Mei Zhuyu gently brushed the dust off the wooden box, gazing silently at it in his arms. The box was exquisite, with intricate patterns and delicate carvings, reminiscent of those used in wealthy Chang’an households. He often saw similar boxes of various sizes in Wu Zhen’s cabinets.
To protect this box, his parents had fled Chang’an with him, escaping to Quzhou. Due to his unique nature and to evade the monster’s pursuit, his parents were forced to send him to Changxi Temple. Later, because of this box, his parents met their demise at the hands of that monster.
Ironically, even now, he remained unaware of the box’s contents or what the relentless monster sought to this day.
“Disciple bids farewell to Master,” Mei Zhuyu said, wiping away the old bloodstains and dust from the wooden box before strapping it to his back. He bowed solemnly to Daoist Siqing.
When he had previously left Changxi Temple for Chang’an, he hadn’t shown such formality to Daoist Siqing. Back then, his attitude was as casual as if he were merely going down the mountain to buy something, intending to return soon. This carefree demeanor had infuriated Siqing, who cursed him as an ungrateful brat. Now, faced with this solemn bow, Daoist Siqing couldn’t help but close his eyes briefly, waving his hand with a sense of defeat after a moment.
“I told you there was a calamity awaiting you. I called you back to help you avoid it. Do you understand?” Beyond this, there was little else he could do as a master to help his disciple. He, too, was struggling to protect himself.
Mei Zhuyu didn’t respond, only bowing once more before turning to leave Changxi Temple. The path before the temple was lush with vibrant trees and vegetation. Mei Zhuyu gradually disappeared into the verdant scenery.
Daoist Siqing stood at the temple entrance, his hands clasped behind his back. Suddenly, he recalled a rainy night several years ago when Mei Zhuyu had returned with that wooden box. He had gone down the mountain to visit his parents but returned with their ashes and this box instead.
This child, who had grown up in the temple, was different from others. He never cried when hurt or sad. When Siqing was younger, he would watch the other young disciples cry their hearts out and wonder why his little disciple never shed tears. Once, when his junior brought him down the mountain without permission and he was severely injured, he didn’t cry despite the intense pain. When Daoist Siqing curiously asked why he didn’t cry, the little one furrowed his brow and said, “It’s just pain. It’ll pass if I endure it. Why should I cry?”
On that rainy night, his disciple, now a young man, returned with his parents’ ashes and this box. Despite being drenched, Daoist Siqing saw tears spilling from his eyes. He had finally learned to cry.
At the time, his disciple didn’t appear overly grief-stricken, and Daoist Siqing, being somewhat oblivious, initially thought it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t until later when he accidentally noticed that his disciple’s left hand would tremble uncontrollably whenever it rained heavily, that Siqing truly understood the depth of his disciple’s sorrow.
He was a child who never voluntarily spoke of his suffering, and had always been that way.
—
Yin opened his eyes in complete darkness. In that instant, he caught the scent of decay emanating from his own body, a smell that had accompanied him for a long time.
His body had been gravely wounded by the Mei father and son years ago, preventing him from returning to human form ever since. He could only appear in this half-rotten, terrifying state. Being severely injured and trapped for so many years had reduced him to this condition. This time, he was determined to exact his revenge in full.
And that thing hidden by the Mei family—he must obtain it as well.
With a rustling sound, the massive, half-decayed body contracted in the darkness, eventually shrinking to the size of two men before slowly emerging from the shadows.
Yin left the cave and entered the barrier he had created. Within his exclusive domain, he had constructed a magnificent estate and imprisoned a group of demon servants. Despite housing so many demons, the place remained eerily quiet, as no one dared to disturb him with noise. They all feared him, dreading that his mercurial temper might lead him to kill them as he had done to previous demon servants.
This time, however, Yin noticed something different about the estate. Having just emerged from seclusion, he heard music—the sounds of pipa, zither, qin, flute, and konghou blending in a lively melody. He even heard several soft female voices singing poetry, specifically “The Crane’s Call” from the Book of Songs.
“The crane cries in the nine marshes, its voice heard in the heavens…”
The grotesque monster stood silently, listening to the song carried by the gentle breeze from afar.
“Fish dwell on the islets, or dive into the deep…”
Yin recalled that person—she loved to sing poems from the Book of Songs and had once sung “The Crane’s Call” for him. But the one she often sang to him was another piece, “Luxuriant is the Southernwood,” with her favorite line being “Luxuriant is the Southernwood, on those banks in the middle of the isle. I see you, my lord, my heart is glad.”
Wu Zhen was leisurely enjoying the music when a servant approached with a plate of snow-white milk cakes. The cakes were well-made—soft, fluffy, and unusually fragrant, though she couldn’t quite identify the special ingredient.
Gesturing for the plate to be placed on a nearby table, Wu Zhen ate one piece and was about to reach for a second when suddenly, a thunderous roar echoed through the air. The sound was hoarse and terrifying, filled with boundless hatred, like a wild beast provoked to anger.
