Prologue

If you meet someone who makes you not want to leave, then stay.

Wu City wasn’t very large, but it was crowded, lively to an excessive degree.

The spring temperature had grown warmer, and by afternoon the sun was hot enough to make people sweat. Mo Ya hugged his nearly-empty water flask, drooping under a tree that looked just as wilted as he did. A thick incense smell, strong enough to sting the eyes, billowed out from the dark red wall up ahead, and Gungun, curled up beside him, sneezed several times in a row.

Mo Ya wasn’t particularly skilled at reading maps or judging directions, but he vaguely sensed that Wu City didn’t lie in the same direction as the capital. He’d questioned Tao Yao’s chosen route, saying that heading toward Wu City seemed like a detour — the road to the capital shouldn’t run this way. But Tao Yao had insisted on coming here, arguing that all roads led to the capital eventually, and that whether the journey was long or short, it was all cultivation, and one shouldn’t harbor such discriminating thoughts. For a monk not to understand even this basic principle of Buddhist reasoning, yet fuss endlessly over a few extra steps here and there — how narrow-minded, and how could he ever attain enlightenment like that… Well, Mo Ya had nothing to say to that. A woman who could argue so solemnly and righteously despite clearly having gone the wrong way was not someone worth debating with.

But still, this really was too much of a detour. They hadn’t had much travel money to begin with, and relying on alms alone meant feasting one day and starving the next. Fortunately, Tao Yao had been restraining herself lately — passing by gambling stalls, she hadn’t let her itchy fingers try her luck again, at most gazing over with bright eyes, rubbing her hands together and muttering something under her breath. Either way, her mood had been quite good this whole trip to Wu City, though no one knew what exactly she was so happy about — she’d even become noticeably kinder to Gungun, saying that one day she’d find him a little vixen to be his wife…

Behind the dark red wall ahead lay the liveliest part of Wu City — shops for eating, drinking, and entertainment, a Daoist temple thick with incense smoke, and a place even more popular than the temple called “Goddess Pavilion,” situated diagonally across from the temple. It was a venue about the size of an ordinary shop, with a red-silk-draped plaque hanging over the entrance reading “Goddess Pavilion” — each character carefully painted in gold powder, gleaming brilliantly in the sunlight, extravagant in the extreme. To the left of the entrance stood a large stone incense burner, waist-high, stuffed full of incense sticks thick and thin. To the right sat a middle-aged woman, her hair combed smooth and coiled into a bun at the back of her head, her figure exceedingly plump, dressed in a rose-red robe — like an enormous red envelope seated behind a wide wooden table, fussing with the incense piled on top. A large bronze toad crouched at one corner of the table, mouth gaping open, a bell hanging from its neck. Anyone heading into the Goddess Pavilion would toss varying amounts of silver into the toad’s mouth before entering. The middle-aged woman would then hand them a bundle of incense; once lit, they would reverently bow toward the pavilion’s plaque before finally planting the sticks in the burner. After all this, they’d receive a wooden tag marked with a number from the middle-aged woman — those within the first ten numbers could enter and wait inside the Goddess Pavilion, while those beyond ten could only queue outside, without so much as a place to sit.

Business at the Goddess Pavilion was truly brisk. The incense at the burner was never allowed to go out, one stick lit right after another, and the silver inside the toad’s belly filled up so fast that the middle-aged woman had to unscrew its base and pour the coins into her pocket several times a day.

A few young Daoist priests carrying vegetables and fruit walked past the Goddess Pavilion, their faces full of scorn and disdain, yet tinged with faint envy — a place that was neither temple nor Daoist shrine, yet its incense burned more vigorously than theirs; anyone would feel put out by that.

Even before entering Wu City’s gates, they’d already heard the name “Goddess Pavilion” spoken of far and wide. A group of women traveling together, carrying chickens and ducks, hurrying dust-covered into the city, had grabbed hold of Tao Yao — who was heading into the city alongside them — to ask directions to the Goddess Pavilion. Tao Yao said she was a stranger here too and didn’t know. The women, looking anxious, grabbed another local to ask, and finally got their answer before trotting off. Watching their hurried departure, Tao Yao curiously asked the local what exactly the Goddess Pavilion was — some kind of temple? The local waved his hands repeatedly, saying it was neither temple nor shrine, just a place run by a single woman known as Granny Gu. About a year or so ago, Granny Gu had brought a few subordinates and rented that shop, opening this “Goddess Pavilion,” said to specialize in resolving matters of romantic fate. Over time, somehow, business had flourished — those who used to visit the temple seeking marriage talismans had all become customers of the Goddess Pavilion instead, word spreading from one person to ten to a hundred, drawing ever more people from far and wide, all hoping to benefit from her reputation.

Tao Yao found this strange, wondering if the Goddess Pavilion was simply running some kind of matchmaking racket. But the local grew mysterious, saying Granny Gu was far more impressive than any matchmaker. Setting aside ordinary men and women — even those with ugly faces, physical defects, women everyone had written off as unmarriageable — after visiting the Goddess Pavilion, they too soon found good matches. And there were women who’d wept and cursed their husbands as no-good scoundrels, men who abandoned their wives the moment they struck it rich, or women embroiled in all sorts of conflicts with their husbands — once they sought out Granny Gu, there was no predicament she couldn’t resolve. Some even said Granny Gu was the Moon Elder come down to earth, and those who’d benefited from her practically worshipped her as a living immortal. What’s more, just outside Wu City stood Wu Mountain, long associated with legends of a mountain goddess, and since Granny Gu claimed to hail from deep within this very Wu Mountain, people were all the more convinced of her powers.

Hearing this, Tao Yao lit up with delight. Once she’d confirmed the Goddess Pavilion’s location, she set off for it without another word.

Outside the wall, Mo Ya finally caught up with Tao Yao and grabbed her arm. “What are you going there for?”

“Lei Shen!!” Her eyes shone. “If there really is such a powerful ‘goddess,’ I need her to match us up.”

Young Master Liu’s sigh drifted through the air: “They say a girl’s heart stirs with spring at eighteen — you’ve passed eighteen many times over by now, haven’t you?”

Tao Yao didn’t get angry at all, striking a coy, bashful pose instead. “But I still want to settle down and start a family! If I could marry a man like Lei Shen, I’d smile in my sleep from happiness. So handsome — just looking at that face makes you feel like you own the whole world!”

