Prologue

Xuhao — a wicked demon.

Each autumn rain brought another chill. With the weather so poor, the chickens in the courtyard had lost all enthusiasm for their daily walks. Gungun was quite despondent about it, keeping vigil outside the coop day after day. Their earlier worry about him had been misplaced—he didn’t chase chickens to eat them, he simply relished the chaos of feathers flying and himself leaping about. Mo Ya was rather gratified to have raised a fox that didn’t eat chickens.

The courtyard gate opened, and Young Master Liu came in shaking out his umbrella, grumbling about the terrible weather—his freshly changed clothes were already speckled with mud again.

Mo Ya took the vegetables from him and muttered, “These leaves are old again…” Gungun trotted over to sniff them, then wandered off dejectedly to resume his watch over the coop.

“Don’t be picky about free vegetables.” Young Master Liu was in high spirits. “The vegetable seller saw the bad weather was killing her business, and what with me being so devastatingly handsome, she just gave me all her unsold produce. And look, I even bought tofu! Tonight we’ll make a nice dipping sauce, some tofu, a light soup on the side—doesn’t that sound heavenly?”

“We’ve been eating vegetables and tofu for days now… at this rate we’ll turn into tofu ourselves.” Mo Ya pinched his own cheek. “Look, I’ve gotten thin. Even Gungun’s shedding!”

“He always sheds!” Young Master Liu snatched the tofu back. “Whenever Tao Yao brings her wages home, that’s when the menu changes.”

The last spark of hope died in Mo Ya’s eyes. He looked out at the needle-thin rain and said, not without worry, “Never mind wages—wouldn’t it be enough if she just came back alive?”

“If she can’t earn her wages, she needn’t bother coming back alive either,” Young Master Liu said, utterly unsympathetic.

“Don’t joke like that.” Mo Ya was serious now. “By your own account, the Si household is no ordinary family. I’m worried that—”

“Worried? Since when is Tao Yao ordinary?” Young Master Liu rolled his eyes. “The two Si brothers are just well-connected people of the martial world who handle thorny problems for their peers—things like so-and-so stealing someone’s manual and refusing to return it, or someone snatching another man’s sister-in-law and beating him up besides, or some sect leader losing his prized sword or dagger or dentures or whatever. As long as the connections are right, people call on the two brothers to sort it out. I’ve never heard of them doing much actual killing or arson. She’s just a lowly stable hand—what danger could there possibly be?”

“It’s not that…” Mo Ya looked troubled, lowering his voice. “Didn’t you say the Si brothers have never married because every woman ever betrothed to them ended up…”

“Dead or maimed,” Young Master Liu said without hesitation. “Yes, that’s exactly what I heard. The Si brothers have money, power, connections—but they’re born to bring misfortune on their wives, which is exactly why people nicknamed them the ‘Living Yama.’ Tsk, rather pitiful really, still bachelors at their age.” Then something occurred to him, and he eyed the little monk strangely. “What exactly are you worried about? Are you afraid our Tao Yao might come to an unnatural end?”

Mo Ya nodded helplessly. “Sigh, men and women in this mortal world can’t help getting entangled by desire, and Tao Yao’s never been shy about matters of the heart. I hear those Si brothers are exceptionally handsome, and I fear she won’t be able to control herself and will cause some disaster. Shouldn’t we bring her back? Think about it—she’s someone of standing in Tao Capital, ten thousand demons couldn’t lay a finger on her, and if she stumbles over something like this, what face would she have returning to Tao Capital? And if ‘that person’ finds out, we might all be blamed for it.”

Young Master Liu frowned and thought hard for a long moment, then suddenly slapped his thigh and burst out laughing. “That depends on whether they even fancy her, ha ha ha! Little Taohong who sells tofu on the next street over is ten thousand times prettier than her, ha ha ha, she’s not even womanly enough, ha ha ha.” Once he’d finished laughing, he immediately returned to his normal expression. “I’m off to cook.”

Mo Ya lowered his head and pressed his palms together. “Amitabha, merciful Buddha…” Then he suddenly stopped chanting, took off after him in long strides, and shouted, “Young Master Liu, what did you mean by that laugh? It’d be normal if they don’t fancy her—it’s her fancying them that’s the real problem! The Thunder God’s far off in the heavens, that’s one thing, but now those two brothers are right in front of her every single day! I really worry she’ll fall in too deep—she’s absolutely the type to try and force a marriage! Young Master Liu, we really should bring her back!”

“What’s the point of bringing her back without the money?!”

“I know you’ve got private savings stashed somewhere, you just don’t want to spend it!”

“If I had a single coin left on me, I’d never have to eat roasted field mice for the rest of my life!”

“I’d rather you had two coins on you than watch you eat something that disgusting!”

The rain grew heavier, and soon the little monk’s and Young Master Liu’s voices were drowned out by its steady patter. Gungun, lying outside the coop, glanced up at the window, yawned, and went back to sleep.

But the peace and quiet of this moment belonged only to this little courtyard—not to the Si estate.

The Si family’s eldest young master had returned home. Carried back, more precisely.

This was probably the liveliest, most crowded moment Tao Yao had ever witnessed at the Si estate.

Heavy rain today, autumn deepening. Having finished feeding the horses, with nothing else to do, she’d wandered over to a pavilion in the estate grounds, admiring a pond of withered lotuses while nibbling on a sweet cake she’d wheedled out of the cook, Old Zhang, with a bit of flattery. Fitting the melancholy, wistful scene, she sighed between bites, her inner monologue running along the lines of when she’d ever live in a house this grand, when she’d marry someone as splendid as the Thunder God, and, in passing, when she’d manage to recover the Compendium of a Hundred Demons.

No one noticed her up there as a group of servants carried a stretcher under umbrellas, led by Steward Miao, followed by two men dressed like martial-world types, the whole procession hurrying through the rain. The oil-paper umbrellas swayed, making it impossible to see who lay on the stretcher.

She perked up at once, wiped her mouth, and followed.

The group made their way to the inner courtyard, with her trailing at a distance. From afar she could make out a figure standing beneath the eaves within—Si Kuanglan, still in his white robe, though he’d added a pale silver cloak, holding an oil-paper umbrella, standing as still as a rock, watching them approach.

He must have been anxious; otherwise, given how averse he was to company, he’d have sat comfortably indoors, indifferent even if the whole world fell apart outside. That was the Si Kuanglan she knew. But here he was, unable to sit still, waiting out in the rain.

Tao Yao stopped just outside the inner courtyard gate. She watched Si Kuanglan glance briefly at the stretcher, then wave for them to carry the person inside. The two remaining martial-world men were left standing; the elder of the two, looking uneasy, cupped his hands in a gesture of respect. “Master Yue asked us to relay his words to you. This time, the young master got into trouble on account of the Changdao Sect, and he will personally come bearing generous gifts to apologize in the future. He hopes the second young master will show mercy and not hold the Changdao Sect responsible for this unfortunate incident. After all, the Yue and Si families have had dealings for many years, and should the two of you ever visit Luoyang, Master Yue will see to it that you’re well looked after.” He glanced toward the room again, frowning. “It’s only that the young master… Master Yue nearly rounded up every renowned physician in all of Luoyang, and none of them could do anything for him. Fearing something might go wrong along the way, we had no choice but to rush the young master back to the Si estate through the night…”

“My thanks.” Si Kuanglan cut him off. “Now that my brother is home, I’ll see to matters from here myself. Hall Master Jin may take his leave—forgive us, our household lacks the staff to entertain properly.”

Having met with a rebuff that was neither soft nor harsh, Hall Master Jin couldn’t very well take offense, and could only force a smile. “Then we won’t intrude further. We’ll return and report to our sect leader. Should the Changdao Sect ever be of assistance in the future, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Si Kuanglan merely gave a slight nod and turned back inside.