Wu Zhen wondered if the estate kept some large beast she hadn’t seen yet. As she pondered this, she noticed the previously smiling demon servants suddenly change expression, their legs giving way as they fell to their knees, trembling uncontrollably. The little demon who had cheerfully offered her the plate earlier was now almost prostrate on the ground, face ashen, sweating profusely, and not daring to lift his head.
With the music and singing silenced, the roar seemed even more thunderous and frightening. Wu Zhen paused for a moment before popping the second cake into her mouth, silently speculating that this must be the cry of the monster who had abducted her. Only the master of this place could instill such fear in these demon servants.
Just as Wu Zhen was thinking this, the roaring stopped, and a figure came charging towards them.
As it drew closer, Wu Zhen inhaled sharply, thinking to herself that this creature looked even more terrifying in daylight. Half of its body was rotted, with only its scaly legs and horned head intact. Most of its body was an indistinct, swollen mass of unclear substance, with bones visible in many places. Not only was its appearance horrifying, but the stench it emitted was overwhelming, instantly dissipating the fragrance she had been enjoying.
Wu Zhen watched as the creature, eyes flashing with murderous intent, rushed towards her and opened its mouth to spew a jet of purple-black gas in her direction. She immediately grabbed the plate of milk cakes and leaped to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack. While she escaped unscathed, the comfortable couch she had been resting on, along with the nearby tables and several dishes of food, were all destroyed. Everything touched by the purple-black gas was corroded and melted, turning into a pile of debris in an instant.
“Hey now… why don’t we calm down a bit? You brought me here for a reason, didn’t you? It seems a bit premature to silence me before I’ve served my purpose,” Wu Zhen spoke up.
Unfortunately, the monster seemed to be in some kind of frenzy and appeared even more enraged by her smiling demeanor. It unleashed several more blasts of black gas at her in quick succession. Wu Zhen, being agile, dodged them all and flung the plate she was holding, which landed squarely at the creature’s hooves. This seemed to finally restore some of its rationality, and it ceased its attacks.
Wu Zhen alighted gracefully on the ground, casting a somewhat anxious glance at her belly. She wondered if the little one inside might have been jolted out by all this activity.
Pregnancy wasn’t a task suited for normal people, she mused. It made everything uncomfortable and restricted her movements. Even simple actions required caution, and she couldn’t even drink as much as she used to. Wu Zhen was almost tempted to ask Cousin Pei to switch them back.
While her mind wandered, Wu Zhen maintained a smile as she looked at the monster.
The monster—Yin—having regained his senses, stood opposite Wu Zhen, seemingly taking in her appearance for the first time. Indeed, when he had first abducted ‘Wu Zhen’ and brought her here, it was merely as an exchange item. He had carelessly left her in the estate under guard, only concerned that she shouldn’t die. He truly hadn’t paid attention to her appearance before.
A mere ordinary woman wasn’t worth his notice. If she weren’t associated with his enemy, he wouldn’t have spared her a second glance.
Moreover, when Yin had first brought her back, he had perceived her as a silent, mature woman. Now, she seemed different.
This woman’s carefree, smiling demeanor reminded Yin of that person, causing his eyes to once again fill with murderous intent.
Wu Zhen keenly sensed the creature’s hostility towards her and promptly ceased smiling. Though she didn’t know what it was thinking, she noticed that her smile seemed to provoke its rage and desire to kill. Regrettably, her survival instinct transformed her into an expressionless individual.
Wu Zhen’s face became blank as she silently observed the monster’s movements, her hand behind her back, fidgeting with her fingers. She was considering her options. If not for the child in her womb, she would have been inclined to engage in combat with this creature before her, even if victory was unlikely. At the very least, she might have had a chance to escape the chaos.
But with the baby to consider, she couldn’t risk it. If something were to happen to the child, her husband would be devastated. Despite his calm exterior, he was incredibly fond of this baby. How could she face her dear husband if something went wrong?
Resigning herself to the situation, Wu Zhen decided it was best to yield for now. She took a step back.
Seeing her retreat, the monster finally moved. No longer looking at Wu Zhen, he addressed the demon servants still prostrate on the ground: “Lock her up. She is not to come out again.”
The shocked and frightened demon servants were dumbfounded, especially the few field mouse demonesses who had been tasked with caring for Wu Zhen. They had assumed Wu Zhen was the mistress their master had finally brought home, the future lady of the house, which was why they had been so attentive. Now, it seemed the situation was quite different.
The women exchanged glances, their eyes eventually settling on the eldest among them. That woman lowered her head, silently lamenting. She had only been following what her mother had told her. Her mother, who had been brought here to serve when the estate was first built, had said that the master had constructed this place for his wife. But in all these years, no woman had ever come. When Wu Zhen finally arrived, they naturally assumed she must be the long-awaited mistress.
Having given his orders, Yin’s massive, bloated form slowly vanished once more, while Wu Zhen was escorted into a room.
As soon as she turned around, Wu Zhen perched herself on the edge of the couch with one leg crossed. Well, there would be no more music to enjoy. However, now that the monster had finally shown itself, she needed to devise a plan to escape. It was frustrating that despite her careful observations and discreet inquiries, she had found no weaknesses to exploit in this place. She wondered how such an impenetrable ‘cage’ had been constructed.