaped delicacies into the boy's bowl, while Dongzi stared downward, chewing in sullen silence.

"Your Majesty," Li Cilin interjected, "the boy is simply unaccustomed to courtly ways. Pray forgive his lack of manners!"

Adopting his high-pitched, affected cadence, Eunuch Li purred, "Among family, such formalities are redundant. How could I ever take offense at Dongzi? Look at those fine, striking features—what's not to adore?"

Bowing his head abjectly, Li Cilin fawned, "We are profoundly honored by Your Majesty's favor!"

Sipping a measure of wine, Eunuch Li extended a slender hand to stroke Dongzi's cheek, emitting a soft chuckle: "Cilin, I have a proposal to offer—tell me how it strikes you."

"Your Majesty's commands are my absolute law, please speak freely!"

Sighing melodramatically, Eunuch Li lamented, "Alas, how many years do I have left? When my time finally arrives, there remains not a soul to carry on my ancestral lineage. Originally, I contemplated adopting a kinsman from my extended clan, but none measured up—every last one proved to be a rotten, useless gourd devoid of substance!"

A nervous flutter seized Li Cilin's chest: "Your Majesty means to suggest...?"

Extending his hand once more to stroke Dongzi’s smooth, rosy cheek, the eunuch mused, "Exquisite! Dongzi captures my heart completely! Cilin, if you grant consent, I wish to adopt Dongzi as my legal heir. Rest assured, I shall not treat your family poorly. When my final day arrives, everything I possess shall pass directly to you—not a single scrap shall slip from your grasp."

Hearing the declaration, Li Cilin froze like a man struck by a thunderbolt, momentarily paralyzed by a windfall that rivaled the sudden gift of imperial treasures. His singular focus hitherto had remained the acquisition of absolute power to execute his revenge; he had never calculated so far ahead or entertained such grand vistas. Yet Eunuch Li systematically locked him into absolute subservience through layer upon layer of unimaginable rewards.

Smiling softly, Eunuch Li pressed for an answer: "Well, Cilin, what say you?"

Recovering his wits, Li Cilin dropped heavily to his knees at the eunuch's feet: "Long live Your Majesty's grace!"

Pulling him upright, Eunuch Li decreed, "Then the matter is settled!"

Dongzi’s mind remained completely blank, utterly incapable of comprehending the compact unfolding around him.

That evening, Eunuch Li insisted that Dongzi remain overnight within the inner manor. Despite the boy's desperate pleas to return home, a sharp reprimand from his father silenced his protests, forcing him to submit.

Earlier that afternoon, Li Cilin had personally guided his son on an extensive tour of the vast estate. Dongzi had been entirely unprepared for the sheer labyrinthine scale and opulent grandeur of the complex: every structure featured intricately carved brackets and painted eaves, while each courtyard opened into private landscaped gardens. The sprawling Li estate comprised five distinct architectural zones: the Front Court (Dahe Compound), the Central Court (Baozhu Compound), the Rear Court (Canglong Compound), the Left Courtyard (Huanhua Compound), and the Right Court (Gule Compound). While each courtyard functioned as a relatively self-contained unit, an elaborate network of covered walkways and moon-gates linked them into a unified whole. The Front Court housed the militia barracks and training grounds; the Central Court featured a grand audience hall designated for council meetings and future imperial assemblies; the Rear Court served as Eunuch Li's personal private residence; the Left Courtyard remained securely locked behind a circular moon-gate, completely excluded from their tour; and the Right Court contained a compact theatrical stage flanked by residential quarters whose occupants remained unseen—though faint, muffled presences suggested individuals kept permanently sequestered within. The entire estate felt like a sprawling vault concealing countless dark secrets—such was Dongzi's overarching impression.

Eunuch Li had assigned Dongzi a chamber located within the Canglong Compound. Following the evening meal, he was escorted directly to the room, leaving his father and the eunuch behind. The quarters were lavishly heated, an attendant having stoked a massive bronze brazier filled with glowing, crackling hardwood charcoal. Furnished entirely in antique hardwood pieces that caught the dim light in eerie, unnatural sheens, Dongzi wondered aloud precisely where such treasures had been plundered. The massive carved rosewood bed featured intricate relief panels depicting floral motifs and human figures, made up with pristine green-and-gold patterned silk coverlets. An inexplicable, pungent odor hung faintly in the air—an unidentifiable scent that defied easy categorization. Pulling the soft silk quilts over himself atop the mattress, Dongzi soon found the ambient heat stifling, forcing him to slide his arms outside the covers. Gripped by a mounting, jittery dread, he lacked the courage to extinguish the flickering oil lamp. Sleeping within such an alien, mystical enclave invited persistent insomnia.