Other people kept strangers at arm’s length; this man, with barely a shift of expression and a sentence or two, kept them at ten thousand li.

And Tao Yao always sensed he was angry—a fury held tightly in check beneath overwhelming self-control, something he refused to let anyone see, perhaps didn’t even want to admit to himself. This man really was like an unbreakable, immovable stone—albeit a rather good-looking one…

Hall Master Jin and his men stalked off in a huff, and Tao Yao, standing nearby, overheard them muttering curses under their breath.

“Green little upstart, doesn’t know his place—couldn’t even pour the hall master a cup of tea.”

“Heh, young and full of himself, can’t be helped. That temperament will cost him eventually.”

“I don’t see what’s so impressive about the Si estate—why does our sect leader treat them with such deference, ‘young master’ this and ‘young master’ that? Our Changdao Sect is one of the top gangs in Luoyang, why should we defer to some brat’s moods?!”

“Yama judges life and death, the Si estate settles right and wrong. The Si brothers may belong to no sect and seem idle, but anyone in the martial world who runs into trouble they can’t solve on their own comes to seek their help. And this pair of brothers seem to want neither money nor power—more often than not they simply oblige. Over time, half the martial world counts them as friends, the other half as enemies. Now our sect leader needs their help over the young miss’s affair, so naturally we can’t afford to offend them. Enough talk—let’s get back to Luoyang.”

Tao Yao caught every word of it and thought to herself that the intelligence Young Master Liu had gathered was incomplete—claiming the brothers were called “Living Yama” purely because they were fated to bring misfortune on their wives. It seemed the nickname also came from that other bit about judging life and death and settling right and wrong.

She thought it over and didn’t dare go into the inner courtyard—she had a feeling that if Si Kuanglan were disturbed right now, she might not make it out alive. Ever since Ding Sansi left, aside from when Si Kuanglan came to the stables to pick out a horse before a trip, she’d barely crossed paths with him again; even standing right in front of him, he wouldn’t spare her a second glance, and the two of them exchanged practically nothing. But she’d kept up Ding Sansi’s good habit—whenever she had the time and the mood, she’d sneak over to Wangyuan to watch him reading, and every time, she couldn’t help but burst out laughing to herself. What a joy it was, that the world could produce such a handsome young man.

She wandered around the area a few times like a lost ghost, until she saw Steward Miao come out of the inner courtyard, then hopped over and called out, “Steward Miao!”

Steward Miao turned, and the tight frown on his face relaxed at once. “Little Tao, what are you doing loitering about here? And without an umbrella, too.” He hurried to shift the paper umbrella in his hand over her head.

Of everyone at the Si estate, Steward Miao was the one she thought most highly of—always soft-spoken, never losing his temper at anyone, treating everything at the Si estate with the greatest patience, more like a mother than a steward…

“I saw you all coming in.” She jerked her chin behind her, speaking bluntly. “I heard those two men just now say the person on the stretcher was… our eldest young master?”

Steward Miao didn’t try to hide it. “Yes, the eldest young master.”

“Why would he be carried back like that?” she said, eyes widening. “He’s the eldest young master of the Si estate! If something happened, aren’t we going to look into it?”

“The second young master will handle everything,” Steward Miao said, with the air of someone quite used to this. “Traveling the martial world, danger’s unavoidable. The eldest young master isn’t as careful as the second young master, and this isn’t the first time he’s been carried home. Don’t worry, the second young master always has a way.”

Hearing this, Tao Yao grew even more curious. “The way you put it, it sounds like the elder brother is actually less capable than the younger one?”

“That’s not quite fair to say either.” Steward Miao smiled. “No need to pry too hard—the longer you’re here at the Si estate, the more you’ll naturally understand these two brothers’ temperaments. In any case, just tend to your horses well; no need to worry about anything else.”

“Oh. But I heard…”

“It’s getting late, I need to check on the kitchen, have Old Zhang adjust the menu. You go on about your business too.”

“Er… all right.”

Actually, what she’d really wanted to ask about was this business of being fated to bring misfortune on one’s wife… that interested her far more.

Holding the umbrella Steward Miao had left with her, she wandered idly toward the stables.

The Si estate felt colder than usual in the rain—one breath and the chill went straight from head to toe, and it wasn’t even winter yet! Which just goes to show, a house too big with too few people in it is no good—not enough life energy to “suppress” the place, and inevitably other things start wanting to squeeze in where they don’t belong.

She lowered her umbrella and tilted her head back. Sure enough, in the gloomy sky above, something unusual was stirring… it seemed something was being drawn, following some pull, toward the Si estate.

She pursed her lips, raised her umbrella again, and skipped off toward the stables as if nothing were the matter.

That night, Tao Yao lay in bed flipping through a book for fun. Outside, the rain gradually thinned until it stopped altogether; a cool breeze slipped in through the gaps in the window, and the oil lamp’s flame flickered a few times before going out.

Strange how it works—once a room plunges suddenly into darkness, everything sounds clearer than it did with the light on.

Tao Yao could hear her own breathing, her own heartbeat, the stirring from the stables, and… a continuous, drifting sound of a zither.

She got out of bed and went to the window, listening carefully. It really was a zither, its notes flowing like water, rippling through the entire Si estate.

Such refined taste, playing the zither this deep into the night—wasn’t he worried about disturbing anyone’s sleep?!

She decided to go flush out this inconsiderate person.

Stepping outside, she followed the sound all the way to the inner courtyard.

That was where the Si brothers’ bedchambers were; no one ever stood guard at the entrance, but everyone at the Si estate understood the rules well enough never to trespass there.

The zither music was coming from one of the bedrooms.

Tao Yao stood before the courtyard gate and looked up at the sky above the inner courtyard. Ordinary people, of course, couldn’t see the commotion happening there right now, but she saw it all clearly. Beneath the night sky, above the inner courtyard, heaven only knew where all these ghosts and monsters had come from—a great swarming mass of grotesque shapes, jostling and shoving each other, baring teeth and claws in search of an opening, yet no matter how hard they tried, some invisible wall seemed to bar their way into the inner courtyard.

She looked a moment longer. These weren’t powerful, deeply cultivated demons—just wandering spirits and stray specters without even proper physical forms. She probably only needed to step forward with a smile and announce she was Tao Yao of Tao Capital, give her golden bell a shake, and these little things would scatter in terror.

But right now she was just a lowly stable hand at the Si estate. Feed the horses, mind nothing else.

So she quickly looked away and crept into the inner courtyard.

There were only two large rooms in the courtyard, side by side; the zither music came from the left one. She felt her way to beneath the window, poked her head halfway up, and carefully punctured a tiny hole in the paper window.

The one playing the zither was Si Kuanglan. Beside the instrument stand sat a tall, slender porcelain vase holding two or three sprigs of green bamboo; from the incense burner, wisps of smoke curled and drifted around the bamboo. Behind him, the curtains of a large bed hung half-drawn, revealing a corner of an embroidered quilt.

The zither beneath his hands must have been a valuable one—black lacquer shot through with purple, elegant and dignified. But… it had no strings.

She looked again, carefully. It truly had no strings, and yet his long, slender fingers moved across the stringless instrument with consummate skill, drawing out an exquisitely beautiful melody. What’s more, a wisp of blue flame flowed from his fingertips, stretching into a supple thread of light in the air, the other end of it passing through the curtains—what lay beyond, she couldn’t tell.

Si Kuanglan’s eyes were half-closed, all his attention focused on his fingers, while the blue flame rose and fell with the shifting melody.

