Lang Jiuchuan looked at the young man standing on the steps. A flash of golden light passed through her eyes, her brow arching ever so slightly as she looked once more at Tongtian Pavilion.

This place had something going on.

A mere shop assistant greeting customers — and he was made of paper.

That was right. The clean-featured young man before her was not a living person at all, but a paper figure — cut from specially treated paper, then animated by a wandering spirit allowed entry, enabling it to walk in the living world.

Just what manner of existence was this mysterious Tongtian Pavilion master? A Heavenly Master, or something else entirely?

The paper figure A’Piao stiffened at the single look Lang Jiuchuan fixed on him, overtaken by the inexplicable sensation of having been seen through.

That couldn’t be.

The person before him was nothing more than an unremarkable young girl.

A’Piao tried to look more closely at Lang Jiuchuan’s features, but found his eyes stinging with pain — he could not make out her true appearance at all. An involuntary chill ran through his spirit-form, and he let the welcoming smile fall from his face, pressing his lips together.

She moved.

A’Piao stepped back, watching as she walked forward, brushed past him, and left a parting remark as she passed.

“Waterproof and fireproof — quite well-crafted. Not bad.”

What did that mean?

A’Piao looked down at his own “body.” Could she be referring to his paper form? The master had indeed done an exceptional job of it — neither wind nor rain could damage it, though a fresh one had to be made every so often.

She couldn’t have seen through it — she couldn’t have… could she?

A’Piao turned around stiffly, moving in the most wooden, awkward manner, and followed after her, testing the waters as he asked, “Is the young miss here to buy information, or to sell it? A’Piao can assess the value for you.”

Lang Jiuchuan turned her head. “Your name is A’Piao?”

A’Piao nodded.

Lang Jiuchuan’s expression was one of undisguised disdain. “Not much of a name.”

Unlike hers — Jiuchuan — a name that was commanding and pleasing to the ear all at once, and clearly one of great depth.

A’Piao: “!”

This surely counted as an assault on a spirit’s dignity.

Though he too had always thought the name somewhat arbitrary — when he had first encountered his master, he had been drifting aimlessly through a forest, and having been dead so long that he’d forgotten his own name, his master had simply named him A’Piao — “the Drifter.”

In their Tongtian Pavilion, there were plenty of spirit-names of similar caliber: the hanged ghost A’Diao, the drowned ghost Little Shui, the ghost bride Red Niangniang — plain and direct, and you knew exactly how they had died just from hearing the name.

Before A’Piao could fully recover from his aggrieved feelings, Lang Jiuchuan said with undimmed interest, “You also buy information here?”

“Of course.” A’Piao straightened his chest with an air of pride, saying, “Our Tongtian Pavilion is the largest intelligence trade house in all of the Dahan. If the information you bring has value, it fetches a good price — and of course, if you can afford the price, you can buy whatever information you want.”

Lang Jiuchuan’s eyes sparkled brightly as she fixed him with a direct stare.

“I have a feeling you have a head full of scheming plots bubbling over,” Jiangche said.

“I have a brilliant idea,” Lang Jiuchuan said.

The two voices rang out simultaneously, in perfect unison.

Lang Jiuchuan said excitedly, “They also buy information here — which means I can simply sell them this secret, then use the proceeds to buy information about the original owner’s life. It might not even be an equal exchange — I could come out ahead. That way, we wouldn’t spend a single coin, and we’d still walk away with something good.”

Jiangche: “!”

See! When that brain of hers gets unusually lively, I knew she’d have those scheming plots rising to the surface — practically frothing over.

A’Piao, fixed in place by Lang Jiuchuan’s unwavering stare, was barely holding on to his original form, a distinctly ominous feeling creeping over him.

“I have a piece of information to sell, and a piece of information to buy.” Lang Jiuchuan’s voice was cool and measured.

“Oh — ah — what is it?”

Lang Jiuchuan glanced around, then said, “You want to discuss this right here?”

A’Piao caught himself and quickly led her upstairs. “This way please, young miss.”