Dongzi's psychological torment ran parallel to his sister's.

As the dead of night deepened, a freezing draft drifted from an obscure corner of the bedchamber, snuffing out the oil lamp upon the writing desk in a single breath.

Jolting upright in sheer terror, Dongzi's heart hammered against his ribs—how could an icy wind blow through a tightly sealed, draft-proof room? Instantly, the chilling air began swirling violently through the space, gathering gale-force momentum that churned up ash from the brazier and sent glowing sparks dancing across the floorboards. The sub-zero draft lashed against his face like a razor blade, setting him shivering uncontrollably.

As abruptly as it materialized, the gale died.

A towering, ink-black silhouette stood planted directly at the foot of his bed.

A sharp, piercing scream tore from Dongzi's throat.

Yet no sound escaped his lips; though his vocal cords strained until blood ruptured within his throat, not a whisper materialized.

The shadowy entity hissed in a hollow, sepulchral register: "Follow me—"

The voice sounded as though it had traveled across an infinite, unbridgeable chasm.

Somewhere deep within his memory, Dongzi recognized the timber of that voice, yet absolute terror paralyzed his cognitive faculties, stripping him of the capacity to recall.

Driven by an irresistible, sleepwalker-like compulsion, Dongzi scrambled out of bed, slipped on his padded silk robe, and shuffled toward the door as the shadow glided right through the solid wooden panel. Reaching the latch, Dongzi unbolted the door and stepped out into the corridor.

"Follow me—"

The freezing, ethereal summons echoed forward.

Tailing the shade step-for-step, Dongzi drifted out of the Canglong Compound, traversed a lengthy covered corridor, and entered the Gule Compound. As the entity floated up onto the small theatrical stage, it vanished entirely into thin air.

The calling ceased simultaneously with its disappearance.

Standing alone at the base of the stage, Dongzi stared out across the Gule Compound, where the absolute silence was profound enough to register the dropping of a single hair; the surrounding residential quarters remained deadened and mute, their inhabitants either holding their breath in petrified terror or plunged in deep slumber.

Suddenly, a blinding burst of white light materialized upon the stage.

Framed within the illumination stood a masked figure hoisting a heavy hemp rope over the massive central roof beam, tying a running slipknot at the terminal end to form a circular noose. Suspending the loop at head-height, the masked intruder signaled several accomplices who shoved a pin-thin, gaunt middle-aged man up onto the boards. The captive moved his lips in furious, silent protest, but no sound reached Dongzi's ears—the entire spectacle unfolded like a soundless dream-sequence. Slipping the noose securely around the captive's neck, the masked figure cinched it tight. His accomplices hauled forcefully on the opposite end of the rope, hoisting the man completely off the stage floor. Dangling in mid-air, the victim thrashed his legs wildly before going entirely limp, his eyes bulging grotesquely from their sockets while his tongue lolled out in a horrific grimace. Lowering the corpse, the executioners bundled the elongated form neatly within a rush mat. At that exact instant, a sinister, mocking chuckle drifted from an obscure corner of the Li estate—a sound bearing the unmistakable acoustic signature of Eunuch Li...

The mental association flashed instantly across Dongzi's mind, connecting the scene to the horrors witnessed on the town street during the Mid-Autumn Festival and the severed human foot discovered at the Wild Grass Shoal, bringing a sudden, sickening clarity to what lay concealed beneath the surface—though the gaunt, executed man remained an utter stranger whom he had never laid eyes upon in life.

The illumination upon the stage blinked out.

Pitch blackness reclaimed the space.

In the absolute dark, Dongzi unleashed a piercing, full-throated shriek of terror.

This time, his voice functioned perfectly.

His shrill, agonized screams reverberated across the cavernous courtyards of the Li estate.

The alarm roused Li Saogu from his patrol duties; brandishing a paper lantern alongside two armed guards, he raced toward the source of the noise. Discovering Dongzi shivering in a state of unmitigated panic, Li Saogu demanded, "Dongzi, what on earth has happened?!"