“You’ve only met him once…” Mo Ya pressed his palms together. “And he doesn’t seem to think much of you at all. Benefactor Tao Yao, it would be best to overcome this inner demon of yours early.”

“Inner demon my foot!” Tao Yao smacked his bald head. “It must be from spending every day with you, a bald donkey who’ll never have romantic fortune in this lifetime, and a snake who probably likes men, that my own romantic luck’s been blocked — otherwise, with my qualifications, I’d have grandchildren running errands for me by now!”

Young Master Liu, furious: “Which eye of yours saw me liking men? Does spreading rumors fill your stomach or something?”

“Then why haven’t you found yourself a wife at your age!”

“My standards are high! How could common trash satisfy my eyes!”

“Why don’t you come to the Goddess Pavilion with me — maybe we’ll both step into a new stage of life. Mo Ya’s hopeless, unless he returns to secular life.”

“Go if you want. Don’t drag me into it.” Mo Ya shook his head repeatedly. “I may not be widely read, but I know more than an illiterate person. That Granny Gu claims she comes from Wu Mountain, deliberately borrowing the goddess’s halo — but as far as I know, the Wu Mountain of the goddess legend isn’t this mountain range behind Wu City at all, is it?!”

“Who cares whether it is or not.” Tao Yao looked resolved. “If you two won’t come, I’ll go by myself.”

There really was nothing to be done about her.

A proper Peach Capital ghost doctor, and still she couldn’t escape these little girlish concerns.

Mo Ya watched the incense smoke drifting up to the sky and helplessly began chanting sutras.

And really, was that Lei Shen even that handsome? Wasn’t he just two eyes and a nose like everyone else? Tch!

“Birth date and hour?” In the room thick with sandalwood scent, Tao Yao sat glumly at a long table draped in red cloth. “I don’t have his birth date and hour.”

The woman across from her, past forty, was also dressed in a rose-red robe, her hair ornaments and makeup done with great care — aside from the fine lines that appeared at the corners of her eyes when she smiled, her skin was smooth and fine. Compared to the woman handing out number tags at the entrance, the legendary Granny Gu was considerably more pleasant to look at. Yet for someone still so young to call herself “Granny,” she was quite different from the many women who desperately tried to appear younger than their years. Besides the two of them, a woman stood behind Granny Gu — younger than the plump woman outside, but every bit as broad and sturdy, her round face utterly expressionless, looking every inch a bodyguard.

“No birth data…” Granny Gu said again. “Then his name?”

Tao Yao remained glum-faced. “I don’t actually know his full name either.”

Lei Shen was probably just his title. Ugh, if she’d known this would happen, she should’ve asked more questions before coming here.

Granny Gu smiled. “That does make things rather difficult. Quite a few young ladies and gentlemen have come to me in the same state as you, having fallen for someone they might have only met once.”

“So there’s no way, then?” Tao Yao said, disappointed.

“It’s not that there’s absolutely no way.” Granny Gu smiled, taking out a pair of sachets tied up like little dumplings from a brocade box beside her. “If you can see this person again, be sure to place this sachet beneath his pillow. After three nights, there may be a turning point.”

“Really?” Tao Yao’s eyes lit up, and she reached out to take the sachet.

“Hold on, miss.” Granny Gu deftly avoided her hand, smiling. “Though I act out of a genuine wish to help others, running the Goddess Pavilion isn’t cheap, so…”

“You want money!” Tao Yao immediately understood, leaning in closer. “But I don’t have any money left. I’ve been begging for food this whole journey, and what little I had left I just threw into the toad’s mouth — I thought that would be enough. Or, do you accept foxes? The kind that wipe dishes with their tails! If not a fox, how about a little monk who can chant sutras? Then you won’t need to go looking for monks elsewhere whenever you need rituals done!”

Very quickly, Tao Yao was seized by the collar by the bodyguard woman and thrown straight out of the Goddess Pavilion.

Under the gaze of many onlookers, Tao Yao scrambled up in embarrassment, rubbing her bottom as she slunk away.

“Tch, not friendly at all.” Tao Yao muttered, glancing back at the Goddess Pavilion — the queue was still there, people still busy burning incense and kowtowing. Business really was that good.

Just then, a girl dressed as a maid and an older manservant hurried toward the Goddess Pavilion. The woman at the entrance saw them and let them in without a word.

Tao Yao pursed her lips — must be some wealthy household’s servants sent to handle business, though who knew how many favors their master had given Granny Gu to earn such easy passage. Still, people were strange — leaving a perfectly good Daoist temple alone to squeeze their way into a den of monsters instead. She shrugged; if it made them happy, so be it.

Boring. She turned around, the sun making her squint, and walked straight ahead, looking left and right.

“Lazy Glance…” She looked up at this shop that seemed to exist in the cracks between buildings — calling it a shop wasn’t quite accurate; it was merely a small stall propped out from a narrow room, displaying cheap hairpins and bracelets, rouge and powder, along with fans, needles and thread, and other odds and ends. A strip of coarse cloth had been casually hung from a bamboo pole at one corner of the stall, embroidered with the words “Lazy Glance” — if this counted as a shop sign, it was rather slapdash.

Behind the stall, an old man in his sixties sat leaning against the doorframe, dressed in coarse hemp cloth, temples touched with frost. Judging from his features, even in his youth he probably hadn’t been particularly handsome — his face so ordinary you might not remember it after meeting him several times. Right now he sat with eyes half-closed, leaning against the door frame, holding a small bag of peanuts, chewing slowly.

Tao Yao picked up a folding fan from the stall and opened it, fanning herself.

“Old man, how much for the fan?” she called out.

The old man slowly opened his eyes, turned to look at her, was silent a moment, then said, “One copper coin.”

She waved the fan, clicking her tongue. “Selling it that cheap — you’ll lose money, won’t you?”

The old man smiled. “You think that price is cheap? Must mean you’re not short on money.”

“Er… well, money, I definitely have some of that.” Tao Yao grinned. “I’m just worried that with such meager income, your life might be rather difficult, old man.”

“It’s not comfortable, but it’s enough.” The old man tossed a peanut into his mouth. “At least I’ve never been thrown out of a shop for lacking money.”

Tao Yao’s face changed. “You saw that all the way from here?”