Where music unceasing plays, demonic evil cannot stray.

But the spirits gathering there kept multiplying, heaven knew what about this place drew them so—each one like a starving dog that had caught the scent of meat, drooling to get into that room.

Suddenly, some small object shot out from behind the window—luckily she dodged in time, or she’d have lost an eye.

She turned to look: a bamboo leaf was embedded in the corridor pillar behind her.

She nearly jumped out of her skin. That Si Kuanglan—all right, she’d been peeping, but did he have to be so vicious about it!

She patted her chest and didn’t dare poke her head out again for a while.

The zither music continued, growing more urgent by the moment.

A stringless zither producing sound… she puzzled it over carefully, murmuring: “No strings… a stringless zither…”

She suddenly slapped her thigh—this fellow must be summoning a soul!

The eldest young master, carried in like that—maybe he wasn’t injured at all, maybe he’d lost his soul…

She remembered, back in Tao Capital, hearing that person say a stringless zither’s sound couldn’t be heard by mortal ears, that demons and evil spirits couldn’t approach it, that its notes could reach heaven and earth and summon wandering souls—but the ability to play a stringless zither was one in ten thousand, and whoever possessed it was bound to be extraordinary.

Extraordinary… coaxing sound out of a stringless instrument certainly wasn’t the work of an ordinary person. So far, she’d met no more than three people in her life with that particular skill.

She couldn’t resist getting back up, risking life and limb to press her eye to the hole again.

The figure on the bed still hadn’t stirred. It seemed Si Kuanglan hadn’t succeeded yet.

But blood was already seeping from his fingertips—if he kept playing like this, those beautiful hands of his would soon be ruined.

Tao Yao thought for a moment, pulled a pill from somewhere on her person, crushed it to powder in her palm, and blew hard into the air. The dust-fine powder scattered on the wind.

She ducked back, leaned against the wall, and silently counted… one, two, three… all the way to nine, before she cautiously poked her head out again to check the sky.

What a clean night sky—not a single wisp of anything to be seen, let alone demons and monsters.

That one pill’s fumes ought to keep those little spirits retching for three days and nights. Sorry, but I don’t want to see any of you tonight, Tao Yao thought with satisfied amusement. Then she turned around, walked up boldly, and knocked twice on the door—not caring whether the person inside consented or not—and pushed her way in.

Thankfully, no hidden projectiles came flying.

Si Kuanglan didn’t even blink, still utterly absorbed in his playing.

She walked up to him, crouched down to look directly into his face, waved a hand in front of his eyes, and said, “Second Young Master, your fingers are bleeding!”

Si Kuanglan gave no response at all.

She stood and walked toward the bed, dodging several pursuing bamboo leaves along the way, and turned back indignantly. “Stop throwing bamboo leaves at me! You’ve stripped those poor bamboo stalks bald!”

With that, she turned to look behind the curtain and saw, lying there, a man whose features closely resembled Si Kuanglan’s, though his skin wasn’t nearly as fine, his stubble not properly shaved, giving him an unkempt, careless look.

So this was the Si family’s eldest young master? If she remembered right, Steward Miao had said his name was Jingyuan.

Si Jingyuan… hard to connect such a refined, scholarly name with the stubbled man lying before her. That name really ought to belong to Si Kuanglan instead…

After looking him over, her gaze finally settled between Si Jingyuan’s brows.

Ha, what a fool Si Kuanglan was—thought himself so accomplished, yet he hadn’t even done the most basic check before rushing to play the soul-summoning zither like this. If his reckless approach actually managed to call Si Jingyuan’s soul back, she’d change her surname to his.

“Hey, stop playing!” She walked up beside Si Kuanglan and said it loudly.

“Get out.” Si Kuanglan’s fingers didn’t stop moving at all; the two words he spat out carried real killing intent.

She snorted. “Only a body without a soul can have its soul summoned back! The eldest young master’s body still has a soul in it—you could play yourself into a cripple and it still wouldn’t work!”

Si Kuanglan’s eyes flew open, and the zither music cut off abruptly.

He stared at her, the way one might look at a swindler who’d taken the wrong medicine.

“I’m not lying, come see for yourself.” Only in front of Si Kuanglan did she find her temper unusually good. Such lovely fingers—it really would be too much of a waste to ruin them.

Si Kuanglan walked over to her side without a word.

“A body without a soul has a hollow between the eyebrows.” She pointed at Si Jingyuan’s brow. “But the eldest young master is different—his brow is full. Which means this isn’t just an empty body.”

He frowned, half-convinced. “A hollow?”

“Not a literal hole. How should I put it…” Tao Yao scratched her head. “It’s like how a doctor reads someone’s complexion. A normal, healthy person with a complete soul has a fullness between the brows; someone missing a soul has something like a sunken hollow there. The eldest young master’s brow is full—definitely not a soulless body.”

He looked her over. “You’re just a stable hand.”

“But I do read medical texts for fun sometimes.” She smiled patiently. “Though I’m just a lowly servant, I’m still part of the Si estate, and naturally I don’t want anything to happen to either young master—otherwise who’d pay my wages?”

“If what you say proves useful, I’ll pay you ten times your wages,” Si Kuanglan said decisively enough. “But if you’re talking nonsense, I won’t go easy on you.”

“Second Young Master, this is the first time you’ve said this many words to me at once, I’m not quite used to it.” She stared at his face, utterly reluctant to look away.

Si Kuanglan turned his face aside and said coldly, “If he has a soul, why doesn’t he wake?”

Tao Yao stepped forward, lifted Si Jingyuan’s wrist, and felt his pulse. “His pulse is calm and even—probably too much sleep-inducing medicine. Second Young Master, just find a physician to prescribe something to clear the mind and restore alertness. That should do it.”

“Can’t you prescribe it yourself?” He kept his gaze fixed on Si Jingyuan’s sleeping face. “Or are you afraid of talking nonsense and killing him?”

Tao Yao gave an awkward laugh and blurted out, “I don’t treat humans.” The words were barely out before she realized her mistake and hastily added, “I mean, the eldest young master is someone of noble standing, not an ordinary person—Second Young Master, it’s better to find a renowned physician for this.”

Si Kuanglan said nothing for a moment, then told her, “Go fetch Steward Miao.”

“Yes!” She turned to go, then looked back. “You should put some medicine on your fingers too!”

He frowned. “Never mind that. Go quickly.”

“Yes!” She actually ran off looking rather delighted, heaven knew why she was in such a good mood—probably because Si Kuanglan had finally spoken to her like a normal person.

The physician was fetched, the medicine administered, and Si Jingyuan did indeed wake up—but Si Kuanglan’s frown only deepened. Especially at the sight of Si Jingyuan curling shyly into the corner of the bed, frantically pulling the quilt up over himself, then bursting into wronged, whimpering sobs—a stubbled grown man… whimpering in distress…

Once Si Jingyuan had taken his medicine, Si Kuanglan dismissed all the servants, keeping only Steward Miao and Tao Yao behind.

“I don’t know what sort of divine beings you people are, and I don’t want to know. Might as well just kill me with one stroke and save yourselves the future trouble. I’ve nothing left to live for anyway—might as well die and be done with it.”

Si Jingyuan hiccuped through sobs, but the voice that emerged was a young woman’s, delicate and coquettish.

Had it not been for the terrifying look on Si Kuanglan’s face, Tao Yao would have already been rolling on the floor laughing—holding it in was agony.

Steward Miao couldn’t manage a smile at all, standing beside Si Kuanglan with grave caution, and murmured, “It seems he ran afoul of something at the Yue estate.”

Si Kuanglan stared straight at Si Jingyuan, asking cautiously, “You… are you the Yue family’s eldest daughter, Yue Pingchuan?”