Spotted by familiar faces, Dongzi felt an immediate reflux of security.

Recalling You Chengtuo's strict injunction never to speak of what he witnessed to a living soul, he exercised caution and lied: "Nothing, nothing at all!"

"Thank heavens for that," Li Saogu exhaled in relief. "You scared us half to death."

At that moment, Li Cilin rushed up, carrying his own paper lantern.

"What is the meaning of this uproar?" Li Cilin demanded.

"It's nothing," Li Saogu repeated.

Scrutinizing the pitch-black stage and then turning his hardened gaze upon the trembling boy, Li Cilin narrowed his eyes with deep suspicion: "Dongzi, why on earth would you wander into this isolated sector in the middle of the night? What did you witness?"

Blinking innocently, Dongzi replied, "I couldn't sleep, so I took a walk. I have no idea how I ended up here, and I didn't see a thing."

"Then why were you screaming your head off?"

"It's pitch-dark and spooky out here—it gave me a fright, so I yelled out."

"Very well," Li Cilin grunted. "I'll escort you back to your quarters. Do not wander about blindly again."

"I want to go home."

"Nonsense! At this hour, where do you think you're going?"

Remaining mute, Dongzi submitted.

Escorting his son back to the Canglong Compound, Li Cilin found Eunuch Li standing stiffly like a phantom within the main hall, leaning upon his dragon-head walking stick.

Fixing Dongzi with a baleful, unblinking stare, the eunuch offered no immediate greeting.

As Dongzi drew closer, the eunuch finally spoke: "Fear not, Dongzi. My quarters lie directly opposite yours; should you require anything, merely call out my name. If the terror proves too great, you are always welcome to share my bed."

Hearing the invitation, a fresh wave of ice water surged through Dongzi's veins, setting him shivering uncontrollably.

He recognized with absolute certainty that he had stepped directly into the maw of an inescapable spiderweb.

Dongzi lay awake throughout the remainder of the night, though no supernatural gales returned to haunt his chamber, nor did the shadowy specter reappear. Huddled beneath the heavy covers in trembling misery, he finally grasped the mechanism by which mortal courage fractures and expands: terror is simply the measure of one's absolute helplessness.

As the first pale streaks of dawn touched the windowpanes, he scrambled out of bed and fled the Li estate.

Reaching his home threshold, he discovered Shangguan Wenqing slumped against the doorframe, locked in a deep, exhausted sleep with his back propped against the wooden jamb. His waxy, jaundiced face looked ghostly in the grey dawn light, bearing the pallor of a corpse.

Whether Wenqing had spent the entire night guarding their doorstep remained unknown to Dongzi. Leaving him undisturbed, Dongzi hammered frantically against the panels.

Swelling-eyed and haggard with fatigue, Li Hongtang threw open the door.

Breathing his name, she pulled him close: "Dongzi—"

Examining him anxiously, she demanded, "Are you alright, little brother? Why did it take you until morning to return?"

"I'm fine, Big Sister," Dongzi replied softly. "I spent the night as a guest in Lord Shunde's manor."

"Thank goodness you're safe," she repeated, visibly sagging with relief. Having spent the entire night awake in the main hall weaving bamboo baskets while keeping vigil, she had assumed he would eventually find his way back.

Initially failing to notice Shangguan Wenqing slumped against the doorframe, her gaze drifted downward to his face, triggering an immediate sensation as if a blade had been driven straight through her heart. She understood instinctively: knowing she was home alone, Wenqing had maintained a voluntary vigil outside her door to ensure her safety against any nocturnal threat. Opening the door earlier had failed to wake him; speaking with Dongzi had failed to wake him. Could he have...

Stooping forward, Hongtang pressed her fingertips against his forehead. It felt like a block of ice; his entire frame seemed frozen stiff. Wenqing, you cannot die—! she panicked internally. Thrusting her fingers beneath his nostrils, a surge of profound relief washed over her: faint, shallow breaths still escaped his lips. The vital spark persisted. Had he perished, Hongtang would have carried an unbearable moral shackle for the remainder of her days.

Without wasting a second, she scooped Shangguan Wenqing bodily into her arms and hauled him across the threshold.

Puzzled, Dongzi watched her actions: "Big Sister, he—"

"Hurry inside and bolt the door behind us!" she ordered sharply.

