The nails were beneath the bronze mirror—five of them, arranged like the petals of a flower. One nail was painted crimson, adorned with the image of a five-petal plum blossom.
At that moment, Ban Xia caught another whiff of that seductive scent. Blood mixed with sweetness—it was irresistible. She inhaled deeply once more.
Xuan Ye noticed and turned to her. “Do you smell something? What is it?”
“A scent… strange and sweet. Can’t you smell it?”
“No. I’ve lost my sense of taste and smell recently. Can you describe it for me?” he replied calmly.
Ban Xia was momentarily taken aback, but before she could answer, Master Zhou approached, holding a paper bundle covered in numerous talismans. “You smell it too, don’t you? It’s coming from… from this thing. No matter how tightly I wrap it, the scent still gets out.”
Xuan Ye accepted the package and unwrapped it layer by layer, revealing a long strip of fruit peel.
A pale green fruit peel streaked with faint red, it looked like it came from a pear. The underside was still moist with bits of flesh clinging to it.
Master Zhou’s voice quavered even more. “I… I’ve lived for decades and never seen a pear that’s green with red streaks! It’s demonic! Truly demonic!”
Xuan Ye’s expression flickered, as if a thought had struck him. He rewrapped the peel and asked, “Were you the first to see her body? What did she look like when she died?”
Master Zhou hesitated, clearly struggling with something unspeakable. After a long silence, he finally stomped his foot and confessed:
“The first to see her body was a maid named Cui Liu. We… we already tampered with the scene. When we found her… she was holding a sheathed sword from the wall… and had stabbed herself to death!”
Three years ago, a strange rumor began circulating in Qilin Town.
It was said that if a woman was bold enough to follow a specific ritual on a moonless night at midnight, she could summon a blood demon to fulfill her wish. The ritual required a new hu brush (a traditional Chinese calligraphy brush), dipped in fresh blood drawn from the center of the summoner’s brow, to paint a five-petal plum blossom on the ring finger of her right hand. The demon, once summoned, would grant her youth and ensure the eternal devotion of the one she loved.
The origin of this rumor had long been forgotten, but what everyone knew was that it worked—at least once.
In the town’s Long Bai Alley, there had been a household where the mistress, Yuan Fang, was a middle-aged woman discarded by her husband, a former imperial scholar, with nothing but a divorce paper. Left to care for her son, her days were bleak and miserable.
But one moonless night changed everything.
Her neighbors still vividly remembered that cool autumn morning when Yuan Fang knocked on their door, carrying a bundle and announcing she was taking her son to the capital to find her unfaithful husband. She asked them to help watch over her home.
The neighbor, however, barely recognized the woman before them. The wrinkles on her face were gone, her skin smooth as freshly peeled egg white, and her waist so slender it could barely be held in two hands. Yuan Fang looked as if she had reverted to her twenties. But she wasn’t just youthful—she radiated a charm and allure a hundred times greater than in her youth.
The neighbor was dumbfounded. After Yuan Fang left, it took them a long time to recover, and once they did, they spread the story around town, retelling again and again how the middle-aged Yuan Fang had turned back the clock overnight.
Soon after, news came from the capital that Yuan Fang had indeed found her husband. The man, overcome with remorse, abandoned his newlywed beauty and reconciled with Yuan Fang. They lived happily ever after.
A miraculous tale indeed.
The rumor was no longer just a rumor; it became legend. Everyone believed that Yuan Fang must have summoned the blood demon that night, regaining both her youth and her husband’s love.
In the town’s teahouse, Xuan Ye listened intently to the story.
“Other than Yuan Fang, has anyone else successfully summoned the blood demon?” he asked.
The storyteller immediately shook his head, raising five fingers. “Five women have tried since then, but all failed. Each of them died as miserably and grotesquely as what you’ve seen.”
Ban Xia raised her hand and interjected, “Yuan Fang is suspicious. If we find her in the capital, we should be able to uncover some clues.”
Xuan Ye smiled faintly, his gaze lingering on her, thoughtful. “I don’t think it’s necessary.”
That soft, intent gaze made Ban Xia’s skin crawl. She stood up abruptly. “I have nothing to do with this! Not a single thing!”
“You want me to be bait, don’t you? To lure out the blood demon? And if I refuse, you won’t heal my wounds, is that it?” After pacing furiously, Ban Xia stormed back to Xuan Ye, her voice rising several octaves.
Xuan Ye continued to look at her, his eyes calm as still waters. “I do hope you’ll help lure out the spirit, but I’m asking, not threatening.”
“If I refuse, will you still heal me?”
“Yes.”
“Then I absolutely refuse. Risk without reward—only a fool would agree.”
“There’s no risk,” he said simply.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll be there.”
“You?” Ban Xia scoffed. “You could barely handle that little ghost in the cave, and you expect me to trust you now?”
“That was an accident.” Xuan Ye remained composed. “Do you remember that handsome ‘bamboo,’ our friend You Huang?”
“What does he have to do with this?”
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