The old man smiled again. “That family’s famous for caring about money more than people. You’re not the first one to get thrown out of there.” He looked her up and down. “You don’t look that old — already worrying about your own marriage? As far as I know, most people who go looking for Granny Gu at the Goddess Pavilion are trapped in one-sided infatuations.”

Being stabbed once and then stabbed again — what an awkward, painful feeling! Tao Yao forced a smile, squeezing the words out through gritted teeth: “Fighting for my own happiness — what’s wrong with that?”

“The problem is a melon forced off the vine early isn’t sweet,” the old man said bluntly. “You might not even get the melon, and end up spraining yourself instead. Isn’t every relationship in this world only lasting when both sides are willing?”

Tao Yao blinked, then smiled. “Old man, your business must usually be terrible.”

“How do you figure that?” he asked back.

“Because you’ve got so much free time.” Tao Yao rolled her eyes at him. “Otherwise where would you find the time to ponder so many life lessons!”

“What nonsense are you chatting with the customer about now? Just sell the goods properly.” Before the old man could reply, someone walked out from behind him — a woman wearing plain clothes with a small floral print, a dark blue apron tied at her waist, gray-streaked hair coiled into a simple round bun at the back, several pieces of clothing draped over her arm. Her left hand, whether injured or not, was wrapped in white cloth. This woman, roughly the same age as the old man, was thin but capable-looking — clearly someone skilled at managing a household.

“Take these and fold them.” The woman dumped the clothes into the old man’s arms, then wiped her hands on her apron and turned to Tao Yao with a smile. “Miss, are you looking to buy a fan? One copper coin each.”

Tao Yao put the fan back. “Just looking around, it’s not that hot today anyway.”

“She’s got no money,” the old man said, showing no mercy at all. “Just got thrown out by the folks at the Goddess Pavilion.”

Hearing this, the woman burst out laughing, sizing up Tao Yao. “Is what my old man says true?”

Tao Yao nodded dejectedly.

“You look like a stranger here, miss. Did you also come for the Goddess Pavilion, from out of town?” the woman asked.

“No, that’s not it. I came to see a friend. I just happened to hear about the Goddess Pavilion before I even entered the city gates, and out of curiosity went to take a look — didn’t realize they’d charge you both coming and going.” Tao Yao said pitifully. “I traveled a thousand miles to meet my friend, suffered all sorts of hardships along the way, and to make things worse, my money pouch got stolen by a thief. I haven’t eaten in a whole day.”

“This poor little girl, how pitiful…” the woman shook her head repeatedly, glancing at the sky. “If you don’t mind our simple food, why don’t you…”

“Stop right there!” the old man cut her off quickly. “Can’t even afford a meal, yet still threw what little money she had left into that toad’s mouth — whose fault is that.”

“Don’t be like that, old man.” Tao Yao pouted, aggrieved. “I lost my parents when I was young, and for some reason the people around me never much cared for me either, so I’ve had to rely on myself for everything. To this day, I still haven’t found someone I could entrust my life to. I’m only a woman, after all — I don’t want to stay this lonely forever.” As she spoke, she forced out a tear.

Tao Yao was petite and adorable by nature, and putting on a pitiable act easily won people’s sympathy. The woman, seeing this, hurried over and took her arm. “Come, come home with Auntie. At least tonight you’ll get a full meal.” Then she shot a fierce glare at the old man, who still looked like he wanted to object. “Not another word! Can’t you see how pitiful this girl’s life has been!”

“And you believe her just like that!” The old man’s eyes went wide. “There are so many swindlers these days!”

The woman snorted. “Even if she is a swindler, at most she’ll con me out of one meal. If she’s not, then we’ve helped someone in need. Either way, we lose nothing!”

Unable to out-argue her, the old man muttered under his breath while chewing peanuts, “Business didn’t work out, and now we’re bringing home another mouth to feed for free…”

“What’s your name, girl?” the woman asked kindly, patting her head, then jutted her chin toward the old man. “That’s your Uncle Zhang, and I’m your Auntie Zhang. If you’re short on funds these next few days, you can eat and stay at our place.”

“Then I’ll impose on you!” Tao Yao immediately turned her tears into smiles. “Um, my name is Taozi.”

“What a lovely name.” Auntie Zhang smiled.

“One more thing — I have companions waiting outside. Could I…”

“Oh, then go call them over quickly. I’ll just prepare a bit more food for dinner.”

“Thank you, Auntie Zhang!”

Tao Yao’s smile bloomed like a flower, and while Auntie Zhang wasn’t looking, she deliberately stuck her tongue out at the still-huffing Uncle Zhang. Uncle Zhang glared daggers at her.

“Many thanks for the meal, benefactress.” At the dinner table, Mo Ya pressed his palms together and bowed to Auntie Zhang in thanks, then poked Gungun, who was crouched beside him licking rice grains from his mouth. “Gungun, you should show some appreciation too!”

Only after the very last grain of rice had gone into his mouth did Gungun let out a satisfied burp, then stood up, folded his front paws together, and made a “wishing you prosperity” gesture toward Auntie Zhang.

Auntie Zhang was delighted. “This little fox must be a spirit fox, so intelligent, and such an interesting look too, half white half black. With such a divine creature willingly following him, little master here is bound to become a great monk someday.”

“Without such tricks, how else would he beg for food and lodging. Even a monkey in an opera troupe does a flip or two for its treats,” the old man said dismissively.

Auntie Zhang smacked him with her chopsticks. “How can you compare little master to a monkey in an opera troupe, aren’t you afraid Buddha will punish you!”

“I don’t believe in Buddha.” The old man wiped his mouth. “He can’t do anything to me.”

Auntie Zhang smiled awkwardly at Tao Yao and the others. “Don’t take offense — my old man’s always been like this, no filter on his mouth, but he means no harm.”

“Since we’ve already eaten your food for free, it’s only fair to let Uncle Zhang say a few nagging words,” Tao Yao said, smiling sweetly at the old man. “If you’ve got any more complaints about us, Uncle Zhang, feel free to continue.”

The old man rolled his eyes and slapped his chopsticks down. “Going to bed.”

“Benefactor, sleeping right after eating can cause indigestion,” Mo Ya reminded kindly.

“Let it burst me then!” The old man scoffed and headed straight back to the inner room.