Carrying him up to the loft, Hongtang found his frame preternaturally light, stripped of all substance. Over recent weeks, his physical decline had accelerated drastically. Laying Tang Town's sole dwarf upon her personal mattress, she pulled her thickest quilt over him. Deeming it insufficient, she dashed downstairs, retrieved Dongzi's bedding, and layered it atop the first.

"What is she doing?" Dongzi wondered aloud.

"He froze like this entirely because of me," Hongtang explained gravely. "Remember this, Dongzi: he is a man of deep honor and profound loyalty. Never look down upon him again. There is no kinder soul in Tang Town, nor one more deserving of pity. Do you understand?"

Though failing to grasp the full context of his sister's emotional investment, Dongzi nodded earnestly and replied, "I understand, Big Sister."

"Good. Keep watch over him while I go brew a hot medicinal broth for you both."

Descending the ladder with urgent strides, Hongtang set to work.

Staring up at Shangguan Wenqing's oversized head, a bizarre, whimsical thought flashed through Dongzi's mind: What would my life look like if I were a dwarf? Gradually, a faint warmth began radiating from Wenqing's limbs; moments later, he expelled a long, heated exhale and fluttered his eyes open. Puzzled by his surroundings, he murmured weakly, "Dongzi... where am I?"

"You're at my house," Dongzi replied. "Big Sister carried you up here. You're lying in her bed."

A weak, grateful smile broke across Wenqing's jaundiced face: "Ah... am I dreaming?"

"No dream, this is real!"

Calling down the ladder, Dongzi shouted, "Big Sister, he's awake—!"

"Coming—!" Hongtang responded from below.

"You're a truly wonderful person, Dongzi," Wenqing whispered.

"Of course I am."

Moments later, Hongtang reappeared carrying a steaming bowl of ginger broth. Seating herself at the head of the bed, she instructed Dongzi to slide an extra pillow beneath Wenqing's head to prop him up, before beginning to spoon-feed him the warm liquid. Blowing gently across each spoonful to reduce the heat, she fed him with infinite tenderness. As the ginger broth warmed his core, a profound wave of euphoria flushed through Wenqing's frame; fighting a wave of sudden shyness and self-consciousness, he swallowed a spoonful and murmured softly, "Let me hold the bowl myself, Hongtang... it's not proper—"

"Drink and don't talk," she scolded gently. "And don't ever be this foolish again. If you had frozen to death out there, your mother would have died of a broken heart."

"I don't freeze easily," Wenqing smiled weakly. "I'm Tang Town's living immortal."

"You're no immortal, you're merely a mortal man," Hongtang sighed softly. "Look at yourself—down with a severe fever yet refusing to rest properly at home. What is the point of all this? Wenqing, I appreciate your kindness, truly I do. But you must stop. Nothing I do concerns you. Once you recover, turn your attention to your own life and leave me be. I'm begging you—your devotion places an intolerable weight upon my shoulders, and I lack the strength to bear any additional burdens. Can you understand that?"

Tears welled in Wenqing's eyes, though a bittersweet, desolate smile lingered upon his lips.

"Finish your ginger broth, rest for a while, and once you feel strong enough to travel, head straight home," Hongtang instructed firmly. "Do not wander the streets aimlessly. If you pull this stunt again, I shall wash my hands of you entirely—and your saving my life previously will no longer count for anything."

Nodding in mute acquiescence, Wenqing yielded.

Standing by silently, Dongzi observed the exchange with a child's incomplete comprehension, ignorant of the complex history binding them together.

Before setting off once more in search of her mother, Hongtang pulled Dongzi aside to instruct him: "Once Shangguan Wenqing feels stronger, see that he gets home safely. And stay inside—do not roam about."

Nodding vigorously, Dongzi promised, "I will, Big Sister. Be careful out there!"

Every time Hongtang departed on her quests, Dongzi's heart fractured between soaring hope and consuming anxiety.

Meanwhile, Wang Hairong's long-sought induction into the militia had finally materialized—a milestone of monumental proportions that filled him with boundless gratitude toward his brother-in-law, Li Saogu. Anticipating that the posting would inaugurate a golden era of prosperity, he received an immediate, brutal reality check on his very first day of training. Issued a coarse black tunic and a standard broadsword, he arrived at the parade grounds full of optimistic swagger. Noticing his expression, Li Saogu delivered a chilling dose of preventative medicine: "Wipe that smirk off your face! You're in for a world of agony—prepare yourself to shed a layer of skin before this is over!" Dismissing the warning as idle bluster, Hairong discovered the hard truth the moment training commenced.

