Chapter 64:
The Jiang Clan:
Chen Henian Stared, Like a King of Hell…
They agreed to leave the next morning, and at dawn, Chen Henian, suitcase in hand, descended the mountain.
Leaving early minimized the risks. While Grandmaster Yongjian and Hu Busun had warned the others to keep Chen Henian’s identity a secret, loose lips were a constant threat. News of a Tai Yin body would spread like wildfire, attracting unwanted attention.
He had been fortunate so far. The previous Tai Yin body had been hunted down by the combined forces of the Daoist sects, a dark chapter in their history known as the “Tai Yin Hunt.”
Only the Southern sect hadn’t participated. The victim’s body had been dismembered, his remains divided among the sects, but the promised benefits hadn’t materialized, a cautionary tale for those tempted by such gains.
Now, it was mostly rogue cultivators and ghost eaters who coveted his essence, their stagnant cultivation a desperate hunger, seeing him as a panacea, a forbidden fruit.
This trip to Kunnan Mountain had been a loss. He had lost a valuable ghost and gained nothing in return. The mirror ghost hadn’t offered any useful information, Zhou Xianzhi had spent all his money, and he was starting to think the Southern sect offered better prospects.
Yongjian’s offer hadn’t been an exaggeration. The Southern sect was one of the orthodox branches, its ancestral founder having returned to protect the mountain. The elders, all centenarians, would eventually pass on their mantle and retreat into seclusion, seeking enlightenment through meditation, their worldly attachments severed.
Whether they achieved immortality was unknown. Those who entered seclusion sealed their caves, the mountain dotted with these stone tombs, a silent testament to their pursuit.
If he joined the Southern sect, as long as the old master lived, he would be safe.
But Zhou Xianzhi had spoken, and Yongjian hadn’t pressed the matter. “Alright, alright…”
He had seemed almost relieved, his parting words directed at Zuo He. “Take some winter clothes from your senior brothers before you leave, the weather will turn cold soon. Take care of yourself, your master isn’t there to protect you. A master always cares for his disciples, I’ll be waiting for your return.”
Chen Henian had glared at Zhou Xianzhi, silently warning him not to spend his money.
“I don’t envy them their good masters, I have a good disciple!” Zhou Xianzhi had said, turning out his empty pockets, shamelessly asking Chen Henian to buy his train ticket.
Yongjian and the others continued their search for the jiangshi, while Chen Henian, Jiang Wan, and Zuo He returned to the city, the journey long and tiring. They arrived back at the shop in the evening. Chen Henian opened the door, inhaling deeply, the familiar scent of dust and incense a welcome change. No one had been there.
“Boil some water!” Zhou Xianzhi yelled, scratching his neck and hurrying upstairs for a bath.
“No one’s here to serve you,” Chen Henian retorted, placing his suitcase, the mirror retrieved, on the table. He had Zuo He take it upstairs, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the shop, then sat down, pulling out a chair.
The mirror ghost emerged, floating towards the ceiling, its voice filled with complaint. “My makeup is ruined! That old man didn’t take care of me at all! It’s much better with you.”
It resembled a painted opera singer, its features, despite the feminine makeup, still coarse and masculine. Did a ghost’s appearance reflect its past life? It was much uglier than Yu Lin, not at all to his liking.
Chen Henian turned away, not wanting to look at it, his head resting on his hand, when the white snake slithered down his arm. He caught it, and it flicked its tongue nervously.
“What are you afraid of? I’m not going to cook you,” he stroked its scales, their coolness and hardness unpleasant against his skin.
“Go,” he released it, and it quickly retreated to its basket.
Jiang Wan emerged from the bathroom, wiping her hands on her clothes. “Do you have any meat left?” Chen Henian asked, a rare display of concern. He hadn’t fed the snake in a while.
“There’s some in the fridge,” she walked over to the snake basket, petting the snake’s head. “But it needs to thaw.”
Xiao Bai nudged her hand happily, and she smiled, going to the kitchen. Chen Henian sat there, swinging his legs, his arms crossed.
