Ban Xia chuckled at this. “Of course you did. You were busy with your wife, indulging yourselves passionately. Naturally, you’d sleep deeply and miss anything unusual.”
The minister glared at her in outrage after a long pause. “Who is this woman? What do you mean by ‘passionately indulging’? How dare you speak such nonsense! Last night, my wife and I bathed and went straight to bed. Nothing else happened!”
“Then what about the marks on her body? They’re fresh. Don’t tell me they aren’t yours.”
Minister Hou was taken aback. He quickly drove the two of them out of the room and lifted Yuan Fang’s clothing to check for himself.
Sure enough, there were marks—a trail of reddish-brown kiss marks, winding from her collarbone to the nape of her neck, more than ten in total.
The night before, they had bathed together, and he had even dried her back himself. There had been nothing there.
They had slept in the same bed. Could he have been so deeply asleep that he didn’t notice his wife being intimate with someone else?
Minister Hou clawed at his hair, letting out a long, wolf-like howl of frustration.
That afternoon, on a small path near the base of Mount Mao, the autumn wind picked up, growing sharper.
Aunt He, carrying a covered basket, tightened her clothing against the chill. A cold shiver ran down her back, filling her with an uneasy sense of dread. She quickened her pace.
Ahead, she spotted a cave and glanced inside. Her heart skipped a beat, as if something had slammed into her chest.
“Silver—bright, shining silver. Don’t you want to take it?”
A woman’s voice drifted out of the cave, cold and eerie. It seemed both far away and disturbingly close, sending chills up Aunt He’s spine.
Clasping her hands together, Aunt He murmured a series of prayers to Guan Yin, the Bodhisattva of Mercy. She tried to move, but her feet wouldn’t budge.
“Silver—bright, shining silver. Don’t you want to take it?”
The voice repeated itself. As the words ended, a silver ingot—glimmering and flawless—appeared at Aunt He’s feet. It looked to weigh at least ten taels.
“You can take it. From now on, it’s yours…” The voice floated out again.
Aunt He’s legs trembled violently, her words faltering. “G-great spirit… please spare me. I-I don’t dare take your silver!”
“If you don’t take it, you will die. If you take it, nothing will happen to you…”
The chilling wind from the cave swirled around her. The woman’s voice, though soft, felt like icy needles pricking at her heart.
Aunt He shook even harder, dropping her basket. She had to press her knees to steady herself enough to speak. “G-great spirit, w-why are you giving me this silver? I—I…”
“Take the silver, and all you need to do is perform a very small task for me.”
“W-what task?”
“Throw this copper coin somewhere frequented by a beautiful woman,” the voice instructed. A copper coin flew out of the cave, landing neatly on the top of Aunt He’s foot.
At the Xian Xia Parlor, Miss Gu Wan Yun was the last customer of the day. She bought a box of rouge and another of setting powder before the shop closed.
Her sedan chair waited outside. Lifting her skirt, Miss Gu was about to step inside when she noticed a copper coin on the ground.
Ordinarily, a single coin wouldn’t interest her, but something about this one captivated her. She felt as though her soul was being drawn to it.
Bending down, she picked up the coin.
It was an ordinary copper coin inscribed with the characters Jiayou Tongbao (a type of currency). The only odd feature was a reddish mark on its surface, resembling a streak of smoke or haze.
Gu Wan Yun ran her fingers over it. The mark was uneven, like rust.
“Red rust on a copper coin? How unusual,” she murmured, tucking the coin away before stepping into the sedan chair.
By the time she arrived home, the sky was completely dark. Dinner was already set out in the dining hall—her favorite dishes, prepared just for her.
The Gu family, though merchants and not particularly wealthy, cherished their only daughter, Gu Wan Yun, as if she were a princess. With her graceful demeanor and striking beauty, she was thoroughly spoiled.
Wan Yun picked up her bowl and, as usual, ate only half a bowl of rice. Her mother, sitting beside her, kept piling food onto her plate, urging her to eat more.
For some reason, Wan Yun felt uneasy during the meal. Her thoughts kept drifting to the copper coin she had placed in her sachet. The coin seemed strangely alive, alternating between icy cold and burning hot, filling her with an inexplicable dread.
After finishing her meal and returning to her room, she took out the coin to examine it. To her shock, the red rust on its surface seemed to move, almost like wisps of smoke rising and swirling.
The dim glow of the oil lamp flickered uncertainly in the room. Suspecting her eyes were playing tricks on her, she hurriedly adjusted the lamp’s wick.
When she looked again, the copper coin appeared perfectly ordinary. The rust was inert, showing no signs of movement.
“Just my imagination,” Wan Yun muttered with a faint smile. Feeling tired, she called her maid to help undo her hair and wash her feet. Once everything was tidied up, she climbed into bed and drifted off to sleep.
The Gu household was always quiet, and Wan Yun, a serene and worry-free person, quickly fell into a deep slumber. The coin remained on the table beside her.
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