Roused before dawn, Hairong was herded alongside dozens of fellow recruits out into the massive open courtyard of the Dahe Compound within the Li estate.

Spacious enough to accommodate scores of men without crowding, the courtyard served as the primary mustering ground. As a green recruit, Hairong found himself relegated to the very rear of the final rank. Li Cilin personally presided over the training as chief instructor, demanding that every morning commence with rigorous horse-stance drills prior to tactical saber techniques. Enduring his inaugural horse-stance, Hairong's unconditioned legs betrayed him almost immediately, trembling uncontrollably under his body weight. Spotting the failure, Li Cilin strolled over, paused before the recruit, and offered a cold sneer: "You call that a horse stance?"

Paralyzed by terror, Hairong lacked the breath to utter a syllable.

Without warning, Li Cilin executed a vicious sweeping leg kick that caught Hairong squarely, sending him crashing heavily to the flagstones with a jarring shock that left him wincing in agony.

"If that's all the spine you've got, you have no business in this militia," Li Cilin barked. "This isn't a charity soup kitchen! Get back on your feet and lock into that stance!"

Swallowing his pain, Hairong scrambled upright and desperately resumed his posture.

Dissatisfied with his form, Li Cilin demonstrated the correct alignment before barking a demand: "Is your stance locked?"

"Locked, Commander," Hairong wheezed.

Another sweeping kick instantly sent him crashing back to the flagstones... Repeatedly hoisted up, he was knocked down with escalating force. By the freezing dawn of that winter morning, Hairong was drenched in a cold sweat born of physical agony and sheer terror. Following yet another violent sweep, he collapsed permanently into the dirt, paralyzed and sobbing silent, helpless pleas toward the grinning instructor.

Placing a booted foot heavily upon his chest, Li Cilin sneered: "Broken already? What a worthless piece of trash! I actually expected some starch in you. With a spine like a wet noodle, you still harbor ambitions of marrying Hongtang? Keep dreaming!"

A wave of crushing despair washed over Wang Hairong. Enlisting in the militia was evidently no shortcut to glory; it offered labor far more brutal than hauling stone for the city wall. Worse still, winning Li Cilin’s favor appeared mathematically impossible, reducing his dream of winning Hongtang's hand to a delusion comparable to plucking stars from the firmament. He desperately yearned to desert, return to his life as an honest peasant, and banish these grand illusions—but retreat was barred. Every recruit had sworn a blood-oath before Li Cilin, accepting a death curse for any betrayal of Emperor Shunde. Desertion meant summary execution for treason. Trapped with no viable exit, he was forced to grit his teeth and endure, leaving his ultimate survival entirely to the mercy of fortune.

In the wake of Eunuch Li's imperial coronation, at least two sharp-minded individuals within Tang Town recognized the systemic peril unfolding around them, viewing the developments not as harmless theater or populist fervor, but as a sinister vortex threatening the lives of everyone in the community. Unswayed by collective mass-hysteria or the seductive surface illusions, they retained clear, unclouded vision.

The first was the veteran herbalist Master Zheng.

A multiplicity of abnormal events had long since unsettled Master Zheng: the unnatural demise of You Chengtuo, the sudden collapse and death of Hu Tiansheng, the brutal raid on the Zhu household, the frantic construction of the city wall, and culminating in Eunuch Li's proclamation as Emperor... While isolated occurrences might appear coincidental, their underlying convergence betrayed an ominous systemic design. When Hu Tiansheng perished, the partial fragment of snake candy recovered from his pockets had rolled directly onto the floor of Master Zheng's apothecary—a precise confection distributed exclusively by Eunuch Li. Eyewitnesses had confirmed that Hu Tiansheng had consumed precisely half the portion before tumbling to his death from the sacred camphor tree. Unless driven by sheer madness or a death wish, no sane individual would willingly scale that taboo, spiritually potent tree. Was there a hidden poison laced within the candy? If Hu Tiansheng's demise linked directly to Eunuch Li, what motivated the execution of a mere child? The answer traced back to Hu Tiansheng's abortive attempt to burn down the blacksmith's shop. Shangguan Qingqiu's assertion that his family had been away from Tang Town during the incident was a transparent fabrication; malevolent supernatural forces clearly operated behind the scenes at the smithy, pointing toward a desperate cover-up. The subsequent formation of the militia and the heavy weaponry stockpiled within its armory illuminated the missing puzzle pieces, retroactively rendering poor Hu Tiansheng's elimination chillingly logical. The realization filled Master Zheng with profound, paralyzing dread: to safeguard his conspiracy, the eunuch was prepared to slaughter children without a second thought. Master Zheng worried acutely for his own survival and the safety of the entire populace.