“Gets more bad-tempered the older he gets.” Auntie Zhang watched his retreating back and shook her head. “Don’t mind him.”

“Let me help clean up.” Tao Yao rolled up her sleeves and began gathering the bowls and chopsticks. “Auntie Zhang, I noticed the shop sign at your door says ‘Lazy Glance’ — isn’t that a bit of a strange name for a shop? Shouldn’t a business want customers to keep coming back?”

“I never went to school, barely know any characters — the old man came up with that name,” Auntie Zhang said, wiping down the table. “Though we don’t really rely on this little stall to get by. These small goods don’t earn much. Normally the old man and I both find other odd jobs to do. He worked at an inn last month, and lately I go do cleaning work at the Zhen family’s place in the city every odd-numbered day. The Zhens are one of Wu City’s prominent families, and it’s rare for a family like that to be free of the usual arrogance of the wealthy — they treat people like us quite kindly, and the pay is always fair. Especially Miss Zhen — well-read and reasonable, particularly considerate toward us older folk, often sending along food and clothing. Such a pity, such a good girl, but her left cheek got burned by a candle flame when she was young, and now, at twenty-three, she’s still unmarried. A couple months back, I heard old Master Zhen finally arranged a marriage for his daughter — the son of a friend, a learned young man from a good family. Miss Zhen fell for him at first sight, and everyone thought the two would surely be a good match, but who knew, the young man backed out not long ago and the engagement fell through. Miss Zhen fell seriously ill over it. I went to see her just a few days ago when I was working — poor thing, thin as a skeleton.” She then said, embarrassed, “Am I talking too much? If you two are getting tired of listening, go rest early.”

“Not tired at all, I love listening to people chat,” Tao Yao said, smiling at the kind old woman. “Judging people by appearance really is a rather foolish thing to do.”

“Isn’t that the truth!” Auntie Zhang sighed helplessly. “When choosing a wife, you want a virtuous woman, and Miss Zhen is good-hearted, surely would’ve made a fine wife. Ah well, I suppose the two of them just weren’t fated.”

Just then, Mo Ya and Gungun yawned at the same time, one person and one fox rubbing their eyes in perfect sync.

“Little master’s getting sleepy?” Auntie Zhang said quickly. “Go rest in the back room.”

Tao Yao yawned too. “I suppose all this traveling has worn me out as well, I’m getting quite drowsy myself.”

“Everyone off to bed, then.” Auntie Zhang set down her cleaning cloth. “Come, let me show you to the back room, the bedding’s all prepared, though little master and the little fox will have to make do sleeping on the floor.”

“Thank you, Auntie Zhang.”

“Many thanks, benefactress!”

“Squeak…”

The night in Wu City was a world apart from its daytime self — the residents nearly all turned in early, and aside from the pleasure quarters and taverns where lights still burned, everywhere else quietly melted into the darkness.

Though it was true that Tao Yao had no money, this didn’t diminish her familiarity and sensitivity toward medicinal substances at all. Right now, Mo Ya and Gungun lay sprawled on the floor bedding at the Zhang household, sleeping like the dead — you could probably drag them out and slaughter them without waking them up, clear evidence that the knockout drug in the food had worked well. Not that those two would’ve been useful awake anyway, just a lot of chattering nonsense — better to let them sleep, especially with Young Master Liu keeping watch, nothing serious would happen.

Tao Yao stood outside the wall surrounding the Zhen estate. Just moments ago, Auntie Zhang, now changed into night-travel clothes, had leapt over the wall like a cat. Not long after, a very faint layer of blue mist — faint enough that only someone with eyesight as good as Tao Yao’s could see it — began spreading out from within the walls, quickly enveloping the entire Zhen estate.

A rat crossing along the top of the wall walked a few steps, then went “plop” and fell to the ground — not dead, just knocked out.

Tao Yao couldn’t help giving a thumbs up — this knockout incense worked fast and effectively, and the smell was quite pleasant too.

She leapt into the Zhen estate, and from a distance saw Auntie Zhang moving through the far corridor like a gust of wind.

It was nearly midnight by now. Everyone in the Zhen household was fast asleep, the night-watch servants sprawled haphazardly on the ground.

In front of an embroidery chamber wafting faintly with the scent of powder, two maids keeping watch outside had slumped over asleep. Tao Yao recognized one of them — the same girl who’d gone to the Goddess Pavilion with the manservant that afternoon.

The door was shut tight. Tao Yao looked up at the roof, a hint of a smile curling at her lips, then crept quietly to the window, poked a small hole in the paper covering, and peered inside — only to see Auntie Zhang sitting on the edge of a carved wooden bed within. A young woman lay on the bed, and Auntie Zhang was prying open her mouth, about to push a small, dark, indistinguishable object clutched in her hand inside.

But before the object could reach the girl’s mouth, Auntie Zhang’s hand was suddenly yanked away. A gleaming white strand of spider silk shot down from above, wrapping around her wrist and forcibly dragging her entire body away from the bedside.

Sensing danger, Auntie Zhang tucked the small object into her waistband, and with her freed left hand, drew a short blade from her belt — a swift slash severed the silk strand. Free again, she rushed back toward the bed.

But more silk threads shot out in quick succession, binding tightly around her waist, hands, and feet, dragging her several meters from the bed with great force.

A dark shadow dropped down from the roof beam — a large, rose-red spider, its body bigger than a bathtub, and stranger still, this red spider had ten legs, each one sharp as a sickle. Behind the large spider followed two equally rose-red toads.

Tao Yao’s eyes went wide, watching with even greater interest now.

“So the Zhen family people came to me earlier today saying Miss Zhen had coughed up black blood — turns out it’s you causing trouble, you old woman,” the spider spoke in human words, though in a woman’s voice. “Still, you’re not without some skill, managing to knock out the entire Zhen household with your sleeping incense. Good thing I’ve been waiting for you on this beam for quite a while.”

Auntie Zhang remained remarkably calm, saying steadily: “You go about your days using petty tricks to bewitch people out of their money, and as long as you don’t take lives, I’ll let it be. But using a gu-worm on Miss Zhen — that I cannot stand by and ignore. As long as I’m alive, I won’t allow anyone to use gu.”