A few books, the histories of the Jiang Dynasty, lay on the table. Zuo He came downstairs, and Chen Henian held them up. “You forgot to return these.”
Zuo He looked up, surprised, then relieved. “You don’t have to return them,” he said. “I saw you reading them so intently, so I bought them. They weren’t expensive, and we might need them later.”
“This one too?” Chen Henian picked up another book. “You bought this one too?”
Zuo He hesitated, the title emblazoned on the cover: Haunted by a Ghost: Where Does the Innocent Young Master Run?
“Not that one,” he said awkwardly, his face flushing. The title itself was embarrassing. “Jiang Wan bought that one. She said you might like it. You didn’t notice it at the time.”
Jiang Wan had chosen a romance novel for him. He hadn’t even opened it, unaware of its ridiculous title. Only a ghost would enjoy such trash. He tossed it aside, his gaze dark, his annoyance evident.
Zuo He hesitated, his eyes fixed on Chen Henian’s frown, his mouth opening and closing, then he finally spoke, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I think… you have some emotional issues…”
“It’s like…”
“Separation anxiety, your symptoms are similar,” he said. “Do you want to do something else? Take your mind off things?”
Chen Henian chuckled coldly. “I know what I need to do.”
“Alright, I’ll go make dinner then,” Zuo He said, not wanting to upset him further, retreating to the kitchen.
“How about some mung bean soup? It’ll cool you down,” Jiang Wan called out from the kitchen. “Hot or cold, Boss?”
“Cold,” he replied.
“There should be ice in the fridge. We can have it for dessert later,” she said, washing the mung beans.
The sound of running water filled the kitchen.
Annoying, Chen Henian thought, drumming his fingers on the table. He hadn’t even said he wanted mung bean soup.
“This place is lively,” the mirror ghost said, its head propped on its hand. “And you seem… different.”
Chen Henian glared at it. “Your face is even more unpleasant than usual,” it continued.
“That’s not important.” It floated down from the ceiling, sitting on the table before him, its white robes spread out. “Let me see, what’s wrong with you?” It leaned closer, sniffing his face. “Still smells good.”
Chen Henian ignored it, but it persisted, its face inches from his. “But your scent has changed, the natural suppression is gone.”
“So… it’s gone!”
“Did it die?”
The mirror ghost giggled, pleased with its deduction. “But why aren’t you happy? Isn’t this a good thing?”
“How did it die? Because of the jiangshi?”
Chen Henian didn’t answer, and the mirror ghost’s laughter grew louder, its excitement growing, its hands rubbing together greedily. “Then can I…”
It licked its lips, even the white snake in its basket raising its head, its eyes fixed on him.
“Just one taste, how about it? You can raise me instead, I’m not bad,” it said, its voice sweet and tempting, its hand reaching for his clothes.
“Really?” Chen Henian finally looked at it. “You want to eat me that badly?”
“Yes, yes,” the mirror ghost nodded eagerly.
Then it heard a cold chuckle, a chilling gaze piercing it.
Chen Henian stared at it, his eyes like a King of Hell’s.
“Um…” the mirror ghost swallowed nervously, its neck suddenly cold as Chen Henian’s hand appeared behind its head.
Bang—!
Its head hit the table, Chen Henian’s hand pinning it down, its struggles futile, like a fish on a chopping block.
“Just kidding! It was just a joke! I don’t really want to eat you!” it said quickly.
“Want to eat? Sure,” Chen Henian’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Really?” the mirror ghost asked, surprised.
Chen Henian didn’t release it. “Open your mouth,” he said.
The mirror ghost hesitated. This was a trap, but it couldn’t resist, its mouth opening, a flicker of hope in its eyes.
Ghosts shouldn’t gamble. Its mouth remained open, and Chen Henian shoved the history book inside. “Eat! Eat it!”
“You wanted to eat, didn’t you?!”
“I was wrong, I was wrong!” the mirror ghost wailed. It didn’t have a proper mouth, the book lodged in its head. It could swallow it, but then he would likely make it regurgitate it.
It gave up, its cries echoing through the shop.