Powerless to challenge Eunuch Li, and thoroughly disinclined to attempt resistance, Master Zheng remained a pragmatic survivor committed to self-preservation. He resolved to keep his profound suspicions locked permanently within his breast; dropping even the faintest hint of his deductions would instantly sign his own death warrant and endanger his only son, Zheng Chaozhong. Having registered the pervasive peril suffocating Tang Town, he had previously contemplated fleeing the enclave. Yet flight offered no real sanctuary—in this chaotic era, crows were universally black, and what territory remained untainted by men of Eunuch Li's stripe? The world offered no true haven, save perhaps within the quiet sanctuaries of human consciousness—a realm so distant and abstract that even he struggled to locate it. A man stripped of desire, fear, and craving for survival achieves a state of unshakeable calm; yet Master Zheng remained tethered to his flesh.

...

The second individual was Hunchback Li.

Observing the unfolding drama of Tang Town with silent, unblinking vigilance, Hunchback Li lacked the physical stature to stand erect or confront the world on normal human terms, yet his piercing eyes captured the raw fabric of reality with unerring accuracy... Such was the tragic curse of Hunchback Li's existence.

His inner calculations stood diametrically opposed to Master Zheng's cautious pragmatism.

No mortal could predict what catastrophic retaliation the silent, deformed artisan might ultimately unleash upon Tang Town.

Day and night, he worked the funerary paper craft—patiently fashioning paper figures and paper horses as if racing against a deadline to complete a lifetime's commissions in a matter of days!

Reaching out, Abao stroked the pristine white silk padded robe adorning Dongzi's frame, a flush of dark envy darkening his tanned features as his eyes grew hazy with longing: "Ah, if only I possessed a magnificent robe like that..."

He had voiced his covetous yearning on multiple occasions.

Exhaling a cloud of frosty vapor into the chill air, Dongzi picked up a smooth pebble and skipped it across the rippling surface of the creek.

"Do you truly admire my silk robe that much, Abao?"

Nodding with absolute earnestness, Abao confessed, "I do! I even begged my father to make me one just like it for the upcoming New Year, but guess what he told me?"

"Did your father refuse? New Year always calls for fresh garments, surely—"

A shadow darkened Abao's face. "Refuse? Worse than that! My dad's temper has grown vile lately; he flies into a rage over nothing. He bellowed at me, claiming we won't even have money for basic festive provisions this year, let alone new clothes! When I talked back, he threatened to thrash me."

"How could things deteriorate to that extent?"

In Dongzi's memory, Zhang Faqiang remained a gentle, compassionate figure—poles apart from his own terrifying, overbearing father!

"I haven't the foggiest," Abao grumbled. "Dad keeps muttering that if things keep going this way, the whole family is going to starve on dry air."

Dongzi fell into a reflective silence.

Abao pressed on: "By the way, Dongzi, rumors say you'll soon be moving permanently into the Li estate. They've got a private theatrical stage inside where shows run every single night—is that true?"

"I have zero intention of moving in there!" Dongzi retorted. "It's suffocatingly dull, I hate the theater, and they don't even perform every night anyway."

Sighing wistfully, Abao murmured, "If I could watch theater every day, I wouldn't care about new clothes at all! Oh, and since you've been inside the Li manor, tell me—have you laid eyes on the theatrical troupe? Have you met Zhao Hongyan?"

Staring blankly, Dongzi shook his head. "I haven't seen a thing. Who on earth is Zhao Hongyan?"

Abao's eyes bulged in disbelief. "What? You don't even know who Zhao Hongyan is?!"

"Never heard of her!"

With an expression of transcendent devotion, Abao whispered, "She's the most breathtakingly gorgeous and exceptionally talented lead actress on the stage!"