The spider gave a cold snort. “I run my Goddess Pavilion, you stay in your Lazy Glance — we’re neighbors, well water doesn’t interfere with river water. Miss Zhen begged me to keep hold of Young Master Sun’s heart, and she paid generously for it — how could I fob her off with the same petty tricks I use on everyone else? Naturally I had to use my most powerful gu, otherwise how could I ensure Young Master Sun grows old together with her.”

“Grow old together?” Auntie Zhang sneered coldly. “The heart-gnawing gu lasts at most three years in effect. While under its spell, the two afflicted will indeed be inseparable, sticking together like glue during those three years — but throughout that time, the gu-worm will steadily devour both their bodies. By the time three years are up, all that’s left of the two of them will be empty husks — instead of growing old together, they’ll be heading to the underworld together.”

The spider froze for a moment, apparently not expecting this old woman to know the truth of the matter, but quickly composed herself again. “Even just three years of blissful happiness beats a lifetime of loneliness for Miss Zhen.”

“Miss Zhen still has a long life ahead of her — how do you know she won’t find someone who truly cares for her?” Auntie Zhang smiled. “Whether you’re doing this for the money, or for Miss Zhen’s sake, or… to reclaim the gu-worm after she dies and consume it yourself to boost your own cultivation, you know full well in your own heart. I only know that anyone who can have the heart-gnawing gu planted in them has a birth chart different from ordinary people’s — and you must have waited who knows how long to find a Miss Zhen who could help advance your cultivation.”

“You…” The spider, her secrets exposed, flared with humiliated fury. “Who exactly are you! How do you know so much about using gu?!”

“Sister, no point wasting words with her, best to eliminate her quickly. The three of us sisters have traveled the mortal realm for years, cultivation isn’t easy — with just two more heart-gnawing worms we’d fully achieve human form, no longer forced back to our true shapes every midnight! Don’t let her ruin things for us!” the first toad said indignantly, and the second toad nodded along in agreement.

“She won’t get that chance.” A strand of green spider silk shot from the spider’s mouth, arrow-swift, aimed straight at the immobilized Auntie Zhang’s heart.

Quick as lightning, a burst of white ash rose up, and the silk binding Auntie Zhang instantly turned to white vapor. In the split second before the green silk reached her heart, someone yanked Auntie Zhang away — the green thread grazed and tore through her right shoulder instead, then “thunk,” embedded itself in the wall behind her.

Auntie Zhang whipped her head around, startled. “It’s you…”

But before she could finish speaking, she felt a burst of searing pain in her right shoulder, followed by numbness spreading through her whole body, and the world spun as she fell unconscious.

“Whoa, that’s some potent poison.” Tao Yao caught Auntie Zhang, clicking her tongue in appreciation.

The spider startled, then flared with anger. “Why is it you!”

“Don’t shoot your silk at me!” Tao Yao blinked pleadingly. “I was just passing by.”

“Passing by?” The spider raged. “Pass by straight to the underworld, then! Eat her!”

The two toads, who’d clearly been holding themselves back, lunged at Tao Yao with a speed entirely mismatched to their clumsy, plump bodies.

“Don’t just eat me because we disagree!” Tao Yao shouted theatrically. “Help! Somebody help!”

Before her words even finished, a black shadow dropped from midair, slamming into both toads with a “bang” and sending them flying against the wall.

A beast, shaped somewhat like a cat, lean and long, about the size of a leopard, a single white horn like a rhinoceros’s growing from its forehead, slender eyes with pupils that seemed gilded in gold, its pitch-black fur patterned with red markings like runic symbols coiling across its body — quite an imposing presence.

Before the dazed, disoriented toads could even get up, the beast swallowed them whole, one after the other, in a single bite each.

The spider seemed nailed to the spot, her voice warping from sheer terror: “You… you’re… how could you be here…”

The beast gave no response at all, simply walking step by step toward the spider.

All the spider’s earlier arrogance vanished entirely. Her whole body trembled violently as she babbled incoherent pleas for mercy: “I meant no harm! Please spare me! I’ve cultivated for five hundred years! Five hundred years is a long time!”

The beast stopped before her, saying coldly: “My duty is to devour the gu of this world. You are a gu-worm — however many years you’ve cultivated, it’s none of my concern.”

“You…” Seeing that pleading was useless, the spider turned to flee, but was pinned down by one paw of the beast, torn into several pieces in a few swift motions, and swallowed whole without leaving a trace — the whole process quick and clean.

The beast turned back, unhappily flicking a strand of white silk stuck to its mouth with a front paw, burped, and muttered to itself: “Eating too much at night really does cause indigestion.”

Tao Yao, examining Auntie Zhang’s injuries without even looking up, said: “You stepped in a bit too late, considering you got here before I did.”

“Who told you to go sticking your nose in. That green thread wouldn’t have killed her even if it hit her chest — her heart is on the right side.” The beast spun around irritably in place, and in a flash of red light, the beast vanished, replaced by an irate Uncle Zhang, pointing at Tao Yao and scolding her. “Didn’t we agree you’d only come see me in the mornings? She’s out working during the day, that’s when we could talk properly! Why couldn’t you be punctual? What were you doing wandering around the Goddess Pavilion? And then coming to my house to freeload food and a bed!”

Tao Yao looked at him in disbelief. “Not exposing you in front of her already counts as a huge favor on my part. You burned paper offerings to summon me, and I actually came — that’s an enormous favor too. And you’re scolding me?” She dusted off her rear, making as if to leave.

“Hey!” Uncle Zhang quickly stopped her. “You’re supposed to be the Peach Capital’s ghost doctor, can you not act like a spoiled child!”

“Apologize, and I’ll stay.” Tao Yao rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Uncle Zhang said with great reluctance. “My attitude just now was poor.”

Tao Yao turned her face away, smiling. “Now that’s something I can accept.”

Uncle Zhang crouched down, looking helplessly at Auntie Zhang. “I knew she’d run into trouble like this sooner or later. Never learns — always insists on handling everything herself. Over these past few decades, who knows how many times I’ve had to clean up after her. The very first day that gu-demon opened the Goddess Pavilion right beside the Daoist temple, I told her — a demon bold enough to set up shop next to a temple isn’t like your ordinary minor spirit, and a gu-demon at that, we shouldn’t provoke it, better to plan carefully. But ever since that gu-demon opened the Goddess Pavilion, aside from swindling money, it hadn’t done anything too excessive — those women claiming their unfaithful husbands had a change of heart, it was just their men drinking water laced with an infatuation charm, and the so-called change of heart was nothing but a temporary illusion; within two years the spell would wear off and whoever was leaving would leave anyway. As for helping people find their soulmates, that was nothing more than the charm techniques many demons know how to use, capable of making the opposite sex favor them for a short while. The fox spirits are the best at this sort of thing, and this gu-demon still lacked the finesse — those girls who thought they’d found their soulmate had merely gotten a pleasant dream. Once the time came, the other party would wake up, and if they didn’t love you, they still wouldn’t, no keeping them.”