Lang Jiuchuan followed him. Coming toward them was a woman dressed in a vibrant red robe embroidered with mandarin ducks, her face like an apricot blossom with peach-tinted cheeks, a pair of upswept alluring eyes impossibly bewitching.

She looked at Lang Jiuchuan — the smile at her lips flattened. She stopped in her tracks and stepped to one side, giving a slight bow of greeting, and by all appearances seemed to shrink in on herself slightly.

A’Piao was startled, because Red Niangniang was trembling — barely perceptibly, but he spent every day and night with her, so how could he not see it?

Red Niangniang was indeed afraid. She had been a ghost for a long time, and with the master behind her, she had never feared any living person. Even monks and Daoists who passed by Tongtian Pavilion did not make her cower in the slightest.

Yet when she saw Lang Jiuchuan, she felt the same instinctive dread she felt only in the presence of her master.

As Lang Jiuchuan brushed past her, Red Niangniang’s entire form went rigid. Watching her ascend the stairs, her own body nearly buckled. It took considerable effort for her to steady herself, and after a moment’s thought, she turned and made her way toward the rear courtyard.

Tongtian Pavilion had received an extraordinary visitor. This was something the master had to be told.

Lang Jiuchuan followed A’Piao up to the second floor and passed another assistant. The knowing depth in her eyes grew increasingly inscrutable, and her confidence in her plans grew stronger by the moment.

She was led into a private room. She sat down, and A’Piao personally brewed tea and brought it over.

“What is it the young miss wishes to buy and sell?”

“Let me state what I want to buy first.” Lang Jiuchuan said, “I want the life history of the ninth young miss of the Marquis Kaiping’s household, Lang Jiuchuan — including the people she associated with closely.”

A’Piao asked, “Life history and close associates — that is rather broad. Perhaps the young miss could be more specific?”

“To be specific — I want to know who brought harm to the ninth young miss Lang.”

A’Piao was momentarily taken aback.

“That is what I wish to buy — who was plotting against the ninth young miss Lang.” Lang Jiuchuan picked up her teacup and took a small sip.

A’Piao furrowed his brows, his expression difficult to read, and asked with caution, “May I ask the young miss’s name?”

“Buying and selling information requires a name? A transaction is nothing more than you setting a price and me providing the goods. What name I go by is hardly relevant — wouldn’t you say? Unless you keep records of those who come to buy and sell information, so there’s a trail to follow in the future? In that case, your intelligence house truly does hold secrets that most others cannot access.” Lang Jiuchuan spoke meaningfully, adding, “No wonder you dare call yourselves the greatest intelligence house in all of the Dahan.”

A’Piao broke into a cold sweat, laughing awkwardly. “The young miss is joking. Our clients’ information is of course strictly confidential — it will never be disclosed.”

“Hmm — until the silver is right, at least? After all, you deal in intelligence. That includes who comes here to buy and sell — that too is a piece of information, wouldn’t you agree?”

A’Piao: “……”

He knew she was right, and yet why did he feel this unbearable sensation of having been completely exposed?

This woman is a real piece of work!

“It’s perfectly fine if the young miss prefers not to give a name. The information you need — we have an urgent option and a slow option, and they are priced differently. Which would you prefer?” A’Piao said with a placating smile. “Urgent processing costs ten thousand in silver; standard processing costs one thousand.”

Lang Jiuchuan blinked and said, “You’re practically robbing people, charging that much.”

A’Piao smiled. “We deal in intelligence, after all — running an open business, we naturally can’t afford to operate at a loss. Investigating and gathering information requires considerable manpower and expenses on our end, does it not?”

“That’s fair!” Lang Jiuchuan nodded, then said, “In that case, I have a piece of information — see what it’s worth.”

“Please go ahead, young miss.”

“Every single one of the assistants at Tongtian Pavilion is not a living person — they are spirits inhabiting paper figures, with wandering souls let into paper forms!”

A’Piao: “!!!”

The ominous feeling — so this is what it was pointing to. She came here to blow our cover!