"Oh—"

"Hearing her sing is better than tasting any delicacy in the world. I've dreamed of her repeatedly; in my visions, she performs exclusively for me, such an exquisite privilege—"

"Abao, you're completely bewitched," Dongzi teased with a grin. "Are you planning to make her your wife when you grow up?"

Flushing deep crimson, Abao dropped his gaze to the dirt in embarrassment.

Dongzi chuckled aloud.

It was a rare sight to witness Dongzi genuinely amused during this bleak winter. Seeing his friend happy gladdened Abao's heart, prompting him to break into a wide smile as well.

"Abao," Dongzi said, lowering his voice, "forget about female actors for a moment. Tell me the truth—are we brothers?"

"Of course! You're my absolute best brother in the world!"

Seizing the moment, Dongzi promptly unbuttoned his silk padded robe and slipped it off his shoulders. "True brothers share fortunes and hardships alike, Abao. Take off your cotton jacket—let's swap and wear each other's clothes!"

Thrilled by the gesture, Abao hurriedly stripped off his patched tunic.

Shivering in the biting wind, the two boys successfully exchanged attire.

Inspecting Abao, Dongzi burst into irrepressible laughter: being shorter of stature, Abao was entirely swallowed by the silk robe, the hem trailing heavily along the ground. Abao chuckled at the absurdity of his appearance, then looked over at Dongzi, who was struggling to contain his own amusement; wearing Abao's undersized cotton jacket, the sleeves fell woefully short, leaving a massive expanse of Dongzi's forearms exposed bare to the freezing draft.

Unbeknownst to them, while they stood exchanging garments, a furtive, spying figure peeked out from behind a weeping willow tree some yards away, observing their actions with intense, calculating suspicion.

Neither boy detected the watching stalker.

As a bleak, murderous twilight descended, heavy overcast skies rolled in, sweeping withered leaves across the barren hills on the wings of a howling winter gale. Li Hongtang dragged her exhausted limbs along the mountain track leading back to Tang Town. Periodic, chilling shrieks pierced the gloom—the eerie cries of death-crows. Folklore held that death-crows possessed the supernatural capacity to detect the scent of impending mortality; their ominous calls signaled that fresh corpses were destined to join the soil. The defining hallmark of an era of utter desolation is the normalization and rapid acceleration of death, standing in stark contrast to the secure peace of prosperous years. Cradling a numbing exhaustion in her bones and shivering from hunger after two fruitless days of scouring the mountains for her mother, Hongtang's primary concern remained securing Dongzi's safety, prompting her to head back toward Tang Town first. Her temples throbbed with a persistent, dull ache, and her physical exhaustion weighed her down like lead. Mindlessly raising a hand to brush against her cheek, she experienced a sudden jolt of horror: the skin of her face felt leathery and coarse, rough as the bark of a pine tree. The tactile sensation instantly conjured the image of Madam Wang's weathered, ancient visage, sending a spike of genuine panic through her chest. Struggling against the rising terror, Hongtang peered ahead through the gathering dusk; once she crested the upcoming ridge, the silhouettes of Tang Town would materialize, allowing her to reach home before full night fell. Upon returning, she resolved to inspect her reflection closely in a mirror to discover precisely what ravages seventeen years of hardship had wrought upon her features.

Reaching the crest of the ridge, she found the flanking pine forests cloaked in deep, oppressive shadows that seemed to conceal a myriad of lurking perils.

The shadowy threats felt primed to materialize at any second with unearthly shrieks. Yet Hongtang felt entirely desensitized to the dread; surviving her ordeal within the Black Forest had tempered her resilience against ambient terrors. If Wugong Ridge to the west of Tang Town was a desecrated mass grave haunted by wandering ghouls, then Maomao Ridge to the east was scarcely more comforting. According to local lore, Maomao Ridge had been haunted by fox-spirits since antiquity—seductive entities capable of beguiling unwary travelers and dragging them down a tragic path of no return.

Standing upon the elevated ridge, Hongtang gazed down at the distant sprawl of Tang Town merging with the evening mists—an enclave she simultaneously loved and loathed, currently blanketed beneath an unnatural, ominous pall of black vapor. A turbulent vortex of conflicting emotions churned within her chest. As she began her descent along the downward slope, a sudden rustling noise erupted from the brush flanking the trail, instantly spiking her vigilance. Could it be a fox-spirit? Folklore maintained that fox-spirits manifested strictly during three specific diurnal windows: dawn, high noon, and twilight. The current hour matched the twilight window precisely. Glancing sideways toward the source of the sound, she perceived nothing amidst the gloom, prompting her to quicken her pace. Though her fear was muted, basic caution dictated minimizing exposure to such malevolent locales.