Tao Yao thought about it, then said, “You really should have acted sooner.”

“I’ve grown used to peaceful days.” Uncle Zhang smiled. “Besides, that gu-demon hadn’t done anything too excessive at first. Watching those glum-faced people leave the Goddess Pavilion, I started thinking, maybe letting it continue wasn’t so bad — if being deceived could still make them happy, then let them be. That the Goddess Pavilion crossed paths with me was just its bad luck. I told the old woman the same thing — as long as it didn’t go too far, we’d carry on with our normal lives. Any demon that’s managed to cultivate into human form has been through no small amount of hardship, and unless absolutely necessary, I don’t like to destroy years of their cultivation.”

“You’re more compassionate than I imagined,” Tao Yao said, smiling. “Staying with a human for this long — that’s beyond what I expected too.”

Uncle Zhang looked at Auntie Zhang’s face and said, “I serve under Lady Xing’s orders, wandering the mortal realm with the duty of consuming gu. Over these thousand-some years, the gu-worms and the sorcerers and witch doctors who craft gu to harm others that I’ve devoured are beyond counting. But human hearts are never entirely good, and gu poison never ceases. However hard I try, I can never finish the task. Fifty years ago, deep in the mountains, I came across a clan that had crafted gu for generations — all women, living in seclusion, every member of the clan born with her heart on the right side of her chest. To continue their bloodline, the women of this clan would plant gu-worms into men from outside the mountains; once afflicted, the men would willingly stay by their side, but four hundred and forty days later, the worm would bite through the man’s heart, killing him suddenly. As this happened again and again, the clan’s evil reputation spread, and outsiders came to see them as demonic, trying various methods to eliminate them, none of which succeeded — only inviting further retaliation. I transformed into a bird and observed their village for many days, finding that they felt no remorse at all for this cruel way of surviving — except for one child.” He paused, then smiled. “Her. She was around ten years old at the time. I saw her, more than once, trying to stop her own mother from crafting the gu-worms. She’d witnessed with her own eyes the men who came to the village as ‘husbands,’ one after another falling in pools of blood — this happened every year.”

“You ate the entire clan, people and gu-worms both?” Tao Yao asked.

He nodded, then continued: “I spared her, the one. But one gu-worm escaped. To craft their gu, they needed five worms representing the five elements — metal, wood, water, fire, earth — as a base, called the gu mothers. These gu mothers had all lived over a thousand years; even a single one alone was formidable enough, and all five gathered together would have been an unspeakable disaster. I devoured four of them, but the water gu mother escaped, and no matter how many days I searched, I couldn’t find her. That’s why I’ve remained in the mortal realm to this day — until I find the water gu mother, I won’t return to Kunlun.”

“Even you couldn’t find her?” Tao Yao said, astonished. “Then this water gu mother really must be formidable.”

He sighed. “What choice did I have but to stay.”

“You stayed with her partly to find the water gu mother too?” Tao Yao asked again.

“Yes, after all, it belongs to their clan — even though she’s the only one left, there’s no guarantee the water gu mother won’t find her one day,” he said, his gaze gradually sinking into a distant memory. “She was so small back then. Because of the snake-shaped birthmark on the back of her hand, the nearby villagers knew she was a descendant of that clan, and treated her with great hostility, even devising various vicious schemes trying to get her killed, but she managed to survive on her own regardless. I watched her secretly for years — after all, she carried a gu-master’s blood in her veins, and the mistreatment from outsiders could very well have turned her as cruel as her ancestors. If I’d seen any sign of that, I wouldn’t have hesitated to devour her. But she never became that way — she even once saved a child who’d fallen into the water and was nearly drowning, only for the villagers who rushed over to beat her back into the river with bamboo poles, calling her a witch, a demon, someone who’d come to harm their children. Watching her struggle in the water until she had no strength left, I went out and pulled her to shore. I appeared in her life in the form of a boy around her age, and somehow, we inexplicably became friends. She was actually quite interesting — told lots of jokes to make people laugh, and could cook a lot of delicious food too.”

“So you two ended up getting married?” Tao Yao said, rubbing her chin. “Do you two have kids? Do they have a tail like you?”

Uncle Zhang rapped her on the head. “Where’s your mind wandering off to! We don’t have children.”

Tao Yao nodded. “Makes sense, I suppose — like how a cat and a dog can’t have kids together.”

“That comparison of yours is quite unpleasant.” Uncle Zhang rolled his eyes.

“Never mind that — what was she doing sneaking into Miss Zhen’s room in the middle of the night, anyway?” Tao Yao reached casually into Auntie Zhang’s waistband, quickly feeling something soft and small. She pulled it out to look — a half-inch-long black worm, like a garden pest, still wriggling — startling her so much she flung it to the ground.

Uncle Zhang quickly picked up the worm, walked over to Miss Zhen’s bedside, pried open her mouth, and pushed the worm inside.

“This is the antidote the old woman crafted for the heart-gnawing gu. When she went to visit Miss Zhen a few days ago, she discovered the girl had been afflicted with the heart-gnawing gu, and rushed straight back to brew an antidote. The antidote worm will burrow in and bite the gu-worm, dissolving it into black liquid, but it takes three doses to fully clear it. The old woman used her work visits to the Zhen household as cover to secretly feed Miss Zhen the antidote twice already, which is why she’s been coughing up black blood. The Zhen family, not knowing the truth, assumed it was some problem with the Goddess Pavilion. Once that gu-demon came to check on her, it surely realized someone was sabotaging its plans, so it must have been lying in wait at the Zhen estate. The old woman assumed this gu-demon was just an ordinary one she could handle on her own. To keep me from getting involved, and to keep you lot — who’d suddenly turned up — from noticing anything, she even drugged the food, hoping we’d all sleep soundly through the night.” He shook his head. “With a temperament like that, how could anyone possibly feel at ease.”