Si Jingyuan kept sniffling. “So what if I am? I’ve had enough of this half-alive, half-dead existence. No point wasting words—just kill me if you’re going to.”

No one had said a word about hurting “her,” yet this “young lady” seemed to be begging for death with every syllable.

Tao Yao walked up behind Si Kuanglan and whispered, “This looks like a mix-up—souls that wandered into the wrong door, perhaps.”

Si Kuanglan said nothing, and asked Si Jingyuan again, “If you truly are the Yue family’s eldest daughter, why are you in my brother’s body?”

The other shook their head. “I don’t know. I was drifting off to sleep in a daze, and I felt someone… someone…” “She” blushed, embarrassed. “Someone kissed me. I opened my eyes and everything went hazy, then I felt someone yank me up and throw me out, and when I woke, I was like this.” Then “she” suddenly grew agitated, leapt off the bed, and began smashing her head against the wall.

Tao Yao assumed Si Kuanglan would surely intervene in time—she certainly couldn’t stop it herself, given how tall and sturdy Si Jingyuan’s body was; that kind of brute force landing on anyone would be more than they could take.

But Si Kuanglan didn’t even blink as he watched his own brother’s head slam against the wall with a thud. It didn’t split open, but a large swelling bump rose up instantly, and the person promptly passed out.

Steward Miao opened his eyes, having flinched away from the sight, seeming to have expected this reaction from Si Kuanglan all along, and rushed over to help Si Jingyuan up, shooting Tao Yao a look. “Come help me!”

Tao Yao hurried over, and together the two of them carried Si Jingyuan back to bed.

Si Kuanglan watched their efforts coldly, offering only a flat remark: “Better if he’d just knocked himself out for good—peace and quiet at last.”

“Second Young Master… don’t say that. You know the eldest young master’s temperament as well as I do,” Steward Miao said, worried. “He’s got a fine lump on his head now, that’s punishment enough. Do you think we should hurry to Luoyang?”

“Bring me the ledger,” he said.

“No need, I remember it all,” Steward Miao said quickly. “Early last month, Sect Leader Yue came in person to ask for help, saying his only daughter, Yue Pingchuan, had been despondent ever since her intended passed away—two full years without a smile, weeping endlessly, growing weaker by the day, unable to bear light, staying shut in a darkened room, nothing helping. Recently she’d even shown signs of wanting to die. The young miss had always been a cheerful, easygoing person by nature; even granting that grief was natural after such a loss, it shouldn’t have brought her this low. So Sect Leader Yue suspected the deceased’s lingering resentment was clinging to her, refusing to leave, perhaps even meaning her harm. With no other options, he hoped the eldest young master could lend a hand. You weren’t here that day, Second Young Master—the eldest young master heard him out, asked Sect Leader Yue for the young miss’s birth data, said there was no time to lose, and set off with him right away. After that, no word from him at all. We assumed the eldest young master was off enjoying himself somewhere, as usual—half a year without word isn’t unheard of for him—so none of us thought much of it. Who’d have guessed it would come to this…”

“Ready the horses,” Si Kuanglan said, turning to leave. “Yueying.”

“Yes!” Steward Miao hastily nudged Tao Yao. “Go on!”

“Right, right.” Tao Yao dashed off toward the stables in a flash.

Yueying was a black-bodied horse with white hooves, the fastest in the entire stable, and Si Kuanglan’s usual favorite besides.

Saying it’d be better off dead, yet picking the fastest horse the moment he was done saying it—men really did say one thing and mean another.

Still, for all his skill at playing the stringless zither, what good was that one skill alone, when he couldn’t even detect the trace of demonic energy clinging to Si Jingyuan?

“No laughter, no joy, fears the light, wishes for death…” Tao Yao muttered as she led the horse out, then broke into a sly little smile.

When Sect Leader Yue of the Changdao Sect first laid eyes on Si Kuanglan, he was more than a little startled, and rather anxious besides, as if dreading he might be bringing news he didn’t want to hear—that Si Jingyuan had died, say.

All the courtesies Sect Leader Yue tried to extend—being seated, offered tea—Si Kuanglan declined outright, saying only, “Forgive the intrusion. I’ve come only to request an audience with Miss Yue.”

Sect Leader Yue looked troubled, genuinely unable to read the second young master’s intentions, and asked cautiously, “And how is the eldest young master at the moment…”

“My brother is perfectly well,” he cut in, ironclad. “Please arrange it at once, Sect Leader.” His tone left no room for delay or evasion.

Sect Leader Yue had met Si Kuanglan only a handful of times before, and this was the first proper exchange of words between them. He’d always known this second young master to have an odd temperament and keep to himself, harder to deal with than his elder brother—and now, in just a few words, he’d already glimpsed exactly how formidable that was.

The sect leader thought it over, then rose. “This way, please.” He glanced at Tao Yao, trailing behind Si Kuanglan. “And this young lady…?”

“A servant of the Si estate,” Si Kuanglan said flatly. “Our horses are valuable and need her attention along the journey. Since she’s inexperienced in the world, I thought it best to keep her under watch, so she doesn’t make a spectacle of herself here at the Changdao Sect.”

Tao Yao nodded quickly, saying nothing, just smiling.

This had been arranged between her and Si Kuanglan before they set out—she’d asked him to bring her along to Luoyang, claiming she had a way to recover Si Jingyuan’s soul. Si Kuanglan had said that if she delivered on her word, he’d pay her a hundred times her wages. She’d said she didn’t want the wages, only that he agree to one condition of hers. He’d agreed, but added a condition of his own—that once they reached the Changdao Sect, she wasn’t to speak to anyone unless he nodded permission first.

Sect Leader Yue brought no attendants, personally leading them to the most secluded quarters in the inner gardens.

At a glance, the place not only faced away from the sun, its windows were all sealed shut with thick planks, letting in not a sliver of light.

Demonic energy roiling to the heavens! Tao Yao stared at the thick fog hovering over the building, invisible to ordinary eyes.

Just then, the door creaked open, and a maid in blue emerged carrying a food box. Seeing Sect Leader Yue, she quickly bowed. “Greetings, Sect Leader.”

“How is the young miss?” Sect Leader Yue glanced at the box in her hands.

“Reporting to the sect leader, still the same,” the maid said carefully. “We can only carefully spoon in some broth—she can’t swallow at all.”

Sect Leader Yue let out a long sigh. “Go on, then. No need to come back unless summoned.”

The maid stole a glance at Si Kuanglan and the others, then nodded quickly. “Yes. Xiaowei takes her leave.”

Sect Leader Yue looked at the half-open door with a complicated expression, hesitating whether to push it open, but Si Kuanglan spared him the trouble, murmuring “Excuse me,” and shoved the door open himself.

Truly pitch black—not a hint of light in the whole room. Heaven knew what skill that maid had cultivated, to be able to feed someone in an environment like this.

Sect Leader Yue produced a pigeon-egg-sized pearl from his robes; a ring of white light illuminated a small, dim patch of the darkness.

“My apologies. My daughter cannot bear light, especially lamplight, so we always use a luminous pearl to light our way when we come here.” Sect Leader Yue stepped inside, walked a few paces, then stopped. Within the pearl’s glow, a rocking chair became faintly visible, someone lying on it utterly motionless. As he brought the pearl closer, they could just make out a young lady of about eighteen or nineteen, delicate-featured but ashen-faced, her cheeks sunken, her eyes open yet devoid of any spark of life, utterly indifferent to their sudden arrival.

Sect Leader Yue’s eyes suddenly reddened, and he fought back tears. “Two years now, and I honestly wonder if this person before me is even my daughter. Pingchuan used to be like a chirping little bird, laughing and carrying on from dawn to dusk, not knowing the meaning of sorrow. Even if that man’s death grieved her, it never should have brought her to this state!”