Halting abruptly in her tracks, a sudden thought of Shangguan Wenqing flashed across her mind. Could he be waiting here to intercept me? Given his stubborn persistence, such a stunt was entirely within his repertoire, despite her repeated injunctions to abandon his pursuit. She understood his psychology with absolute clarity. The moment she paused, the rustling noise abruptly ceased as well—a coincidence that seemed to validate her hypothesis. Wheeling around sharply, Hongtang pitched her voice into the wind: "Shangguan Wenqing, show yourself right this instant! I've told you time and time again to stop this nonsense, it's completely unacceptable!" She fully expected his stunted frame to tumble comically out of the withered grass, blinking up at her with those innocent, smiling eyes. Instead, absolute silence greeted her—she saw nothing whatsoever. Unwilling to concede defeat, she softened her tone into a conciliatory plea: "Shangguan Wenqing, come out. I won't scold you, just show yourself. Night is falling fast, we need to get back home." Waiting through a prolonged silence that yielded zero response, a creeping insecurity settled into her bones, followed instantly by a prickling chill in the soles of her feet that reignited genuine terror.

An actual encounter with a fox-spirit carried catastrophic consequences. Two years prior, a young local swain traversing this exact mountain pass during the noon hour had fallen prey to an entity; upon returning to Tang Town, his entire speech pattern had undergone a grotesque mutation, his deep, resonant baritone softening into the high-pitched, delicate tones of a female. Even more horrifyingly, as midnight struck, muffled fox-barks began emanating from his family home, while his own body reeked permanently of a potent, musky fox-stench. Within weeks, he wasted away into an emaciated husk and died of acute melancholy. Local lore maintained that the resident fox-spirit wielded immense supernatural mastery, rendering even Madam Wang utterly helpless; when the victim's family engaged the shaman to perform exorcisms at their homestead, the entity effortlessly snapped her sacred peach-wood sword in half, terrifying the shaman into a frantic retreat that culminated in a severe, bed-ridden fever lasting months. Such incidents surfaced every two or three years, keeping the populace in a state of perpetual dread.

Resuming her descent, Hongtang quickened her stride.

Scarcely had she covered a few paces when the rustling noise resumed directly behind her.

Am I genuinely being targeted by a fox-spirit? she thought, a cold sweat breaking across her brow.

Daring not to look back, she accelerated into a jog.

Instantly, the rustling behind her modulated into the distinct rhythm of rapid footfalls.

Her legs turning to water, Hongtang felt every hair upon her body stand on end. A silent, desperate prayer tore through her soul: Spirit, fox, whatever you are—I harbor no malice toward you, I beg you to spare my life! I carry heavy responsibilities: my mother remains unrecovered, and my little brother is still a child. Have mercy upon me, grant me a path to survive—

The footsteps behind her closed the distance with terrifying speed, while the twilight gloom thickened into an inky shroud.

In that fraction of a second, the value of Shangguan Wenqing’s presence crystallized with devastating clarity. If he were standing beside her right now, she wouldn't feel this paralyzing isolation and terror! Though physically diminutive and entirely lacking in martial prowess, Wenqing represented a masculine sanctuary—a protector capable of shielding her from harm. Damned Shangguan Wenqing, she berated herself silently. Why on earth didn't you come out to meet me today? Where are you—?!

At that moment, a deep, resonant masculine voice called out from directly behind her: "Don't run, little sister—"

The cadence felt profoundly strange—a rigid, awkward approximation of official court dialect.

Could this truly be the voice of a fox-spirit? Realizing flight was utterly futile, Hongtang resolved to face whatever fate awaited her; she lacked the capacity to escape the clutches of her dark destiny. Halting dead in her tracks, she froze like a statue, clutching a cold, damp palm.

Sensing the entity halt directly behind her, she could hear the heavy, labored cadence of its respiration.

Slowly, agonizingly, Li Hongtang pivoted around. Her eyes dilated to their absolute limit, her jaw unhinged, and a piercing shriek ripped from her throat: "Agh—!"

Her limbs dissolving instantly, she collapsed straight backward into the dirt, plunging into total, unyielding unconsciousness.

--

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