“What are you doing? The table is for eating, let it go,” Zhou Xianzhi said, coming downstairs, his voice a master scolding his disciple.
“Yes, yes, ghosts shouldn’t be on the table, dirty and smelly, ruining everyone’s appetite, please let me go,” the mirror ghost pleaded.
“Get lost,” Chen Henian snorted, finally releasing it. The mirror ghost, its face flattened, its nose squashed, retreated to the mirror.
“Such a stupid ghost, walking right into a trap,” Zhou Xianzhi chuckled, pointing at the mirror. “Doesn’t even know who’s the boss here.”
He turned to Chen Henian, leaning closer, a smile on his face. “Xiao Nian, such a rare reunion, let’s celebrate with some wine.”
“You get lost too,” Chen Henian retorted.
“Fine, fine, as you wish,” Zhou Xianzhi shrugged, but he still got his wine. Chen Henian refused to buy it, so he turned to Zuo He, who gave him the money. Chen Henian wanted to bang his head against the wall, Zuo He’s naivete infuriating, but he relented, Zuo He having prepared a delicious meal.
After dinner, Zhou Xianzhi produced a large plastic jug of baijiu and a plate of peanuts, pouring himself a generous serving.
“Want some?” he asked Zuo He.
“Elder, I don’t drink,” Zuo He replied.
Zhou Xianzhi feigned offense. “I’m offering you a drink, and you refuse? What do you mean by that?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Are you drinking or not?”
“I’ll drink,” Zuo He gave in, but he had never drunk alcohol before. He took a large gulp, coughing, the strong liquor burning his throat.
Zhou Xianzhi laughed, enjoying the young man’s discomfort.
Zuo He was indeed a lightweight, his face flushing, his eyes unfocused, collapsing onto the table a minute later, drunk but not unruly.
Zhou Xianzhi was bored. Chen Henian didn’t drink. If he tried to force him, he would smash the jug.
Only Jiang Wan remained, a minor, and he wasn’t that shameless. Finding a drinking buddy was difficult. He sighed dramatically, and Chen Henian, annoyed, kicked his chair.
“Elder, I can drink a thousand cups without getting drunk. I’ll join you,” Jiang Wan said, sitting down across from him.
“A thousand cups?” Zhou Xianzhi raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “Let’s see about that.” He poured her a large bowl. “Drink!”
Chen Henian ate his mung bean soup, the sweetness lacking, the sugar insufficient. He would tell Zuo He later.
Jiang Wan and Zhou Xianzhi drank bowl after bowl, Zhou Xianzhi’s face turning red, then purple, while Jiang Wan showed no signs of intoxication.
“Doesn’t alcohol affect you?” Chen Henian asked, curious.
“It does,” she replied. “If I drink too much, I’ll need to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.”
“Wonderful, wonderful…” Zhou Xianzhi slurred, raising his bowl. “You should enter a drinking contest, win a prize, lots of money!”
Even drunk, his mind was on money. Chen Henian rolled his eyes.
Jiang Wan poured him another bowl, and he, like Zuo He, collapsed onto the table, unconscious.
Chen Henian wasn’t going to carry them to bed, their bodies reeking of alcohol.
“Does getting drunk really make you forget your troubles?” Jiang Wan asked suddenly.
Chen Henian, seeing the empty jug, but her eyes clear and focused, her resistance likely due to her cultivation, replied, “You’ve never spoken of your past. I’ll assume you’re just drunk.”
Jiang Wan laughed. “I didn’t say anything before because we weren’t close enough. But now, since you’re coming with me, I should tell you.”
“I was born in a silent mountain,” her voice was slightly slurred, her eyes unfocused.
“A grotesque and terrifying place.”
“I escaped,” she said.
“And you’re going back?” Chen Henian asked.
“Of course!” she said loudly. “I approached you because I knew I would have to face my enemies eventually.”
“Their greed for the Tai Yin body is insatiable. I’m not the only one in my clan who wanted to find you. I found several others before I met you,” she smiled. “I killed them for you, you’re welcome.”