“Has my brother remained at your estate this entire month?” Si Kuanglan was rarely moved by others’ emotions, ever the cool, detached observer.

Sect Leader Yue nodded. “It’s my fault, really. If I hadn’t gone looking for the eldest young master…”

“No need to dwell on that. I only want to know what my brother did while he was here,” Si Kuanglan cut in. “Especially right before he fell unconscious.”

Sect Leader Yue hesitated, then said, “After the eldest young master arrived at the Changdao Sect, he visited Pingchuan just once, and spent the rest of his time eating, drinking, and amusing himself. Either fighting crickets with people around the estate, or wandering out to buy piles of useless trinkets and having me foot the bill…”

Si Kuanglan coughed twice, his expression unchanged. “Go on.”

“He amused himself for quite a few days, and seeing he didn’t seem to be worrying much about Pingchuan’s condition, I went to ask what he intended to do. He told me not to fret, said that at the very latest, the day after next, something he’d been waiting for would arrive, and once he had it, he’d have my Pingchuan back to normal in no time. Two days later, the eldest young master went to Pingchuan’s room and instructed us not to enter, leaving only Xiaowei inside to attend. But we waited until dawn and he still hadn’t come out. When we went in to check, both the eldest young master and Xiaowei were unconscious on the floor, and Pingchuan was just as before, crying and refusing to speak. The next day, Xiaowei came to, but the eldest young master remained unconscious. When we asked Xiaowei what had happened, she said she only saw the eldest young master…” Sect Leader Yue paused, seeming to find the next part difficult to say, “…saw him kiss my Pingchuan, mouth to mouth, and then she saw a flash of white light before her, and lost consciousness herself.”

What a shameless rake—the two brothers were nothing alike… Tao Yao giggled out loud, then caught Si Kuanglan’s glance and quickly lowered her head, pretending she’d heard nothing.

Si Kuanglan cupped his hands. “My brother has always been rather dissolute in his ways—please forgive his impropriety.” Then his tone abruptly shifted, growing sharper. “That said, if my brother’s incident occurred a month ago, why is he only being returned to the Si estate today?”

Sect Leader Yue looked guilty. “That’s my failing. I assumed the eldest young master would wake up eventually, just as Xiaowei had. But three full days passed with no sign of him stirring. I feared sending him back like that would draw your blame, Second Young Master, so I thought to first seek treatment for him here in Luoyang—but not a single physician in the city could revive him. As the days dragged on, I began to fear the worst, so I had Hall Master Jin escort the eldest young master back to the Si estate with all haste.” Before he’d even finished, he suddenly dropped to one knee, resolute. “I know you were bound to come sooner or later, Second Young Master. This happened to the eldest young master while he was under my roof at the Changdao Sect. If you wish to take my head in retribution now, I won’t resist.”

“Oh come now, it’s not that serious.” Tao Yao hurried forward to help him up. “Our second young master has a generous heart—he’s come to ask questions, not lay blame. Kneeling like this only makes our Si estate look petty by comparison.” She glanced at Si Kuanglan. “Isn’t that right, Second Young Master?”

“Unless taking your head would restore my brother, what use would it be?!” Si Kuanglan said, looking at Yue Pingchuan in the chair. “You said the young lady has been weeping in grief all this time—why does she look like a living corpse today?”

“My thanks for your generosity, Second Young Master.” Sect Leader Yue rose, looking at his daughter with heartache. “It was about three or four days after the eldest young master fell unconscious—for reasons unknown, Pingchuan suddenly turned into this listless state, showing no reaction to the outside world at all. I asked Xiaowei, who’s been tending her day and night, but even she didn’t know why. Before, my daughter was more or less the same as always—crying and grieving all day, but still able to eat a little. Then overnight, she couldn’t walk, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even swallow, and could only be sustained by spoonfuls of broth and tonics, whatever little got down. At this rate, my Pingchuan won’t survive much longer. And I’ve been utterly powerless to help.”

Tao Yao thought a moment, then suddenly asked, “Sect Leader, what exactly did our eldest young master buy that you had to pay for?”

Sect Leader Yue thought it over. “As I recall, the ledger was mostly food and drink, and rouge and powder… also lanterns, cotton thread, candles, and rattle-drums… sigh, most of it’s still piled up in his room.”

“That’s all?” Tao Yao raised an eyebrow. “Nothing else?”

Sect Leader Yue thought further. “Ah, there was also someone who came specifically demanding payment for their troubles—said the eldest young master, using my name, had collected a single drop of lamp oil from a hundred households throughout Luoyang. When the steward first mentioned it, I was rather baffled myself, but considering the eldest young master’s ways were never quite like ordinary people’s, I let it go. As long as he could save my Pingchuan, he could buy up the whole city of Luoyang for all I cared, and I’d foot the bill.”

“That settles it…” Tao Yao’s brow relaxed, and she smiled. “Sect Leader, you really are a decent sort, footing the bill for all these odd purchases of our young master’s. Don’t worry, Sect Leader—whatever our eldest young master left unfinished, our second young master will surely complete!”

Si Kuanglan glanced at her but said nothing.

“Truly?!” Sect Leader Yue looked overjoyed.

“Here’s what we’ll do—you go on out first, Sect Leader, and don’t let anyone in until we come out ourselves.” Tao Yao ushered him toward the door, eyeing the luminous pearl in his hand with undisguised longing. “And just leave that pearl with us, if you would.”

“Just that?” Sect Leader Yue looked uneasy. “Nothing else you need us to do?”

“Nope, just wait for good news, Sect Leader.” Tao Yao pushed him out the door, snatched the pearl on her way, flashed a bright smile, and shut the door with a bang.

Turning around, she found Si Kuanglan standing with his arms crossed, watching her.

“Second Young Master, a promise is a promise, you know.” She held up the pearl and walked up to him, tilting her head back to look up at this man who stood a full head taller than her.

“You already have a lead?” He still didn’t quite believe her.

“If I’m not mistaken, our eldest young master’s soul is right there.” She raised her hand, pointing straight at Yue Pingchuan in the chair. “Only right now, it seems the two of them can’t quite get out.”

Si Kuanglan frowned. “The two of them?”

Tao Yao smiled. “The eldest young master came here to hunt a demon.”

His expression didn’t change in the slightest. “What demon?”

“Xuhao.” She stuck out her tongue. “Nine times out of ten.”

Si Kuanglan fell silent for a moment. “Get to it, then.”

Tao Yao giggled. “Second Young Master, don’t forget what you promised me!”

“I never go back on my word—unless you turn out to be talking nonsense.”

Tao Yao made a face and walked straight toward Yue Pingchuan.

“Heh, catching me does you no good. Getting Yue Pingchuan’s happiness back won’t help either—you’re trapped here to die with me all the same.”

A vast expanse of water stretched endlessly, fading into a white mist that blurred the line between real and illusion. On the water’s surface floated an overturned boat, bobbing lonely up and down. On a solitary island at the center of the water, a tall, imposing man sat on a rock, his foot pressing down on a monster—a creature roughly three feet tall, dressed in a red robe, with a human face but an ox’s snout. One of its feet, still shod, dangled limply on the ground; the other was twisted up and hooked around its own waist. Battered and bruised, it looked thoroughly hideous.

“Happiness… how pretty it is.” The man weighed a small ball of red light swirling with dazzling colors in his palm, then sighed and stomped down on the creature again. “It’s not me keeping you company—it’s you keeping me company. With you here, I won’t get bored. I’ll just beat you up whenever I feel like it. Kicking today, punching tomorrow, stringing you up the day after—great fun.”