“She has no idea at all about your true nature?” Tao Yao asked.

“She thinks she’s my teacher.” He smiled. “She believes half of everything I know about mysterious matters comes from the various things we’ve encountered wandering together over the years, and the other half she taught me herself. As for me, I’m just an ordinary man, at most lending her a hand when she’s exterminating gu.”

Tao Yao continued, “All these years, you two have been eliminating gu across the world?”

“The old woman says gu are things that harm people, and however many can be eliminated, should be.” He scooped Auntie Zhang up in his arms. “Let’s head back.”

“Wait.” Tao Yao stopped him. “You wrote in your note that you were ‘gravely ill,’ and that if I could cure you, besides satisfying my usual conditions, there’d be an ‘additional generous reward.'” She looked him up and down. “But looking at you now, walking, fighting, carrying her — where’s the sign of any grave illness?!”

He grinned slyly. “Though I still haven’t found the water gu mother, Lady Xing has already summoned me back to Kunlun to report.”

“So?” Tao Yao’s eyes went wide.

“So I need you to prove to Lady Xing that I’m ill, that I need to take leave, and push back my return to Kunlun by another thirty or forty years. To those in Kunlun, a few decades in the mortal world pass by in the blink of an eye anyway.” He looked at Tao Yao with the most benevolent expression he could muster. “Though your Peach Capital belongs neither to the heavens nor to Kunlun, and you yourself, Tao Yao, aren’t exactly a major figure, a ghost doctor’s reputation still carries weight. Lady Xing wouldn’t believe anyone else, but she’ll believe your word for certain.”

Tao Yao’s eyes rolled. “What proof do you want from me?”

“Just write me a leave request and press your handprint on it.” He smiled. “That’s all it takes.”

“I’m a proper, upstanding person.” Tao Yao lifted her chin, putting on airs. “I can’t go around lying — especially not to deceive an immortal lady from Kunlun. No, no, absolutely not.”

“Afraid of her?” Uncle Zhang sighed. “Never mind then. I was going to teach you the technique for raising a ‘growth gu’ as thanks.”

“Growth gu?” Tao Yao frowned. “What’s that?”

“A technique for refining a leaf or a blade of grass into a gu. Once refined, place this gu into a rice jar, and the white rice inside will increase by half; place it in a money pouch, and the silver inside will increase by half — hence the name growth gu.” Uncle Zhang said earnestly. “This is a little trick the two of us old folks developed over the years, though we’ve never really needed it ourselves, having no great desire for wealth. But you, Miss Tao Yao, might find it quite useful.”

“How exactly do you want me to write this leave request? Is one handprint enough? If not, I could give you a palm print too! A lip print works as well!”

“…”

Tao Yao stayed at Uncle Zhang’s house for three days.

During these days, plenty of people still went to the Goddess Pavilion, but every one of them left disappointed, because the once god-like Granny Gu had vanished.

Auntie Zhang stayed in bed resting the whole time. The wound on her shoulder wasn’t severe, but wasn’t minor either. Mo Ya, none the wiser and believing she’d truly injured herself in a fall, sat in her room every day chanting sutras, saying he was warding off misfortune for her, even dragging Gungun along to meditate with him and pray for her recovery. But the fox kept falling asleep during the chanting each time, which never failed to make Auntie Zhang laugh.

The night before they left, Auntie Zhang called Tao Yao over and handed her a heavy pouch of silver, saying, “It’s still a long way to the capital from here — you can’t manage without some silver on hand.”

Tao Yao made a show of declining a few times, then happily accepted it with a smile.

“Taozi, dear,” Auntie Zhang suddenly said, looking at her face, “you’re not an ordinary girl, are you?”

Hearing this, Tao Yao only smiled, neither confirming nor denying.

“My knockout drug had no effect on you.” Auntie Zhang smiled awkwardly. “Good thing too, or I wouldn’t have survived that gu-demon. My old man told me you got rid of them and brought me home alive. Thank you for saving my life.”

“Well, actually, I’m a doctor,” Tao Yao said, scratching her nose. “You could say I grew up surrounded by medicinal herbs — lots of sedatives have no effect on me.”

“Accomplished at such a young age,” Auntie Zhang said admiringly, then fell silent a moment before asking, “Did the old man tell you about our story?”

“Ah, he did,” Tao Yao nodded. “Quite the legendary life.”

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” Auntie Zhang touched the back of her own hand. “You should know what I am.”

Tao Yao smiled. “When I had no money, someone kicked me right out the door, and you gave me a full meal instead. Why would I be afraid of you. You’re a good person.”

A subtle sorrow and self-reproach flickered through Auntie Zhang’s eyes, and she smiled bitterly. “Taozi, dear, you’re still young — you can’t judge people by appearances alone. I might not be such a good person after all.”

“I think you are, and Uncle Zhang says you’re a kind person too,” Tao Yao said, puzzled. “If you were really such a disagreeable, bad person, how could Uncle Zhang have stayed by your side all this time.”

“I…” Auntie Zhang hesitated, lips pressed tight, cold sweat even beading on her forehead.

“What’s wrong?” Tao Yao asked quickly, seeing her like this. “Is your wound hurting?”

She shook her head, then suddenly grasped Tao Yao’s hand and said slowly: “He hasn’t left me because I planted a gu inside his body.”

“Huh?” Tao Yao startled.

“My memories from childhood aren’t good ones. I often saw men from outside clans die horribly in our village. I never knew my own father — almost none of the children in the village did. I remember one uncle who often told me stories about the world outside, folded paper cranes for me to play with. His eyes were different from the others in the clan — very gentle. I thought perhaps my father had been like that too. But four hundred and forty days is too short a time — the paper crane remained, but the man had turned into a heap of flesh and blood. That was the first time I felt my heart truly ache, the first time I understood that this was wrong. Later, the entire clan was wiped out in a single night. When I woke up, the water gu mother — the only one of the five gu mothers naturally gentle in nature — was hiding beneath me. If planted directly into a person, that person would remain devoted to me for life, until natural death took them, at which point the water gu mother would die alongside them. I’d meant to destroy the water gu mother, but thinking of it as the last remnant of my clan, and less malicious than the others of its kind, I softened, and hid it away in a secret place instead.” Auntie Zhang rubbed her reddened eyes. “At fifteen, I met your Uncle Zhang — he saved me from nearly drowning. He said he was a stranger too, alone with no family to rely on, much like my own circumstances. Bit by bit, we became friends. He looked after me, protected me, and over time, I realized I couldn’t live without him.” She looked at Tao Yao. “Taozi, dear, the truth is, I’ve come to fear loneliness. Eating alone every day, sleeping alone, enduring sick days and sleepless nights all by myself. It sounds laughable, but just to have someone to talk to, I once made a straw figure and talked to it every day. I don’t know if you understand this kind of loneliness.”

