“Where is Xu Hang Sheng? Do you know?” Su Yun stepped closer, her distaste evident but her determination unwavering. “She said he’s here, at Qi Feng Tower.”
“Who are you, girl?” The old man looked startled, his yellowed eyes flashing with a lascivious glint. He stepped forward and grabbed her hand. “I am Xu Hang Sheng. What do you want with me?”
“You’re Xu Hang Sheng…”
“Su Yun… Su Yun…” he muttered, his voice trailing off as he seemed to recall something. “You’re that sweet little thing who loved persimmons. Funny, you look a bit like her. Are you her daughter?”
Half a cup of tea’s time later, only Xu Hang Sheng was speaking.
Su Yun stood frozen in place, her hand extended, yet she didn’t dare touch his face.
This old, lecherous, foul-smelling man—was he truly the same Hang Sheng she had once known? The one with the slightly mischievous smile and windswept collar?
Had she really been trapped in that cave for so, so long?
“Was it because you owed them money that they beat you like this?” she finally asked, placing her hand hesitantly on his cheek. She found a faint trace of familiarity there—his slightly arched eyebrows.
“Bull! His face got like this from venereal disease—and not just once,” a loud, commanding voice interrupted.
The procuress swept in with her signature posture, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a handkerchief.
“You’re lying! He had business rivals. They cheated him and chased him into debt. That’s why he ended up like this!” Su Yun snapped, her voice rising.
“Business rivals? Debts?” The procuress burst out laughing. “The only ‘business’ Xu Hang Sheng ever dealt in was his own disgrace. As for debt, oh yes, he owes plenty—countless nights’ worth of debts to this very brothel.”
“Shut up!” Su Yun’s voice turned to a sharp roar. Her hair whipped upward as though caught in an invisible gale, and her eyes burned with a killing intent that made even the procuress take a wary step back.
“Did I lie? You can ask him yourself. And who are you, his illegitimate son? If so, what a pity, being stuck with a father like that,” the procuress sneered.
Su Yun turned her head, still holding on to hope. She looked at Xu Hang Sheng with longing, searching his face for reassurance.
But Xu Hang Sheng lowered his head.
In that instant, something shattered—something fragile and ethereal fell straight from the illusions of her mind into the muck of reality.
Her eyes widened as if struck by a sudden revelation. She lunged forward, grabbing Xu Hang Sheng’s hands.
All ten fingers were intact. Though scarred and pockmarked, they were all there, not a single one missing.
Back then, the messenger who had come to her had carried a bloody pinky finger, claiming it was Xu Hang Sheng’s. The man had insisted that Xu’s life was in imminent danger if she didn’t raise the money to save him.
But now, everything had unraveled—it had all been a lie.
Her anxiety, her decision to sell herself to Chi Lian, and her desperate vigil by his courtyard gate for three whole days—none of it had ever mattered.
“Then why didn’t you come for the money after I raised it? Why did you make me wait three days and nights for nothing?” Her voice broke as she spoke, hoarse and ragged, every word cutting deep into her soul.
“At the time, I… I thought your mother wouldn’t be able to gather the funds, so… so I sold the courtyard to pay the debts instead,” Xu mumbled, his tone evasive.
“And after he paid off the debts, he stayed here and started fooling around with Feng Xian. I remember it clearly—I was only nine years old then, just a little maid fetching water,” the procuress interjected without hesitation.
It all became clear.
Xu Hang Sheng was just a lecherous man. And Su Yun—she had sold herself to a snake demon to pay off his brothel debts. After selling herself, she had stood by his courtyard gate for days with the money, waiting for him. When he didn’t come, she was taken by Chi Lian. Even after her death, she had clung to the hope that the silver she left behind had saved his life.
This so-called love, this so-called sacrifice—her life and afterlife’s singular obsession—had been the grandest joke of all.
Absurd. Completely and utterly absurd.
“Ya Jin will return. He’ll be back in half an hour,” Chi Xue said optimistically at the Marquis’s residence, where the sky had already lightened to a pre-dawn blue. The group had noticed Xuan Ye was missing.
“But isn’t Ya Jin cursed in your clan? I’ve heard that every reincarnation of Ya Jin dies before the age of thirty,” You Huang said with his usual pessimism.
“But Ya Jin is only twenty-three now!” Chi Xue protested.
“In the last life, he didn’t even make it to twenty,” You Huang countered.
The optimist and pessimist locked eyes, their stares so intense it seemed they might pop out of their sockets.
Ban Xia sat off to the side, ignoring their argument. She focused her attention on a basin of water, reciting the incantation Chi Xue had taught her.
It wasn’t working. Though an image of a cave had appeared faintly in the water earlier, they were in the capital. The surrounding mountains stretched endlessly, with countless peaks and caves to search.
The three were at their wits’ end when there was a sudden banging on the door.
It wasn’t a knock—it was an outright pounding. Outside, the procuress from Qi Feng Tower was screaming, her voice raw, “Immortal! Immortal, save me! Please, Immortal!”
“Are you sure she’s a ghost?” Ban Xia asked the procuress as they made their way to Qi Feng Tower.
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