“Enough playing the tough guy.” It let out a strange, mocking laugh. “You’re a bit of a pity too, honestly. Why go to bat for these humans? Can’t be trusted, you know. If that girl hadn’t tricked you, you’d have already succeeded and retired, and I’d be gone, scattered to nothing. But that’s not how things ended up, is it. Yue Pingchuan’s body keeps growing weaker—once her last bit of life runs out, we’ll both go down with this body. So I say, why not just give it up? You’ve already gotten Yue Pingchuan’s happiness back anyway—just let me go, and you can return to your own body. Neither of us has to die.”

“But I don’t want to let you go.” The man grinned. “Let’s make a bet instead. The outcome won’t change.”

It sneered in contempt.

Time held no meaning here—the boundless water and the lone island were the only things that existed, never changing. Trapped within, there was nowhere to go, only waiting.

The water’s surface rippled; the boat kept sinking and rising by turns, and the swaying water buoyed up a figure—a handsome young man, his body bloated and pale from soaking, his stiffened hands still frozen in some gesture of struggle. Like the boat, he simply drifted, rising and sinking.

That must be Yue Pingchuan’s beloved—early twenties, from Yangzhou, now running an antiques business in Luoyang, well-versed in history and antiquities, and skilled at writing besides—a merchant, yes, but a genuine talent too. He’d said that once he returned from visiting family, he’d go to the Changdao Sect to propose marriage. Yue Pingchuan had waited a full half year, only to receive news of his death—his boat capsized in a violent storm, drowned on his way home.

Just thinking about it was heartbreaking, enough to make even a grown man like this one sigh with sorrow.

Which made whatever preyed on someone at their lowest point all the more contemptible.

Yes—that’s exactly what this wretched demon, Xuhao, had done.

Of all the countless kinds of demons in the world, if one were to draw up a list of the most despised, Xuhao would surely rank among the top three.

According to legend, any living creature in this world—be it snake, insect, rat, ant, bird, beast, or human—that lived a life utterly devoid of joy, and died just as miserably, and happened to die at a particularly inauspicious hour under particularly dark circumstances, would transform after death into a Xuhao. No matter what they’d looked like in life, once transformed into a Xuhao, they all took on this same grotesque form clad in red. A Xuhao had no fixed physical body, drifting through the mortal world like a wandering spirit; whenever it encountered someone mired too long and too deeply in sorrow, unable to pull themselves free, it would slip inside them and steal their “happiness” for itself.

Every living being carries both sorrow and joy within. Once someone’s joy is completely stolen away, they fall swiftly into endless, unrelenting grief, no longer knowing what it means to laugh or feel joy, growing weaker by the day, until at last they grieve themselves to death, with no cure to be found.

And Xuhao demons thrived on stealing others’ happiness and hoarding it for themselves—each stolen joy a glittering jewel to them, and the more they gathered, the happier they became, as if this might somehow make up for the joy they’d never known in life. They didn’t kill directly, but they led people toward death by the most agonizing path imaginable, which was why, since ancient times, anyone who’d encountered a Xuhao regarded it as a harbinger of disaster. Yet destroying a Xuhao wasn’t difficult—gather lamp oil from a hundred households, twist a wick, light it, and hold up this “Hundred-Household Lamp” to shine upon it, and the Xuhao would be reduced to nothing. For this reason, Xuhao demons dreaded light above all else, especially lamplight, and anyone possessed by one shared the same aversion. But the Hundred-Household Lamp only worked while the Xuhao still remained within its victim’s body—once it had drained away all the joy and departed, no one in the world could subdue it anymore. This was part of why Xuhao demons were so easily destroyed, and yet could never truly be eradicated.

Yue Pingchuan counted himself fortunate amid misfortune—by the time he’d come to the Changdao Sect and encountered her, the Xuhao had already drained all her joy and left her body. But he simply couldn’t bear to let this monster go on to claim another innocent life, and so he’d hit upon a scheme reckless enough that his own brother might well kill him for it—swap souls with Yue Pingchuan. His gamble was that if the Xuhao hadn’t wandered too far, it might, drawn by the lingering scent of the joy it had stolen, mistakenly return, thinking it hadn’t finished draining Yue Pingchuan completely. If it entered Yue Pingchuan’s body again, everything would fall into place—he was fully confident he could subdue it, wrest back the joy it had stolen from her, and this time give it no chance to escape again. Then, at the right moment, light the Hundred-Household Lamp, and it would all be over. Afterward, he could return the joy to Yue Pingchuan’s soul, and each of them would go back to their proper place—perfect! It carried risk, certainly, but there was no other way. Yue Pingchuan’s soul couldn’t stay in her own body, since if he ended up fighting the Xuhao there, she might well be hurt in the process—so he had to send her into his own body instead, both to keep her out of danger and to prevent her soul from scattering for lack of a body to anchor it.

But carrying out this plan raised an even bigger problem. Ordinarily he could have simply controlled Yue Pingchuan’s body outright, but if he also had to restrain the Xuhao and keep it from escaping, that meant he couldn’t spare any attention to control the body itself—and so he couldn’t rely on Yue Pingchuan’s body to light the Hundred-Household Lamp either.

So, he needed a reliable helper.

He chose Xiaowei, Yue Pingchuan’s personal maid.

Xiaowei had grown up alongside Yue Pingchuan since childhood, and though a maid, the two were as close as sisters. From what he’d observed since arriving at the Changdao Sect, Xiaowei’s concern for Yue Pingchuan matched even the sect leader’s own. Even Sect Leader Yue himself had told him personally that Xiaowei was the one person at the Changdao Sect he trusted most completely—bold yet careful, pure of character—and that having her look after Yue Pingchuan had spared him no small amount of worry.

Given all that, she was the obvious choice.

Before swapping souls with Yue Pingchuan, he called Xiaowei to him, handed her a lantern he’d made himself, and simply told her he meant to help her young mistress recover something she’d lost. He explained that starting the next day, he would fall into a deep sleep, and that her young mistress’s behavior might seem somewhat different from before—perhaps she’d stop crying, stop speaking altogether—and that none of this was anything to worry about. Xiaowei need only stay by Yue Pingchuan’s side without fail, and the moment she noticed Yue Pingchuan slip into a completely unresponsive, paralyzed state, she was to light the wick as quickly as possible and hold the lamp up to her young mistress, and keep it there until Yue Pingchuan could stand on her own again. He impressed upon her, with great seriousness, that this lamp must be guarded carefully—without it, her young mistress truly had no hope of survival. And she need only know these things herself, without repeating them to anyone else, lest too many people involved cause complications. If anyone asked why he’d fainted, she should simply say she’d fainted too and knew nothing.

Xiaowei committed every word he’d said to memory with great care.

Then came the waiting.

Heaven was watching over them—four days later, the greedy Xuhao indeed returned. A great battle unfolded within Yue Pingchuan’s body, and he won.

But just as everything was proceeding exactly according to his plan, right at the most critical juncture, the Hundred-Household Lamp failed to work—or rather, more precisely, no one lit it. In his hazy awareness, he saw Xiaowei take the Hundred-Household Lamp and run off in the opposite direction.

With that, in order to keep the Xuhao restrained, he could no longer control Yue Pingchuan’s body—the moment his attention wavered, the Xuhao would seize the chance to flee, and there’d be no catching it again. So this was where things stood: the two of them were essentially trapped together within Yue Pingchuan’s body, sunk into the remnants of her consciousness, with neither able to escape.

What had begun as an instruction born of trust had turned into a knife stabbed into his own back. He couldn’t help feeling rather put out about it. Weren’t they supposed to be close as sisters?!