Tao Yao fell silent, and only after a long while said, “So you used the water gu mother?”

“This is the greatest regret of my life,” Auntie Zhang said, biting her lip. “It won’t cost him his life, but it isn’t fair to him.”

“So that’s what’s been weighing on you.” Tao Yao let out a breath of relief, smiling as she patted her hand. “Are you certain your water gu mother could make a man who doesn’t love you devoted to you, all the way to now?”

“That’s what our clan always said.” Auntie Zhang said.

Tao Yao really wanted to tell her that no gu in the world had any effect on Uncle Zhang — they only feared him. But she couldn’t say it. Ugh, holding back these words was so hard!

She took a deep breath, swallowing back the words that had risen to her lips, glancing toward the half-open door where Uncle Zhang was walking past carrying a basin of washed clothes. She smiled. “Someone who doesn’t want to stay can never be kept, no matter what.” She turned back, looking seriously at Auntie Zhang. “Forget about the water gu mother. I’ll keep this secret for you.”

With that, she gave Auntie Zhang a playful wink and jingled the money pouch in her hand. “Because I’ve already been paid hush money!”

“You little rascal…” Auntie Zhang scolded her fondly, then burst out laughing.

“Are you two planning to keep traveling around?” Tao Yao asked.

“Not for now.” Auntie Zhang shook her head. “The old man says we’re getting on in years, should settle down from wandering all over the world. We’ve been in Wu City five years now, and it’s been good — we plan to keep living here.”

“Mm-hm, settling down sounds nice.”

Epilogue

The day they left Wu City, Uncle Zhang saw them off at the door, saying to Tao Yao, “Safe travels.”

“You too,” Tao Yao said, deliberately patting Uncle Zhang’s belly before leaning in to whisper something in his ear.

Uncle Zhang’s expression changed, his hand instinctively covering his stomach; after a few seconds of awkward silence, he said flatly, “Staying requires a reason, after all.”

Right — leaving a gu inside your own body that could “never be found” — only then could you truly stay by her side forever, growing old together.

Tossing a large sack of dried provisions onto Mo Ya’s back, Tao Yao happily headed toward Wu City’s gates, a pouch of silver tucked at her waist. What made her happiest of all wasn’t even that — Uncle Zhang had truly taught her the technique for crafting the “growth gu.” This detour to Wu City had really turned out to be a wise decision!

Passing by a stall selling paintings, the vendor was loudly hawking his wares: “Come, come, divine beast portraits! Ward off misfortune and invite good luck! Don’t miss your chance!”

Mo Ya stopped, looking with interest at the vividly colored portraits on the stall.

“Little master, care to buy one? Hang it on your wall, guaranteed to keep a hundred illnesses away!” The vendor casually picked up a few and held them out to him.

Mo Ya looked at the paintings in the vendor’s hands, making out the characters written beside each divine beast: “Qiongqi… Qiangliang…” His gaze landed on the last painting. “Teng Gen…” He turned his head and noticed Tao Yao looking at the same painting of Teng Gen, pouting. “This doesn’t look like it at all! Looks just like a pig!”

The vendor, displeased at hearing this, snatched the painting back rudely. “Little girl, if you want to buy it, buy it — if not, walk on. Who are you to critique my painting skills! Not like Teng Gen? How is it not like it, talk like you’ve actually seen one!”

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving, don’t get mad,” Tao Yao said with a giggle, turning to walk away.

Mo Ya hurried to catch up with her, asking along the way, “Tao Yao, what exactly is Teng Gen? I’ve never heard that name before.”

Tao Yao rapped him on his bald head. “And you claim you’re not illiterate! Don’t even know what Teng Gen is.”

Mo Ya rubbed his head. “Still better than someone who doesn’t even know that this Wu Mountain isn’t that Wu Mountain.”

Tao Yao rolled her eyes at him. “The Heavenly Emperor oversees the celestial realm, the Queen Mother presides over Kunlun, and the great immortals of both realms watch over and support one another. Under the Queen Mother serves Lady Xing, who oversees matters of punishment, and under Lady Xing’s command are twelve divine beasts — Teng Gen is one of them. It resembles a leopard, bears a rhinoceros horn, excels at transformation, and feeds on gu. Even the Book of the Later Han records that ‘Qiongqi and Teng Gen together feed on gu.’ These twelve divine beasts were originally monstrous creatures, but each in turn gained fortune and entered Kunlun, earning a divine post. Since all twelve beasts bear the duty of devouring malevolent things, folk tradition has come to revere them as wards against evil.”

“Ah, I see.” Mo Ya nodded, then turned to Gungun, perched on his shoulder. “You should practice vegetarianism and chant sutras with me diligently, cultivate your temperament well — perhaps one day you too could become a divine beast, painted and hung on walls for people to worship!”

Gungun yawned and rolled his eyes.

“But I still don’t understand why we came all this way to Wu City,” Mo Ya said again.

“For alms, of course!” Tao Yao patted the bulging sack of provisions on his back, looking very pleased with herself.

Perhaps because she now had food and money both, the sun didn’t seem so harsh to Tao Yao anymore, the weather didn’t feel so hot, and everything felt pleasant and carefree. As she reached the city gates, she turned back to glance once more in the direction of Uncle Zhang’s house, thinking again of that shop sign reading “Lazy Glance.”

Auntie Zhang had said it was a name Uncle Zhang came up with.

Having seen the vast ocean, all other waters seem inadequate; having seen the clouds of Wu Mountain, all others seem pale by comparison. Wandering through fields of flowers, too lazy to look back — half for the pursuit of the Dao, half for you. If you meet someone who makes you not want to leave, then stay.

Tao Yao smiled, content, and walked out through the gates of Wu City.