Furious, he kicked the Xuhao again.

The water stretched on as vast as ever, the boat and the drowned man still drifting there, and he held fast to his hope, refusing to give up.

Suddenly, a stranger’s voice came drifting from across the water—

“Si Jingyuan!”

Someone had lit the wick. The long-darkened room finally filled with light it hadn’t seen in ages, the brightest patch of it enveloping Yue Pingchuan entirely.

Si Kuanglan held the white lantern aloft, perfectly still. Tao Yao had pulled up a stool beside Yue Pingchuan and sat there, having dozed off, leaning against Si Kuanglan as though asleep.

Time seemed to freeze in that moment; apart from Si Kuanglan’s calm breathing, not a sound stirred in the room.

Suddenly, a stream of black-gray smoke burst from within Yue Pingchuan’s body, streaked with dark red sparks, surging into the air and twisting into all manner of eerie shapes, like a madman’s final desperate struggle. Once its strength was spent, it collapsed helplessly to the floor, and what remained—that puddle of black ash on the ground—was shaped, unmistakably, like a rat.

Tao Yao and Yue Pingchuan opened their eyes at exactly the same moment.

Tao Yao blinked, seeming not quite fully awake, and burrowed her head further into the body propping her up, mumbling with a silly grin, “Mmm, so soft, so comfy.”

Si Kuanglan promptly stepped aside, and Tao Yao, losing her balance, toppled to the floor with a thump, yelping in pain.

Si Kuanglan had no time to spare for her—he was focused entirely on Yue Pingchuan, setting down the lantern and waving a hand in front of her face.

Suddenly, Yue Pingchuan grabbed his hand, eyes brighter than they’d ever been, and out came a voice—unmistakably a grown man’s: “Quick… get me something to eat!”

Si Kuanglan pulled his hand free and said coldly, “A man who doesn’t even care about living—what’s the point of food?!”

Yue Pingchuan shot up to standing, fist raised threateningly at him, but at the last moment simply grabbed his sleeve instead, shaking it hard. “I was wrong, all right?! Just get your brother something to eat—Lanlan, you’re the only family I’ve got left in this world.”

“Lanlan…” Tao Yao, rubbing her sore backside as she got up, finally couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing.

Si Kuanglan yanked his sleeve free and asked him, “Do you have a silk handkerchief on you?”

“Yue Pingchuan” patted himself down and, sure enough, produced one, holding it out to Si Kuanglan. “Why, is my face dirty?”

Si Kuanglan balled up the handkerchief and, without the slightest hesitation, stuffed it into the other’s mouth, warning him, “Say one more word before we’ve swapped you back, and I’ll take your body home and have it used for stone-breaking demonstrations.”

“Yue Pingchuan” nodded, aggrieved.

“Your elder brother is far more entertaining than you,” Tao Yao said, giggling, then glanced at the pile of black ash on the floor and clicked her tongue. “So this Xuhao’s true form was a rat. No wonder it was so greedy—no surprise it fell for your brother’s trap and went right back into Yue Pingchuan’s body.” With that, she gave the ash a playful stomp; it scattered instantly, vanishing without a trace.

“A rat, of all things… it must have led a truly miserable life…” “Yue Pingchuan” pulled out the handkerchief and sighed repeatedly, but the moment he caught Si Kuanglan’s murderous glare, he stuffed it back in at once.

Tao Yao made a face at him. “You feel so sorry for it, and yet you just beat it black and blue?”

“I simply hate that particular breed of cruelty—stealing people’s happiness, killing them without a trace.” “Yue Pingchuan” couldn’t help pulling the handkerchief back out again. “Think about it—living a life with not a shred of happiness left in it, isn’t that worse than dying outright? Whatever pity that creature might deserve for its own past, once it’s become a Xuhao, being reduced to nothing is exactly right.” He looked Tao Yao over. “Speaking of which, does this stable girl even know her manners?! You this and you that—I’m your young master! Didn’t I just tell you that inside? Oh, and how did you even get in here?”

“I… I just kind of whooshed my way in!” Tao Yao raised a hand and traced an exaggerated arc through the air.

“This kid’s not being honest.” “Yue Pingchuan” poked her head, then reached over and nudged Si Kuanglan’s arm. “Where’d you pick her up? She’s got some spirit to her.”

Si Kuanglan took a deep breath and said, in that same detached, unnervingly calm tone of his, “Si Jingyuan, you knew perfectly well what the consequences of this would be.”

“Couldn’t just leave the girl to suffer, could I,” Si Jingyuan said, pointing at himself. “Losing her beloved was bad enough, and then a Xuhao on top of it—what rotten luck!”

“If Sect Leader Yue had sent you back even a little later, we would have arrived too late—Yue Pingchuan’s body wouldn’t have made it either,” Si Kuanglan said, turning away, unwilling even to look at his face while speaking.

“Actually, Eldest Young Master, none of this was really necessary.” Tao Yao stood between the two brothers. “If it came down to it, you could have just let the demon go—otherwise, without control of Yue Pingchuan’s body, you couldn’t eat or drink on your own, couldn’t even move or speak, and relying entirely on broth and tonics forced down from outside, you’d have starved to death sooner or later. If you’d died, think how devastated the second young master would have been.”

“Girl, leaving yourself an escape route is the same as leaving your enemy an opening,” Si Jingyuan said, his usual careless expression flashing with a moment of grim resolve before it was swept away again by his grin. “I’ve got good luck, and besides, I always believed my Lanlan and I understand each other without needing words. See? Isn’t this a happy ending for everyone?”

“But Eldest Young Master, why did you dose your own body with sedatives?” Tao Yao suddenly remembered this detail. “You do realize Yue Pingchuan didn’t wake up even after being brought all the way back to the Si estate! Not eating, not drinking—that must have taken quite a toll on your body too.”

“Ah, well, after I swapped souls with her while she was asleep, I worried that if she woke up she might start blabbering, and someone might notice her voice coming out of my body, which would only complicate things. So before she woke, I secretly dosed her with a bit of medicine.” Si Jingyuan looked rather wronged about it himself. “I’d figured it all out—if the Xuhao was going to come back, it’d happen within three or four days. If a few days passed with no sign of the thing, I’d have had to give up anyway. So I calculated the dosage carefully—at most she’d sleep four or five days. My body’s sturdy enough to go without food or water for ten days without dying… who’d have thought it would turn out like this!”

Tao Yao thought it over, then said scornfully, “You must not understand medicine properly, you got the dosage wrong! That’s the only explanation.”

“I’ve been reading medical texts since I was three!”

“Just admit you have no talent for doctoring. Just like all those useless physicians Sect Leader Yue dragged in to treat you—couldn’t even diagnose an overdose of sedatives.”

“I am your young master!”

“Can’t a young master be told when he’s wrong?”

“You, you, you…”

“Put the handkerchief back in,” Si Kuanglan said, turning back and sweeping a flat glance over the both of them.

Well, and so the matter reached a more or less satisfactory conclusion.

By the time they helped the delicate-seeming “Yue Pingchuan” out of the room, the sky had just begun to lighten. At that very same moment, in another bedchamber, the unconscious Xiaowei lay bound hand and foot, curled up on the floor. A few hours earlier, Tao Yao, speaking through Yue Pingchuan’s mouth, had revealed the truth she’d learned from Si Jingyuan, and Si Kuanglan had needed little effort to force Xiaowei into confessing where she’d hidden the lantern. Fortunately, she’d kept the lantern intact rather than destroying it—otherwise, gathering fresh lamp oil from a hundred households all over again would have taken considerable time.

When Sect Leader Yue saw his daughter safe and sound, he wept tears of pure joy and immediately prepared lavish gifts to thank the Si brothers. Si Kuanglan didn’t refuse them, only cautioning that Miss Yue’s body was still weak and shouldn’t speak for now, and that she’d likely fall into another period of sleep over the next few days—but there was no need to worry, as she would emerge from it thoroughly renewed. Sect Leader Yue nodded eagerly at everything; by this point he trusted Si Kuanglan’s every word unconditionally, practically wishing he could kowtow three times to this great benefactor. The only thing that struck everyone as slightly odd was that the young miss, who’d always eaten less than a cat, now seemed like an entirely different person—she polished off eight steamed buns, a whole roast chicken, and five bowls of chicken soup in one sitting, only reluctantly setting down the last braised pork trotter under a warning look from Si Kuanglan.

To outsiders, Si Kuanglan summarized the whole affair simply as an evil spirit that had been exorcised, leaving out entirely the details of Si Jingyuan’s soul-swap and the hunt for the Xuhao.

As for Xiaowei, she was locked away in the Changdao Sect’s dungeon.

In truth, even she didn’t know exactly what Si Jingyuan had done—beyond what he’d told her, all she knew was that he’d kissed Yue Pingchuan and then collapsed. But Si Kuanglan hadn’t spared Sect Leader Yue the details of how, at the critical moment, she’d taken the lamp and fled with it, how she’d hidden this life-saving object away, how she’d abandoned the girl she claimed to love like a sister to certain death. Hearing all this, Sect Leader Yue sat stunned for a long while, then let out a string of “I never would have guessed…” As the saying goes, you can know a face without ever knowing the heart behind it.

Everything else unfolded just as Si Kuanglan had said. Once Yue Pingchuan had eaten and drunk her fill, she sank once more into sleep. With her settled, Si Kuanglan bid the sect leader farewell as well. Sect Leader Yue remained anxious, wanting them to stay a few more days, but Si Kuanglan assured him not to worry—within two days, Yue Pingchuan would wake on her own. Grateful as he was, Sect Leader Yue still expressed deep guilt and concern over Si Jingyuan’s condition, saying that while his own daughter had been pulled back from the brink, the eldest young master’s fate remained uncertain, and he genuinely couldn’t rest easy over it.

“No need to worry, Sect Leader. If a delicate young lady like your daughter could pull through this ordeal, our eldest young master certainly won’t fall behind her,” Tao Yao cut in, then produced the pearl she’d used for light, feigning reluctance. “Oh, I nearly forgot to return this treasure to you, Sect Leader. What a lovely thing—almost hate to let it go.”

Hearing this, Sect Leader Yue said generously, “If the young lady likes it, please, keep it. This whole affair troubled not just the second young master but you as well, from the looks of it. It’s only a small pearl, hardly worth mentioning.”

“Oh, however could I accept such a thing!” Tao Yao protested even as she swiftly tucked the pearl away. What else could she say—a man that generous deserved a thriving business and a house full of grandchildren, hee hee hee.

Before they left, Tao Yao made one visit to the dungeon.

Xiaowei sat curled in the darkest corner, her face showing neither fear nor remorse, humming a broken little tune under her breath.

“Your young mistress is fine now,” Tao Yao said, crouching outside the cell door, deliberately raising her voice.

Xiaowei glanced at her, then went back to humming.

“Strange, isn’t it, hating her so much?” Tao Yao propped her chin on her hand. “You were supposed to be close as sisters—that’s what everyone kept saying.”

Xiaowei stopped humming, as though she’d just heard the biggest joke in the world. “Since when do a maid and her mistress become sisters?”

“But if she’d died, you still wouldn’t have become the noble young lady, would you?”

“If she’d died, at least Young Master Xue would have had some company in the afterlife,” Xiaowei’s voice echoed through the dim, damp air, edged with something like amusement. “Young Master Xue only ever had eyes for her anyway—so be it, then. I’d rather see them together.”

“You loved Young Master Xue?!” No matter how hard Tao Yao tried, she couldn’t make out the face hidden in the shadows.

“Whatever I love never ends up mine,” she said with a long sigh. “When I was little, I loved a certain red peony in full bloom—and in the end, it ended up worn in Yue Pingchuan’s hair. She’s the young lady; when she wears it, everyone admires her. I’m the maid; if I wore it, people would just laugh at me for forgetting my place. Living alongside her, everything I ever wanted—clothes, rouge, anything at all—unless she didn’t want it, none of it ever came to me. Even though I met Young Master Xue first, in the end it was still Yue Pingchuan he meant to marry. That’s when I finally understood—in this life, I would never have anything at all.”

Once she’d finished, the dungeon fell into dead silence.

“How old are you?” Tao Yao asked suddenly.

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen!” Tao Yao’s eyes went wide. “So you’ve spent your entire eighteen years on things that only made you miserable?”

Xiaowei said nothing.

“So it turns out, not every Xuhao is a demon,” Tao Yao said with a smile, standing up. “Farewell, then.”

Half of Xiaowei’s face emerged from the shadows, watching in confusion as Tao Yao skipped away.

If she remembered rightly, the Compendium of a Hundred Demons recorded it this way: any living being whose life ends in sorrow, meeting a further inauspicious hour, transforms into a Xuhao—drifting through the world like a wandering spirit, seeking those mired long and hopelessly in grief, entering their bodies to steal their happiness and claim it as its own, departing only once it has drained them dry. Those left without happiness will grieve themselves to death in the end, beyond all cure. Xuhao—a wicked demon. Gather lamp oil from a hundred households, form it into a wick, light it, and its glow will destroy the creature.

In this mortal world, sorrow and joy trading places is only natural, but to wallow in grief without ever learning to let go not only gives wicked demons their opening—even without ever attracting one, too much sorrow breeds resentment, too much resentment breeds hatred, too much hatred breeds cruelty, and if a person spends their entire life squandered on such things, the line between human and demon blurs. Since ancient times, people have regarded the Xuhao demon as a bringer of misfortune, and count themselves fortunate that the Hundred-Household Lamp exists to destroy it. But sadly, the lamp’s glow can do nothing for the Xuhao that lives in a human heart without ever having been a demon at all.

Which is exactly why Tao Yao felt her rule—treating demon afflictions, not human ones—was the right one to have. Too much trouble otherwise.

Epilogue

“Yue Pingchuan’s soul should be back soon, right? Do you think Sect Leader Yue will kill Xiaowei?”

“You’re a servant of the Si estate, not the Yue estate.”

“Can’t I even ask about other people’s business?! Fine, the matter’s settled—I kept my word, so you’d better not go back on yours either!”

“As you wish.”

“Really?! Wonderful! Ah, our eldest young master’s soul should be back home by now, right? Is he naturally gifted, or did he cultivate this soul-swapping skill somehow? That’s not something an ordinary person can just do!”

“You’re just a stable hand, and yet your own soul can leave your body too.”

“I… I suppose I must just be naturally gifted.”

“No need to explain yourself to me. You came to the Si estate to feed horses—all I care about is whether you’ve looked after my horses properly. I’ve no interest in anything else.”

“Oh… but Second Young Master, there’s still something I don’t understand. If you care so little about me, why did you keep letting me lean against you the whole time my soul was out of my body, instead of just letting me fall onto the cold floor?”

“I shook you off twice, and yet you kept crawling right back and clinging to me regardless. If your soul truly had left your body by then, your body’s own reactions were rather surprising.”

“Er… by that point my soul must already have been inside Yue Pingchuan’s body. Whatever my body got up to on its own, I really can’t be held responsible!”

“Heh.”

Amid the swirling fallen leaves, the city of Luoyang gradually receded into the distance, as two fine horses carried master and servant galloping down the road back to Bianjing, hearts racing homeward.